THE QUEEN
One of the Ever-After Stories
Climbing out of the taxi, I was dwarfed by her shadow,
and more intrigued than I wanted to admit, being a skeptic.
I handed over my bags to
the bell captain and stepped into the elevator outside the ship. Once on A-Deck,
I slowly walked through the door and into another era. An era of 1930s glitz
and glamour with a week’s worth of ocean as a backdrop. The floors gleamed and
the shops glimmered with a long-forgotten style. Okay, so we’re
basically in dry dock, but we are surrounded by water, and most of it the
Pacific Ocean, so it was like I was about to sail away on a transatlantic
adventure.
And, strangely, it felt
like coming home as I boarded the ship I’d never stepped foot upon until this
moment. A chill crept through me as a picture of those glamour years danced
before my eyes and the iconic Titanic flitted through my mind—minus sinking
into freezing cold water, of course. I was entering another world, and I felt
it down to my bones.
I walked over to check
in, sure the chill was anything but déjà vu. The smarmy desk clerk beamed at me,
no doubt glad of the publicity I might bring to this floating hotel.
“Welcome aboard the
Queen Mary, Mr. Masterson. We’ve worked hard to meet all your requirements,
including making sure the other guests will not interfere with your
investigation. You’ll be staying starboard side in room A105.” He handed me the
keycard, then pointed toward a hallway just past a small lounge. “Enjoy your
stay with us.”
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