“I thought there’d be more people,” Nora Gibbons complained stiffly. “Emilie made this sound like a cocktail party.” She was seated across from Shackleton and his assistant on the fantail of the Namouna. It was a balmy, breezy day out on the lake, and the banker was drinking gin and tonic, which the steward had learned to mix with more Boodles than soda. The ladies were cautiously sipping mimosas.
Namouna.“What do you mean?” Shackleton asked as if he didn’t know. “You got your cocktail. Didn’t you bring your party mood?”
“We were docked, and I assumed more people would be coming, but before I knew it, you’d put out to sea!”
Shackleton chuckled. “It’s more like a big pond, Nora. And shore is just minutes away if you get uncomfortable.”
“What’s this about?” the news anchor asked impatien
