Back The High Dive Save as PDF
Chapters (33)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. 1. Philadelphia, USA
  5. 2. Newark International Airport, USA
  6. 3. Charles De Gaulle Airport, France
  7. 4. Morningside Heights, USA
  8. 5. Marseille, France
  9. 6. Marseille, France
  10. 7. Cap-Ferrat, France
  11. 8. Morningside Heights, USA
  12. 9. Positano, Italy
  13. 10. Positano, Italy
  14. 11. Taormina, Sicily
  15. 12. Taormina, Sicily
  16. 13. Morningside Heights, USA
  17. 14. Taormina, Sicily
  18. 15. Taormina, Sicily
  19. 16. Taormina, Sicily
  20. 17. Somewhere on the Mediterranean
  21. 18. Morningside Heights, USA
  22. 19. Corfu Town, Greece
  23. 20. Corfu Town, Greece
  24. 21. Corfu Town, Greece
  25. 22. Corfu Town, Greece
  26. 23. Morningside Heights, USA
  27. 24. Vouliagmeni, Greece
  28. 25. Polis Chrysochous, Cyprus
  29. 26. Polis Chrysochous, Cyprus
  30. 27. Lofou, Cyprus
  31. 28. Westwood, USA
  32. Acknowledgments
  33. About the Author

“Wonderful.” Melanie glanced down at her iPad. Her deep tan, polo shirt, and slicked-back blonde ponytail gave her the distinct look of a camp counselor. “I also wanted to confirm your allergies and dietary preferences. I have here that you’re allergic to pine nuts, but otherwise fine to eat everything. Is that right?”

“Exactly.” Truthfully, there were plenty of foods she didn’t love, but it felt too prissy to specify anything beyond a hard-and-fast allergy. “Thank you.”

“Excellent. If I can do anything else for you, please just let me or one of my crew know. No request is too small, so please do not hesitate. I’ll see you up there.”

“Great, thank you.”

And just like that, Melanie turned and walked down the hall, pointing her stylus at each cabin door as if checking off a mental list. It always thrilled Alex to meet a woman who was truly great at her job, and she especially loved experiencing them in their element. Knowing that Melanie would be around gave her an odd sense of comfort, if only because it meant there was at least one other person aboard who also probably used a budgeting app.

She turned to appraise her outfit in the mirror—a simple black dress with whisper-thin straps and a cream-colored pashmina—and wished that she could get a preview of what everyone else was wearing. Over-dressing was usually her fear in this group, and yet on occasion they would arrive with such effortless elegance that she suddenly felt like she was wearing a potato sack. So at least for the first evening, sleek and refined was the safest bet.

She took a deep breath and left the room, a rush of adrenaline passing through her body as the door clicked behind her. This was it: there was no going back now. The beautiful wood paneling continued down the hall, and she ran her hand along its length as she walked, decorated with tasteful sconces and nautical-themed oil paintings. She took her time coming up the stairs, holding the railing to steady herself in order to make a smooth and effortless entrance.

But no one even noticed when she arrived.