Page 8 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

“Hello, ladies!” She extends a perfectly manicured hand. “Poppy Lindgren. So lovely to meet you all. Are you with the cruise line?”

“I teach the art classes on board,” I say as we shake. “Watercolors, acrylics, the occasional finger-painting incident. If anyone paints a shirtless Viking this week, I’ll be held partially responsible.”

“Oh, we will absolutely be painting shirtless Vikings,” Poppy assures me with a dark laugh, and I believe her.

“How long have you been with the book club?” Marina asks.

“Oh, about eight years now,” Poppy says. “Best decision I ever made. It’s my escape from real life, you know? We’re all from Willow Creek, Connecticut. Fifty women, one zip code, and a truly shocking number of opinions about Vikings. Twice a month we meet for wine and books, and once a year we do something like this.” She gestures around the room.

“Sounds perfect,” Bess says.

“It is. Well, mostly.” Poppy’s smile dims as she glances at Astrid. “When certain people aren’t trying to run everything their way.”

Astrid’s laugh could slice the charcuterie. “I founded this club, Poppy. I think I’ve earned the right to have opinions.”

Poppy gives a hard blink. “Opinions are fine. Mandates are different.”

The temperature in our little circle drops about ten degrees.

“Well.” Poppy’s smile snaps back into place. “Lovely chatting with you all. The chocolate-covered strawberries are calling my name.”

A woman after my own heart. And my own dessert strategy.

She floats off toward the buffet, and Astrid watches her go with narrowed eyes before shaking her head. “It’s just creative differences. Don’t mind us.”

I’m still processing that exchange when Sienna Caldwell pops up at my elbow, looking slightly frazzled. Her frizzy auburn hair has escaped its velvet headband, and her glasses are sliding down her nose once again.

“Astrid, we need to talk about the costume gala⁠—”

“Not now, Sienna.” Astrid is quick to wave her off as she sips from her glowing cocktail.

“Yes, now. You can’t just announce things without consulting the committee⁠—”

“I can announce whatever I want.” Astrid’s voice could chip the ice sculpture. “I helped fund this cruise. Or have you forgotten?”

Sienna’s soft face flushes. “That doesn’t give you the right to⁠—”

“It gives me every right.” Astrid turns back to us, dismissing Sienna entirely. “Sorry about that. Administrative details. So boring.”

Marina and I exchange a look. That wasn’t boring. That was a hostile takeover before appetizers.

The group breaks apart as someone across the room calls Astrid’s name. She sets her blue cocktail on the edge of the buffet table and sweeps off, and Poppy’s already disappeared into the crowd. Sienna lingers for a moment, pink clear to her ears.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness that.”

“No worries,” I say gently. “I’m sure it’s been a long travel day for everyone.” And I mean it. Wrangling fifty opinionated women while somebody else holds the purse strings can’t be an easy gig, and my heart goes out to her more than a little.

“This is true,” Sienna says. “Anyway, you’re all welcome to join any of our activities this week. Book discussions, author panels, the costume gala.” She adjusts her glasses. “The more the merrier. And as you can see, there are more than enough Vikings to go around.”

Everyone chuckles, and the tension loosens its grip.

Nettie grabs my arm. “Speaking of Vikings, I’m on a mission to take a selfie with every single one in this room.”

Bess runs a quick head count. “That’s at least twenty Vikings.”

“I’m aware. I’ve got a full phone battery and zero shame.”

“They’re not real!” Bess says for the third time.