Chapter 7: The Trouble with Email

Early was rumpled, stiff and pissed long before dawn Friday morning. He'd spent the whole night in the deck chair and at some point his laptop had fallen off his chest to the steel deck and now it wouldn't boot. It was fully backed up... at home. There wasn't anything he needed, but it had provided a nice source of solitary entertainment, and that was now gone. A steward had slipped a fax under his door during the night from Cynthia. Receiving faxes was free, sending them only required a nominal charge. The kind of charge that required you to take out a multi-generational mortgage.

I called Susan to confirm her email address. She said to use the one below and she would monitor it all day. Please don't keep her waiting.

Cyn

Early snorted, Yeah, you called her to 'confirm' my ass. I wonder just how long that conversation lasted and just how long it took you to start it? Still, with a broken laptop he had an excellent excuse to postpone a conversation that looked even less desirable in the light of day, especially at fifty cents a minute for email.

Early made his way the ship's internet café at 6:30 local time and noted it was 9:30 in Seattle. At least this way Susan wouldn't have to spend all day looking for his email, Early hated having to do that. He sent the following message then wandered to La Veranda to see if some breakfast would put him in a better mood.

Susan,

I've been bothered by our last meeting and I wanted to ask you some questions in private. However, I broke my laptop last night. So, unless you're prepared to meet me at the Fanning Islands, they'll have to wait until I can buy a new one in Tahiti. I didn't mean for Cyn to imply there was any rush. I've just had too much idle time on this cruise.

Early

Early had put the entire matter out of his mind by the time he attended a lecture about tiny Fanning Island, one of the most inaccessible places on Earth. Saturday was another day at sea, and Early was able to read for pleasure. An activity he hadn't done for years. He spent several hours near the pool in a deck chair and took the opportunity to have several casual conversations.

Sunday morning he awoke feeling more rested than he had in years. The ship wasn't scheduled to drop anchor until 7:00 AM. Early went to the Compass Rose restaurant for breakfast and was finished in time to watch the anchor drop and several lifeboats lowered to serve as tenders to the gorgeous island.

The last thing on Earth he expected to see as he stepped ashore a little after eight Sunday morning for his "Independent exploration of Fanning Island" was a smiling but exhausted-looking Susan.

"Good morning Early, I'm always prepared to meet you anytime and anywhere you'll let me. I'd never heard of Fanning Island and I don't know if you know they don't have an airport. I've never been on a seaplane before, it was so exciting I think I'm going to pass on the privilege of riding in one for the rest of my life. There's an empty cabin on the ship I've rented and I'll stay in it if you don't want to see me after our talk, but I'd rather be staked out for fire ants than fly in that little plane again. Please say I don't have to go back by seaplane." There was real pleading and fear in her eyes.

Early was speechless, and he couldn't decide if he was mad or not. He didn't recall exactly what he'd emailed, but the rhetorical question probably could be construed as an invitation, but only by someone as devious as Cynthia. "You look like you've been put through the wringer, why don't you go on board and rest up. We sail at noon, if you're not awake by lunch, we can have a private dinner in my suite tonight and talk."