Flicker
Page 40
Elise leaned back so she could look up into his face. “Well, you know it isn't that simple,” she grinned. “What will Russia be like? What is the Queen going to do when she meets me? Will they want me to go back during the summer, or will visiting once a year be enough?” She gasped in a breath and rushed on. “Will you and Gregory be with me the whole time? What do I have to learn-- like, are there a ton of policies and protocols and stuff? How do I even address her-- am I supposed to call her 'Your Majesty' or something? Will I need to dress up all the time? I probably should, shouldn't I? Oh, if I have to make new clothes, you need to tell me now.” Alex's laughter was shaking her so hard she thought she might fall off his lap. “I told you it wouldn't be that simple!” She cried indignantly. “There's so much I need to know!”
Alex leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss that left Elise breathless. “I love you,” he murmured into her ear.
Elise looked up into his crystalline blue eyes, her throat tight with emotion. “I love you, too.” After a long moment, she giggled. “Now are you going to answer any of my questions?”
Alex grinned down at her. “Truth or dare?”
Don’t miss:
Beacon
Book Two of Elise’s Story
Coming soon!
1 IN ADVANCE
Heavy gray clouds flowed across the sky over Willowdale, swiftly blown by a bitter wind that promised a frigid winter to come. As she walked quickly down Main Street, the frost in the air made seventeen-year-old Elise Whitfield very glad she'd elected to wear her new, faux-fur-trimmed peacoat. The elegant wool coat had been a Christmas present from her parents, given to her weeks early in preparation for her upcoming trip, and this cold snap left her especially grateful for their thoughtfulness. Even with the warmth of her garments, the wind blowing into her face made her hurry as she ducked into the shop she'd been heading for.
Inside, it was delightfully warm, if a little cramped; Elise sighed with relief as she looked around the cluttered antique shop. Her gloved hands quickly curled into fists as she tried to contain her frustration, however-- she paced the tiny store in a matter of minutes, but saw nothing that seemed right. The tiny, white-haired woman behind the counter looked at Elise over the rims of her glasses as the teenager let out a strangled groan. “Can I help you, dear?” The clerk called kindly.
Elise was about to refuse, but paused, biting her lip; just maybe, the woman actually could give her a hand. Sighing as she approached the counter, she tried to think of how exactly she could phrase this request. “I'm not sure,” she began hesitantly. “I'm looking for something... special. It's a gift, and well, he...” she trailed off, unable to frame her thoughts, but the woman was already nodding.
“I've got just the thing,” the lady smiled, and surprised Elise by actually winking at her. Elise raised her eyebrows, toying with her gloves as she watched the clerk rummage through a stack of small boxes behind the counter. “Ah!” The woman cried, turning back to her customer with a satisfied smirk, and Elise leaned forward hopefully to see-- a pocket watch. “Sterling silver,” the old woman said proudly. “Made in 1907, and engraved by hand here on the lid.”
Elise sighed. “Thank you,” she said gently, already turning away. “But that isn't what I'm looking for. Happy holidays!”
The wind seemed even colder when she stepped back out into it, and her nose burned as she inhaled deeply. That was the fourth watch of some sort that she'd been shown by well-meaning shop associates, and she was beginning to wonder if there was a conspiracy involved. Or did people really not give men any gifts except neckties, watches, coffee mugs, and power tools? Thinking back, that seemed to encompass basically every present she'd ever given her father, so Elise supposed she was as guilty as everyone else. But now she had to think outside the box.
After all, it seemed tactless to give her nine hundred year old boyfriend a watch for Christmas.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ms. Grey has never had a life without books. When she was a baby, her mother weaned her from nursing straight to a book; when she was a child, her mother would complain that she didn't read books, she ate them. One family vacation when Arreyn was fourteen, she found herself without a book. That was the day she started writing her own.
Arreyn resides in South Jersey with her family, and is sadly bereft of cats. She feels that until she is owned by at least one cat, she cannot truly call herself an author. But in the meantime, she enjoys playing Dungeons and Dragons and Star Wars: The Old Republic with her delightful friends. She is an avid Philadelphia sports fan, as well as an amateur model and photographer. She loves singing, dancing, and sewing-- often at the same time, with occasionally disastrous results.
Find out more about Ms. Grey, her books, and her writing process at:
Facebook.com/ArreynGreyAuthor
www.GreyDayMuse.Blogspot.com