I turn around and walk into the pantry. I come out carrying a box of my favorite cereal. Are we made for each other or what?
I pour two bowls before pulling a jug of milk out of the fridge. Then I indicate that Lu should sit down at the kitchen table before saying, “You don’t seem like the Froot Loop type.”
“That’s offensive.” Yet she doesn’t sound offended. “What type do I seem like?”
“Something more sensible. You know, like Raisin Bran or Kashi or something.” I’m just teasing her. Obviously, she’s the Froot Loop type—fun, playful, sexy as all get out.
“I’m not eighty,” she tells me before asking, “Do I really seem that dull?”
“You don’t seem the least bit dull. Any woman who loves Froot Loops and peanut butter and bacon sandwiches is quite a catch.” I stare at her with a look that I hope says, let me catch you, Lu. Let go of your reservations and let yourself fall.
She averts her eyes but not before I see the heightened pink tinge in her complexion. We eat our cereal in silence and are just finishing up when my mother strolls into the room. “I let myself in, dear. What would you like to talk about?”
When she sees my guest, she says, “Hello, Lu. Did you and my son have a sleepover?” She did not just ask Lu if she was sleeping with me? Good God, talk about uncomfortable.
“I… I… I just stopped by to ask Alistair a question, and he seemed to think you would have the answer,” she manages to say, even though she looks like she wants to crawl under the table. Which makes two of us.
“Hmm.” I don’t think Mum believes her. And now I’m thinking about sleeping with Lu. Okay, fine, I think about that a lot, but usually not around my mother.
“I was wondering what the laws are regarding adoption in Malquar,” Lu gets to the point.
“Ah yes, your mother told me you were interested in one of the orphans,” Mum says.
“My mother told you? When did you talk to her?” she demands like it’s illegal for our mothers to speak to one another.
“Our children are getting married, dear. Of course, we’re in contact.”
“We were just eating cereal, not getting married!” Lu seems to realize her mistake as soon as the words are out of her mouth. There’s no calling something like that back.
“I didn’t mean you and Alistair, dear,” Mum says.
“I think she meant Geoffrey and Claire.” I give her a super bionic wink, and she blushes quite prettily.
“Yes, well, of course …” She’s clearly mortified. “About Beatrice. Is it possible that I’d be allowed to adopt her?”
“Not without some concessions.” The queen pulls out a chair and sits down next to me. Then she takes in the mess in the kitchen and asks me, “Were you baking?”
“He was making Play Doh,” Lu tells her.
“Of course, he was.” Mum doesn’t sound like she believes her. I don’t bother offering another explanation.
“About Beatrice,” Lu tries once again to keep my mother on task.
“You have to be a Malquarian citizen to adopt her. But being that your sister will soon become one, your family will be eligible to as well.”
“That’s wonderful.” Lu claps her hands together excitedly. “Will Claire be eligible soon or does she have to wait until she’s married?”
“She might as well wait. It becomes automatic then and she doesn’t have to take any of the classes.” Not that she could take the classes while living in Oregon, but I don’t say that.
“Oh.” Lu’s disappointment is palpable. “So, I couldn’t adopt Beatrice until after the wedding.”
“Correct,” Mum tells her. “But for you to hold dual citizenship, you would have to live here six months out of the year.”
“What? Why? I mean, I can’t live here. I have a job and a house.” This is clearly not what she wanted to hear.
“Then I don’t think you can adopt Beatrice,” Mum says. “Of course, if you married someone from here, you could adopt her and move out of the country. As long as your husband doesn't mind living elsewhere.”
Lu’s eyes dart to me and I briefly wonder if she’s thinking about taking me up on my proposal. Of course, I wouldn’t be up for living outside of Malquar. Not with forty-two children anyway.
Before I can ask her if she’s rethinking my offer, her eyes fill with tears, and she starts to cry.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters while wiping the back of her hand across her face. “I’m just very disappointed.”
“I understand, dear,” Mum tells her. “You might consider fostering Beatrice. I’m sure we could make a concession in the rules about that.”
“You mean have her move in with me now?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Then you can adopt her when you become a citizen. If you become a citizen.”
“I couldn’t have her move into Bree’s house with me. I don’t want to inconvenience her.”
“You could move back into the palace,” Mum tells her. “I imagine that will give Beatrice some memories of a lifetime.”
“But if I moved into the palace, that would mean staying in Malquar at least until Claire got married. That could be a year or more.” She stops to take a breath before adding, “I’ll have to give it serious consideration. But thank you for your advice.”
“Of course! We’re family now so you just let me know if you need anything.” She looks at me and asks, “Do you need me for anything?”
“I think I’m good, Mum. Thank you for stopping by.”
As I walk her to the door, she leans in and says, “Be careful. I don’t want you breaking Lu’s heart.”
“Breaking her heart?” I demand. “I assure you, Mother, if there’s a heartbreaker in this scenario, it’s Lu.”
“Ah, so you do have a romance brewing, and against my wishes.” She doesn’t sound the least bit upset. In fact, the smile on her face suggests she would be quite pleased if something of a more personal nature occurred between me and the elder Miss Choate.
