The Royal Wedding Collection

by Rachel Hauck

  “Okay. Thank the Lord for this deal with Adam. Finally, you can get going on your way and stop fooling around, waiting on him.” Aurora smacked her palms together, punctuating her declaration with such force Susanna jerked backward, squinting. “Know what your problem is, girl?”

  “I only have one?”

  Aurora’s big laugh held no restraint. “Touché.” She gripped Susanna’s arms. “You just wouldn’t break … wouldn’t let go. You clung so tightly. I see a bit of myself in you, darling. I was bound so tight God couldn’t even whisper my name lest I shatter. I had to let go. I had to crack.” She wagged her finger under Susanna’s nose. “That’s what you need.”

  “I’m not sure I know how to crack. At least not in all the right places, Aurora.”

  “He does.” She pointed toward the heavens. “And from what I can see, the first crack hit just right. Wasn’t too painful, was it?”

  “You’re telling me God sent Adam to break up with me?”

  “If he’d asked, would you have said yes?”

  “No.”

  “See … you knew all along, girl. Just like I did. Back in the day, drugging and sleeping around, I thought I was all liberated and free, but I was nothing but bound.” She gripped the air in front of her face. “But I held on. To my reputation, my career, my fancy home, my clothes and jewels, my expensive car.”

  “Your pedicures?” Aurora’s intensity challenged Susanna’s comfort and notion of God’s role in her life. “How do I hang on to my goals and plans without being so …”

  “Uptight? You let him figure the outcome. We make our plans, but God directs our steps.”

  “I have no plans, Aurora.” Susanna glanced up at her second-story office window. “Zip, zero, nada. They vanished with Adam.”

  “Fantastic.” Aurora danced a jig along the sidewalk. “Now he can come.”

  “Now who can come?”

  “The one …” She covered her mouth with her long, slender hands and in an instant, the attitude and decorum of a DC lobbyist faded, and the innocent sweetness of a cracked woman emerged. “You only believe in ‘the one,’ don’t you, Susanna?”

  A divine disturbance rumbled through Susanna. She felt exposed and vulnerable. She’d never told anyone her belief in “the one true one.” Well, until she blabbered it to Nate on Friday night.

  “Aurora, what are you talking about?” Please don’t start talking nonsense. Susanna ached to hear something good, profound. But Aurora straddled worlds, the natural, the supernatural, and the slightly nutty. At any given moment she slipped out of one into the other.

  “One. Only one.” Aurora flung wide her arms. “You’re free, Suzy-Q. And now get ready.” She tipped her face toward the heavens. “Believe. He’s coming …” She sucked in a quick breath of surprise. “He’s here, oh joy, he’s already here.” Aurora patted her hands together and danced a jig.

  “All righty then.” What had started out as an encouraging, sane conversation had gone cattywompus in the span of a sentence. “I’ll see you, Aurora. Don’t forget to buy shoes.”

  “I’ll see you first, Suz. And get that Adam-boy the rest of the way out of your heart. Let go. Let goooo.” She raised her hands and wiggled her fingers at Susanna. “God will fill your heart with wonders you never dared dreeeaaam.”

  “O–okay?” Dreams? Susanna couldn’t conjure up one. Did she even have any? No, she had plans. Dreams were for fairy tales and romantics. She was practical, patient and … dreamless.

  From her bag, her phone pinged. It was Gage’s text tone.

  Staff meeting in 5 minutes. You’re late.

  “Listen, Aurora, I need to run.” She flashed the screen for her to see. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m right as rain.” Aurora smiled, all perfect and sane, then hopped across the parking lot toward the woods, disappearing between the trees and brush.

  “Aurora?” Susanna dashed after her, suddenly missing her divine confidence. “Get a pair of shoes, will you? Aurora?”

  But she was gone.

  “Aurora?”

  How did she do that? Disappear in the mist.

  Susanna’s phone pinged again.

