Queen of the Sea part 2

 “They've entered,” crackled through the speaker hidden in the podium.
 
 Brianna uncrossed her legs, but didn't stand up just yet.   
 
 The pianist was haunting an armchair on the other side of the room with a copy of a romance novel hidden inside an antique-looking cover.
 
 She opened her mouth and then sighed, keeping in what she'd meant to say. She had an annoying habit of saying things that were obvious. The pianist knew just as well as she did that it took about 20 minutes from that checkpoint for guests to reach their wing of the tour.
 
 These intervals were the worst part of the job. She needed to be singing in about 10 minutes to set the ambiance. That wasn't enough time to really become absorbed in any entertainment, but was too long to just stand around.   
 
 There were only about 3 minutes until the lady in furs started to arrive, though. Brianna was becoming adept at noticing those signs, since there wasn't much else to do. Tourists wouldn't see her until about 5pm, but the ghost was there in bits and pieces starting from 3:20 or so. She arrived in waves.
 
 The first thing was always the slight press of weight on the fabric of her favorite chair. Next came a shadow cast by someone obstructing light from the chandelier overhead. Then the lady arrived herself, looking something like heat waves that gained color and form by the early evening.
 
 'She's in this room everyday, even before the sun goes down. If she was just drawn to the place where she died, she'd probably be more mobile around the ship. So whatever object she's attached to has to be in here. I wonder what it is.'
 
 There was nothing obvious and cliché, like jewelry or a locket of hair or photo of a loved one. According to current literature, ghosts were most likely attached to either an object they had loved in life, or their remains. Since this wasn't a graveyard, it had to be a thing. That probably meant that some personal belonging had been mistaken for part of the historical ship's décor instead of being returned to any surviving family.
 
 'Even if I figured it out, the museum would probably not appreciate that. This ghost is regular enough that they must be trying to verify her identity. If they can get her officially registered, that would be a tourist draw.'
 
 “We have company,” Brianna said, the instant that the chair sank under a new weight. And- her eyebrows shot up. “She's strong today, isn't she?” She could already see the hints of a handbag laid on the side-table.
 
 The pianist glanced up at her with his brow furrowed and one corner of his mouth lifted slightly in something that was not a smile. He immediately ducked his head back into his book instead of talk to her.
 
 Ugh. Fine. Brianna finished her water and replaced her tumbler in a cupboard that guests wouldn't know to poke at. She stretched around a little, checked her hair in a mirror, plucked off a bit of fuzz on her shoe, and took her place on stage as the pianist set his book on the piano bench and pushed back the wooden cover for the keys.   
 
 The first tour of the day went as they always did. At the five minute 'til checkpoint she couldn't hear the guests over the music, but a chime from the speaker made to sound like a clock signaled which area the group was in. 40 people meandered in small groups, stopping to glance at the same few things. The tour guide at the front was Miho this time, who kept her gloved hands folded and let the group explore. None of the four regular tour guides were anywhere to be seen, which was weird because they always seemed to work in pairs.
 
 Hmm. She wondered what languages this group spoke. Miho didn't usually do this unless there was no one else to cover the group's needs. She wasn't the only person on staff who could do the tour in Mandarin and French, but she was the only contact for Japanese and Korean.    
 
 The last two people in the room were a surprise. Imile sauntered in on one red heel at a time,  watching the group with a distant smile. The equally trim, blonde man with her had to be her brother.   
 
 'Perfect. I love having management here. This is fine.'
 
 Brianna kept her outward composure and her grousing internal. The stakes weren't that high- she was nearly immune to stage nerves at this point. And Imile was a really pleasant person. The other board of trustees members were probably not dragons, either.
 
 She felt a little differently as the interval wore on, Miho ushered the group out, and Imile's brother made eye contact.
 
 'Am I going to be fired? How do they fire people here? I hope they escort you out, so that you don't have to actually pay for the ride down like a visitor. I did not budget for that transportation cost.'
 
 The man didn't smile at her, which made her feel pretty uncomfortable. After a few seconds of dedicated staring he leaned in to say something to Imile and then left with the group.
 
 Yikes.
 
 Imile started golf-clapping, which mostly served to show off the shine of her pearly manicure. She caught Brianna's eye and smiled, walking forward slowly. She waited until the chime signaled that the tour group was far enough away and then elegantly gestured for silence.
 
