On my first trip, I met a lovely widower who made me believe in second chances.
I followed him below deck on the last nite and found something bearing my name.
“What is happening?”
Richard’s grip increased on my arm.
The alarm continued to pulse along the hallway.
“Margaret, please.”
“No.”
I freed myself.
I gestured toward the bed.
“My scarf is in your room. My suitcase is outside your door. You have photographs of me from before we even met.”
His expression shifted.
Not precisely guilt.
Something worse.
Fear.
“For once in your life,” I replied, “do not tell me to trust you.”
Richard turned to face the corridor.
Then look back at me.
“Someone went into your cabin.”
My stomach fell.
“What?”
“About 20 minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You don’t know?”
“The person used a copied keycard.”
I gazed at him.
“How do you know that?”
He looked at the pictures.
That’s when I realized I had overlooked something.
They weren’t all photos of myself.
Someone else showed up close to the edge in a few.
A blue baseball cap-wearing dude.
He was standing behind me at embarkation in one picture.
In another, he was at breakfast two tables away.
In a third, I waited by myself and he was beside the elevators.
I gestured.
“Who is he?”
Richard took too long to respond.
The alarm went off.
Over the ship’s speakers came a voice.
“Attention, guests. The security alert has been resolved. Please remain in public guest areas until further notice.”
A security warning.
Not fire.
Don’t drill.
safety.
Richard let out a breath.
said, “Sit down.”
“I am not sitting in your cabin until you tell me why you’ve been photographing me.”
He gave a nod.
“Fair.”
He shut the door.
I felt uneasy about that.
He observed it.
then opened it once more right away.
“Better?”
“A little.”
He remained close to the door.
“My name really is Richard.”
“Wonderful.”
“I’m 74.”
“Also reassuring.”
“I am widowed.”
I crossed my arms.
“Are we reviewing your dating profile?”
His lips quivered.
“Margaret.”
“Talk.”
He inhaled.
“I used to be a police detective.”
I gazed at him.
“You told me you worked in insurance.”
“I did. After I retired.”
“How long were you a detective?”
“Twenty-nine years.”
I became more enraged.
“So you’ve lied to me every day this week.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t offend me by disputing it, at least.
“Why?”
“Because I was asked to watch you.”
My entire being became still.
“By whom?”
Richard paused.
I gestured to him.
“If you say you can’t tell me, I am screaming.”
“Your daughter.”
In fact, I chuckled.
“Good try.”
“I’m serious.”
“No.”
“Margaret—”
“My daughter thinks putting extra salt on food is dangerous. She would not hire a retired detective to follow me on a cruise.”
“She didn’t hire me.”
I was stopped by that.
“Then what did she do?”
He massaged his forehead.
“She contacted the cruise line.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had been calling you.”
My mouth became parched.
I knew exactly who he was referring about.
I had been getting odd calls for roughly two months prior to the cruise.
A man posing as a representative of the cruise line.
He was aware of my reservation number.
Date of departure.
The deck of my cabin.
I initially thought it was real.
He suggested improvements.
excursions.
transportation to the airport.
Then he began to inquire about personal matters.
if I was traveling by myself.
whether or not I wore jewelry.
if my residence would be inspected while I was away.
I ended the call.
Two days later, he called once more.
I told Claire, my daughter, about it.
When I informed her that I had verified my address before seeing a problem, she grew enraged.
“I told her I handled it.”
Richard gave a nod.
“You blocked the number.”
“Yes.”
“They called from another.”
“Yes.”
“Then you stopped telling Claire.”
I gazed at him.
“How do you know that?”
“Because the calls continued.”
My heart began to beat more quickly.
“They had access to passenger information from somewhere.”
“From where?”
“We still don’t know.”
“We?”
Richard turned to face the hallway.
“Ship security.”
I was chilly.
“What does any of this have to do with my suitcase?”
He went over to the bed and took one of the pictures.
The blue-caped man.
“His name is probably not Jason Miller, but that’s the name he’s traveling under.”
“Who is he?”
“We believe he’s part of a theft crew.”
I nearly burst out laughing once more.
“A theft crew?”
“They target older passengers traveling alone.”
I detested how well I matched that description.
Richard went on.
“They make contact before the trip. Sometimes they pose as travel agents. Sometimes insurance representatives. Sometimes cruise staff.”
