Page 120 of Scarred Crown

“Nandi Lawson and Kira Mensah are keen to present designs.”

“Both of them?” I can’t help the shock in my voice.

Merida grins. “It is a royal wedding. The first the island has seen in over thirty years.” She flicks through things on her phone. “Your husband is popular around the world.”

“Yes,” I say dryly. “I’m aware of Nick’s international appeal.” He’s left few countries unmarked by his behavior, but he’s so charming that even the most scandalous stories have tended to include a pinch of humor.

“Not just him, I suppose,” Merida says, glancing up. “There’s something for everyone between those three men.” She winks.

I can’t help my chuckle. When my mother produced Merida this morning without a scheduled appointment in my calendar, I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel. We just discussed hiring her yesterday. My mother doesn’t like to waste time when big events are looming.

“The three of them are very different,” I agree.

“You’d like design ideas from Nandi and Kira?” Merida steers us back on course.

“Yes,” I say. “That would be amazing. Is there anyone else you’d recommend?”

“Philip Squire isn’t technically a native Bellerivian, but he does have a holiday home here. I can approach him, if you think that’ll be acceptable?”

I bite my lip. Philip Squire would be amazing, but he dresses mostly American and British celebrities. “Do you think he’d even be interested?”

“I think you’re underestimating the importance of your wedding. Have you been on social media since the royal family announced the date last night?” She raises her carefully arched eyebrows.

I didn’t even realize we announced the date last night since we only set it yesterday afternoon. A small frisson of unease darts through me. It’s all happening so fast.

“No,” I say in a quiet voice. “I’ve been busy this morning.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Merida says. “Secretary Jensen mentioned the family is preparing for a referendum or something? The political maneuvering on that must be quite a task.”

I frown, and then I try to smooth out my features. Referendum? What in the world would require an island-wide vote? Alex didn’t mention anything the other day. My mother’s insistence on taking the political load makes more sense now. Are they planning this behind my back? Why wouldn’t anyone tell me? Or Nick?

Does Nick know? He’d tell me, wouldn’t he?

But I haven’t told him about his father.

“I feel like I’ve said something wrong.” A wisp of a smile crosses Merida’s face. “I don’t know what the referendum is about, if it’s supposed to be top secret. Actually, now that I think about it, your mother glossed over it fairly quickly.”

I bet she did. But why?

“Yes,” I agree. “It’s top secret. Until it’s announced to the public and we’re sure we’re moving ahead, there’s no need to engage in public debate.”

“Makes sense.” Merida passes me her phone. “I was thinking something like this for the dress. Do you have any inspirations I can give to the designers as references?” She settles into the seat around the conference table, opening her laptop.

Then we’re down a rabbit hole of dresses and styles, royal protocol, and other timeless considerations. Before I realize it, we’ve been talking about dresses for an hour, and Merida has a list of notes and photos saved on her computer.

“It’s a good start.” She gathers all her materials. “I have a team working with me, so you might hear from someone else. If you’re not sure they work for me, the code word is Arusha.”

“The Tanzanian city?” A small smile blooms.

“I always try to pick something that’s significant to the couple getting married but that would take a lot of guesswork on the part of the public or press.”

“I’ll let Nick know.” Nick’s weekly schedule is relatively consistent. Today is his correspondence and signature day. He told me this morning when he left to play tennis that he only needed to know where to show up for the wedding. In some ways a typical, and in other ways a surprising, response.

Once Merida is gone, I try to track down my mother via text and good old-fashioned footwork. But she’s either ignoring me, or she’s too busy to respond. I don’t tell her Merida spilled the referendum beans in case she is trying to hide the subject from me.

Then I’m drawn back into royal business when the cleaning company that specializes in limestone calls me back. Since the last coronation and this one are going to take place uncharacteristically close, I’m not even sure the outside of the church needs another cleaning. But I’ve been instructed to spare no reasonable expense, so I might as well get some quotes. If it fits in the budget, I guess I’ll book it.

At least the coronation date is a year away. While some details will take months of advance planning, others, by necessity, will be more last minute.