 The pianist lifted his hands and shut the lid on the keys in a smooth movement. Brianna ran a hand over her hair and stepped down towards Imile.... and her coworker left through the side door to give them privacy. Because he knew Imile wasn't here to talk to him, which probably meant he'd complained about Brianna's lateness two days ago when the Red Lady spooked her.   
 
 She focused bad thoughts in his direction.
 
 She knew now that she had imagined the encounter. Her imagination was working too hard because she was bored, and she'd fixated on a pretty woman. It was perfectly reasonable. And working with so many dead people could put anyone's nerves up. Someone who had been working here for so long should know to give the inexperienced a little slack.
 
 'Let's hope management sees it that way.'
 
 “Imile.” Brianna made sure her smile was reaching her eyes. “It's been a while. How have you been?”
 
 The older woman nodded regally. “It's good to see you. I've been doing well, but my work keeps me busy.” She took a seat and gestured Brianna to the chair to her right.
 
 The seat with the ghost slowly materializing into it. Her hand was visible on the arm of the chair, clenched into a fist.
 
 Brianna felt herself making an odd expression and wiped it smooth. She took a few quick steps past that seat to choose the chair at Imile's left instead.
 
 Imile took that weirdness in stride. She might have even smiled, very slightly. “It seems that you're settling in well.”
 
 'That's not how you start a firing,' Brianna thought, and felt her smile become real. “I've enjoyed this opportunity.”
 
 “You're not lonely?” Imile asked. There was the slightest edge in her voice. “I know that some people find it isolating to work here, since it is difficult to leave and socialize with people outside the area. I'm lucky that my brother also stays here.”
 
 Brianna cleared her throat. “I'm fine.” That didn't seem to be enough, so she added, “I don't have any siblings.”
 
 “The most common reason people suddenly leave employment here,” Imile said, “is that they find they are not suited to the somewhat isolated nature of the job, or they realize that they have family obligations to attend to. An aging parent, perhaps.”
 
 She was really ready for this conversation to be over. “That won't be a problem with me,” Brianna said, just a little stiffer than she really should.
 
 “I see.” Imile just looked at her for long enough that a strange pressure rose. Then she tucked her hair back. The heaviness disappeared, the room even seemed a little brighter. “That is very good to hear.”
 
 '...It's good to know that I'm alone in the world?' Brianna thought, keeping down any amusement. 'It's nice to see that even glamorous people who have their lives together say really awkward things.'
 
 “If you are willing, I have an opportunity for you.” Imile lowered her voice. Brianna leaned in. “We have some exciting ideas in development for diversifying the experience we provide. One key idea will be expanding the entertainment available in the exhibit, with a period dining experience outside of the tour.”
 
 Brianna blinked. “So you want to be using the big hall for more than just walk-throughs?”
 
 “Exactly.” Imile's smile was warm. “If you've interested, we would love to have you join the evening entertainment lineup. I saw from your resume that you have experience with operettas, yes?” She took Brianna's nod and went on. “At the time of the voyage, a certain Mozart opera was very popular and would most certainly have been in heavy rotation on the entertainment roster.”
 
 “The Marriage of Figaro,” Brianna agreed. “I can do three pieces from that with minimal rehearsal, actually.” She was aging out of some of the voice parts she had performed before, but opera was a very good career specialty to be in. The best voice parts were for women in their 40s, so there were employable decades to look forward to.
 
 She pushed down any trepidation about just how prepared she might be for that type of work.
 
 'I'm not exactly the legendary Brightman, but Imile is probably not expecting me to be one of the best singers in the history of the world to get this job. Now is not a cute time to express self-doubt.'
 
 Imile's eyebrows drifted up. “I see,” she said. She leaned back in her seat a bit and rested her left hand on the armrest. “That is a stroke of luck, although of course there are many strong pieces and it remains popular.” She flashed straight, white teeth in a much wider smile than her usual curve of painted lips. “We are in the process of hiring a suitable tenor, but for the moment you'll be carrying the project.”
 
 'This is by far the best job offer I've had. What is happening.'
 
