Coincidence - Alan May [24]
She dialed the front desk and was relieved to hear that the ship was just around the other side of the harbor for its final provisioning and would be returning soon to its usual spot.
Carol called room service and ordered tea, which arrived just as Craig appeared with the rest of their luggage. The two of them were sitting by the window sipping when the Inspiration hove into view, crossing slowly in front of the hotel and docking.
Melissa was standing on deck as the ship docked, keeping her eyes peeled for her parents. Now that the time of departure had arrived, she was fighting off pangs of homesickness. She’d already bid a tearful telephone good-bye to Eric, who was now back at school. She had mailed cheerful postcards to her friends, telling them how excited she was about the journey—and carefully not mentioning that she was writing rather than calling because if she heard their voices, she might fall apart entirely.
Suddenly she caught sight of her parents hurrying across the street toward the ship, her mom taking two steps for every one of her dad’s long strides. Dad, she noted, was wearing the same old Aussie hat adorned with souvenir badges that had embarrassed her no end when he’d worn it to her regattas. Her face dissolved into a silly grin; she’d never been so happy to see anything in her life. She ran ashore as they neared the dock and scooped them up in a bear hug. Anyone passing by would have had no trouble translating the trio’s babblings as expressions of joy.
Melissa gave her parents the grand tour of the ship and introduced them to her cabinmates. Craig and Carol were floored by the size of the cabin, even though they had been told its dimensions.
Thank goodness the girls seemed to get along so well, Carol thought.
And the washroom! That was tinier still, and, Melissa told them, not only could she barely squeeze herself into the shower, half the time the water was only lukewarm.
Carol, happy to be taking maternal charge again, whisked Melissa right up to the hotel room for one last long luxuriously warm shower before her little girl would be forced once more to brave the tepid waters of the hardy sailing life.
Afterward, Melissa, cozily bundled in a terry-cloth robe, sat on the edge of the bed as Carol sat behind her, unsnarling the tangles in her daughter’s long thick hair. Of course Melissa was perfectly capable of doing this for herself, but it was a ritual they enjoyed when they had the opportunity.
Craig sat in the armchair by the window, wondering how long it would be before he would witness this lovely picture again. Or might Melissa’s experience on the Inspiration change her so radically that she would no longer even want to participate in these family rituals? That was such an endearing quality about his daughter, he reflected. As mature and capable as she now was, she was still perfectly happy to be as cuddlesome and snuggly as a four-year-old. It was like having a preternaturally thoughtful and self-sufficient toddler in the house; all of the charm with none of the hassles. Of course she had to grow up, he wouldn’t want it any other way—but must everything change?
Both parents listened with rapt attention as Melissa related all of the details since her arrival in San Diego. Her words tripped over one another, her arms punctuated the ones she could get out, her head sometimes jutted forward with gales of laughter—until she felt her hair pulled to its limit against the brush and screeched “Ow!” followed by another fit of laughing. Almost all of the details, at any rate. Although Melissa told her parents that the boy-to-girl ratio was good, and that there were some cute guys onboard—some of them tall, even—she made no mention of Pierre.
At dusk they went to Planet Hollywood for dinner, followed by a last-minute shopping trip. Melissa needed a pillow as the small blowup one she had brought with her, hoping to save space in her luggage, had already sprung a leak. Once in the store, all three discovered