I snatch them from her and slide them onto my face. “How do I look?” I ask, grinning at her.
“Like a man wearing my glasses. Give them back.” She reaches for them.
I lift them up and down, looking out to the street. “These make zero difference. Did you know that?”
She claims them, slotting them back onto her own face. “That’s because you obviously need glasses.”
“Is that so?” I ask with a laugh. “That’s not what the Air Force says.”
She lifts her chin. “Do you mind if I film you choosing your breakfast?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
She clicks on her camera as I make my way to the counter.
“Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” a woman about my mother’s age says from behind the counter as she dips into a curtsy. She’s got a round, smiling face and light brown hair, speckled with gray, tied up in a net.
“Good morning. I hope it’s okay that I’ve brought my dog in here. It seems cruel to leave her out in the rain.”
“Your dog is welcome,” she replies, and I note her name badge saysMarlene.
“Did you hear that, Toffee? Marlene says you can be in here, but you need to behave yourself, or you’ll get all of us kicked out.”
Toffee looks up at me with eager eyes, her tail swishing from side to side across the wooden floor.
“Have you heard anything about the road today?” Fabiana asks.
“The fallen trees are being cleared this morning, and the forecast says the rain will let up later today, so we’rehoping the river will recede before too long,” Marlene replies.
“Does that mean we can get to Villadorata?” Fabiana asks.
Marlene gives a mournful head shake. “Not unless your car can transform into a boat.”
“Well, actually,” I begin only for both Fabiana and Marlene’s eyes to widen to the size of soccer balls. “Kidding. My car is just a car.”
“I thought you were going to tell us the palace issues James Bond cars to members of the royal family,” Fabiana says.
“That would be fire,” I reply with a laugh. “Now, Marlene, I’ve heard you have the best pies in the county.”
Marlene squares her shoulders with pride. “We’ve won plenty of awards.” She gestures at a shelf littered with cups and trophies.
“So, you have. Well done!”
Her face colors. “Thank you, sir. Whatever you want is on the house.”
“You’re very kind, but I insist on paying. Name your best pies.”
Our food ordered—a slice of apple pie for me and a slice of strawberry and rhubarb for Fabiana, and two cups of coffee—we take a seat at one of the wooden tables, Toffee at our feet.
“I’ve never had a slice of pie for breakfast before,” Fabiana says.
“You sure are living on the wild side.”
“More than you know,” she replies, and I wonder if there’s truth to her words.
“If they’ve cleared the trees to the north, we can head back to the summer palace today.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’d still like to go see my nona,even if she has messaged me again today to tell me she’s in good hands with Rudolf.” She rolls her eyes.
