“Come on back, buddy. Not the same without you.”
“Helene said you had family business. I thought we were your family.”Old Ike. Gus missed him. Even teared up a bit at the sound of his voice.
Hemstead stepped inside. “The train is arriving any second.”
Gus finished his bottle of water and gathered his coat and satchel. Dressed in trousers and a tailored button-down shirt, a coat and scarf, he met the PO on the platform as the train whistle pierced the soggy sky.
Passengers—businessmen and women, travelers, tourists, mothers with young children—gathered, hunched against the late February cold.
As the speeding train pulled into the station, the porter arrived with Gus’s suitcases. Yes, everything was as it should be. Very proper and royal.
Once on the royal car, Gus settled into one of the plush, purple reclining chairs and pulled out his laptop. He must catch up on his patronages. And maybe reminisce about Florida by going through photos.
The train engine rumbled beneath him. The platform cleared. The whistle blew.
“All aboard!”
The coach’s steward, a chap called Alex, dashed into the car. “Sorry, Your Royal Highness.” He delivered a box of snacks to the serving counter. “I had to wait for these.”
“It’s only two hours north, Alex. I’m sure we won’t starve.”
The whistle blew for the final time. Three short but shrill blasts. Gus had just opened the update on the Dalholm Youth Sports League when a distinct, feminine voice called from the platform.
“Wait… I’m coming! Wait!”
He glanced up just as the doors eased closed. Someone was terribly late. Maybe one of the station’s porters could assist her. But this express train waited for no one. Not even the royal family.
“Wait…please!” Running footsteps echoed over the cold concrete. The breathless call was desperate.
Gus moved to the door just as it clamped closed on Daffy Caron, who struggled along with her large suitcase.
Stern stood next to him. “What is she doing? She acts as if she belongs in this car.”
“Open the door, please.” She rapped on the window as the hydraulics sighed and the train inched forward. “Prince Gus, I’m supposed to be in this car.”
“I can’t.” He raised his hands, palms up. “The train is moving. Stern, can’t we do anything?” Though Gus knew the answer.
“She’ll have to catch the next one.” The private secretary returned to his chair, snapping open theNews Leader. “But I daresay she’s not to ride in the royal coach.”
“She’s with the Royal Trust. Someone must’ve granted her permission.” Gus moved to the back of the car and waved with a shrug, watching her for as long as he could.
* * *
Daffy
Halfway to midnight, when a thick darkness settled over the hamlet of Dalholm, Daffy arrived at Hadsby Castle. She was tired, hungry, and beyond agitated.
“I’m here.” She dropped her suitcase in the middle of the sitting room of her suite and collapsed on the love seat, holding up her phone as she talked to her mum. “I caught the eight o’clock. There was nothing else. Everyone’s heading north for the final weekends of skiing. Lucy arrived on time, however, met the crates, and had the footmen bring them to the second floor Grand Gallery.”
“Daffy, what happened? After I booked you in the royal car.”
“I left my flat in plenty of time. Made a quick stop.” To say goodbye to Thomas. He’d sent her the most beautiful roses before she left. “Then sat in a jam by the port for an hour.”
If she didn’t have a suitcase full of clothes and her laptop case, she’d have hopped out and sprinted the five miles to Port Fressa Authority.
But she was here now. Ready to work. And this dreadful day was only minutes from ending.
“Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Mum yawned, her speech softening to sound more like a mother than a boss. The two of them were still working out how to be boss and staff while also being mother and daughter. In the background Dad called, “Love you, sweetheart.”
