“I’m Dale Cohoon,” said the one with the glasses who had done all the talking, “and this is my friend, Kenneth Minard.”

“Nice to meet you all.” As he patted his hair behind his ears and adjusted his cuffs, Kenneth favored them with a nervous smile. “All this rushing. Dale and I were out on the deck working on our tans and were both so exhausted, we fell dead asleep. We didn’t have nearly enough time to get dressed for dinner properly.”

“Poor Kenneth.” Dale’s tone was loving and sympathetic. “I’ve dragged him all over Europe hunting down antiques for my shop. We live in San Francisco.”

“Antiques!” Veronica’s eyes brightened. “I adore browsing through antique shops.”

Browse must be all you do, Regan thought. From the looks of Llewellyn Hall, the only real antique is the plumbing system.

“And what is your profession, Kenneth?” Veronica inquired.

She could sub for Barbara Walters, Regan thought.

“I’m a hair stylist,” Kenneth told her proudly.

The drinks arrived. Cameron Hardwick began to chat with Lady Exner. Gavin Gray was listening to Mario’s and Immaculata’s questions about the activities on the ship. Regan glanced around, enjoying the gentle sway of the ship as it gracefully moved through the night. The room was decorated in a blue-green motif that suggested the ocean setting. Huge windows ran from floor to ceiling on both the port and starboard sides. The moon was bright and glistened on the dark murky sea. The tables were now filled, and captains and waiters bustled as they took orders and carried silver-covered dishes. The sommelier, wearing an impressive key around his neck, was opening a bottle of Dom Perignon with theatrical flair. At tables for two, some couples were smiling, others looked as though they had run out of conversation twenty years ago. A strolling violinist was winding his way through the room. A young couple signaled to him to come to their table, where he played a musical selection with great passion.

Regan looked over her shoulder. From where she was sitting she could not spot Luke and Nora. “They’re at the corner table behind the pillar,” Gavin Gray whispered.

Regan stared at him. “Excuse me.”

His eye once again disappeared into a squiggly line. “I’m a dear friend of your mother and father,” he hissed. “I had a drink with them in the lounge and understand the predicament. It will be our little secret.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. His second wink made Regan wonder whether he was working his way into a nervous tic. She managed to withdraw her hand. She tried to wink back but it felt ridiculous.

“Regan, do you have something in your eye?” Veronica asked.

“No, I’m fine.” Regan anxiously reached for her glass of wine. I only hope I can trust him, she thought.