Royal Holiday

by Guillory, Jasmine

  “Oh, how wonderful! Well, welcome to England in addition to the museum! I hope you’ve enjoyed your visit?”

  She smiled and squeezed Malcolm’s hand.

  “Tremendously. Thank you so much.”

  George took off past the vacant check-in desk and beckoned them to follow him.

  “Well, that’s just glorious. Now, there is so much to see at this museum, but I have orders to take you straight to—” He glanced at Malcolm and then made an exaggerated zipping motion to his lips. “My apologies, my apologies. I don’t want to spoil the surprise! Please, just follow me.”

  What could he be taking her straight to? From some of the signs they passed by, it seemed like this place was full of . . . sculptures? Tapestries? Fashion? Where could they be going? Had she said something to Malcolm to make him think she loved any of those things?

  They followed George through the gift shop, then through a long walkway with a row of sculptures down the middle. She kind of wanted to stop and ask George about the sculptures and why they were here, and if people ever tried to touch them, like she so desperately wanted to do right now, but she could tell Malcolm wanted to get to the surprise.

  They went up two flights of wide stone stairs, the last one with a huge painting of a woman at the top. She started to ask George who it was, but she could tell from the excitement on his face that they were almost there.

  “This is a real treat you have ahead of you,” George said. “All by yourselves in here, when it’s usually a mob scene. Just remember, the alarms are all on!”

  He chuckled at his joke, and Vivian did, too, even though she had no idea what he was talking about. Just before she followed George through the door, Malcolm leaned down and whispered into her ear.

  “I’ll be behind you, so you don’t have to monitor the look on your face on my account, I promise.”

  She smiled and stepped inside. She was confused at first. The room was dark, much darker than the rest of the museum. There was no sculpture and no tapestries, just . . .

  Oh. My. God.

  Jewels.

  Everywhere she looked, there were jewels.

  She turned in a circle. The room was dark, but there were lights on all of the display cases, and the sparkle was almost blinding. White and red and blue and pink and green and gold, all gleaming out at her.

  She looked at Malcolm. He was staring at her and biting his lip.

  “You said you hoped to see a tiara in real life.”

  He’d planned this whole trip, just because she’d said that.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” she said. “You’re making me feel like royalty.”

  A huge smile spread across his face.

  “That was the goal,” he said. He took her hand. “Come on, George is dying to show you this one.”

  They walked over to meet George at a small display case halfway into the room.

  “There are maybe only five people in the entire United Kingdom I’d do this for,” he said, “and Malcolm is one of them.”

  He carefully put white gloves on and ducked behind the case. Vivian heard a whole series of locks turn. When he came back, the tiara was in his hands.

  “This is Queen Victoria’s sapphire and diamond coronet,” George said. “Her husband Albert designed it for her in 1840. It’s been sold a number of times, and almost left England a few years ago, but we managed to get our hands on it, and my goodness were we thrilled about that. We haven’t had it in our collection very long, and I’m so happy whenever I look at it. Isn’t it a beauty?”

  It was a tiny tiara—it almost looked like it had been made for a child—but the jewels in it were huge. The diamonds and sapphires all hit the light and sparkled and shimmered at her.

  Vivian tore her eyes away from the tiara and looked at him.

  “It’s stunning. Tiny but incredible.”

  He beamed at her.

  “I’m sorry that I can’t allow you to touch it, but . . .”

  Vivian shook her head and clasped her hands behind her back.

  “Oh my goodness, you have nothing to apologize for. Just letting me look at it like this . . . wow. Thank you so much, George!”

  Though . . . she did wish she could try it on.

  George smiled at her again, before he put the tiara back in the case and locked it once more. Vivian read the caption about the tiara out loud.

  “ ‘It remains an enduring symbol of their love.’ Wow, it has a beautiful story, too.”

  George beamed at her.

  “Doesn’t it? That’s one of the many things I love about it.” He looked around and sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ve got some work to do, so I can’t take anything else out of the case, but I’ll leave you two here to peruse the rest of the jewelry exhibit. I’ll be back in about an hour. I wish I could stay to tell you about everything!” He nodded over to the corner. “Don’t mind Lewis over there; he’s used to all the oohs and aahs in this room.”

  Vivian glanced into the corner; she hadn’t even noticed the security guard, but of course he’d be there.

  George waved at them and disappeared, and she turned to Malcolm.

  “I can’t believe that happened,” she said.

  He grinned at her.

  “Me neither. Getting in after hours was relatively easy, but when I asked him if there was any way he’d be able to take it out of the case, he hemmed and hawed a lot. I had no idea if he was going to do it until I saw him put the gloves on.”

  She leaned up and kissed him, security guard be damned.

  “I’m so giddy about that, I feel like a little girl going through her princess phase, but I don’t even care,” she said. “There’s so much in this room; I can’t wait to look at it all. What a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome,” he said.

  She loved how wide the smile on Malcolm’s face was.