  3 mins til meeting.

  Gage. Like his staff meeting of five had to start at nine o’clock sharp. When Susanna made it to the second-floor landing, he was waiting for her.

  “Well?” He folded his arms and searched her face.

  “Well what?” She pushed past her boss—and friend—lowering her satchel to her desk.

  “How’d it go?” Gage fell against the ornately carved doorframe, motioning toward her left hand. “How come I’m not blinded by bling?”

  “I thought we had a meeting.” Susanna reached for her University of Georgia mug sitting on the credenza. Time and use had faded the logo and the UGA looked more like IGI. And the bulldog mascot no longer had a nose.

  “Yeah, we have a meeting but I wanted to see the bling. Adam came home, right? You left early Friday to meet him.”

  “I need coffee.” Susanna slipped past Gage and down the stairs. She’d held herself together while talking to Aurora, but Gage’s inquiry encroached on her emotional fortress. He’d been her friend, and Adam’s, since the romance began and had been on the sidelines, watching, occasionally coaching, for twelve years.

  “Suz, what happened?” Gage’s steps thundered down the stairs after her.

  “Nothing happened.” Susanna ran into Myrna, the office manager, when she reached the bottom.

  “Gage, leave the girl alone.” Myrna smacked her gum and glanced at her clipboard schedule. “Susanna, your ten o’clock appointment cancelled.”

  “Glenn Cowger? No.” Was it too late to join Aurora in the woods? “Did he say why?”

  “Not a peep, darling. And I tried to get something out of him.” She peered at Susanna. “You don’t look half bad for a woman who got dumped.”

  Susanna made a face. “Yay me. So, did you ask Cowger to reschedule?”

  “Shug, look who you’re talking to. Me. Myrna.” The woman with the henna-rinsed hair and the countenance of a marine on duty curled her lip. “Of course I asked him. Gave him ten ways to Sunday to reschedule, but he’d have none of it. Said he’d think on it, would call you later.”

  “Great.” Susanna glanced at her boss. “Scratch Cowger Homes off our morning meeting.”

  “Let’s not give up so easily,” Gage said. “Get a plan together, Suz. Myrna, pull files on the other architects in the region. Let’s see if we can figure out who else Cowger is considering. Also, pull the city building permits. Wonder if he’s run into a snag. Tell Clark and Alexis we’re postponing the meeting for ten minutes.”

  Myrna went into action. “On it, boss. And, Suz, don’t worry about Adam, he’ll come around.”

  “Ugh, I’m so glad my personal life is out there for all to comment on.” Susanna started for the kitchen. She really needed coffee. Gage trailed after her.

  “Do you have any idea who Cowger—”

  “Come on, Gage, he’s clearly made another choice.”

  “We don’t know what he’s doing. There’s a good chance he didn’t get his building permit. So let’s keep after him. Win him over.” Gage cornered her in the kitchen. “I need your A game, Suz.”

  “How about my D-minus game?”

  “No, I want the hotshot Atlanta landscape architect who won major jobs for Remington & Co.”

  “I had the Remington & Co. reputation behind me when I won those jobs.” She let her expression and tone seal her implication. Gage Stone Associates was still building their company and reputation.

  “Okay, fine. We’ve got a ways to go, but you had Cowger.”

  “And now I don’t. Want my opinion? Your rates are too high, Gage.” Susanna yanked the coffee carafe from the machine. Bone dry. She leaned toward the doorway and hollered into the hall. “All right, y’all. Who drank all the coffee and didn’t make any more, huh? It’s only nine o’clock.”

  “What d
o you mean my rates are too high?” he asked.

  “It’s not rocket science, Gage. You charge too much.” Susanna opened the cabinet for the coffee. She popped the lid of the canister. Empty. She snorted, low, sardonic. “It’s a conspiracy, I tell you.” She tipped the empty canister at her boss. “I’m going to Starbucks.”

  “I need you at staff, Suz.”

