CAROLINE couldn’t help but feel happier after a decent sleep—who couldn’t rest peacefully if they hadn’t a care in the world while enveloped in one of those massive down comforters and bedding with a thread count of about a bazillion? It was like sleeping on a bed of marshmallow crème, minus the stickiness. Throw in a long soak in a Jacuzzi tub, and she was ready to face the world. She was just drying her hair when she heard a knock on the door.
“It’s about time you surfaced from the dead!” Emma said as she blazed her way into the bedchamber, wearing a teal sundress that perfectly flattered her hazel eyes and chestnut hair. “We’ve got lots on the schedule, so let’s motivate already!”
Caroline mocked Emma’s chatter with her fingers. “Give it a break,” she said. “After all that first-class travel, a girl’s gotta catch up on her beauty sleep. It’s hard work wining and dining at thirty thousand feet.”
Emma laughed. “Yes, I know. You are to be pitied. But I have someone I want you to meet, so let’s get cracking. You’re frittering away a perfectly gorgeous day.” She drew the heavy damask curtains back to reveal brilliant sunshine and a clear blue sky.
Caroline’s stomach growled. “Please tell me there’s food involved.”
“Cook’s holding your breakfast downstairs. Which you might want to eat before it’s officially lunchtime. Especially since we will be dining at my favorite bistro.”
“Sounds like a perfect day: breakfast, directly followed by lunch. Hopefully immediately followed by a big dinner with lots of wine to top it all off.”
“You and your hummingbird metabolism,” Emma said, shaking her head. “Some of us have to fit into a wedding gown.” She immediately covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
Caroline waved at her dismissively. “Please, Em. We’ve been friends long enough. I think you can reinforce in conversation with me that you’re getting married and I won’t get upset. I mean, I’d have to be a really selfish git to be anything but elated for you.”
“I know,” Emma said. “I just feel badly that the whole Darcy affair fizzled so resoundingly. I’m usually so good at detecting a winning relationship, and you two seemed so well connected.”
“Affair is clearly the operative word. So it was a fling. I’m a fling kinda gal, so it’s okay. I mean sure, he was cute, and sure, he was nice, and yeah, he was fun and, all right, fine. I really liked him—”
“And I swear you haven’t really hankered for a boy as much since that kid you crushed on in fourth grade. That is until you saw him eating rubber cement in art class. What was his name?”
“Jerry. Jerry Albright. Yeah, eating rubber cement balls was a total deal breaker. I’m sure I’ve liked a guy since then, though.”
“Well, there was Eddie—the guy from the marching band.”
“Of course. He played the tuba. And kissed like he was playing the tuba. Next!”
“I’ll give you a pass on that guy. Bad kissing is always the end of a happily-ever-after.”
“What about Marty?” Caroline said. “I think we can call that a legitimate relationship.”
“Caro,” Emma said. “I distinctly remember you hiding in your locker at school to avoid him. And I think that was after maybe two dates.”
“And we won’t even touch on my succession of ever-so-brief flings in college. Okay, so I’m not one to pursue permanence with anyone from the opposite sex. Is that such a bad thing?”
Emma shrugged. “You’re talking to the wrong girl. I wasn’t exactly setting fire to the dating scene. I was perfectly content to not ever date. Well, most of the time. Except it did get boring. Especially because you were always busy with some new man, so that left me with no social life, damn you.”
“That’s me: revolving door of the romance world.”
“Yeah, but I would argue that’s entirely by choice.”
“So maybe it is, but the one time I decide to give it a go, look what happens. Serves me right.”
“I don’t know what’s going on Caro, but once Adrian gets back we’ll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, let’s get you fed and head out to our busy day. I can’t wait for you to meet Gareth.”
~*~
“Do you think you’ll ever tire of being chauffeured everywhere?” Caroline asked as they were ushered into the back of yet another fancy vehicle. “I cannot wait until your wedding because I can only imagine what you’re going to be transported in that day. Maybe they’ll carry you in a litter, like Cleopatra.”
Emma burst out laughing. “That would be hilarious. But not so much, maybe, to Adrian’s mother. I think it’ll be something more traditional.”
“Like a carriage?”
Emma nodded. “Like a carriage.”
“Pulled by mice turned into horses?”
“Oh, stop.”
“Well? Something’s got to pull it. Sled dogs? Mules? Oxen? Or maybe hitch it up to a pickup truck like you would a horse trailer. Or how about those huge recreational vehicles the snowbird retirees pull their little cars behind when they head south for the winter? You’d be the first princess ever to do that. A little nod to your American roots!”
“Yeah, we’ll work on that.”
The car drove through center of Porto Castello, a charming, small port city that opened onto sparkling Mediterranean waters, interrupted only by the brilliant white of boat sails. The architecture was charming and very Old European, with many half-timbered houses festooned with flowerboxes overflowing with periwinkle, magenta, and buttery-yellow flowers.
“This place is right out of a dollhouse fantasy,” Caroline said. “It’s just about perfect.”