 “We would like you to start rehearsals in the morning hours,” Imile said crisply. “You'll be receiving overtime pay for that, and of course you'll see a salary increase once you've changed positions. After you've moved to the ballroom fulltime, we would be replacing your current position with another performer.”
 
 “That makes sense,” Brianna agreed. “Any performance is more of a draw if it seems more exclusive and unique.”
 
 “Exactly so.” Imile tapped a finger against her collarbone. “We would have a stage name and something of a role for you to play that would fit the background of a person who might have been hired to sing opera for this voyage.” Someone cleared their throat in a nearby room, barely audible.
 
 Brianna unconsciously mirrored the older woman, rubbing at the stones of her necklace. “Is that already made, or...?”
 
 “You'll be Miss Dionysia Fairbank, a graduate of a well-reputed finishing school in the hometown of the ship's captain. I'll prepare an information packet for you,” Imile said immediately. Her gaze drifted to the jewelry that Brianna was fidgeting with. “If you're accepting, that is?”
 
 It wasn't a hard decision. Feeling cheered, she soared above her coworker's weird distance and the repetitive nature of her job for the rest of the shift.   
 
 She wasn't fired. Not only that, she was getting a promotion and what actually seemed to be a pretty cool job. This seemed less temporary than her current position- if she was going to be headlining like that, she'd be a lot harder to replace.   
 
 'Fuck yeah, job security.'
 
 Still buoyed at the end of her shift, Brianna didn't head for the free food for employees. For the first time, she walked over to the dining area meant for guests.   
 
 “Bri?”
 
 She turned to follow the voice. Miho was looking over with her hand slightly raised, peering through the window of a bar.
 
 That seemed as good a sign as any, so Brianna walked in and took the seat by her roommate. “Hi, Miho.” She flashed a grin. “It's good to see you.”
 
 Miho nodded slowly, looking at her face with a slight line between her brows. “You're cheery. Have a drink?” She held up her nearly empty glass.
 
 “Sounds good.”
 
 They ordered a drink each, and Brianna quickly flipped through the menu to add a ceasar salad and some garlic bread to the order. She settled back with her water to wait while Miho nursed the dregs of something that smelled pretty strong.
 
 “You had Imile see you today as well?” Miho asked suddenly. She glanced up from her drink. “How did that go?”
 
 Brianna kept her expression mild, because she really shouldn't brag about unhatched chickens. “It went well,” she understated. “I was worried that I was in trouble at first. Imile must just be very invested in personally overseeing daily operations. Pride in the family business, I suppose.”
 
 Miho cracked a smile without any amusement. “Yes,” she agreed. “I was nervous about having her along as well.” She let that statement hang in the air for a moment. “This place... it's very strange, isn't it?”
 
 Under the table, Brianna crossed her legs. “It's not that bad,” she defended weakly. Because yeah, it was super fuckin' weird. “It takes some getting used to.”
 
 “A lot of people don't get used to it,” Miho said. She looked troubled. “They hired a lot of people at one time. Isn't that a little odd?” At Brianna's blank stare, she clarified. “Every other employee seems to be long-term. Everyone who didn't come in with us seems to have worked here for at least three years, and they're not really interested in socializing with new people.” She made a face. “I don't know, it makes me worry that maybe they have some financial instability, or some other problem they're not telling us. If they needed to hire, like, 40 people at one time, they must have some problem with retaining people.”
 
 “I think it's just their employment model,” Brianna mused. “It's a little unusual. They run it like an internship program- there's a pretty strong implication that they won't retain most of us for long.” She frowned, thinking of something a little weird from their orientation. “And they did talk about how we can get great recommendations and job opportunities after working here. You're right, they do seem to strongly imply that most people won't stay on long.”
 
 It felt too arrogant to say, but maybe... Maybe they hired a lot of people, and only attempted to long-term retain the people who fit their work culture? Then they'd let go of 38 out of 40 employees, and bring in a new batch to find more talent.
 
 “It's just forward-thinking,” Brianna said, feeling more confident in her theory. “They know that most people won't want to do this for very long because it's difficult to see friends and family. So they're including that prediction in their business model.”
 
 Miho sighed, but she didn't contest it. The waiter chose that moment to set down their drinks and the salad. Miho immediately picked up her bourbon and downed a quarter of it. Which, wow. They had work tomorrow-   
 
 Maybe Miho didn't, actually. Brianna didn't know her schedule.
 
