CAROLINE experienced a fleeting moment of déjà vu as the town car she was riding in pulled up to the tarmac at the airport, parking just before a gorgeous white jet featuring the regal dueling griffins of Monaforte in gold and blue on the tail of the aircraft. Just remembering how much fun she and Emma had on their flight over to Monaforte last Christmas had her smiling. So much had happened since then, both good and bad.
Of course, back then she and Darcy had a casual relationship, but it had seemed so ripe with possibility. And after spending the week from Saint Christus Day through New Year’s together back then, Caroline had felt oddly assured of a future with Darcy. But clearly that wasn’t meant to be. Finally she’d accepted this reality, and she felt okay about it. She’d grown a lot and felt as if she’d finally shed some of the immaturity of her youth. This time she was returning to Monaforte with a purpose: she had a burgeoning career, and she’d made some friends of her own—granted, one was inconveniently Darcy’s sister, but oh well. She could deal with that. Regardless, she was going back to Monaforte on her terms, her head held high and ready to forge her own path there, not just as Emma’s tagalong.
The driver loaded the three large suitcases that constituted most of her entire life’s possessions while she boarded the plane and was greeted by the pilot and flight attendant, who offered her champagne. After a too-lengthy champagne-free hiatus, she was more than happy to accept her kind offer.
Now a veteran of flying royal-style, she settled into a plush leather reclining chair and prepared for takeoff, turning on the large-screen high-definition television and perusing her viewing options. The perfect time to catch up on back episodes of The Bachelor, which she’d missed while living in Monaforte. For the first hour or so of the flight, she kept a running dialogue with some of the pathetic women vying for the Bachelor’s extremely divided attention.
“Seriously, don’t be so stupid,” she said to one contestant, who happily threw herself at the man just after another woman had been grinding into his lap in the shallow Caribbean waters in which they were relaxing. “Have some self-respect, girl!”
She thought about that line for a minute. She’d wasted a lot of time throwing herself at men along the way, so she knew whereof she spoke. But she was ready now to stop worrying about that pursuit and focus instead on herself and forging a healthier lifestyle in Monaforte. And if that meant an embargo on men for a while, then so be it.
~*~
After the plane landed and she once again climbed into the Rolls for the ride into Porto Castello and the Grande Palace, Caroline decided she would pay close attention to every tiny detail along the drive. She never wanted to take this place for granted again.
The car meandered through the countryside, the fields still filled with breathtaking wildflowers in shades of periwinkle, gold, and fuchsia and, farther along, cheerful sunflowers baring their joyful faces to the day. She loved the stone farmhouses and thought about how lovely it would be to own one someday. The possibilities seemed endless for once.
On either side of the narrow, windy roads, sheep gamboled on sleepy hillsides and cows lazily grazed behind stacked stone walls. This, Caroline thought, is my home. And she smiled, feeling such joy fill her heart. It made her happier still to realize that it had nothing to do with a man. She wasn’t finding fulfillment in another person but rather in her own self and her accomplishments. And it felt pretty damned amazing.
The countryside gradually gave way to the city as farmland yielded to gorgeous old Gothic-style buildings. It still gave Caroline a thrill to see scattered about the many-centuries-old statues, some dating back to the days of Roman occupation of this land. And soon, before her, the familiar spires and goblin-like gargoyles of the palace came into view, and the car navigated down the busy boulevard alongside the wrought iron palace fencing, peaked with gold fleurs-de-lis that gleamed in the sunlight and seemed to be winking at Caroline.
The Rolls pulled through the official palace gates, the gold-leafed dueling-griffin crests festooning each of the large gates parting to allow them entry.
The car finally stopped on the pebbled driveway just to the side of the grand marble staircase where Emma stood waving wildly at her friend. The two friends ran toward one another and squealed and squeed with one another as they caught up on news and gossip and just being together.
“First thing, before anything else, you have to see how the apartment looks,” Emma said, grabbing Caro’s backpack and pulling her hand.
They ran past the stone-faced palace guards flanking the palace entrance and up the white marble stairway into the grand hall, Caroline trying to catch her breath as they went.
They quickly mounted the grand staircase, taking the red-carpeted steps two by two, holding tightly to the balustrade for purchase as they climbed the stairs. They raced past walls covered in oil paintings and friezes and plaster reliefs as they scurried down the Corridor of Elders and turned in the direction of Apartment One. When they arrived, the doors were open wide and sunshine streamed through, quite the contrast to the first day Caroline had seen the living quarters, then so dingy and neglected.
Her mouth fell open as she stood back and took it all in.
“Amazing what a coat of paint can do for a place,” Emma said with a laugh. Caroline and Gareth had orchestrated far more than a simple paint job. The remodel included refurbished accents like stunning wood-frieze molding and Italian-lime-plastered vaulted ceilings, making the place fit for, well, royalty. “I don’t know how you knew to do any of this.”
Caroline shrugged. “I’ve watched a lot of decorating shows on television. I guess I absorbed some of the details.”
They both laughed.
“She’s baaaacck,” they heard Gareth say from around a corner.
He ran up to Caroline and gave her a kiss on either cheek. “Bella! So good to see you again. I knew we’d get you back soon.”
“That makes one of us,” Caroline said, so glad to be away from the traffic and crowds and antiseptic world she’d occupied for so long back in the States. “Never did I think I’d be back but for the wedding of the century.”
“Speaking of weddings and matchmaking,” Gareth said. “Have you heard from Darcy yet?”
Emma threw Gareth a sharp look.
“Gosh, no,” Caroline said. “Nor do I want to. I’ve moved on, so it’s all good. It wasn’t meant to be, and really, I’m so excited to be here on my own with no designs on some unattainable guy. That wasn’t like me to need someone like that, and now I’m just ready to forge my own path.”
Emma and Gareth looked at each other and frowned.
“But what if Darcy wanted to reach out to you?” Emma said.
“You know what? I just have no interest in bothering anymore,” Caroline said. “I know I’ll see him at the wedding, and that will be nice. But he’s got his thing going on, and I’m going to be so busy with my stuff that it’s just not something I’ve got the time for right now.”
“Well, in that case,” Gareth said, dusting his hands off, “guess you and I need to get to work. We’ve got a lot of finishing touches, and now that you’re back I’m making you work overtime to compensate for lost time.”
“You’ve got it,” Caroline said. “But first someone’s got to feed me. No way I can create on an empty stomach!”