Suddenly frightened at the intensity of these feelings welling up inside me, I took my chair, momentarily subdued. Maddy noticed.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied. "Just a little too much sun today."

The steward a.s.signed to our table introduced himself and handed out the menus, and I made a great pretense of studying mine while attempting to sort out my muddled thoughts.

I saw Harlan gloating out of the corner of my eye, and turned to him. "You arranged this, too, didn't you?" I asked him, grinning slyly.

His eyes widened in mock surprise. "Me? Now, wherever did you get such an idea, kiddo?" He laughed then, and I made out another mental IOU to add to the mounting pile. One good thing. Even if Harlan meant to spoil me, Maddy would help me keep it all in perspective.

The waiter began taking orders and I returned my attention to the menu. In honor of the original t.i.tanic, Harlan had arranged to have our first night's meal use the same menu as was served on that last fateful night in 1912. It was a full eleven courses, and while I knew I would never be able to eat it all, I intended to savor a bit from each dish, so I ordered with a cavalier abandon, starting with the Canapes a l'Amiral, through the Consomme, four rich entrees with a sorbet in between each one, a salad, a cold pate dish, finally ending with Peaches in Chartreuse Jelly, a sort of proto-Jell-O for the Edwardian set.

When the steward left with the orders, the Sommelier stepped forward. "Would you like to choose the wines, Monsieur Astor?" he asked.

Harlan clapped me on the shoulder and announced to the others: "I'll have you good people know, that aside from being a crackerjack writer, Trevor's quite the wine connoisseur. Aren't you, kiddo?"

I shrugged, trying not to let the embarra.s.sment I felt show on my face. Under the table, Maddy squeezed my hand. Somehow that made it both better and worse at the same time.

"Are you really?" Mrs. Bates asked, trying to adjust her over-tight corset without attracting attention.

"I know a few things-how it's made, how to taste it, how to store it, that sort of thing. But it's not as if I write for the Wine Spectator. I'm strictly an amateur."

If she recognized the name of that world famous magazine for wine collectors and connoisseurs, she pretended otherwise.

"Well, in any event, I think that's wonderful. I never could make head nor tails out of a wine list. My late husband always drank vodka, poor sod."

Hoyt Asbury gave Mrs. Bates a withering glare. "I think its all b.l.o.o.d.y c.r.a.p, anyway," he said with a snort. "I read somewhere if you blindfold someone they can't tell the difference between a good wine and grape juice. All this swirling and swishing and spitting is a lot of poppyc.o.c.k, I say."

"You're absolutely right, Mr. Asbury. Taste depends a lot upon both sight and smell. Without either of those senses to aid us, we might as well be drinking grape juice, as you say. As for wine tasting, I'll admit the ritual looks a bit pretentious-"

"b.l.o.o.d.y poppyc.o.c.k." Asbury said, punctuating each syllable with a curt nod of his head.

"Mr. Asbury, please," Mrs. Bates said, shaking her head, eyes narrowing in disapproval.

I smiled, noting the older man's discomfort. "Anyway, the tasting process is strictly a means to enhance the pleasure of drinking the wine, nothing more. As for my alleged expertise, if you'll allow me...."

"Far be it from me to impose," Harlan said, handing me the wine list. "It's all yours, kiddo."

I glanced at Maddy, who gave me a rea.s.suring wink.

The first thing I noticed on the list were the modern vintages. I was relieved. Aside from their scarcity, most 1912 wines would be little more than expensive vinegar. It was a minor miracle the champagne Harlan had given me back in Gdansk had been any good at all, though I'd come to suspect he'd taken a far more recently bottled vintage and had it re-labeled.

In all, I ordered five different wines: a Pinot Grigio and a dry Chardonnay for the lighter fish and poultry courses, two vintage Burgundies for the meat dishes: Chateau Margeaux and La Tache Domaine De La Romanee-Conti, as well as a delightful late harvest Riesling for dessert.

When the Sommelier, returned with the first of the wines, the first course was being served.

"I have a confession to make," Maddy whispered, in between bites of her Oyster a la Russe. I fought back the feeling of dread that stole over me and forced a smile onto my face.

"Nothing bad, I hope." It was a trite thing to say, but because of the way I was feeling at that moment, I couldn't think of anything else.

And that earnest look on her face made it all the worse, as did her next words.

"You're going to hate me...."

This was the moment she would tell me she was married.

"I a.s.sure you I won't," I said, all the while my stomach roiled.

"I've never read one of your books...until last night."

I was relieved and stunned all at once and my expression must have shown it.

She laughed. "I'm sorry, but you looked so surprised just then. What did you think I was going to say?"

"I don't know, Maddy, but you made it all sound so melodramatic. I had visions of all sorts of wicked things. You worried me."

She rested her hand on mine, infusing me with her warmth.

"You're such a dear man."

I shook my head. "Oh, G.o.d, don't say that. The next thing you'll say is that I'm 'such a nice guy.' And after that we'll just be friends."

I couldn't believe I'd said that. But instead of acting indignant, as I would have expected, she merely smiled one of her sly smiles. "Oh, I don't think we'll ever be just friends, Trevor."

Back from a short break, the band began playing. Consisting of an octet of stringed instruments, they sat in the open area just inside the double doors, off to the side and played mostly ragtime and other light pieces. When they began a slower tune, a waltz from The Merry Widow, Maddy turned to me. "Dance with me, Galahad?"

"I don't think they allow that. What I mean is, I don't think they did that on the original ship, at least not in the dining room."

"Go on, Trev, enjoy yourself," Harlan said.

"But no one else is doing it."

"Trevor," Maddy said, disappointed. "Don't you want to dance with me?"

