I sloughed it off, made them think it was nothing. He was nothing. Said I was too tired to talk about it. But Meg saw through my facade. She knew how I looked when my heart had been broken. She’d seen it before at Strandview Manor. But even if I had wanted to talk, the next day we simply hadn’t the time. The Wednesday before a sailing was always busy. Gaade and Matron Jones kept us running. It helped to keep my mind off things somewhat. Gaade was in total control of everyone and everything, checking the refrigerators, meeting with bakers and cooks, telling the butchers how to prepare the seven thousand pounds of fresh beef and pork and what to do with the twelve hundred chickens ready for roasting. It boggled the mind, really, and Gaade managed it all—every one of us in the stewarding department, every baker and bartender, cook and culinary expert, fell under his command and rose to his high standards. He gathered the stewarding department in the second-class dining room, where we stood at attention as he gave us his usual spiel on what he expected of us.
