Cruising With Miss Christmas (Cruisin’ With Curves)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

“ Y ou look absolutely…uh…beautiful,” Hector murmurs somewhat awkwardly in my ear.

A blush creeps over my cheeks as he squeezes my hand under the table.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

There’s no time to return the compliment, as Hector nods and rises from the table. He excuses himself to the passengers sitting with us. I get the feeling I’m not the only one watching the tall, broad shouldered, handsome Scotsman making his way across the ballroom in full Highland dress, carefully weaving through the sea of tables beautifully dressed with wreathes of holly, shining crystal glasses, and golden crackers.

“So, Miss Christmas, I understand you are quite the songstress,” says Captain McClelland. My blush deepens. “No mean feat to win that contest,” he continues. “The Christmas Karaoke is one of the most popular events on our cruise. I do however, regret what happened afterwards. My sincere apologies. Are you recovered?”

“Absolutely, thank you. There was no harm.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I hear you sang In the Bleak Midwinter . Interesting song choice.”

“Not exactly a karaoke classic,” I quip. “But it is a, er, family favourite.”

“Indeed. It obviously came from the heart. And you can’t beat that. I’m a country fan, myself.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Nashville classics on repeat on the Bridge. Drives my First Mate mad. She likes heavy metal.”

“That’s, er, handy…”

Captain McClelland’s grey brows raise in puzzlement, then his face breaks into a wide smile. “Ah, the ship. Heavy metal!” His head falls back as he barks out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Most amusing,” he says, wiping his eyes with his napkin.

The distant sound of bells twinkles on the air. As they get closer, the excited chatter in the ballroom quietens to hushed whispers. The passengers’, adults and children alike, eyes widen as a faint “ho, ho, ho” drifts into the ballroom.

The excitement is too much for one child, whose face crumples.

She hides her eyes behind the silk sleeve of her mother’s dress, whimpering slightly until her older sister takes her hand with the entreaty, “Alice, it is okay, it is Santa!”

Santa!

The cry ripples round the room, quiet at first, but building to a crescendo. The ballroom doors open to a wave of cheers from the passengers, revealing Mr Claus himself, accompanied by a team of helpers bearing huge, bulging brown sacks.

Before anyone has time to object, many of the children jump from their seats and run towards Mr. Claus. Their parents try to call them back, but to no avail. Chaos reigns.

But Santa knows what to do.

“Now, children,” he says, his attempt at a mid-Atlantic accent not quite covering his Scottish twang.

“I’m here because Captain McClelland told me that you’ve all been especially good all year. I can’t let Christmas Day pass without visiting the good children, so I have a little something for each of you.

A squeal rises from the children.

“Now, why don’t you form a big circle on the dance floor? Sit quietly for a moment, and I’ll sort out your presents.”

Santa doesn’t have to ask twice. The children race to the dance floor and form a surprisingly ordered circle without any further instruction. The sack-bearing staff, resplendent in green elf costumes, line up behind Santa. Lorenzo grins at me from the front of the line.

Santa takes his place in the centre of the circle.

“Now, children,” he booms in his gruff voice, “Before we hand out the gifts I think we should have a little singalong, don’t you? After all, what is Christmas without a little song?”

To my surprise, the children respond with enthusiastic cheers.

Santa continues, “I might have a very special assistant in the audience who might like to help me with that. I’m not much of a singer myself, but this lady has the voice of a Christmas angel.”

My heart sinks into my shoes. I look Santa dead in his twinkling blue eyes and shake my head vigorously.

Santa grins. “I’d like to invite Miss Christmas to join us on the floor.”

I hope Santa is enjoying this gig. Because it going to be his last.

I plaster a smile to my face and wave politely at the storming round of applause that accompanies me to the dance floor.

“What would you like me to sing, Santa?” I ask with icy politeness I take my place beside him in the centre of the circle.

“Oh, I think Jingle Bells would be just the ticket. It is my favourite. We always sing it at home in the North Pole. What do you say, children?”

My young audience scream their acquiescence to Santa’s song choice. I take a deep breath, then the ship’s band strike out the opening chords of the festive classic. The children join in, their voices melding with mine. If I wasn’t so mad with Santa, I might have to hand it to him that he has created quite the moment to treasure.

As the last notes fade away, I bow and step forward, keen to return to my seat before Santa has any other great ideas.

“Thank you, Miss Christmas,” booms Santa. “Before you go…” he says, taking my hand. “I think we should give Miss Christmas her gift first, children. What do you think?”

Again, they yell their approval. Santa seems to have quite the leverage with this crowd.

“Merry Christmas, Elspeth,” Santa says quietly, reaching into the inside pocket of his red suit and removing a thick cream envelope. He presses it into my hand.

“Thank you,” I respond. “May I…?” I nod towards the table. I am not opening my present from Santa in the middle of the dance floor. That might just finish me off completely. Thankfully Santa appears to understand this and nods.

I scurry back to my seat, relieved to sit down and leave Santa to uncharacteristically enjoy the attention of the room. I turn the envelope over in my hands.

The thick cream paper is embossed with the Infinity Voyager crest. My hands shake slightly as I ease open the flap of the envelope and withdraw the single sheet of paper contained inside. There is no address, no salutation, just a simple instruction written in clear, careful script.

When the final gift has been given, meet me at the bow.