Page 16 of Hearts Aweigh
“As have I.” Emily nodded. “He’s a personable young man. Although he’s the youngest of six boys, he takes care of his agingmother, works hard at his job, and attends church every Sunday. I can tell he’s on the up-and-up.”
“And brawny to boot.” Althea whistled. “He must lift a lot of boxes to earn those muscles. Imagine the cute, curly-headed kids he and Abby could make together.”
“You said he’s in Texas,” Daisy said. “How are we to arrange a match if they’re an ocean apart?”
“The old-fashioned way.” Gerry swiped her finger over the mouse pad. “Or should I say new-fashioned? Back in the day, people corresponded with letters for months before marrying sight unseen. At least now they can talk to each other face-to-face through the internet.” An online meeting app filled the screen. “Since Abby’s been hinting at us for months, I already laid the groundwork with Diego when we were in port last time. He’s seen Abby from a distance and is definitely interested. All we have to do is set a chat time.”
Emily steepled her fingers. “I love your forethought, Gerry. This opens a whole new range of prospects.”
Althea leaned away. “That twinkle in your eye scares me. We’re not going to launch an online dating business, are we?”
“Not at this time. But if things go well with Diego, it’s another option to keep in mind for the future.”
Daisy tugged her cashmere wrap closer. “What about the last option you mentioned? Why is the gentleman ‘under consideration’ instead of an official candidate?”
Gerry took off her spectacles and swiped them against her sleeve. “Well, he’s a … that is … Circumstances are a bit difficult to predict with the last one.”
“Oh, tell her.” Emily swatted her hand. “The last one is your son.”
Althea grasped Daisy’s arm, but her roomie sat perfectly composed at the revelation. Her expression didn’t alter by so much as the flick of an eyelash. Then she cleared her throat.
“This simplifies the process. Please take Spencer off the list, and we can concentrate on the other three. My son is a poor choice for this match.”
“Why?” Gerry’s eyebrows lowered. “Do you think Abby isn’t good enough for him?”
“Quite the opposite.” Daisy tilted her head a degree to the right. “Spencer takes after his father. Don’t subject a sweet girl like Abby to the same smothering lifestyle I endured.”
“Aren’t you being a tad harsh?” Emily asked. “Maybe he just needs the right woman to soften his—”
“Isn’t a good relationship with the Lord your uppermost requirement for a candidate?” Daisy dropped her wrap from her shoulders and fanned herself. “I can assure you, my son only attends church to establish connections and maintain his social image. He wouldn’t heed the voice of the Almighty even if it spoke to him from a pillar of fire.”
“God, help me,” Spencer whispered.
He stood on the deck and stared at the little girl by his side. Was she hungry? Tired? Should he carry her? His inadequate attempts at caring for his daughter this morning had only confirmed the obvious—he stank at being a father. But Madeleine never complained, even when he’d made an absolute mess of her hair attempting to brush it into a ponytail. Now it drooped from the crown of her head in a loose, flyaway mess with silken bumps protruding on all sides of the rubber band.
Spencer eyed the childcare entrance with distrust. A faux castle stretched above the double glass doors, and a banner proclaiming Kids Kingdom fluttered in the wind. It somehow seemed wrong to leave his daughter with complete strangers. What if the staff was incompetent? What if the other children bullied her?
But he lacked the capability to watch her alone. The last time he’d seen the governess was when she’d pushed past him for another trip to the bathroom. She’d stumbled straight to her room afterward. It was safe to assume she’d be incommunicado for the rest of the voyage.
He studied Madeleine for any signs of panic. She was harder to read than a hostile witness. He hunkered down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you don’t want to stay here, you can come back to the suite with me.”
“Is that Princess Maddie?” A joyous voice drew his attention.
Abigail O’Brien held open a glass door. She’d traded her ridiculous ball gown for a pair of dark-purple shorts and a white polo shirt with the Monarch crown logo stitched on the pocket.
He relaxed at the sight of her. Instincts honed from years of selecting courtroom juries told him she could be trusted. Her candid smile made a person feel welcome.
Spencer rose and extended a hand. “Good morning, Ms. O’Brien.”
She hurried forward and squatted in front of Madeleine. Her chin twitched as she studied the girl. “Did your daddy do your hair?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Madeleine said. “I don’t think he knows how to make a ponytail.”
The redhead chuckled. “I think you’re right.”
Spencer’s hand drooped in midair. While he was impressed the woman was so diligent about making young passengershappy, it irked him that the entire conversation had been directed at his daughter. He wasn’t used to being ignored. Especially by someone who interested him.
Wait. Not interested. Intrigued.
