Chapter 5
Five
Alongside overseeing media arrangements for a string of the elderly Earl of Lancaster’s engagements in London, including a
scintillating ribbon-cutting at a naval club, much of Lauren’s November was consumed by planning for the US president’s state
visit to the United Kingdom the following spring. With the duke’s unofficial debut turning out to be a success and her weekly
press briefings properly green-lit by James and under control (or at least as under control as she could get them to be when
reporters were shouting questions at her about royal clothing budgets or controversies that had most likely emerged from conspiracy
theorists on X), she was finally able to turn her attention to the one thing that she had moved across an ocean to avoid:
The Americans.
She had done this before, but never from the non-US side, and never with just her in charge.
She had several drafts of the visit’s numerous op notes up and running on her screen at all times, trying to coordinate press information, location information, live feeds of the speeches, positions for the reporters at all the major landmarks that she had to liaise with (the president, for example, would be getting a private tour of Westminster Abbey during her visit), arrival and departure times for reporters at every event, contact info for anyone who wasn’t her—the list went on and on.
At one point, Lauren made a list of all her lists and realized she had basically become a meme.
And when she wasn’t doing all that, she was planning for her mom’s Thanksgiving trip.
It had happened mostly by accident, somewhat out of sentimentality but mostly because of guilt. Lauren had called her mom
to say hi, they mentioned the upcoming holiday, and then Lauren found herself saying, “You should come out here, I can take
the day off work. And all my things finally arrived from DC, so the apartment is all set up for entertaining.”
“Oh, you don’t have time to entertain your mom,” she’d said, scoffing at the idea.
“No,” Lauren had said, because the idea was already out in the air and also, she’d suddenly realized that she missed seeing
a familiar face that wasn’t work- or royal-related. “You should come! You’ve never been to London, right? We could be tourists,
go to high tea or a museum or shopping . . .”
“Well.” Her mom had hesitated then agreed. “I’ll have to check with work and see if I can get a few days off, but yes, that
would be nice.”
It had always been the two of them at the holidays, as Lauren had little recollection of her dad being there. She had seen
some old photos of him wearing a Santa hat and holding baby Lauren up to the camera, a smile on his face, but those were just
pictures, not a memory. But her mom always made it special and cooked the Thanksgiving meal even if she had worked late the
night before. Sometimes some neighbors or college friends joined the two of them, and no matter how big or small their gathering
was, it was fun and joyful.
Lauren had spent only one Thanksgiving away from her mom, two years ago, back when Brian’s family had invited them to a cabin in Vermont.
She had pictured rustic logs, a few deer heads, a roaring fireplace.
What she discovered when they arrived was more of a sleek, modern glass-and-marble house, even though house didn’t seem like the right word to describe it.
It was like a penthouse in midtown Manhattan or the Cullen residence in Twilight.
And even though she had loved Brian at the time, and even though she felt welcomed by his family, it just felt . . . off.
She didn’t know the in-jokes or the family lore and found herself spending more and more time smiling instead of talking.
It was as if she was doing the cha-cha when everyone around her knew how to waltz. She didn’t fit in, and by the time she
and Brian got back to DC on Sunday night, she could feel the tension between them. It had felt like a pop quiz that she failed,
and Lauren tried not to let herself think too much about whether that was the first crack between them, and if that was when
Brooke managed to slip into that empty space, splitting them even further apart.
But anyway. Her mom was on her way to London for Thanksgiving and Lauren was determined to make it fun, to show her mom that
she was doing great. Brian who? Brooke what? Unfortunately, one thing Lauren hadn’t considered when inviting her mom to celebrate
Thanksgiving in London was that no one celebrated Thanksgiving in London.
“You did go to university, yes?” James sarcastically remarked to her when she (foolishly) mentioned this realization in their weekly
meeting the week before Thanksgiving. “You’re not that faux heiress who spent years living in Manhattan hotels and conning
those Wall Street businessmen out of millions of dollars?”
“You’re going to have to narrow it down for me,” Lauren snarked back. “That’s a very broad category of people in New York.”
Undeterred, though, Lauren spent the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving in a TK Maxx (why they didn’t call it TJ Maxx was something she planned to ask ChatGPT), stocking up on things she didn’t need and had no room for.
