August 17th

Brian and Laura walked together to the main dining room. Others started to filter out of the wide hallway and through large double doors to the dining room.

Brian turned to Laura as they walked. "I get the feeling you aren't the typical guest here. What brought you on to this cruise?"

Laura bristled slightly, crossing her arms and pushing down a small swell of insecurity. "Wow, Brian. We just met. What brings you to that conclusion?"

Brian paused and smiled sheepishly. "Maybe we should start over. Sometimes I can be blunt, but I didn't mean to offend."

Laura waved away his concern. "It's fine. I like blunt. I prefer it to guess work. But what makes you think I don't fit in? Walk me through it."

Brian took a breath and let it out through pursed lips. "Sure. You're younger than the usual passenger; we both are. You're traveling alone, as far as I can tell. I don't see a wedding ring. You're dressed professionally, not in resort wear. You look comfortable in it though, like it's a uniform. Your posture and way of carrying yourself make me think you were military or police." He paused. "Too much?"

Laura smiled slowly. "Okay, I follow. I'd put the average guest here at, what? Somewhere between retired comfortably to St. Tropez in your third marriage and embalmed to lie in state?"

Brian laughed an easy, comfortable laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He scanned the group walking ahead of them. "That sounds right. But we might have a few working surgeons or lawyers in the mix."

Laura nodded. "Perfect. If I choke on a chicken bone in the dining room I can be resuscitated and then sue the cruise line."

"Exactly. One stop shopping." He paused. "But was I right about the rest?"

"Not far off. I was in the FBI for ten years." They reached the double doors of the dining hall and brian held the door open. "But I'm curious about you. Can you take as well as you give?"

Brian let go of the door as another guest propped it open. "Sure. Only fair."

Laura looked him up and down. "You're rich, but new rich. You have a smart watch instead of something like a Nautilus or a Submariner. So that tells me you work for money, instead of inheriting it. But you're at ease here so the money is great - phenomenal, even. Your clothes are casual enough that you work in tech. You asked about me traveling alone and you're flirting, but not well. For a guy in his thirties that otherwise has social skills and confidence, I would say you're divorced. I have a feeling it's recent."

There was silence as they found a nearby table and sat down. Brian turned to Laura again, and opened his mouth to speak, then stopped short. He pulled his napkin from the table and smoothed it on his lap and sighed. "You're good."

"I am. Did I miss anything?"

"Just one thing. I was a cop, too. Years ago, but it stuck."

"Huh."

Others sat down at their round table, smoothing their napkins and looking around the group of strangers. Laura scanned the large dining room, and out of old habit made a mental floorplan of the tables around her and the exits at the corners of the room. Her eyes trailed over mahogany and flagstone walls, dimly lit with gallery lighting. The kitchen would make an acceptable exit, with its open pass framed by an impressive wall of burnished copper. Across from the kitchen, two story windows framed the gently lapping Puget Sound. The room started to buzz with hushed conversation and filled with the soft gentle tinkle of stemware and glassware.

Brian cleared his throat. "So, what brought you on the cruise?"

A waiter filled Laura's water and another filled a small aperitif glass. Laura plucked the tiny glass, swirled the amber liqueur, and took a small sip. "Amontillado. Nice." She set the glass down. "Work, if you can believe it. But it's easy when you have a chef on board that knows the value of a good aperitif." She crossed her legs and gave Brian an appraising look. "What about you, Brian?"

Brian cleared his throat. "I brought my daughter on the cruise. She studied glaciers in school last year, and wanted to see one."

Laura raised her eyebrows. "Where is she now? Did you stash Grandma in a suitcase to watch her?"

Brian laughed again. "She's in the kids' club. They call it the 'Junior Wayfarers.' They're learning about Alaskan wildlife. My nanny is there with her."

Laura nodded. A couple sat down to their right at the table. Laura thought she vaguely recognized the man, who smiled and nodded politely under a page boy cap holding down a tangle of gray hair. He smoothed his band t-shirt then extended a hand. "Hi, I'm Dave Stevens."

Laura nodded. "I thought I recognized you. DSB, right? The jam-rock band?"

He drummed an excited small beat on the table. "One and the same! We just finished up our big summer show at the Gorge. I needed a break."

His date raised her eyebrows and pushed her curly gray hair behind an ear. "Dave is being modest. They also toured for Stroll Around Mars."

Laura leaned forward. "Wow. You're busy."

A broad shouldered, athletic man with long dreadlocks approached the table to their left. Brian's eyes widened. "Jamal Bradford?"

"That's me." He unbuttoned his impeccable suit and sat down. Laura noted a large sleeve tattoo poking out of his cuffs.

Brian extended his hand. "I'm Brian. Huge Seahawks fan." He smiled sheepishly. "You probably won't believe me, but I have one of your jerseys at home."