  Malcolm bent down and kissed Vivian before they walked on to see more of the jewels in the exhibit. He’d been worried, ever since she’d told that story about her ex-husband, that she’d feel compelled to fake excitement tonight. And he’d been even more worried that he wouldn’t be able to tell if she was excited for real or not. But he’d seen the way her eyes changed when they walked into the museum; he’d been able to tell she was confused and disappointed, even though the smile stayed on her lips. And when they’d walked into this room, he’d seen the wonder and delight and pure joy in them when she realized what surrounded them.

  Vivian turned in a circle, her hands still clasped behind her back.

  “You always do that with your hands—here, and at Sandringham House, and you did it at Buckingham Palace, too.”

  She dropped her hands and laughed.

  “Oh, that’s because I always desperately want to touch things in museums! I have to hold my hands together behind my back so I won’t be tempted.”

  Malcolm laughed and took hold of her hand.

  “Here we go. I’ll keep you from temptation.”

  They spent the next hour and a half—George always had been a softy—walking around the exhibit, reading about everything there, and making quiet fun of some of the ugliest of the jewels.

  “Some people really do have more money than sense,” Vivian said. “Why would you do that to those poor jewels?”

  Malcolm laughed.

  “Can you imagine actually wearing that thing? It would frighten children on the street!”

  Vivian chuckled again. He loved that throaty laugh of hers—it seemed to bubble up out of nowhere and was so full of joy that it always made him laugh, too.

  “On the other hand, that tiara is just majestic. It looks really heavy, but it’s gorgeous.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. They stood there like that for a while, until she turned toward him.

  “Thank you for doing this for me,” she whispered, her hand on his cheek.

  “Thank you for letting me do this for you,” he whispered
back. And then he kissed her. He didn’t care that George would be back any second, or that video cameras were definitely on them, or that the security guard in the corner was watching them; all he cared about was her lips on his, her body against his, her breath melding with his.

  Finally, they broke apart. He almost felt ridiculous about how much he was smiling, but he was too happy to do anything else. He reached for her hand.

  “We ought to go soon; George has given us far more time than I asked for, and now I feel guilty about keeping him at work this late the week after Christmas.”

  “No need to feel guilty!” George bounced over to them. “I’m going on holiday for three weeks in January; I needed to stay late anyway to get all of my work in order. Lost track of time tonight, but I’m sure you two made good use of it.”

  Vivian looked around the room as they left it, almost like she was bidding the jewels farewell.

  “We did. This exhibit is wonderful, and I can’t thank you enough for giving us this time with it. I enjoyed it so much.” She glanced from side to side as they walked out into the hallway. “I’m only upset we didn’t get a chance to see anything else in the museum. If this exhibit is here, I can only imagine what other surprises this place has in store.”

  How did Vivian always know the exact right thing to say to everyone? George almost embraced her. He loved this museum so much, bless him.

  “Would you like to see some of them? We have time for . . .” George looked at his watch, and his face fell. “Oh no, I’m supposed to meet my wife at nine, and it’s twenty to. Well, we have time to just walk through one of my favorite exhibits here.”

  He took off at a trot. Malcolm hid his grin as they hurried to catch up with George. Good thing he’d made their dinner reservation for half past nine, even though their appointment with George was at seven. He knew George far too well to think he wouldn’t get distracted by his museum. He was certain George’s wife wasn’t counting on him meeting her at nine, either.

  Finally, after a jaunt through exhibits about mosaics, glass, and dollhouses (all surprisingly fascinating), George waved good-bye to them at the door.

  “Ms. Forest—Vivian—it’s been a real pleasure. I certainly hope you make it back to London for a proper visit to the V&A. And Malcolm, it was lovely to see you again.”

  Vivian reached for his hand.

  “George, thank you so much for everything. This was wonderful. I enjoyed myself so much.”

  He pumped her hand with both of his and held on for so long that Malcolm wondered if he should be jealous.

  “It was truly my honor,” George said. “See you again, I hope.”

  She slipped her arm into Malcolm’s as they waited for a taxi, and he pulled her close.

  “Oh, Malcolm,” she said, “that may have been the best surprise I’ve ever had in my life.” She sighed, a smile still on her lips. “I know I keep saying it, but thank you.”

  He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me; that smile on your face is all the thanks I need,” he said. He opened the taxi door for her. “Now, let’s see if we make our half past nine dinner reservation before the restaurant gives up on us.”

  Luckily, they only ended up about ten minutes late, and after profuse apologies, the host seated them.

  “I don’t think there’s going to be the same kind of show tonight as there was last night,” Malcolm said. “This place isn’t known for its spicy food, but it is very well known for its Israeli food, and it’s delicious.”

  She looked down at the menu.

  “I think Maddie’s boyfriend has one of the cookbooks from this place. Everything in it looks delicious and very complicated to make.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad someone else is making it for me.”

  He was so happy with how their day had gone, and so hungry from how late it was, that he ordered half the menu.

  “I didn’t want to rush you out of the museum, but my stomach was starting to rumble by the end there,” he said when their wine arrived.