“Goodbye, Mum,” I tell her right before shutting the door on her. If she’s changed her tune and she’s pulling for me and Lu, that can only mean she’s going to insinuate herself in our business.
The funny thing is, if it results in Lu and me becoming a couple, I don’t even mind. Talk about a strange turn of events.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sheila
“Where will I go if she moves in here?” Sheila asks Charlotte after being updated on her daughter’s adoption plans.
“Obviously, you can stay here as well. You’ll just have to be more careful about walking around.”
“Prisoner in the Palace… It sounds like a good, old-fashioned, bodice-ripping romance, doesn’t it?” Sheila laughs.
“While we’re nowhere as big as Buckingham Palace, we do have fifty-five thousand square feet of living space. We can certainly carve out a sizable chunk for you, so you don’t feel confined.”
“I appreciate that.”
“So, do you think she’s going to do it?” Charlotte asks her guest while readjusting the pillow on her favorite Queen Anne chair.
“I think the draw of a child—especially one she’s already bonded with—will be too great of a temptation for Lu to resist. It will mean leaving her job though, so I’m sure she’ll have to find some kind of work.”
“Why? We’re certainly not going to charge her rent.”
“She still has a mortgage in LA,” Sheila says. “Unless she goes ahead and sells.”
“It sounds like Lu has a lot to figure out, but I’m sure she’s going to make the right choice.” The queen puts her teacup on the table next to her.
“The right choice being to move into the palace with Beatrice so that she and Alistair can fall in love?”
“That would be the one,” the queen answers with a confident smile.
Lutéce
“I’m sure Bree wouldn’t mind having Beatrice at her house,” Alistair says when he comes back into the kitchen.
/>
“It would be a lot to ask,” I tell him. “Plus, I’m not even sure I can make that kind of time commitment.”
“Because of a job and a house?”
“Because my whole life is in LA,” I tell him, sounding surly.
“Yet, you’ve told me that the most important thing is for you to become a mother. You are being given that opportunity with Beatrice.”
“I know that, Alistair.” I abruptly stand up and put my cereal bowl in the sink. “I have a lot to think about.” The least of which is Beatrice. My biggest concern is adjusting to life in a new country. It will help that my sister will be here, but I’d still need a home, a job, and a new circle of friends.
“I will help you in any way that I can,” Alistair tells me as he walks over to me. He puts his hands on my arms and stares at me with what I can only describe as longing. Then he pulls me close and hugs me. That’s it, just a hug, but it is singularly the most erotic hug I’ve ever been part of.
“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say. The gratitude I feel toward him right now is nearly overpowering. One of the things I miss most about being in a relationship is feeling like someone has my back. A close second is getting a hug when I need one.
Of course, none of my relationships have worked out, and any feeling of stability I ever had was largely in my head. I cite my last three boyfriends cheating on me.
Alistair doesn’t let me go. Instead, he holds on even tighter and says, “Thank you.”
Can this all be happening? Could I really be on the cusp of becoming a mother who’s met her own real-life prince? Not in the royal sense, so much as the personal.
I tentatively push Alistair away. I have some thinking to do and when I’m in his arms, my brain short-circuits. “I need to go,” I tell him. Then hurry to add, “Thank you again for everything.” I sound like I’m thanking him for cleaning out my gutters.
“You’re welcome.” He takes me by the hand and leads the way to the front door. I’m holding hands with Alistair. I feel like a twelve-year-old in the throes of my first real crush. My insides are a tornado of emotions.
After opening the door, Alistair once again pulls me into his arms. This time I take the lead and lean in for another soul-searing kiss. This man fits me. He’s supportive, kind, funny, and drop-dead sexy. Is it possible that he’s the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life?
Everything I’ve ever wanted might just be within reach, but going for it is not without risk. Unfortunately, great reward comes with great risk, and I need to assess the situation with a clear head, which means pulling away before I let this kiss go too far.
I walk toward Bree’s like I’m sleepwalking. I get so caught up in my thoughts that I pass her house and don’t consciously realize it until I near town.
Malquar is beautiful and if I lived here, Beatrice and I could travel Europe with ease. I could give her a totally different life than she has at the abbey. She would give me a totally different life as well. And it’s not like I couldn’t take her back to LA to visit…
Should I sell my house? Do I keep it and rent it? What kind of job would I get here? While Queen Charlotte has graciously offered to let me stay at the palace until I adopt Beatrice, I can’t live off them without contributing something. Not to mention, once I adopt, I’ll need to find a house of my own.
Then there’s Alistair.
How has life gotten so complicated so quickly?
Before I know it, I’m standing at the fountain across from the abbey. I sit down on a park bench and watch my favorite old lady feed the birds.
Trying to give my mind a break from my own reality, I wonder again what her story is. Did her husband die? Does she have children somewhere? Do they visit her? Is she lonely or do the birds fill her life to a comfortable degree?
Before I can create a character sketch for her, a couple of well-dressed women walk in front of me and sit down on the bench next to mine. They’ve just come from the bakery and they’re holding coffee cups. I overhear the tall brunette say, “Those pictures in the paper were quite telling.”
