“Even though it smells a little fishy,” Immaculata said as she wrinkled her nose, “it’s so worth it. They cover your body from head to toe in a creamy green masque, wrap you in plastic and thermal blankets, and leave you to rest for a half hour while the seaweed flushes the toxins from your pores. After you shower it off, you get a massage while you listen to the music of your choice. I tell you, I feel like a new woman.”

“I told her that was fine, just as long as she stays, deep down, the same Immaculata Marie I married,” Mario announced as he buttered his roll. “I don’t want you running off with one of the ship’s officers now.”

Fat chance, Hardwick thought.

Immaculata patted his back and laughed, “Oh, Mario,” and proceeded to tell about her facial. “The thing that kills me is that they think by insulting your skin they’ll get you to buy all their products. The girl told me I have problems with my capillaries and then did a pitch for a cream that costs seventy-five dollars. Can you believe that?”

Mario grunted. “Well, you bought it, didn’t you, honey?”

“How could I resist? They guaranteed my skin would be baby-soft and smooth by the time I used up the tube.”

It’s not as if you can even return it if it doesn’t work, Regan thought. The ship will be floating around the south seas by the time you figure out your capillary problems are irreversible.

“Did you know,” Immaculata continued unabated, “that it’s very important to brush your skin every morning with a natural-bristle brush? Our skin should shed over two pounds of flakes a day.”

“So they sold her one of those brushes that they just happened to have on sale for another thirty-five bucks,” Mario muttered as he examined a sesame-seed breadstick.

“Oh, Mario,” Immaculata said as she patted his cheek. “Honestly, sloughing our skin is so important. Especially around the rough spots like your elbows, your heels, your knees. That’s why you must exfoliate when you get up in the morning and when you go to bed at night . . .”

Gavin wondered if the salon played “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” when they brushed their clients.

“... the girl told me that by the time the average person throws out their mattress, it weighs an extra twenty-five pounds. And that’s from all the dead skin that’s accumulated. It’s like sleeping with a dead body,” Immaculata said emphatically.

It’d be more exciting than sleeping with my ex-wife, Gavin thought.

Cameron Hardwick could barely contain himself. He pressed his lips closed.

“Cameron, dear,” Lady Exner piped up, “I’ve been spreading the word. Thursday night Regan and I will be hosting a cocktail party before dinner in our suite. I hope you will make it. We have a thrilling view that’s to die for . . .”