“Beautiful country,” he uttered, perusing the official government page for the country. “A monarchy, interesting.”
He read the brief history, then saved the links directing the visitor to a more in-depth site for Finlovia’s history. Their climate was similar to that of England’s, which would bode well for the clothing he packed.
He looked for any summits or conventions that coincided with the timeframe he’d be in the country, hoping for a hint of why Grant was sending him. Nothing jumped at him, but a place, Ellington Castle, appeared in all of his searches and captured his interest.
Ancient architecture fascinated him. He learned the castle was built in the fifteenth century for Prince Alexander, the second son of King Edward the Sixth, and served as a fortress and home until feudalism came to an end. For several centuries, the home remained in the royal family until the Finlovia Trust took over in the years following World War One. The trust now maintained it as a hotel and tourist attraction.
One that came with a legend. He scoffed after reading the article. Did anyone believe a person would find love simply because they attended a ball? Complete and utter rubbish. Apparently so. Every month, he read, hundreds of hopeful romantics came to Finlovia to attend the Legend Ball.
“Great,” he groaned, when he saw the next ball would occur this Saturday. His return ticket had him in Finlovia until Sunday.
Just his luck, the country would be overrun with fools that had their heads in the clouds. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in love. Quite the opposite. His marriage to Crystal had taught him the true meaning of love that went deeper than a fairy tale and took infinitely more work than attending a fancy dance.
People romanticized love, but love was as ugly as it was beautiful. In those wretched, horrid, gut-wrenching moments is when love came alive, and without them, one could never fully appreciate what it meant to give your heart to another.
His thoughts wandered to that place he locked tightly. The change in plans must have lowered his defenses. Memories of Crystal’s final months played a movie in his mind. The scene froze on that final night. She’d asked him to carry her outside to watch the sunset with him one more time. She’d known her time was short. He’d have found a way to lasso the moon and bring it to her, had she asked.
The alarm he’d set beeped, breaking into his thoughts.
“Saved by the bell,” he whispered. This was not the time to let the past take hold.
Double checking the time, he was shocked that hours had passed since he’d sat at the table. Surprisingly, his waiter never asked him to leave and had silently and discreetly kept his cup refilled. James paid his bill, leaving a hefty tip to compensate for the time he’d occupied the spot.
He left the restaurant and ventured toward Gate C90. Once he found his spot, he drew a long breath then let it out slowly. “Finlovia, here I come.”
Chapter Three
“Wow.” Cece had a one-word vocabulary upon entering Finlovia.
As the plane approached the airport, she had a bird’s eye view of endless moors and dense forests transitioning their wares to the muted hues of autumn. A metropolis, if it could be called that, came into view, and CeCe’s heart thrummed with anticipation.
She fought the urge to be that tourist who couldn’t take their eyes off their camera. A flight attendant made the temptation easier when he instructed passengers to turn off all devices during landing.
The next hour passed in a blur as she went through customs and immigration then waited at the carousel to claim her baggage. She turned her phone on, opened her email, and reviewed her itinerary. Her shuttle to Ellington Castle wouldn’t arrive for an hour. That gave her time to check out a few of the nearby shops, conveniently placed she was sure for tourists like her, directly beside the airport.
“Excuse me,” she said to a man blocking the path and in what sounded like a heated argument with a person on the other end of his phone call.
He glanced at her briefly, mouthing, “Sorry,” and moved out of her way.
“Thank you.” She rolled her suitcase behind her and crossed the pedestrian bridge to reach the shops.
Away from the airport’s walls, the wind blew with strong gusts sending a chill through her. She buttoned her lightweight jacketand knotted the belt around her waist. With the breezes came the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries.
Cece inhaled as her stomach grumbled. Excitement prevented her from eating dinner before her flight last night, and she didn’t risk eating on the plane for fear of getting sick. Growing up, she’d experienced random bouts of motions sickness, and wasn’t about to induce one now. Though it was past noon in Finlovia her body believed it was still on Virginia time, and Cece wanted breakfast.
She followed her nose to a small bakery with a sandwich board outside advertising authentic Finlovian scones. Only a small number of pastries remained for the day, but she ordered a biscuit— called a scone in Finlovia—and added freshly churned Finlovian butter and blackberry jam on the side.
“Is this your first time in our beautiful country,” the employee, a middle-aged woman, asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m excited to explore and learn the culture.”
“You’ll find there is much to discover. Don’t be afraid to venture off the beaten path.” The lady smiled. “How long will you be visiting?”
“Two weeks.” She swiped her card to pay. “What would you recommend as a must-see location?”
The lady’s eyes lit up. “The Falls of Daneli. Most tourists frequent the Galameo Falls, but Daneli will always be superior in my opinion, especially at this time of year. The changing colors are spectacular.”
“I will add that to the top of my list.” She took her plate and carried it outside to eat at one of the tables lining the cobblestone street.
