Sail Away with Me
"Yes, Maury, I got the Fed-ex, so you can breathe."

She stood on the docks of Dover, briecase at her feet. Luggage had been taken at Customs check-in, passport stamped. They promised she'd receive it again when the Norweigan Jewel docked in New York. "It'll be fine," she told her literary agent. "I've got a laptop and the proper power converter and an external hard-drive with a back-up of the manuscript just in case. You'll get the rewrites on time."

A look of consternation as the voice on the other end of the trans-atlantic call blathered. "Maury-- MAURY!" The man was impossible; salivating over his commission and making sure nothing happened to his meal ticket.

Now that was funny. Deanna as a meal, instead of the reverse.

"The only way I'm stepping out at Reykjavik is if they're experiencing eternal night and sorry but Newfoundland can kiss my ass. I'll be fine.

"I'll see you in 11 days. Relax."

She snapped the cell shut, then re-opened it and typed a quick message.

"Vicky, will b in NYC in 11 days, staying at Waldorf Astoria. Come find me. Mum."