“She said he’s sleeping early tonight.”

I unfolded the note under the warm entrance light.

June had written four lines in dark blue ink, apologizing for missing dinner and promising to meet me on the promenade deck for morning tea at nine.

“Would you like me to seat you at a smaller table by the window?” Arnel asked softly.

“No, I’ll sit right here, Arnel,” I said, slipping June’s note into my handbag.

“A bowl of clear broth and some bread will be fine.”