Page 10 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“Thank you,” I say. “Quinn may not be a fan of mine, but right now I’m not a fan of hers either.”

Gideon spots us and swoops in with the enthusiasm that feels slightly calculated. Up close, his scarf really is exquisite—paisley in teal and gold that somehow works with the charcoal suit. He’s either a man with excellent taste or a man with excellent stylists. Possibly both.

“Ladies!” He spreads his arms. “I’m so glad you could join us. Welcome to the Second Act Society’s inaugural voyage celebration.”

“Thank you for having us,” Bess says politely.

“The pleasure is mine.” His gaze flicks to Marina and lingers a beat too long before returning to me. “Trixie, was it? What is it that you do aboard the ship?”

“I’m the art instructor. I teach art classes in all mediums.”

“How lovely.” He turns to Marina. “And you? Are you staff as well?”

“Just a passenger,” Marina says quickly and her smile fades fast. I can tell she’s not loving the attention he’s been giving to her.

Gideon studies her face again, his eyes narrowing. “I really do feel like we’ve met. Boston, perhaps? Do you spend time in Boston?”

“No.” Marina’s voice is tight enough to strain pasta through.

“Hmm.” Gideon doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it drop. “Well, make yourselves at home. There’s plenty of food, plenty of drinks, and plenty of people eager to share their second act stories.”

“What exactly do you do?” I ask him, because I’m nosy and he seems the type to enjoy talking about himself.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I run a consultancy firm—we help people transition into their next chapters. Career changes, personal reinventions, that sort of thing. It’s deeply rewarding work.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Bess says.

“It is. I get to witness people transform their lives.” He smiles, but there’s something vague about the whole explanation, as if he’s deliberately keeping the details fuzzy. “I’ve worked with CEOs who became artists, lawyers who opened restaurants, accountants who started sailing around the world. The possibilities are endless when you stop letting fear dictate your choices.”

It sounds saintly. Almost too saintly. And the way he keeps glancing at Marina makes my radar ping.

Someone calls his name from across the room, and Gideon excuses himself with what looks like a forced smile.

“Well, he’s hot to trot,” Nettie says the second he’s out of earshot. “And I think he’s got a thing for you, Marina.”

“I certainly hope not,” she mutters, her eyes still narrowed in his direction.

Marina, Bess, and Nettie make a beeline for the buffet. I’m about to follow when I literally bump into Holland and Silas, the Nordic Hearth gods, near the dessert table.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” I steady myself against a chair.

“No worries at all.” Holland laughs, her honey-blonde hair catching the light. She’s breezy and warm in a flowing pink dress, while Silas stands beside her in a navy blazer, his silver-streaked hair making him look distinguished and impossibly put-together.

“I’m glad we bumped into you. I just have to know…” Holland leans in. “Is it true? Is the ship haunted?”

I glance around the room, half expecting to see the blonde ghost hovering near the champagne fountain.

“No. Absolutely not,” I say with zero conviction.

Her brows knit together. “Are you sure?”

I nod. “I can assure you, there’s definitely no ghost in this room right now.”

I never said the ship.

They both laugh.

“I heard there have been a few homicides aboard.” Holland winces. “And that maybe the ship is, you know, cursed.”