Ransom at Sea by Fred Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

all the cheerfulness she could muster. “Why don’t you sit on the edge of the bed while I unpack.”
    â€œI can do that!” Marcella said, though she sat down immediately and made no move to help.
    Rebecca popped the latches on the case, flipped the top up, and took out the first garment.
    Marcella smiled. “I brought you up right, didn’t I?”
    â€œHmm?”
    She lowered herself on the bed. “I used to like doing things, when I was younger. Remember? Baking bread. Whole wheat. Long, long before it was fashionable to do it, and they started selling those … those machines … the bread makers. Pies with crust made by hand, and fillings that had real fruit and were naturally sweetened. Remember?”
    â€œYes,” Rebecca said as she continued working. As far as she was concerned, sugar was a natural substance. “I remember.”
    â€œAnd coconut cream pies—the ones that made their own crust?”
    Her niece smiled. She remembered them. They were dreadful. But at the time her aunt had been able to convince her they were ambrosia, and she’d been fascinated by the fact that you put a bowl full of a thick liquid mixture into a hot oven, and when it came out it had formed a crust along the bottom—albeit a gloppy, gummy crust.
    â€œAnd this!” Marcella said. Around her waist was a macramé belt wound from white cord, which she wore tied loosely. She lifted its dangling ends toward Rebecca. “This. Remember this? I taught you how to do this.…”
    â€œMacramé, yes, I remember.” She could also remember when she’d considered the art of knotting cord into a useful article to be magical. She could see her own childish face filled with wonder as her aunt showed her how to form the simple knots, and her aunt’s delight as Rebecca was able to do it for herself.
    Rebecca hung the dress in the closet, came back to the case and pulled out another, then registered surprise.
    â€œAunt Marci, what is this?”
    Marcella craned her neck and peered into the suitcase. Nestled in the center of her underclothes was a brown paper parcel that looked the very much the worse for wear. Marcella’s eyes traveled up to her niece, who was staring down at her with a puzzled frown.
    After a moment, Marcella said, “It’s mine!”
    â€œI figured that,” Rebecca replied, inwardly rolling her eyes. “But what is it?”
    Marcella snatched the parcel up by the twine that bound it and shoved it under the bed.
    â€œIt’s mine! It’s none of your business.”
    Rebecca sighed. “I just wondered.”
    *   *   *
    â€œI hazard to ask,” Lynn said with a sly smile, “but do you want to take a nap?”
    She and Emily had finished their lunch, and Emily folded her napkin and laid it beside her plate. “Not in my cabin. I’m going back up to the top deck to enjoy the view and the sunshine. Whether or not that ends in a nap is purely up to the laws of nature.”
    Lynn laughed. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s about time I got my own things unpacked. Do you need any help getting upstairs?”
    â€œI’ll be fine.”
    They parted, Lynn going down one staircase while Emily went up the other at a much more measured pace. She paused at the top of the stairs. The white deck was empty except for Claudia Trenton, who was occupying one of the lounge chairs on the port side, the sunhat—which Emily found faintly ridiculous—once again perched on her head. Emily was not antisocial by nature, but she had no wish to have her quiet enjoyment of the afternoon punctuated by the inevitable sotto voce criticisms. After calling a cheerful greeting to Claudia, which was met with a slight nod of the hat, Emily went to a seat on the starboard side.
    After adjusting the back of the chair to a comfortable angle, she lay back and enjoyed the gentle movement