Jamal shook his head with a playful smirk. "Shame on you, man. You didn't bring it on the cruise? You could've worn it to dinner!" He laughed. It was a loud, deep laugh. The rest of the table joined in.

The last seats were filled by two tall, glamorous women in similar subdued linen resortwear. One woman waved to the table, a turquoise bracelet sliding down her wrist. "Pleased to meet you all. I'm Jeannette. This is Patrice, my hot trophy wife."

Patrice suppressed a laugh. "I told Jeanine to stop doing that."

A waitress appeared with a hand-hammered silver tray covered in olives, nuts, and cheese draped in honey. "Some accompaniment for your sherry, from the chef." She set down a second tray. "With a lovely seared foie gras. Enjoy!" She slipped away soundlessly.

Brian's eyes widened. "Wait, isn't foie gras illegal?"

Jeannette leaned forward. "Oh god. I heard they tie down a duck and force feed it until it explodes." There was a collective pause.

Laura shrugged, glass of Amontillado in hand. "It's banned in some countries, but legal everywhere in the United States with the exception of California. But In France, it's considered a protected cultural heritage." She scanned the group. "It's force fed goose, and delicious with a good sear."

Brian's eyed darted to Laura, blanching slightly.

Laura's lip curled in a small smirk. "You missed just one thing. I used to be a chef. Years ago, but it stuck."

Brian smiled. "We both have a lot to learn, I guess."

Patrice cleared her throat and scanned the table. "So, what does everyone here do for a living? I love finding that out in a group like this. Always an interesting mix."

Jamal nodded. "I'm a running back for the Seattle Seahawks."

His date smiled modestly. "I run our charitable foundation. We send books to elementary school children."

Brian tilted his head. "I'm the founder and CEO of Dynamica."

Laura nodded, "Security consultant."

Dave put up a hand. "Musician."

Dave's date smiled. "I'm a partner in a communications firm."

Jeannette patted Patrice's arm. "I'm Patrice's arm candy. And I make her laugh."

Patrice laughed. "I guess that leaves me. I'm the Senior Vice President of e-commerce at Abra."

Laura set down her glass. "I love their two day shipping. And their e-readers. Honestly, half of my house is from Abra." There was a scattered laugh from the table.

"Mine is too, honestly. Everyone there works too much to shop anywhere else." Patrice leaned back with a handful of nuts. "That's what makes it great to be on a cruise. I finally get a break! When I'm at home it's video conferences with Tokyo over dinner, late nights with India, and straight into early mornings with New York and London. It doesn't stop."

The table started to settle in, as everyone nursed their sherry. Small conversations started, and Laura turned back to Brian.

He looked at her quizzically. "A security consultant. Interesting. What kind of work do you do?"

She crossed her arms. "A little bit of everything. Security staffing for events, security assessments for corporations, cyber security. I was in the FBI for about ten years, and poached some good people when I left."

Brian nodded. "Makes sense. I was an MP for about two years in the Korean army. Everyone has to do their mandatory service. It's probably not like the FBI, but I did some time investigating too."

"I didn't realize you're a Korean citizen. We are still learning things. Are you really even a Brian? What else don't I know about you?"

Brian leaned in closer. "You've only begun to peel the onion. You don't know half of my secrets." He straightened and shrugged with a small laugh. "But seriously, no. I'm not a Brian. I'm Joon-Woo Park. When I went to grad school at Cal Poly I started going by Brian. It was easier on some of the TAs, and it felt easier with some of the other students. It wound up sticking."

"Got it," said Laura. "What's Dynamica?"

He continued. "When I was at Cal Poly, I invented a programming language and platform for databases called Bongo. It got a lot of attention. A classmate and I turned it into a company. Now we sell cloud services, database software, and analytics to pretty much everyone." He lowered his voice to a murmur. "Between us, but Patrice probably isn't a fan. We won out for a major contract about a year ago."

A group of waiters assembled around the table in synchrony and set down a small plate in front of each diner. "Here we have sablefish, with hazelnut, corn, and kombu. Paired with a lovely Sauvignon Blanc." Another waiter circled with a glass of wine.

Dave glanced over. "He's leaving out the part where his company made him a billionaire. He's being modest. Probably the richest guy on the ship."

Brian shrugged. "I got lucky. A lot of entrepreneurs don't." He turned back to Laura. "So, work brought you here, and you have a security firm. Are you providing security?"

Laura paused, considering. "The captain is an old friend of mine. She comped my suite in exchange for a security assessment of the ship. So, no. I'm not providing anything other than my opinion."

"Reassuring, I guess. That she cares, I mean. Also that you're here. You're not a bad dinner companion either."

"You're not too bad either. I was worried I wouldn't have anyone to talk to."