Now? Well, let's just say extra helpings of dessert sit way down my priority list.
I didn’t come here often, perhaps only a handful of times, but the times I did are seared into my memory. The royal children. The formality of the events. The way my father was always so confident and capable, and knowing everyone.
I push out a breath. It’s not the least bit helpful to take a walk down memory lane right now, not while I’m literally behind enemy lines. I need to focus on the project, aka Prince Maximilien and his less than stellar choices.
The palace must be gambling on me finding more than a man-child in Prince Max. That all his antics that have provided such marvelous fodder for my articles for the last five or more years aren't the real man.
Only time will tell on that front.
I return to the window that looks out at the gardens. A couple of dogs come into sight, trailed by a woman in a pretty summer dress, her long dark hair falling down her back. My heart leaps at the sight of her, the woman who will one day be queen.
Princess Sofia.
She picks up a tennis ball and throws it with an impressive arm, the ball sailing toward the palace, pursued by two labs, determined to capture it.
She looks in my direction, and instinctively, I pull back from the window. It's an old habit, trying to keep my distance from the very people I write about, quietly using my network of sources to get the inside scoop.
I pick up my phone again and send a message to Nona.
Me:
I'm all settled in at the palace. It's so strange to be back here again after all this time.
Nona:
Hold your head up high. You've done nothing wrong.
Me:
I know, but I'm not me, am I?
Nona:
You're always you, no matter whether you're Fabiana or Valentina.
I smile at the phone. My grandmother always knows what to say. I'm going to miss seeing her smiling face each day.
Me:
I’m being taken on a tour of the palace soon, and I’m having ameeting with the PR team tomorrow. How are you? I hope the tap in the kitchen isn't leaking again. I followed the YouTube clip frame by frame, and it seemed to be working fine before I left.
Nona:
Stop fussing over your old grandmother. I will be just fine.
Me:
Call me anytime. I'm only twenty minutes away. Promise me?
Nona:
You forget I have Rudolf to help. Between you and me, he's rather a good tea maker.
So, Mr. Beckman has already been over to see my grandmother, and I've only been gone for an hour and a half.
Me:
Don't you dislike our neighbor?