 “I don't want to work here forever,” Miho said, a little defensively. “But I'm worried about being forced out before I'm ready to go. Maybe I should have started back at class in the first term, but I wanted to save a lot before I go back to grad school.”
 
 Brianna winced in sympathy. “I don't think they'll kick you out the door,” she offered. “You're a valuable resource.   
 
 Miho glanced at her sideways, clearly not convinced.
 
 Brianna frowned. “Why are you so worried?” She tilted her head at the now-empty drink. “I don't think this is just coming from what you've told me. Is something else going on?” She thought of Miles, and wondered... “I know one person who left already, but I heard he quit. I guess that could have been a lie and he was fired. Do you know a lot of people who've been let go already?”
 
 “No,” Miho said, drawing out the word. She seemed pained. “I...” She shook her head. “Look, you can't tell anyone, but I saw something that I wasn't supposed to and it really looks like they're going to use up their yearly budget soon. Within a month, maybe.”
 
 She felt her eyebrows fly up her forehead. “It's August.”   
 
 “Yes,” Miho agreed with a huffy laugh. “It is. And the higher-ups seem unwisely cavalier about this situation- unless they know that they're about to have a lot less costs somewhere.”
 
 “Or make a lot more money,” Brianna suggested, thinking about what Imile had said to her.   
 
 Miho snorted. “Relying on that would be pretty stupid, wouldn't it? Future income won't pay  bills now even if it works out as projected,” she pointed out. “I don't know, I just...” She shook her head. “I'm pretty much assuming that we'll be let go at any moment. I'm going to be looking into a temporary job I can hold until the second term starts at my school.” She kicked the table. Her tone went sour. “Maybe I can find something on campus.”
 
 'But it probably wouldn't pay as well as this,' Brianna finished internally. So Miho would probably have to either postpone her doctorate longer or work while she was taking classes.
 
 She commiserated with her roommate through a couple of cocktails before bowing out, but she wasn't as convinced that this job was a lost cause.   
 
 'Maybe it's just because I'm believing what I want to. But why would Imile and her brother clearly have discussed this project before and offer it to me if they were going to fire me and everyone else? It might not go through, but I bet that they at least want to expand the entertainment the way they said.'
 
 Maybe Miho would be fired. Maybe tomorrow morning at the employee open breakfast there'd be a sign saying that they all had two hours to pack their bags and leave. Hard to say.
 
 No point in dwelling on it. But she should probably go back to frugality,  just in case.
  
 
 
 When she woke up the next morning, one of the room service carts was packed outside of the room. Miho was still buried under the covers with a pillow over her head, so Brianna was as quiet as humanly possible when she unloaded a wooden chest with what looked to be some new wardrobe pieces. It was a lot more glitzy than what she had now, with more jewel tones than tans. The stylist must have remembered her warm skin tone and only sent over gold jewelry- rings, bracelets, hair combs and pins.
 
 The last thing she examined probably should have been the first- a letter tucked underneath the string tying shut a brown paper package. She sat cross-legged on the bed and read silently.
 
 'They really did research.' Brianna leaned back against the wall and pursed her lips as she flipped through information about her character's life. 'I suppose they want me to be able to talk in character.'   
 
 Apparently, Dionysia Fairbank had been born to a landowning family in England, schooled abroad, and had excelled in musical studies and literature. Her ineptitude in French and German was an embarrassment that she was sensitive about. Her Latin was barely acceptable.
 
 Brianna sat back and read for so long that she missed breakfast while she was discovering 'Current Events' that Dionysia would be aware of. If the London Monster had been a real person, he must have been a real asshole, but Dionysia thought that the man recently arrested had been framed as part of a scam to collect on the reward money. The testimony had fallen apart and it would be a pity if that man was convicted on such flimsy evidence.
 
 Dionysia also had strong opinions about Charlotte Corday, but very little interest in what had happened between the Swedes and Russians. She did, however, have a pet theory that two of the residents on ship were recent French expats avoiding the ugliness there.
 
 It was hunger that eventually moved her.
 
 'It's ten,' Brianna realized. 'I missed open kitchen hours.'
 