“Sometimes I have to just shake my head to be sure I’ve not dreamed this all up. It really is perfect, from the heir to the throne right on down to the gardeners who maintain the botanical gardens.”
“Yeah, well, my botanical garden would kick your botanical garden’s ass any day.” Caroline winked at her friend. “Even though the extent of my garden is a well-tended poinsettia plant left over from last Christmas that I feel the need to keep alive even though I should have trashed it ages ago.”
“I know, right? Here I am boasting of botanical gardens when I never even planted a flat of pansies before. Weird how quickly things changed.”
“All for the good.” Caroline reached out and gave Emma’s hand a supportive squeeze.
As the car skirted farther away from the city, the landscape yielded to countryside with pristine, rolling, green hills peppered with tan-and-white cows that Caroline thought were likely to be the happiest cows on the planet—how could they not be in this idyllic setting?
“Listen to this,” Emma said as she lowered the window.
All they could hear as they passed the bovines was the magical symphony of cowbells clanging a lulling tune.
“That is amazing,” Caroline said. “I could so just fall asleep around a bunch of cowbells and be at peace with the world.”
“As long as you’re not lying near any cow pies,” Emma added.
“Yeah, that goes without saying. But please, don’t taint my happy-place visualization by adding cow dung to the picture! Here I was getting all Zen in my head.”
She was going to keep razzing Emma, but the car pulled through a gatehouse and into a walled estate, then meandered along a tree-lined drive for about three quarters of a mile before coming to what would soon be Emma’s new home.
“Holy crap. Is this a home or a small city-state?”
The two-story, sixteen-room, Georgian-style brick country house, complete with charming dormers peeking out from the pantile roof, was surrounded by a grove of flowering cherry trees and beds upon beds of seasonal blossoms. To the left were tennis courts, to the right, a garden maze.
“This,” Emma said, her arms extended wide, “will be our new home. Beats my little suburban split-level, eh?”
“You think? I’ve just counted eight chimneys. Will you have fires burning in all those fireplaces at one time? You’ll spend your days running from room to room, replenishing firewood. It’ll be your exercise—you’ll never have to go to the gym again. Although you probably have a full gym in the basement.”
“I’ll worry about that when the time comes. And yes, there is a gym,” Emma said, shaking her head in a “can you believe it” way as the car came to a halt on the white-pebbled driveway. “I’m thinking of calling it Girasole.”
“Giraffe-olé what?” Caroline said, scratching her head.
“Girasole. It means sunflower in Italian. I think it’s pretty. And this place reminds me of a warm summer flower,” Emma said. “Come on.” She tugged on her friend’s hand as the driver opened the door for them. “I want to show you the place!”
~*~
The house was so large it took nearly an hour to see it all as Emma pointed out things she wanted to fix in the place and Caroline got excited with decorating ideas. It was like being asked to be a stylist for a supermodel, so how hard could it be when you were starting out with good bones? Much tougher if it were a shack on the side of a highway. Caroline took loads of notes and pictures with her phone so that she could better sketch out her ideas once back at the palace.
Just as they were preparing to leave, they heard someone outside.
“Knock knock!” A handsome man with wavy butterscotch hair and warm brown eyes poked his head in the front door.
“Great security system you have here,” Caroline said to Emma.
“Gareth is the keeper of the keys,” Emma said. “He can bypass all that. Please allow me to introduce you two. Caroline, this is Gareth, my protocol advisor and master of all things royal.”
Gareth reached out a well-manicured hand to Caroline. “I finally meet the best friend!”
“And I, it seems, my European counterpart,” Caroline said as she grabbed his hand, smiling.
Gareth reached out and touched the tips of Caroline’s hair. “Emma told me about this hair. It’s even more gorgeous than I’d heard.”
Caroline pointed a thumb toward Gareth. “The man knows how to woo me.”
Emma laughed. “He just has good taste. Trust me, he’s got it in spades.”
Caroline gave him a once-over, from his well-coiffed head to his muted, oyster-colored poplin suit, creamy oxfords, and dotted bow tie. Clearly he had a command of style.
“So are you here to give me a protocol transplant? Or are you the one with the vision, and I’m going along with the program?”
Emma shook her hands to erase any confusion. “No, no, you’ve got it wrong. Not having turf wars at all! Gareth just loves this stuff. He’s got such a good eye.”
“What say we make it a collaborative effort?” he said. “That is if I can take my eyes off that head of hair.” He winked at Caroline.
“Hey. I’m just along for the ride,” Caroline said. “You guys say the word and your wish is my command.”
“In that case, my first command is lunch,” Emma said. “I’m famished.”
“Aye, aye, your future highness,” Caroline said while Emma threw her a sharp glance.
“Don’t say those things yet!” she said, putting her finger to her lips.
“Ack! Clearly I’m in need of protocol intervention. Let’s get to lunch so Gareth can have his way with me.”
They grabbed each other’s hands and headed out for a relaxing waterside luncheon.