“What do they steal?”
“Whatever they can.”
“Jewelry?”
“Cash. Cards. Passports. Banking information. House keys.”
I took a swallow.
Richard gave me a glance.
“In a few cases, houses were burglarized while the owners were still traveling.”
I took a seat.
Not because he instructed me to.
as my knees were no longer cooperating.
“So Claire called the cruise line.”
“After you mentioned the calls.”
“And they put a retired detective at the table next to me?”
“Not exactly.”
“Richard.”
He let out a sigh.
“The cruise line’s security department contacted local law enforcement because similar complaints had been reported by several passengers. I consult occasionally.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m a volunteer investigator with a fraud task force.”
“At 74?”
“You say that like you’re not 71 and followed a suspicious man below deck.”
I gave him a glare.
“Continue.”
His grin vanished.
“Your name was on a list recovered during another investigation.”
I was more afraid of that than anything else.
“What list?”
“Passengers. Mostly older. Mostly traveling without spouses.”
“How many?”
“Twelve on this sailing.”
I took another look at the pictures.
“So you’ve been watching all twelve?”
“Security has.”
“But you were watching me.”
“Yes.”
“Before we met.”
“Yes.”
The words caused more pain than they ought to have.
Because I assumed it was a coincidence when Richard sat next to me at dinner six days prior and complained that cruise ships somehow managed to offer him both too much food and nothing he really liked.
I wondered whether he was hoping to see me when he showed up at breakfast the following morning.
I felt like I had been picked when he asked whether I wanted to walk the promenade.
I wasn’t sure whether I had been now.
“Was any of it real?”
Richard’s face shifted.
“Margaret.”
“No. Answer me.”
“I sat near you because I was supposed to.”
It was there.
I got up.
“Thank you.”
“But breakfast wasn’t part of it.”
I came to a halt.
“The champagne wasn’t part of it.”
I turned around.
“Neither was dancing with you Tuesday nite. Or telling you about Ellen. Or asking what kind of house you’d
buy if you could live anywhere.”
“Then what was your job?”
“Watch. Report. Don’t interfere unless there was a threat.”
“And you decided falling for me was professional?”
He smiled sadly at me.
“No.”
Quiet.
Then the suitcase came to mind.
“How did that get here?”
Richard’s expression stiffened.
“Jason entered your cabin while you were at dinner.”
“How?”
“Copied keycard, most likely.”
“You followed him?”
“Security did. He came down here with your suitcase.”
“Why here?”
“This cabin isn’t mine.”
I took a look around.
“What?”
“It’s a security holding room.”
I realized how incorrect it felt now that he had said it.
Not a single toiletry.
Nothing to wear.
No private photos.
Only my scarf, documents, and the bed.
“Why was he bringing my suitcase here?”
“He wasn’t.”
Richard gestured to a second door at the back of the space.
“I intercepted him in the service corridor outside.”
I gazed.
“He dropped the suitcase and ran.”
“And my scarf?”
“Fell out when the zipper opened.”
“The photographs?”
“Evidence.”
“Yours?”
“Some.”
“Who took the others?”
“Ship cameras.”
The wall finally made sense after that.
They weren’t mementos.
They served as a chronology.
I’m boarding.
I was eating.
I’m strolling.
And the man in the blue cap, always, somewhere close by.
I was ill.
“He’d been following me the whole trip.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Richard appeared embarrassed.
“Because security hoped he’d lead them to the rest of the group.”
I instantly felt angry again.
“So I was bait.”
“No.”
“That’s exactly what you’re describing.”
“We never intended to let him near your cabin.”
“But he got inside.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody thought I deserved to know?”
Richard remained silent.
I chuckled angrily.
“Apparently men lying to me for my own good is still fashionable at seventy-one.”
He winced.
“You have every right to be angry.”
“That’s generous.”
“I mean it.”
“Did Claire know you were watching me?”
“Not specifically.”
“Did she know I was considered a target?”
“Yes.”
I shut my eyes.
My own daughter.
I cherished Claire.
However, she had treated me like I was getting ready to paddle a canoe across the Atlantic for the entire year since I announced the voyage.
I received stories about falls from her.
frauds.
foodborne illness.
insurance for travel.
clots of blood.
Pretending it was for convenience, she set up a location-sharing app on my phone.