The petite blonde replies, “Alistair and I are rekindling our relationship.”
My ears perk up and I turn to get a better look at them. I don’t know if Alistair is a common name or not around here, but I do know that Prince Alistair was in today’s paper kissing someone. I need to know if this woman is her.
“He’d be a fool not to welcome you back,” the brunette says.
Her friend, the one I’m most interested in, replies, “We had the loveliest night at the museum gala. I knew he wasn’t over me when he dragged me out into the Statue Garden for privacy.”
OMG, it is her! And what she’s saying is remarkably different from the story that Alistair told. While my heart says to trust Alistair, I don’t know if believing him is wishful thinking or not. My brain reminds me that I’ve been cheated on in the past. Several times.
One of my mom’s favorite sayings pops into my head. “If it quacks like a duck, and waddles like a duck, it’s no giraffe.” Wouldn’t that apply to Alistair?
He shows up in the newspapers regularly looking like he’s romancing a bevy of women. Why would I think he was any different?
But in my gut, I know he is. I have never felt about anyone else the way I do about him. In all the relationships I’ve had in my thirties, I’ve grown to like the men I’ve dated, but I wasn’t head over heels for them from the get-go. I also never thought about them as just them. They were always a means to an end—to help me reach my goal of becoming a mother.
I suddenly realize how unfair that was to them. I’m sure they felt my intensity and I’m equally sure it scared the daylights out of them. What man goes out on a first, second, or even fifth date and wants his date questioning how he feels about private school vs. public school, or where he stands on a stay-at-home wife versus a nanny?
It’s no wonder I was cheated on so many times. Even if the man I was with really liked me, I probably gave off such intense vibes that he felt suffocated by me.
I feel slayed by my bad judgment. Have I brought this loneliness on myself? I think I have.
I look over at blondie, who’s still bragging to her friend about how she and Alistair are getting back together, and it’s all I can do not to walk over to her and rip her hair out.
I don’t do that. Instead, I send her a psychic message. It goes like this: “You had your chance, and you blew it. I am not going to do the same.”
It may also involve a mental image or two of some definite follicle yanking.
Then I stand up and walk over to the abbey to talk to Sister Hennepin. I’m going to tell her what I talked to the queen about, then I’m going to ask for her counsel on the best way to start the process of fostering Beatrice.
With any luck, this time next year, I will be adopting her. And if the stars are truly aligning in my favor, I might have already started falling in love with her future father.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Queen Charlotte
“I ran into Lutéce over at Alistair’s this afternoon,” Charlotte tells her husband as she slips into bed.
“And?” Alfred asks.
“They were eating cereal at nearly four in the afternoon. I think they’d just gotten up.” She shimmies with apparent excitement.
“I hope you’re not jumping to conclusions.”
“What conclusions? Who eats Froot Loops in the middle of the afternoon? They were probably regrouping their strength so they could go back to bed.”
“We should not be discussing this,” Alfred says sternly. “Also, if it’s true that Alistair and Lutéce are starting something, what in the world are you going to do about Ellery? Did you happen to see today’s papers?”
“If you’re referring to that cozy scene at the museum, I saw it. But I don’t believe what the papers are selling.” Charlotte pulls the coverlet over her and smooths out the wrinkles.
“Since when? You always give Alistair a hard time
about his press, and you’re always ready to believe the worst.”
The queen rolls her eyes. “Maybe, but I tell you, after seeing him and Lutéce together, I don’t think for one minute that he has something going on with Ellery too.”
“And yet you’re having a dinner party where you’ve invited Ellery. How do you envision that going down, now that your son might have taken the bait and is interested in Lutéce?”
“I imagine Ellery will back off when she realizes Alistair is otherwise engaged.”
“Then you don’t know the girl as well as you claim to,” Alfred says. “I’m quite certain she won’t stop at anything if she’s decided she wants Alistair back.”
“Then you’re not giving our son, or Lutéce, any credit. Lu isn’t the kind of girl to sit back and let another woman make a play for her man. I expect it will turn into one of those country western songs of Tooty’s. You know, a real brouhaha, as they call it.”
“Be careful what you wish for, dear,” Alfred says. “Because you just might get it.”
Alistair
I can’t stop thinking about Lu. I was committed to the idea of not pursuing her until she made a declaration that that’s what she wanted. Well, in my eyes, she made that declaration when she kissed me before leaving my house. And what a kiss it was.
Although tentative at first, it was sweet and so full of possibility, I can’t imagine ever wanting to do that with anyone else.
I’m tempted to go next door and see if she wants to have dinner with me, but I think better of it and decide to give her some time. She has a lot on her mind with Beatrice, and whether or not she’s going to pursue a future here in Malquar. I don’t want to come on too strong.
I decide to go out on the boat, but I won’t spend the night. You know, in case Lu stops by for breakfast in the morning. I start to plot the menu in my head and decide to make all my specialties—scrambled eggs, toaster waffles, and Froot Loops. If that doesn’t show her how much I care about her, what will?
You're So Vain: A Royal Haters to Lovers Romance (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 4) Page 18