"More than anything. The trouble is...I never learned how."

She stood and held out her hand to me. "No time like the present. I promise not to lead you astray."

"And I promise not to turn your feet into hamburger," I replied, taking her hand.

She led the way to the area right in front of the band. The leader, the violinist, smiled and gave us an encouraging nod. Maddy took me in her arms and pulled me to her. She felt soft and delicate, yet underneath I sensed a hard core, a toughness I admired. She was the kind of person who would meet a challenge head on, rather than shy away as so many others would. I admired that quality, and wished I had more of it within me. Sometimes, being a writer allowed me to indulge the part of me that wanted to hide from the world, and I was beginning to chafe under that regime.

"You know, you might do a lot better if you moved," Maddy said.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry." I leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. "What the h.e.l.l do I do?"

"Just go with the flow," she whispered back.

We began to sway to the lilting rhythms and I suddenly found it easy to dance with her. When I was a young boy, my mother forced dancing lessons on me. After a while, I ducked them, spending the time in a local pool hall that didn't mind a bored and curious kid hanging around. Right now, I really wished I'd gone more often.

"How am I doing?"

Her smile dazzled me. "Just fine, Galahad, just fine."

I leaned closer and heard her sigh. Her hair smelled of honeysuckle and that rush of giddiness returned.

"So, uhh, what did you think of my book? I a.s.sume you got it from the ship's library."

"They have all of them, so I picked the very first one."

"It's my favorite. It was rejected over thirty times before it was published, and I thought if I had to rewrite it one more time, I would jump out my window."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Me, too."

The music ended and the band struck up a fast ragtime. Since neither one of us knew what to do with that kind of music, we returned to the table and our soup course.

Two hours later, the meal finally wound down. I'd managed to stick to my plan to eat sparingly of each course, savoring it for its unique flavor. The others, excluding Harlan and Maddy who'd followed my lead, appeared dazed and logy.

Harlan broke the momentary silence. "If you gentlemen would care to join me in the smoking room for cigars and port, I would be honored." He turned to Maddy. "Ladies, if you will excuse us."

Maddy looked at me and I knew what she was thinking.

"Harlan, if you don't mind, Maddy and I are going to take a turn around the deck."

He smiled, this time without any conspiratorial overtones. "Of course. I'll see you later." Then to the others. "Gentlemen, let us retire."

Hoyt struggled to his feet and was joined by Gavin Reynolds who looked even thinner standing up. The three of them joined a growing throng of men headed for the smoking room one deck above.

"Are you sure you don't want to join them?" Maddy said.

Though her question was innocent, I could discern the true subtext. I shook my head, helping her on with her wrap. "No thanks. I never could stand to be in a smoky room. Besides, I'd have to be crazy to leave you alone."

She laughed, and together we walked out of the Dining Saloon, taking a lift up to the Boat deck.

Outside, the temperature had dropped and she huddled against me, her arm around my waist. We walked the length of the deck at a leisurely pace, pa.s.sing a few of our fellow pa.s.sengers on similar missions.

The moon was a crescent of silver hanging overhead, and the stars stretched from horizon to horizon like a brilliant pointillist tapestry.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Maddy said, staring upward, the pale light making the ivory pallor of her skin glow. "You forget when you live in a city, just how breathtaking the night sky really is. I'll bet it looked just this way a hundred years ago...."

I stared at her until my silence made her turn. "What is it?" she said, a smile playing across her lips.

"Who are you, Maddy Regehr?"

"Isn't this where you're supposed to say, 'Where have you been all my life?'"

"That was on my mind, too, but I realized, just now actually, that you know all about me, and I know next to nothing about you."

"You're not trying for one of your interviews."

"No, I'm not. But so what if I were? Is your life story that bad?"

A troubled look flashed across her face, revealing fine lines I'd never seen, lines that didn't belong on this woman's countenance, lines of unhappiness.

"I really don't want to talk about it, Trevor. Can we change the subject?"

The writer in me, the one who wanted to ferret out the truth, urged me to press on; but I knew to do so would alienate her from me, possibly for good. And I couldn't do that, for I knew whatever it was we felt for each other was still on tenuous ground.

"Isn't that your friend?" she asked, motioning toward the stern with a nod of her head.

I followed her gaze and saw Harlan down on the p.o.o.p Deck striding past the docking bridge on his way toward the aftermost point.

He appeared to be in a hurry. I frowned.

"You mind if we go down there?"

"You're worried about him, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

She nodded. "Yes, it is. Are you sure you want to get involved?"

She had my attention now.

"Why would you say that?"

"No reason, except all of us have our secrets, and sometimes it's best if we don't plumb too deep."

"That go for you, too?"

She remained silent, a beautiful, maddening enigma more enticing by the moment.

"Come on, let's go."

Except for two men having an argument about sports statistics, the p.o.o.p Deck lay mostly deserted. We found Harlan leaning on the railing looking out over the ship's wake. It took him a few minutes to realize we were there and until he did, he seemed forlorn, an expression I'd never seen on him before.

"Wasn't the food terrific, Trev?" he asked, without turning around. "Can you believe people really ate like that, and lived long and healthy lives? And now look at us." He turned and fixed me with an angry glare. "We're all running scared, worried about every miserable thing we put into our bodies." He shook his head, and I took it as my cue to voice concerns that had gnawed at me since the voyage began.

"Is everything all right, Harlan?"

He gave me an odd look, then smiled.

"Sure, kiddo, everything's fine. At any rate, it's nothing a sea voyage won't cure."

I saw a look pa.s.s between him and Maddy, and I felt a flash of white-hot jealousy.