Chapter 24 #2
He peered at her through the moonlight, and the affection he felt for every beating heart tripled for Scottie.
“Don’t go, love. Stay. Please. At least until the end of the summer.
We can sort out if we’re for real or just caught up in a rare story.
Go to Hearts Bend if you must for work—but come back.
” He pressed her hand over his heart. “I’m all in, Scottie.
” He pulled her to him. “Tumbling over the side of the quay, twenty, thirty feet, shouting wahoo the entire way down.”
* * *
“This satellite shot of the Eye of God—I’m speechless. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
— Stone Brubaker, the Morning Show
* * *
“Stone, I can’t begin to describe the spectacular events from last night’s Rose Ball.
As Her Majesty Queen Catherine announced the restoration of Hamish Fickle’s family title and duchy, the Eye of God ignited the north country from the Highcrest Mountains down to the Midlands.
Stories are coming in of true, bona fide miracles.
A little girl in the hospital suffering from an undiagnosed illness recovered.
A man on the street claims his sight was restored.
I’ll be collecting these stories and more from Dalholm, but Stone, we’ve witnessed an event not seen in more than two hundred years. ”
— Melissa Faris, Royal Reporter, the Morning Show
* * *
“I owe a great debt of gratitude to Lady Royal, Officer Michael Cross of the HMSD, and Her Majesty Queen Catherine for recent events. I fully accept Her Majesty’s apology and offer one of my own for my uneducated venom toward the House of Blue.
As a member of the House of Lords, I will continue to fight for the freedom of all, including the RECO party.
However, I will no longer be their voice.
I’ve been humbled by the queen’s kindness.
To wit I say, let there be peace among all who live in Lauchtenland.
There is always a story behind the story, and if we seek truth, if we dare ask questions with an ear to listen, we make life better for us all. ”
— MP Hamish Fickle, Lord Midlands,
* * *
“AP Morning Business News—Boston Brothers of Boston, Massachusetts, announced today the acquisition of O’Shay Shirts, a men’s apparel company founded in Hearts Bend, Tennessee, in 1902.
The deal comes after almost a year of negotiations.
‘There is a great deal of synergy between Boston Brothers and O’Shay Shirts,’ said Boston Brothers CEO Briggs Carson.
Trent O’Shay, CEO of O’Shay Shirts, was unavailable for comment.
As of this writing, no RIFs are planned in the Boston or Hearts Bend location. ”
— The Lauchtenland Business Journal
* * *
Scottie
She woke slowly, clinging to sleep and her dreams from last night.
A real royal ball. A handsome sort-of-prince.
Music and dancing, a supernatural moment, shared kisses, confessions of love, and not one single, solitary care in the world.
Truly. Scottie rolled over on her belly and sank into her pillows, snuggled and warm under the blankets.
“Miss?” The maid knocked softly on her door. “Breakfast.”
“Hmm.” Scottie sat up. Breakfast sounded nice. “Come in,” she said, reaching for her robe, a necessity when one lived in a castle where staff entered and exited her suite. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon.” The maid, Soto, set a tray on the table by the window.
Not going to lie, she could get used to this. “Did you see the Eye of God?”
“Everyone did, miss. How spectacular.” She poured a cup of tea and passed it to Scottie. “What would you like to wear today?”
“Jeans, sneakers, T-shirt. I need to pack for tomorrow, walk along the cliffs one last time, then join Lord Midlands at the Belly of the Beast tonight for a pint.”
“Very good, miss. I’ll tend to your laundry and packing as well. We’ll miss you round here.”
“Thank you, Soto. You spoil me,” Scottie said, raising the cover from a plate of eggs and bacon.
From the bedside table, her charging phone pinged. Please be Michael wanting to meet on the old Grand Portico. Or for a walk through the woods and up the hill. She’d dreamt about his confession of love, his request for her to stay in Lauchtenland for the summer.
When he’d delivered her at the Princess Charlotte suite’s door a little after three a.m., he kissed her goodnight, and a yes to his request nearly tumbled from her lips.
But she needed to talk to Dad first and—
Dad. She owed him a call. He’d just be waking up about now.
A perfect time to chat. Crawling over the mountain of pillows for her phone, she swiped open to see Cap Henderson’s name on the screen.
Opening his message, she saw two links. One an online Save the Date wedding invitation.
The other to an AP article. She clicked on the Save the Date invitation.
