our suite. We wandered around for a while, heading down a couple of levels via elevator and then following signs pointing us down one long, windowless hallway after another. There weren’t many people down there—I guessed most of the passengers were upstairs watching the ship prepare to pull out of Vancouver’s busy harbor.
“Wow.” George was panting slightly as we jogged up a staircase. “This ship seems even bigger on the inside than it does on the outside.”
“We could be lost for days before anyone could find us.” Alan wriggled his fingers in a spooky way.
I paused at the intersection of two hallways. The one we’d been following was lined with numbered cabin doors. The other was narrower and shorter, with a sign on the wall reading GALLEY—EMPLOYEES ONLY .
“Maybe we should go ask someone back there,” I said, gesturing toward the sign.
“Aw, you’re giving up so soon?” Alan grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Nancy?”
“I’m not sure. I think I lost it a few levels back,” I joked weakly.
We hurried down the hallway. As we neared the corner, I heard voices ahead.
“Good, sounds like there’s someone back there,” Bess said.
The voices stopped abruptly as we came into sight. Three men turned to stare at us in surprise. Two of them wore Superstar Cruises uniforms. One was holding a broom and dustpan, while the other had a white kitchen apron tied on over his navy shorts. The third man appeared to be a passenger. He was in his fifties and heavyset, with a droopy mustache and prominent jowls. He was dressed in Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
“Excuse me,” I said. “We’re looking for our suite, and we’re kind of lost.”
“Me too,” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt said, the corners of his mouth turning up beneath his mustache. “This ship is a giant maze, isn’t it? It’s like a floating fiefdom!” Hechortled and slapped one of the employees on the back. “These fellows were just helping me find my way. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir,” the guy with the apron said. He looked at the other employee, who smiled uncertainly and scurried off in the opposite direction. “What’s your cabin number?”
Was it my imagination, or did the kitchen worker look sort of anxious? It was hard to tell in the dimly lit hallway.
“We’re in the Hollywood Suite,” George told him.
“Ooh la la!” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt whistled. “Sounds fancy! See you youngsters around.” He nodded at us, then strolled off and disappeared around the corner.
The remaining employee gave us directions. “Enjoy your time with Superstar Cruises,” he finished softly. Then he turned and hurried off.
“That was a little strange, wasn’t it?” Bess said when he was gone.
“Strange? How do you mean?” Alan put an arm around her.
“Nothing,” George said quickly. “Um, I mean, I didn’t notice anything.”
Alan shrugged. “Okay. Now come on, let’s see if we can find our rooms this time!”
When we finally found it, the Hollywood Suite turned out to be pretty spectacular. We entered through a marble-floored foyer into a two-story living room with a grand piano, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a sliding door leading onto a roomy private balcony. George hurried toward the balcony, which offered a great view of Vancouver shrinking behind us as the ship chugged away. When she reached the glass doors leading out there, she gasped.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “We have our own hot tub!”
Just then one of the other doors opened, and Max the butler hurried out. “You found it!” he exclaimed with a bright smile. “I was just starting to worry. Nancy, your buckwheat pillow should be here any minute.”
“Buckwheat pillow?” Bess echoed, shooting me a look.
I ignored her. “Thanks, Max,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
“That’s what I’m here for!” He hurried over to the pile of luggage stacked near the piano. “Now if you tell me who’s going to be in which room, I can