Page 101 of The Vacation Mix-Up
I stroll forward, and his shoulders straighten as if he believes I’m here to complain again. “Mr. Wilson, how can I assist you today?”
Resting my elbow on the counter, I lower my voice. “I have some questions about burial at sea.”
His brows shoot toward the ceiling, his eyeballs bulging. “What would you like to know?”
“What’s the process?”
“Do you have remains you’d like to inter?” He clicks his computer mouse and studies his screen, I assume to check my passenger profile to that effect.
“Yes.” I shake my head. “I mean no. I’m just curious what’s involved.”
“Oh! Very well.” He stops clicking. “Because to disperse remains at sea, you must advise the cruise line prior to sailing thatyou wish to do so, together with presenting a death certificate and a letter from the crematorium stating the urn is biodegradable. Without these documents, I couldn’t authorize nor organize the ceremony.”
“Ceremony?”
“Yes. If the captain is available at the time, she will oversee the ceremony and say a few words if you wish her to do so. If she’s not available, one of her first, second, or third officers will officiate in her place. She’ll also take note of the ship’s precise location and then compose a lovely letter with coordinates.”
“I see,” I say, nodding. “And how about flowers?”
“Fresh flowers can be arranged on board, but artificial flowers or wreaths with ribbon or non-biodegradable matter are not permitted.”
I rub my beard.
“Was there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yes.” I stop rubbing and lean closer. “Do you remember my roommate?”
“The other Riley Wilson?”
“That’s the one. She’s carrying her mother’s remains with her, and I’d like to arrange some flowers for the ceremony, as well as flowers delivered to the cabin for her.”
He resumes his mouse-clicking again. “Yes. I can see Ms. Wilson has notified us of her mother’s remains and her intention to inter them at sea. However, the ceremony hasn’t been scheduled.”
“That’s because she hasn’t scheduled it yet.”
“Right.” He pouts, the same puppy dog pout he did the first time I saw him. “What I can do is make a note in the system to organize the flowers for when she does make final arrangements. Would you like me to do that now?”
I nod. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” He starts typing, his fingers artfully tapping his keyboard. “Did you have a particular bouquet in mind?”
“Uh….” I scratch my head.
Shit! I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t know her mother’s name, much less what her or Riles’s favorite flowers are.
When I don’t answer, his expression turns sympathetic, or patronizing—I can’t quite tell. “We don’t have a huge selection on board, but our Eternal Remembrance bouquet is the most popular. It has a neutral pallet and?—”
“That will be fine. Two of those, please.”
“Certainly. And would you like to leave a personalized message on both bouquets?”
I think of Riles and what she said about her mom. “How about ‘A loving mother and best friend’?”
“Lovely. And the bouquet for Ms. Wilson?”
“Uh… ‘Sorry for your loss’?” I shake my head. “No. That’s too generic.” Riles didn’tloseher mom like a set of car keys, just like I didn’tlosemy dad either. “How about ‘You’re not alone.’”
“Splendid.” He touches his chest, pouts again, then continues typing. “All done. Was there anything else I can help with?”