To stop hearing about all the ways I could die on the trip, I had almost canceled it.
“She had no right.”
“No.”
I was shocked by Richard’s response.
I gave him a look.
“You agree?”
“She was scared.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“I know.”
I asked, “What happened to your wife?” because of the way he stated it.
Richard turned to face the ground.
“Ellen had Alzheimer’s.”
I was aware of that.
On the fourth nite, he had told me.
What came before was what he hadn’t told me.
“For the last two years she was home, I made every decision for her.”
He spoke softly.
“At first because I had to.”
I paid attention.
“Then I got used to it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I decided when she could go out. Who she could see. What was safe.”
“She had Alzheimer’s.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“But there were times she could still decide things, and I stopped asking.”
He gave me a look.
“Fear can make control feel like love.”
That sentence struck a painful chord.
He went on.
“When Claire called the cruise line, she sounded like someone terrified of losing her mother.”
“You spoke to her?”
“Once.”
“What did she say?”
“That you were stubborn.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Of course.”
“That you hated being treated like you were fragile.”
I gave a blink.
“She knew that?”
“Apparently.”
“Then why did she do this?”
“Because knowing you’re wrong doesn’t always make fear smaller.”
I took another look at the photos.
“Where is Jason?”
“Security detained him.”
“Was that the alarm?”
Richard gave a nod.
“He tried to access a restricted area after he ran.”
“Are there others?”
“One other passenger is being questioned. Possibly a crew connection.”
I took a seat once more.
“What was in my suitcase?”
“Mostly your clothes.”
“Mostly?”
Richard paused.
My stomach constricted.
“What?”
He unlocked the suitcase.
There was a tiny black gadget in a plastic evidence bag on top of my clothes.
I gazed at it.
“What is that?”
“Card reader.”
“For credit cards?”
“Possibly.”
“Was it mine?”
“No.”
“It was in my suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We think he planned to leave the suitcase somewhere and claim you had stolen something.”
I gazed at him.
“Why would anyone believe that?”
“He may have needed a distraction.”
Richard gestured to another evidence bag.
There was a master-style keycard inside.
“And if that was found with your belongings, you would have had some explaining to do.”
I was physically sick.
“Why me?”
“Because you were alone.”
Four phrases.
since you were by yourself.
That’s precisely why I was on the verge of declining to take this cruise.
I had been traveling with my husband, Peter, for 38 years.
Peter worked with maps.
tickets.
luggage.
He conversed with unfamiliar people.
He was aware of the important documents.
I became aware of how many things I had let him handle because it was simpler when he passed away three years prior.
I had promised myself the cruise.
I still have somewhere to go.
I still have the freedom to act on my own initiative.
And now someone had noticed fragility in that independence.
For that, I detested him.
I also detested Claire’s covert creation of a second net around me in response.
“What happens now?”
“Security will want a statement.”
“Fine.”
“And the local authorities may speak to you when we dock.”
“Fine.”
Richard gave a nod.
“And you?” I then asked.
His expression shifted.
“What about me?”
“Was tonight supposed to be your goodbye?”
He cast a downward glance.
The champagne.
“To unexpected second chances.”
It was less than an hour after he had stated it.
“I was going to tell you.”
I chuckled.
“Everyone is always going to tell me.”
“Fair.”
“When?”
“After we docked.”
“Why not before?”
“Because the operation was still active.”
“There’s always a reason.”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand why that doesn’t make me feel better?”
“Yes.”
He continued to say “yes,” at least.
I had had enough of people trying to justify my rage.
Richard didn’t.
That was beneficial.
Ten minutes later, a security guard showed up.
Elena was her name.
She gave a more formal explanation of everything.
They had been keeping an eye on three people they suspected.
Jason had gotten into my cabin using what they thought was a card that had been unlawfully reproduced.
They had anticipated that he would steal things.
Rather, he stole my whole suitcase.
Richard trailed behind.
Jason noticed him.
Ran.
then made an attempt to enter a different restricted area, which set off a security reaction.
“Was I in danger?”
I inquired.
Elena hesitated.
“We had no indication he intended physical harm.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She gave a nod.
“There was risk.”
I valued the candor.
“Should I have been told?”
One more pause.
“Yes.”
Richard gave her a look.
She disregarded him.
“Our operation prioritized identifying the network. Looking back, we should have given you more information once we confirmed someone was tracking you.”