She had only gone in to browse, something she’d been doing a lot lately to keep busy, to distract from the fact she wasn’t spending her Saturday morning waking up with someone, grabbing coffee, meeting up with friends for brunch—all the things that she and Brian had done together in DC.
The nice thing about being in a relationship, Lauren thought now that she was no longer in one, was that there was always someone to do something with.
And she didn’t want to admit it, but as she wandered through TK Maxx, adding ceramic pumpkins and a fall-themed door wreath to her shopping cart, Lauren realized that London could be very lonely.
She had Joy as a friend, of course, but Joy was often busy with mom life and the staggering amount of after-school and weekend
activities that seemed to accompany an eight-year-old boy. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that DC would be lonely,
too, her boyfriend and best friend both gone in one fell swoop, but at least it would have been familiar.
“Oh, these are cute,” she said, interrupting her own thoughts, and added fairy lights in the shape of acorns to her cart.
When she got home with four huge TK Maxx bags, she started decorating.
She had to admit that the autumnal-themed throw pillows on the tiny couch that came with the rental may have been a bit much, but her mom—who decorated their family home for even the shortest of holidays or seasonal occasions—would appreciate the effort.
She even splurged on two autumnal-scented Diptyque candles to mask the faint smell of cooking that would occasionally seep into the place from one of her neighbors, and as she scanned her eyes around the small apartment, Lauren felt a strange sort of accomplishment.
In the bathroom doing her nighttime routine that evening, Una popped in, a purse slung over her shoulder. She looked like
a model. “Good morning, Miss America,” Una said jauntily. “The bathroom sink is leaking, just so you know.”
“Wonderful,” Lauren replied. “Have a fun night.”
“I always do!” Una sang out as the front door shut behind her, her perfectly messy blowout bouncing with every step.
Lauren was finishing up just as her phone began to ring. “Hey, Mom,” she said. “Are you packed and ready for your flight?
Oh, before I forget, this Thanksgiving dinner is going to be a little bit, um, creative. I could not for the life of me find
cornbread or canned pumpkin, but I did manage to track down a blueberry pie from this place in Notting Hill I found online
that’s basically someone’s home but—”
“Oh, honey.”
Lauren knew that tone in her mother’s voice, and it meant bad news was coming. “What’s wrong?”
“Something’s come up with work,” her mom said, and already Lauren could hear the apology in her voice. “There’s been a listeria
outbreak at a meatpacking plant down in North Carolina and they need me on-site to help with the messaging,” her mom said,
and in the background, Lauren could hear her mom’s work phone pinging, her laptop chiming in return. “What a start to Thanksgiving,
huh.” She laughed, but Lauren suspected the joke was for her benefit.
Lauren sank down into a dining chair she’d found on Facebook Marketplace that wobbled whenever she shifted her weight. “I
can’t believe you’re canceling.”
“I’m not canceling!” her mom insisted. “Well, I guess I am, but trips can be rescheduled. We can celebrate later. Thanksgiving
in February!”
Lauren could hear the forced cheer in her mom’s voice as she gazed around her apartment, her ornamental pumpkins now looking silly and stupid. “I was just excited to see you.”
“Oh, c’mon, you have work, you have your new friend, what’s her name?”
“Joy,” Lauren replied, and hoped her mom didn’t hear the wobble in her voice.
“Joy! She sounds so great. Plus Christmas is around the corner, so we can just see each other—”
“I have to work on Christmas.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Yes, the royal family goes to Balmoral every year, and I have to be there to handle all the media arrangements.”
“Well, see? That’s what I mean! You’re so busy.”
Lauren sighed. “I’m just disappointed. I got us tickets for the Around the World tour at the British Museum. And I made a
reservation for tea at Claridge’s, which is, like, impossible to get this time of year.”
“Well, I’m sure they will still be there next time,” her mom said. Lauren could hear the relief in her voice, which made her
feel sad in a way that she couldn’t quite explain. “Hey, don’t be disappointed, okay? It was only for a few days anyway, and
like I said, you’re—”
“—busy,” Lauren said along with her as she glanced around at her overdecorated apartment, which somehow made it seem even
emptier. “Yep. Soooo busy.”