“Text me an update when you can. By the way, is everything set with the London and Port Fressa offices for your trip? Do you want to stop in Paris again? You were just there last quarter so—”
“No. After the wedding we’ll be on vacay for two weeks.”
“Are you ready?” Lexa quirked an eyebrow. “To see him? Can you believe he spent a year tending bar on a Florida beach?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Coral started out the door. “I just want closure, Lexa. I want to say how sorry I am.”
“Don’t worry. God will open the door.”
“I’ve rehearsed my speech to him so many times, but when it comes time, I wonder if I won’t just fall apart.” Her eyes filled. “If I could do it all over again—”
“Don’t fret over what you cannot change. Just have faith. Believe God for what He can do, not what you can do. Aren’t you always telling me to leave the outcome to God?” She smoothed her hand over her baby belly. “You encouraged me so when I was terrified of losing this child.”
“Listen, don’t preach my own words to me. Those are for you. I’m allowed to wallow in pity and worry.”
Lexa laughed. “We’ll debate that lie later. For how, get going. Don’t be late for your first weekend with the twins.”
“Right. I leave you in charge. See you in three weeks.”
Coral and Lexa walked down the marble-and-stone center staircase. “By the way, we posted the corporate curator job,” Lexa said. “In-house curator to design and oversee the CCW Cosmetic museum. We already have a dozen resumés.”
“Good. Let’s not settle. Wait for the one right for us. I’d love to take credit for this, but again, your genius took over.”
“I think a museum will build company pride, help the staff lay hold of what we’re about and who they’re working for when they see the history of the company.” When they got to the street exit, Lexa offered some final advice. “You’re Coral Winthrop Mays, owner and president of one of the world’s oldest and most successful cosmetics companies. Prince Gus is a lowly HRH.” She squeezed her hand. “Make him listen to you.”
“When you put it like that, I almost believe I can. Nevertheless, I’ll leave the outcome to God.”
Coral slipped into the back of the waiting black sedan. All she wanted was a chance to say she was sorry. She didn’t expect his forgiveness. She’d not make excuses or point the finger.
She’d hurt someone she loved and all she wanted was to whisper, “I’m sorry. So very sorry.”
* * *
Daffy
By Friday evening she was spent. Not so much with staging the wedding dresses—only three remained as well as theUnknown Bride—but with the mystery of the blue gown. Adelaide. Emmanuel. The chair. Gus.
The pictures of Thomas and Blinky on social media and the instilling of doubt.
But when she talked to Thomas this morning, he’d been kind and loving, even a bit romantic. He said he missed her and ended their brief call with, “I love you.”
She was certain Blinky was just going bonkers with pictures. She fancied herself a talented amateur photographer.
By Friday afternoon, the events of the past month tumbled down on her like too many boxes of shoes stuffed onto a closet shelf. She had to break away. Find her norm. Her city. Her people. Her calm, steady life with its predictable job and predictable routine was out of sorts. And Daffy Caron intended to sort it out this weekend.
She booked passage on the four o’clock Northton Express to Port Fressa, packed a small bag she’d purchased at a quaint little shop in the Old Hamlet, and left Hadsby. Training home in a surprisingly empty third-class car, Daffy stared out the window as small villages, meadows, and farms zipped past, waiting for the moment of relief. Waiting for the clang of, “You’re doing the right thing.”
Instead, her heart pulled her backward. To Dalholm and Hadsby. To the prince. Was she cheating herself of a final weekend with him? Yes, and being sad about it was totally and completely wrong.
Upon arriving home, she planned to sort her snail mail, water her dying roses—she felt sure Ella forgot—and take a long soak in her deep, porcelain tub. Then she would fix herself up, fluff out her curls, and head to Pub Clemency to surprise her mates.
As the train sped down the track, she assessed her life since being conked in the head with a green Frisbee. Seriously, how could she question Thomas and Blinky’s relationship when her own heart teetered on the brink of unfaithfulness?
She blushed and yearned for the prince. If by some wild dream-come-true miracle Gus actuallychoseher, the queen would never approve. Daffy refused to live her life under the critical scrutiny of her mother-in-law. Especially Queen Catherine II.
Furthermore, as if she needed a furthermore, Gus was a committed bachelor. For the time being anyway.
Further, furthermore she was engaged. Engaged! Daffy held up her ring hand and stared at the clear and perfect diamond Thomas originally bought for someone else. That’s it, she’d stepped into a Jane Austen novel.
