Page 23 of Fire and Ice Cruise

I bet they’re right.

Quinn Riddle stands at the front, two security officers beside her, the whole arrangement giving off the unmistakable energy of bad news dressed up in a uniform.

And next to her stands Nicolette, divorce attorney extraordinaire, wearing elegant black slacks and a pale blue silk blouse. Her dark hair is pulled back, and her makeup is flawless despite the fact that she was hysterical last night.

Ransom spots me from across the room and gives me a look that clearly says this is going to be interesting. He’s positioned himself near the back wall, arms crossed, watching everything with those sharp ex-FBI eyes that miss nothing.

Bess and Nettie have somehow secured front-row seats and appear to have brought snacks from breakfast. Nettie’s clutching a cinnamon roll the size of her head—and how my heart aches to have a bite—and Bess has what looks like three chocolate croissants stacked on a napkin in her lap. But according to the spread of donuts of every shape and size and the scent of freshly brewed coffee, we didn’t need to bring a thing. A culinary good time is being provided for one and all. And I’d swear on all that is holy there’s a chocolate covered cruller flirting with me.

“Are you planning to share those?” I slide into the seat beside them.

“Absolutely not.” Bess lifts a shoulder my way and shields her sweet treat with her body. “I have a long-standing rule about not sharing anything that’s been in my lap.”

“Bess,” I laugh.

“What? I was married to a dentist for thirty years. My lap has standards now, and they were earned the hard way. Stress eating is a valid coping mechanism and I am very stressed.”

Nettie narrows her eyes on her bestie. “You look relaxed, toots.”

“That’s because I’ve got three croissants in my lap and not one of them has disappointed me yet. Which is more than I can say for my ex.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pink donut with sprinkles. “Here’s something I don’t mind sharing.”

I take it from her despite its origin story.

Quinn clears her throat, and the room falls silent.

“Thank you all for gathering on such short notice. I’m Chief Security Officer Quinn Riddle, and I want to address the incident that occurred last night.”

“Incident?” Nettie mutters under her breath. “That’s one way to describe a situation requiring a body bag.”

Bess elbows her.

“As you know—” Quinn continues, her face about three shades lighter than yesterday and her lipstick twice as dark. It’s an off-putting look on her. “We experienced an unfortunate event involving one of your group members, Mr. Gideon Vale. I want to assure you that our security team has been reinforced, and we’re doing everything in our power to ensure passenger safety.”

“Is it true he was strangled?” someone calls from the back.

Quinn’s jaw tightens. “I’m not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation. What I can tell you is that we’re taking this matter extremely seriously. We ask that you remain vigilant, report anything suspicious to security immediately, and please,” she pauses, as if the next words pain her, “please enjoy the remainder of your cruise.”

“Enjoy?” A woman in the third row sounds incredulous. “There’s a killer on board!”

“Allegedly,” Quinn says quickly.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s not alleged when there’s a dead body,” Nettie whispers a touch too loud, and the room breaks out in titters.

Quinn shoots her a look that could stop a storm in its tracks.

“We’re doing everything we can to keep you safe,” Quinn says to the group, her voice as firm as it can be. “Now, I’m going to turn things over to Ms. Devereaux, who has graciously volunteered to help coordinate your group’s activities moving forward.”

Nicolette steps forward, and I watch her transformation from grief-stricken mourner to poised leader happen in real time. Her shoulders go back, her chin lifts, and suddenly she’s radiating the confidence that comes from years of commanding courtrooms.

“Thank you, Officer Riddle.” Nicolette’s voice carries clearly across the room. “First, I want to say how devastated we all are by Gideon’s passing. He was a visionary, a mentor, and a friend to many of us.”

Her voice catches slightly on the last word, and I can’t tell if it’s genuine emotion or courtroom theatrics that she’s partaken in one too many times.

“However,” she goes on, “I know Gideon would want us to continue with the Second Act Society’s mission. We came on this cruise to reinvent ourselves, to embrace new possibilities, and to refuse to let age or circumstance define our futures.”

She gestures toward the table laden with coffee urns and pastries. “The ship has generously provided refreshments. All classes and events will proceed as scheduled, starting this evening. Please adhere to the previously published schedule.”

“What about safety?” someone asks.