Page 20 of Falling Overboard

“Aren’t you the chief stew now? Can’t you change it?”

Huh. I absolutely could change things. That had been Marika’s rule. “You’re right.”

I took the scrunchie out and pulled my hair up high and immediately felt better.

I’d been so worried about the responsibilities of my new job that I’d forgotten about some of the perks beyond just the money.

The universe gave me approximately half a second to enjoy that realization before bringing it all crashing down.

Emilie walked onto the deck and immediately dropped the tray of full champagne flutes. There was a long moment of shocked silence and then I immediately started calling out directions.

“Georgia, go grab a container to put these shards in. Thomas, we’re going to need rags.” Did champagne stain teak? I couldn’t remember. “Maybe the spot cleaner, too. Emilie, go back inside and get another tray ready. The guests will be here soon.”

Everybody sprang into action and I bent down and started picking up shards of glass. The one thing I had going for me right now was that Captain Carl hadn’t come down yet. This would displease him greatly.

Hunter was next to me, helping me gather the glass. I briefly noticed just how large and strong his hands were.

“What do you need from me?” he asked.

“To keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You have a cool head in a crisis,” he said in an admiring tone.

“On the outside, but internally I’m panicking and considering every possible way things could go wrong. Like a guest stepping onto a shard we missed with their bare foot and bleeding all over the deck which would not be good for the guest or the wood and then what if the wound is bad and they sue us or worse, don’t leave a tip, and then all my dreams go poof and the captain fires me and ...” I let my voice trail off, exhausted by my own fears.

“Have you tried not overthinking everything?”

He was teasing me but I answered him seriously. “I have anxiety. I don’t have any other kind of thinking available to me.”

“My therapist would say to use a positive affirmation to stave off negative thoughts.”

Hunter didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would see a therapist, even though I knew that wasn’t a fair judgment to make. People had a lot more going on under the surface than they let the rest of the world see.

He’d already told me that he’d lost his sister—I didn’t know what other kind of trauma he might have dealt with.

“Something positive?” I asked. “Well, it could have been worse. It could have been red wine.”

“That’s not quite what either I or my therapist had in mind.”

Georgia returned then and helped us pick up the rest of the pieces. She also brought out cleaning putty, which we could use to make sure we hadn’t missed any tiny bits of glass.

We quickly got everything dried and cleaned and swept up. I heard Captain Carl’s footsteps heading toward us. Georgia stowed all our supplies under the outdoor bar and lined up next to me.

Emilie walked out with the tray of champagne flutes just as the captain arrived. I saw that she was being careful to use her fingers against the bottoms of the flutes to make sure she wouldn’t knock them over again.

The Carmines and their elderly guests arrived at the passerelle, the gangway that led from the dock to the yacht. Pieter had rushed down to instruct them to remove their shoes and place them in the basket we had put there for that purpose.

Hunter whispered to me, “That looks like heaven’s waiting room down there.”

Again I smiled, but when I realized that the captain was looking at me, I pressed my lips into a line. “Shh,” I said. “Just smile and nod. Our first charter is about to begin.”

Chapter Eight

Lucky

Our guests came on board, led by the primaries, Robert and Donna Carmine. The captain shook hands with them, introducing himself and welcoming them.

“What are their names again?” Hunter asked me.

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