Susan imagined a purser walking the ship’s decks carrying a silver tray with a cordless telephone on it.

It didn’t take as long as she thought it would.

“Hello?” her mother’s voice said uncertainly.

“Bliss? It’s me,” Susan said. And then she felt the need to add, “Susan.” She paused, wishing she had prepared more. “I just wanted to let you know what’s going on.” I was clinically dead? I was kidnapped by a serial killer? Again. She settled on: “The river’s flooded.”

“Is Sally okay?” Bliss asked.

“The goat’s fine,” Susan said. “I’m calling to let you know that I drowned.”

Her mother sucked in a breath. “What?”

“I mean, I’m all right now,” Susan said. “I was a hostage. There were these octopuses. And this kid. I tried to save him. And I got caught in the river when the seawall broke, and I went under. My heart stopped. They had to reboot me.”

“A kid with an octopus?”

Was she listening? “Mom, I had to be resuscitated.”

“Where are you?” Bliss asked.

“I’m in the hospital.” Susan fought the urge to add obviously.

“I can’t get off the ship right now,” Bliss said. “The next port is St. Thomas. I can arrange a flight back from there.”

“No, Bliss,” Susan said. “Seriously. You’d never make it.” Her mother was notorious for getting lost in airports. Half the time she got in line for the wrong flight. “And you know you can’t fly through Miami.”

“That was years ago. I’m sure they’ve forgotten about it.”

“They found four joints in your purse, Bliss.” The two times Bliss had flown through Miami since, she’d been subjected to a body-cavity search while Susan waited in the hall for four hours.

“That was for personal use,” Bliss said. “And it was Jamaican.” As if that made a difference.

“Don’t come,” Susan said. “I’m fine. They say I’m going to make a full recovery. But it may take a few days to get my purse released from the crime scene.” They’d been hassling her for her health insurance card. “When you get fired, do you still have health insurance for a while?”

Bliss paused. “I think so. Why?” Her mother sighed. “Oh, Susan. You didn’t.”

Susan didn’t want to get into it. “I should go,” she said quickly. “This is costing me six-ninety-five a minute. I love you. Go meditate or something. ”

“I love you, too, sweetie.”

Susan hung up the phone and handed the credit card back to Archie.

He took the card and tucked it back in his wallet.

“Tell me again about his parents,” she said.