My heart pounds in my chest and my hands feel clammy, so I wipe them on the front of my pants. They leave embarrassing wet streaks on the navy-blue nylon. Of course they do. That’ll definitely add to the hiking boots and puffy vest look. As we near the palace, I see the cars ahead of us letting well-heeled couples out, one at a time, then pulling away while their passengers start up the tall stone steps dressed in gowns and tuxedos with tails.
“Well, this is quite the to-do,” Peggy says. “You don’t happen to have a suit in your bag, do you?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Do you want me to stick around and wait for you in case things don’t work out?” she asks as we pull up in front of the palace steps.
“No, thank you. I’ll be just fine.”
“Okay, suit yourself. But please make sure you leave me a five-star review and don’t forget to mention that I did offer you water and your choice of music.”
“Thanks, will do, but perhaps not at this exact moment,” I say as I burst out of the car (which looks a lot more like a grown man struggling to climb out of a tiny green box), and take the steps two at a time, only to discover that sprinting in this situation is not the best idea I’ve had. Apparently, when one runs toward a palace, one finds himself surrounded by guards in short order.
“I’m on the list,” I say as four of them descend upon me. “I’m a guest of the Princess Dowager. Will Banks.”
“Oh, you,” one of them says with a nod. “We haven’t seen you around here for a while, have we?”
“Yes, well, I’ve been… actually it’s really none of your business, is it?”
He shrugs, looking offended, then gestures for me to go inside.
I follow the crowd to the ballroom, and when I get there, I realize this is going to be much more difficult than I thought because it’s packed with at least a thousand people. I stay close to the back wall and walk the width of the room, keeping my eyes peeled for her, trying to guess what she might be wearing.
Come on, Belle. Where are you?
I feel a tap on my upper arm, and I turn, my heart in my throat, hoping it’s her. But no one is there.
“Down here,” the Princess Dowager says.
God, she’s tiny. “Your Highness,” I say with a formal bow. “Thank you so much for putting me on your list. You don’t happen to know where Arabella is, do you? I really need to see her.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “She’s probably at the airport by now. She went to find you.”
My heart jumps with pure joy. “Really? She went to find me?”
“Christ, you young people are ridiculous, missing each other like this. There’s this little device called a mobile phone, you know. You can place calls on it, or even send each other short written messages to indicate your whereabouts.”
I laugh, then place both hands on her shoulders and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
With that, I turn and hurry out of the ballroom, hoping I can somehow find a way to catch a cab from here.
A few moments later, I run down the steps of the palace—much easier, by the way—only to see Peggy’s Prius almost at the gates in the lineup of vehicles. I break into a sprint, taking my phone out of my pocket and calling her number.
“Hello, Peggy here, Uber driver to the stars.”
“Peggy, it’s Will. Arabella’s gone to the airport. Can you take me back there? I’m sprinting up behind you.”
“Yes! I see you in my rearview mirror. Shall I pull off the road?”
“No! I’ll catch up. You’ll only have to stop for a second to let me in.”
With that, I hang up so I can pump both arms and run as fast as possible, startling people in several of the cars as I go. When I get to Peggy’s car, I open the door, even though she’s moving very slowly along the road. She stops the car and I start to get in the front seat, only to have her say, “It’s really so much safer for both of us if you get in the back.”
Of course.
36
Rambling Airport Confessions and Second Chances