  She laughed.

  “Mine did, too, but I was having so much fun with George, I didn’t want to leave!” She lifted her glass of wine. “To George, the first person in a long time who has made me forget how hungry I was!”

  He touched his glass to hers.

  “To George!”

  “I love museums, and I never go enough,” she said. “Whenever I travel anywhere, I visit a ton of museums, but I go to maybe one every two years at home, which makes no sense. We have so many wonderful museums in the Bay Area, but between work and everything else it never occurs to me to go when I’m at home.”

  He nodded.

  “I used to go a lot with Miles—Sarah has never really cared about art, and I was the one who introduced him to the work of a lot of his favorite painters.” He sighed. “Which is one of the many reasons why Sarah is so angry at me because of this. Mind you, I’m also the one who got him excited about going to Oxford, too, but that doesn’t really matter now.”

  Vivian put her hand on his.

  “You haven’t heard from him?”

  Malcolm shook his head. Not a text, not a phone call.

  “Have you reached out to him?”

  He shook his head again and sighed. He’d managed to put the whole mess with Miles out of his mind for most of the day.

  “I’m still just so angry. At him, at his ridiculous instructor who put these dreams into his head and told him to apply to art school of all things instead of going to Oxford, at myself. I should have done a better job, throughout the years, teaching him the realities of life. How important it is to get certain credentials, how—especially for people who look like us—it smooths out so much and opens so many doors for the rest of your life.” He sighed. “I suppose at some point I should reach out to him and try to talk sense into him again. You may have a point.”

  She sipped her wine.

  “I wasn’t making a point. I was just asking a question.”

  His eyebrows went up.

  “You can’t trick me with that ‘I was just asking a question’ social worker move, Ms. Forest. I’ve been working in and around government far too long for that; I know pointed questions from pointed questions.”

  She laughed.

  “Sorry, I can’t help it. I’ve been a social worker for over twenty years; some things are just part of me now.” Now she raised her eyebrows at him. “Do you not want to talk about this right now? We can talk about something else that doesn’t involve me prying into your psyche.”

  He grinned.

  “You weren’t prying, but let’s talk about you instead of me. Tell me more about this big-deal new job you’re about to step into.”

  No wonder Vivian worried about her facial expressions showing too much. He could tell just from the way her smile faded at that question that she had mixed feelings about the job.

  “Well, starting in February, I’ll be the interim director of social work at the hospital. And if I get the permanent job—which, from what my boss says, is a shoo-in, but I’m trying not to count my chickens before they’re hatched—I’ll be the director of social work.”

  “How is that different from what you’re doing now?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath.

  “It’s some of what I’m doing now, just a lot more of it, and more of other things, too. Right now I do mostly patient work—talking through diagnoses and worries with patients after they see their doctors, helping them access services both inside and outside of the hospital, working with their families. This is the hardest and most rewarding part of the job for me, especially when the patient is a child or teenager. My boss does a little of that, too, but mostly only if there’s a major problem, or if we’re short-staffed or something. And of course, when there’s a crisis. Otherwise, it’s a lot of managing people, working with the big bosses at the hospital, working with other hospitals and local agencies, that kind of stuff. A lot of responsibili
ties I don’t have now.”

  He touched her hand.

  “I’m positive you’ll do it all very well.”

  She nodded quickly.

  “Oh, sure. I’m not worried about that. It’s just”—she shrugged—“I guess I hadn’t realized how much I like my current job until it was time to leave it. That’s all.”

  He almost asked her if she was sure she wanted this new job. But she seemed so set on it, that it felt like a ridiculous question.

  “Well, it’s my job now to make sure you have a fantastic holiday while you’re here. What should we do tomorrow? Do you want to see the crown jewels? And before you ask, there’s no way those will get taken out of the case.”

  She laughed out loud.

  “I wouldn’t have asked! But then, I wouldn’t have asked for tonight, either.”

  She smiled at him over her wineglass. He suddenly couldn’t wait to get her home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Vivian woke up the next morning and listened to the sounds of London out the window. Even from this high up, she could hear the early morning noises of the city—the swish of the rain, honks from cars, the occasional siren as it went by. She loved how even the sounds of London felt different than the sounds of California; yes, the sirens were different, but it felt like something else, too. She was so glad she’d gotten to experience this.

  She turned over in Malcolm’s large and comfortable bed. It was so big they’d been able to sleep far enough apart that she didn’t feel crowded, but close enough so she could feel his body heat. She pulled the duvet up to her shoulders in the chill of the room. They’d said it was so cold at Sycamore Cottage because it was an old house, but Malcolm’s building seemed pretty new and up-to-date, yet it was cold here, too. Maybe homes were just that cold everywhere in England.

  She looked down at herself and grinned. Or maybe it was because she’d slept naked. No wonder she was colder than normal.

  “What are you smiling to yourself about?”

  She turned, and Malcolm was looking at her, with his head propped up on his hand.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you were awake,” she said.