“Is Lady Royal awake?” Scottie looked up when Michael’s voice came from the living room, her sleepy heart coming alive.
“Michael, I’ll be right out,” she called, smiling all the way to her toes. Collecting her tray, she headed for the living room. “Have you eaten? I’ll call down to Chef George for a plate.”
He looked good in his suit and tie, and his hair still wet from his shower. “Have you heard?” he said. “Has anyone rung from America?”
Michael came around the couch with an old book in one hand and his phone in the other, his countenance serious, his posture professional. He was nothing like the romantic hero wooing her heart last night.
“Heard what?” She set her breakfast tray on the round table by the window where the noon light, muted by gray clouds, filled the frame. “What do you mean has anyone rung from America. Michael, what’s going on? Has something happened?”
“Nothing from your father?”
“I missed a couple of calls from him this week, but with the Fickle hullabaloo and events around the ball, we never connected. Michael, what’s going on?” She placed her hand on his. “Tell me.”
With a sigh, he tapped on his phone then handed it to Scottie. “I’m so sorry.”
She read the story from the Lauchtenland Business Journal as if standing on the moon. “O’Shay Shirts sold? To Boston Brothers? No. No, no, no, no.” She tossed Michael his phone and reached for hers. The AP article Cap sent. Was it related to this?
Cap: Did you know about this? Are you coming home? Just checking on you.
Scottie opened the link. Sure enough. The Hearts Bend Tribune headline for Friday, June 26, was the sale of O’Shay Shirts. The font size was like one used to announce a war.
“No. Impossible.” Hands shaking, Scottie dialed Dad, but the call went to voicemail.
“Hey, call me. You sold O’Shay?” She tried Shug and Fritz, but neither one answered.
“So the revised fairness option wasn’t a just in case.
They knew this was coming. They had to have known.
” She stared at Michael. “He lied to me. They lied to me. What is with my father and secrets? My mother, which I now understand, I do. But Remi? Now this, this sale.”
Move. She had to move. But the cold quake in her legs against the burning angst in her middle kept her anchored in place.
“What, love, can I do?” Michael said.
“This makes no sense. None.” She tried Jack Gillingham and then Doug Langford. Neither one answered. Even cousin Blake was unavailable. “How could he? This is betrayal. Isn’t it, Michael?” She sank into the nearest chair. “The worst kind.”
“I don’t know the details, love. But yes—” He shifted the book he held from one hand to the other as if he didn’t know what to do with it.
“It is definitely betrayal. Did you know about this? Was it kept a secret so I’d stay? Or a scheme to keep me here?”
“Scottie, you know your mum would never conspire this sort of thing to keep you here.” He glanced at the book as if he wanted to say something, then changed his mind. “I’m certainly not privy to the dealings of O’Shay Shirts.”
“You’re a Cross man. You could’ve been given the inside scoop. Does Kate know?”
“Scottie, as these things go, no one knew but the reigning principals. Everyone is probably shocked. Her Majesty heard this morning on the news.”
She paced, dialing her father again. No answer. She returned to the article, reading more than the headline. “It’s been in the works for a year? How is that possible?”
“Why don’t you hold your conclusions until you talk to him?”
“I’m so stupid.” She slapped her palm to her forehead.
“The quintessential southern fool. To let myself get caught up in all this Lady Royal business. Don’t you see?
I dropped the ball, Michael, and everything I was raised to believe was mine has been sold out from under me.
But, oh, wasn’t I high and mighty when I confronted Hamish Fickle, when I trekked up to Wenthelen Chapel to dig around in a musty cellar.
Just stick me on the back shelf with the portrait of another illegitimate royal baby.
I should’ve never come back when I went home four weeks ago.
I could’ve stopped this thing.” Back in the bedroom, she dragged her suitcase from the dressing room.
“Getting caught in a RECO riot was a cakewalk compared to this.” Michael watched from the doorway, arms folded, his jaw set.
“I need a flight home today, Michael. Please.”
“Wheels up on Royal One in an hour,” he said, turning to go. “Her Majesty will want to say goodbye.”
“Michael, wait. I’m sorry but I have to go or I’ll explode. My mind is a train wreck. My heart is thumping so loud in my ears—” She took his hand into hers. “You understand, don’t you? You’d do the same, Michael, I know you would. I must fight this.”
She turned back to her packing, dumping clothes from the dresser into her suitcase.