And like a little boy, I followed her down to one of the staterooms. She poured me a small drink from her bike bottle. We toasted the holidays. She planted a whale of a kiss on me -- well, we made out for about a minute. She left for the main deck, as did I. I had a different opinion of Gina.

I stepped into one of the tight asses near the captain's stateroom and checked my face for markings. Good thing too, since I ran into Gina's husband on the way up to the galley. He was talking with Daisy, Candlewind's Alaskan chef, a wise lady who'd just had her fiftieth birthday. They greeted me with smiles and cheers and as we exchanged holiday banter, Gina slid by behind me and ran her knuckle down my spine. My neck hair stood, but my face did not redden, no it did not.

Gina and her husband went off in different directions. Daisy and I stayed in the galley, helping guests get hot chocolate and tea and coffee and coffee cake. It was pleasant work too, since everyone was so happy. Daisy cooks for a living, but not in restaurants. She helps older people in their homes. She cooks for soup kitchens and travels everywhere on The School's yachts cooking for the adventurers. Daisy makes little money, needs little money and held her position that night on a quiet throne, knowing she was the happiest on the yacht. It showed too, in her soft red hair, welcoming brown eyes, constant smile and loose-fitting, holiday clothes.

Some others we'd never met came to relieve us from the galley work. Daisy and I went up to the foredeck to look at the lights of the boat parade. No one else was up there. We sat on the deck facing each other and talked up a storm. We talked about technology, deforestation, Moog synthesizers, inner peace and Alaska, where she used to live. We talked about why neither of us hadn't married, why Gina had and why no one should anymore. We discussed over-population, rail transit and the layout of the aviation airways. We talked about stress reduction, dope in brownies and promised we'd both enroll in the class on diesel engines. She tried to talk about the new opportunities on the internet but I wouldn't let her. By the time we finished talking, the bay had been emptied of all its revelers, most people had gone home and the boat was in its slip.

A few people remained aft, in the main cockpit. Gina was stretched out on a sofa, not as happy as before but not yet cranky either. People with their goodbyes were hugging all over and hopping off and making their way into the night. Finally, the only stragglers were members of the staff, cleaning up after everyone else. Daisy and I helped. Gina remained motionless.

Then Gina dissolved and Daisy disappeared right into thin air. All the people vanished. The boat took on a golden glow, backlighting the angel of the season, Erica. Erica was not yet half my age. Erica knew nothing of stress reduction, dope in brownies or diesel engines. Erica existed in the clouds. Erica smiled with love. Erica loved animals. Erica, with long, black hair straight down to her waist, flowed, never walked. Erica repelled germs, disinfected as she talked. Erica was Eve.