 Well. She could go anyway and see if she could beg a roll or something out of the kitchen staff. She tucked all the papers neatly under her pillow, brushed out a wrinkle on her sheet, and set off on the hunt for breakfast.
 
 She found Brendan cheerfully directing traffic and had to work to keep her face neutral
 
 'He looks exhausted. And I thought he only worked in the other area? Are they short-staffed since Miles left?'
 
 When she flagged him down and explained that she'd missed breakfast, he was sympathetic.   
 
 “I'm about to leave here, we can't stay.” He whirled around to bark something about storing a sauce and then turned back to her. “I haven't eaten yet either. I'll make up some plates and we can eat in the recreation area.”
 
 That was a pretty good offer, so she hovered around and tried not to be in the way. She tried to help when Brendan was taking what looked like a big, flat stone out of the oven, but got ushered back. She clasped her hands behind her back and watched as he set serving trays directly on that, and then made up two gorgeous plates. Herbed eggs, crusty bread, fresh-cut fruit on ice, small bowls with two different types of soup, chewy bacon-
 
 Her mouth was watering. Brendan handed her the fruit and some yogurt and picked up the hot food himself.
 
 'I take back almost every bad thought I had about him.'
 
 If she'd had a hand free, she wouldn't have been able to wait. As it was, Brianna pretty much fell on her plate like a wolf.   
 
 Brendan waited until she was halfway done with her eggs to try to talk, which was surprisingly strategic. “I'm supposing that it tastes fine.”
 
 She couldn't even fault him for the slightly smug tone. “It's very good,” Brianna admitted. And she liked specific feedback, so- “The Rosemary and Thyme in the eggs matches really well with what you've baked into the bread.”   
 
 “Why, thank you.” He puffed up a little and ate the same two foods together. “This bread is actually a new recipe for me. We had to proof it three times, it's such a nightmare, it's amazing.” His fork clinked loudly against the ceramic plate.   
 
 “I was surprised to find you in the main kitchens,” Brianna said, before choosing between the tomato-based soup and what seemed to be a thin chicken broth. “I thought you only worked in the ghost ship?”
 
 He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I'm picking up some hours here, as a favor, since they're a little short handed.” Brendan tossed his head, pushing short bangs back. “I was ready for the break. I didn't realize how many ghosts were working in my kitchen!” Brendan sounded a little scandalized. “Did you know some of them can pick things up? They just start chopping vegetables sometimes. Whatever is in reach!” His pitch moved sharply up. “And there are these two that drive me absolutely mad, they're always talking in the backroom and I can't even tell them to break it up. The staff looks at me like I'm mad, but that is objectively frustrating!”
 
 Brianna put down her tomato soup and frowned. “You can hear them?”
 
 Brendan gave her an uneasy look. “Sometimes I can. I suppose it must be particularly strong ghosts. Either that or I am just a very special person.” He adopted the lofty tone that annoyed her, but this time she heard how thin it was.
 
 “Always a possibility,” Brianna agreed absently. “I...” she trailed off, wondering about some of the sounds she heard between sets when no one else should be in nearby rooms. “I think it's the ghosts,” she decided. “I wouldn't be surprised if you just got accustomed to the usual noises and became good at noticing what was abnormal.”
 
 “Thank you.” He pointed his fork at her. “Someone sane. Thank you!” He huffed dramatically. “But it's fine. I had a talk with Sheffield and he completely understands me, that man is reasonable.”
 
 She frowned. “Sheffield?”
 
 Brendan gave her a slightly superior look. “Oh, sorry, the board member?”
 
 “Imile's brother,” Brianna realized. “Right, of course.” She nodded at him. “What did he say?”
 
 Her companion sat up a little straighter. “The man is completely civilized, he said my cooking is divine. Divine!” Brendan sounded delighted. “Who even says that? How wonderful.” He shook his head. “Sheffield said pretty much what you did- some people notice more than others after working here a time. He said I was settling in well. And,” Brendan dropped his tone and leaned towards her, smiling. “He had a talk with me, it's all so hush-hush, but he says they absolutely cannot lose me and they offered me a raise and some additional responsibilities.”
 
 She felt her mouth drop into an 'o'. Brianna leaned in. “The evening dinner in the ballroom?” she asked quietly.   
 
