“No, I’ll just stay here,” he whispered to himself. He had had enough excitement for one night.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Just as he was heading out of the Lancelot Bar he’d run into old Mrs. Watkins. Sweet unassuming Beatrice Watkins with her splashy jewels and liquored breath.

For days, she’d made no secret of the fact that she was very alone in the palatial Camelot Suite. There was no need for trick photography when capturing the essence of that little home-away-from-home. It boasted a living room, a sunken bedroom, two baths and a private terrace which afforded an exclusive view of the sea and sky that one could enjoy at any hour of the day or night, a perfect setting for romance. Gavin wondered if Mrs. Watkins had gotten lucky yet. She flirted unabashedly with everyone. Slipping the busboys her room number wrapped in hundred-dollar bills. Plying the hosts with champagne as if it were water. Even the Captain wasn’t immune.

Tonight at the Captain’s party she had hobbled over to have her picture taken with him four times. She was bedizened with all her finest jewelry. An antique diamond-and-ruby tiara resting precariously on her bony skull; six rings on her fingers, each with a larger stone than the next; matching diamond-and-emerald wrist and ankle bracelets, the latter wrapped around her bird leg.

The Captain was as charming as ever. He tilted his silver head down toward her matching one and smiled merrily for the camera. He thanked her and moved her along, graciously greeting the next couple of happy cruisers. He even pretended not to notice as she teetered off, grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, gulped it down and unsteadily got in line to have her picture taken again.

How does the Captain do it? Gavin wondered. That professional smile frozen onto his face as he had his picture taken hundreds of times, two consecutive nights out of a five-day cruise. Two Captain’s parties to accommodate twelve hundred passengers. Twelve hundred sets of teeth, a majority of them held in place by Poly grip, had to hold the “cheese” position before Captain, my Captain, could escape. He must wake up with a smile, Gavin thought, and for all the wrong reasons.

After dinner and a few more drinks, Mrs. Watkins decided her old bod deserved a much-needed respite from one of the favored activities on cruise ships all over the world, drinking to excess. Perfecting the art of intoxication. She was stumbling past when Gavin saw her and offered to help her back to her suite. She hiccuped her assent and gladly grabbed his arm as the catch on her bracelet snagged his jacket.

“Oh, I have to have this thing fixsht. Otherwise I’ll looge it,” she fussed.

Gavin only smiled at the prospect.