“Thank you.”
I only needed one person to express it.
Not that everyone had good intentions.
It wasn’t like they were keeping me safe.
that I ought to have realized.
I made my declaration.
I then grabbed my suitcase.
Richard trailed me all the way to the guest elevator.
“Margaret.”
I pivoted.
Compared to dinner, he appeared older.
Not seventy-four.
I’m just exhausted.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what part?”
“Meeting you under false pretenses.”
I held out.
“Not telling you when it stopped being just an assignment.”
My throat constricted.
“And letting you become part of something dangerous without giving you a choice.”
The most important one was that one.
I gave a nod.
then entered the elevator.
He didn’t go along.
We docked the following morning.
Claire was at the terminal, waiting.
I was aware that she had flown down out of fear.
She came running toward me as soon as she noticed me.
I gave her a hug.
After that, I said, “You and I are going to have an enormous argument.”
She broke down in tears.
“I know.”
“Did you think I was incapable of handling the truth?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d go anyway.”
I gazed at her.
“Exactly.”
She appeared perplexed.
“The decision was mine.”
“I thought if you knew—”
“You thought I might choose differently than you wanted.”
She started crying more intensely.
“I’m sorry.”
I trusted her.
I was still upset.
It was feasible to do both.
Twenty minutes later, Richard deboarded.
Claire noticed him.
then gave me a glance.
“Oh.”
“What?”
Her eyes grew wide.
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
“He’s… not what I pictured.”
I gave her a fierce look.
She was polite enough to appear ashamed.
Richard cautiously stepped forward.
“Good morning.”
I crossed my arms.
“Debatable.”
All of a sudden, Claire’s phone captivated her.
Richard gave me a glance.
“I have something for you.”
He gave me an envelope.
There was a piece of paper inside.
His phone number.
Nothing more.
I said, “No secret file?”
“No.”
“No background report?”
“No.”
“No photograph of me drinking coffee?”
He flinched.
“I deserve that.”
I nearly grinned.
Nearly.
“If you ever want to call me, I’d like that,” he continued.
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll understand.”
“You’re not going to investigate why?”
At last, he laughed at that.
“No.”
I placed the document in my handbag.
It was two weeks before I gave him a call.
Claire was shocked by that.
I was also taken aback.
I wanted to know if I had missed Richard or if I had just missed the version of the cruise that I believed I had taken.
Richard was the obnoxious response.
So I gave a call.
We went on our first actual date on land.
40 minutes away from my residence is a restaurant.
I took the wheel myself.
The restaurant was my choice.
I wanted to tell Claire where I was going, so I did.
Not because she insisted on it.
Richard was early.
He appeared anxious.
I was happier than I should have been by that.
We spent three hours conversing.
I asked inquiries this time.
Many of them.
And he responded this time.
It had been nine months since we first started dating.
slowly.
incredibly slowly.
I informed him that if I ever see my picture pinned to another wall, we’re done, but he continues to consult
with the fraud task force.
That makes sense, he says.
I changed, too, as did Claire.
She ceased to monitor my whereabouts.
I updated all of the passwords.
My credit was temporarily frozen.
At home, I changed my locks.
Not because I had no power.
Because giving in to fear does not equate to learning from risk.
There’s a distinction.
When this event is told, some people remark, “I was lucky Richard was there.”
I was.
However, I didn’t learn that lesson from it.
I was fortunate to follow him as well.
I was fortunate to ask questions.
Fortunately, I became enraged when others attempted to influence decisions regarding my life.
I discovered something at the age of 71 that I ought to have realized decades before.
Giving up your right to know does not equate to being loved.
Not to your daughter.
Not to a man you might be in love with.
Not even to those who sincerely think they’re protecting you.
I followed a man below deck on the last nite of my maiden trip because I feared he could be keeping something from me.
He was.
Not another woman, please.
Not a romance that was snatched.
Not a secret life.
He was concealing the fact that we had never met by coincidence.
That almost destroyed everything for a while.
However, Richard continues to take me out to dinner nine months later.
On certain occasions, he still orders champagne.
And each time he lifts his drink, he queries:
“What are we drinking to?”
I respond to him in the same way every time.
“Full disclosure.”
We then have a drink to that.
If you were Margaret, would you still want to date Richard after finding out that your initial encounter had been set up?