 He gave her a surprised smile. It felt like he was actually paying attention to her for the first time.
 
 “Imile talked to me about that as well,” Brianna confided. “She wasn't quite as complimentary as that, but I got the impression that I'll have a long-term job here.”
 
 “Ahhhhhhh,” Brendan faux-screamed in a whisper. “Ah-mayyyysing. Because your singing is just that.” He winked in the least subtle way she'd ever seen. “It echoes all down, it's positively haunting. Bewitching.” He winked again.
 
 She gave him a slightly confused smile. “Thank you. That's good of you to say. I've heard you sing as well- I thought your voice is very nice.”
 
 “Well, thank you very much.” He looked mischievous. “But I think you know what I meant. Don't worry, I won't tell nobody.” Brendan made a waving motion. “My lips are sealed. I can keep secrets as well as anyone.” He mimed zipping his lips and tossed an imaginary key into Coco, who was walking behind him. She startled at the movement and gave him a glare on her way over to the other side of the room.
 
 “I don't know what you mean,” Brianna said slowly, feeling a frown come on. “Is- what are you talking about?”
 
 “You're magical, definitely,” Brendan said, in a way that could just be a compliment as easily as it could be an accusation.
 
 Oh. She laughed. “No, sorry,” Brianna admitted. “Not a witch, not a siren. Completely standard human, sorry.”
 
 “Oh.” He looked taken aback. “I see.” Brendan gave her a skeptical look up and down. “Well, alright then...” He huffed. “I suppose if anyone magic would be here, it should be a necromancer. Must be very interesting, wouldn't you think?”
 
 Brianna shrugged. “I can't imagine. Well.” She thought about it. “I guess they could solve the mystery of what happened. Find out who cursed the first ship to rise back up and sink the second.”
 
 He outright scoffed, leaning back as if in shock. “Don't tell me you believe that!” Brendan made a face. “It's been solved, the museum just doesn't like the truth because it takes away from the atmosphere. There was nothing supernatural there, for sure.” He pushed his plate away. He'd finished it at some point when she wasn't looking. “It's all water density.”
 
 The look she gave him at that point was blank.
 
 Brendan made a theatrical sound of disgust, but he actually seemed sort of delighted. “Ships float because they're less dense than water, right?” He waved his right hand to indicate waves. “The wood would float even if there wasn't air inside, it would just be far too low to function as a boat.”
 
 “I follow that,” Brianna said cautiously, but she didn't think she was going to escape a lecture.   
 
 “But water density varies depending on temperature,” he said. “The first ship- Leticia or whatever, sank near the coastline, with a current pulling out to sea. That's warmer water. It sank, the people died or evacuated, and were picked up by boat number two which was nearby. Meanwhile, Leticia was pulled out to sea, where the water was cooler, and the density changed. It rose up, scared the absolute hell out of that second ship and crashed into it.” He made a mmhmmm sound of agreement with his own statement. “The reason that almost no one survived from the first boat was that they'd already been in the cold waters, they barely stood a chance of surviving it a second time. Not a curse.” He laughed, but it wasn't a mean sound.
 
 “Mmm,” she said, because she liked the curse thing better. That made a lot more sense to her than theories involving science. It was just more intuitive. And cooler.
 
 “I'll convince you,” Brendan said with towering confidence. “I have time.”
 
 She nodded. “Where should I put this?”
 
 “I'll take that,” Brendan hastily grabbed the dishes and stacked them. “You would not believe how strict they are here about sorting the burnables, it's almost like they have to burn it all themselves in a crazy furnace on a boat in the sky.”
 
 “It's that strict, really,” Brianna said in a flat tone, but she was just now realizing that Brendan was actually kind of funny. “How odd.”
 
 “Mm, and I have this crazy theory that their total dedication to period accurate lack of plastics has something to do with how expensive it is to ship everything down to city recycling.” He hefted the garbage. “Toodles, have a nice day at work, think about how there's a natural explanation for everything.”
 
 “Yes, mom.” Brianna tugged at her necklace with a wry smile as she stood. “I'll see you after school.”
 
 He blew an air kiss as she walked away.
 
 'Fine. I like him. He's obnoxious and I like him.'