  “I’ll be back. But here’s my big input for today. You want Cowger back? Lower your bids.”

  “My bids are competitive.”

  “Sure, if you’re Remington & Co. You’re building your rep, Gage. It’s will-work-for-nothing time.” Susanna pressed the plastic lid back on the canister. “I need coffee.”

  As she passed Gage, he snatched up her left hand. “So, Adam didn’t propose?”

  “No, and you must be the only person on the island who hasn’t heard.”

  A crimson wash spread on his cheeks. “I did, but I wanted to hear it from you.”

  “So I could relive it all over again?” Nice.

  “Did he really say he found the right ring but not the right girl?”

  “Yep. Said we loved the plan more than each other.”

  “He’s crazy. If any two people—”

  “Needed a wake-up call, it was Adam and me. He’s right, Gage. I just never wanted to see it.” She headed for the stairs to get her purse. “I’ll be back in time for the meeting.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am.” She gazed down at him from the bottom step, a wash of tears blurring her vision. “Sad but okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “It’s just going to take time to get used to the idea of Susanna with no Adam.”

  “He’s crazy, you know, to let you go. Probably spent too much time in the desert.”

  “He seemed sane to me. Besides, he met someone else.” The words sounded strange and formed an odd twist in her chest.

  “Do you want to take the day off?” Gage said, soft and with sympathy.

  “No. Work grounds me. Reminds me that life goes on. Reminds me this is the life I’ve always lived when he’s been gone.”

  “Okay, but remember I need you tonight. If you need some time, take it during the day.” Gage leaned against the banister, looking up at her, his gelled black hair catching the light falling from the second-floor windows. “The Butler benefit … for the hospital wing. Our chance to get the landscaping. Mrs. Butler is big on doing business with people she knows, and having you there will win points with the selection committee.”

  “That’s tonight?” It would be black tie. She’d have to get dressed up, do something with her hair.

  “Yes, tonight. We need this job, Suz. Word is the hospital committee will go with the architect Mrs. Butler recommends. And that’s going to be us. A job like this will boost our resume.”

  Susanna stared down him. He was right. All hands on deck. And it wasn’t Gage’s fault she’d wasted twelve years with the wrong man.

  “Of course I’ll go.” She forced a smile and punched the air. “Take one for the team.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “I’ll drive myself.” Susanna dashed into her office and grabbed her bag, slinging the strap over her head.

  “I’m picking you up. I want to make sure you get there.”

  Susanna headed back down the stairs. “Fine.” Maybe a fancy benefit would be a good distraction, just like meeting Nate the other day. At the bottom of the steps she poked Gage in the chest. “You were the last one at the coffee pot, weren’t you?”

  “I’ll send Myrna out for more coffee.”

  Susanna jangled her keys. “Be back in five.”

  “For what it’s worth,” he said, “Adam’s a fool.”

  “Is he?” She paused in the doorway. “No, Gage, Adam’s no fool. But me? I’m not so sure.”

  FOUR

  From the deck outside the leather-and-wood cottage library, Nathaniel watched a high, thin twilight bloom over the island. He tucked his hands into the silky pockets of his custom-tailored tux. The horizon reminded him of the purple and gold strata of a Brighton evening. It was fabled that if a man perched on top of Mount Braelor during a summer twilight, he could reach the Brighton sky, capture his destiny and make his fortune.

  For Nathaniel, his destiny—and yes, his fortune—were already set. In the House of Stratton mountain. In the chiseled marble of his family tree. It all felt a bit claustrophobic at times. But these few days in Georgia had opened his heart some. Standing on the sultry shore reminded him the world was a grand, fruitful place. Made him believe anything was possible. Like finding true love. Or fully embracing his destiny.

  Nathaniel returned to the library, locking the deck doors behind him. He scanned the documents and reports spread across his great-great-grandfather’s desk, his mind’s eye glazing over. So much law and legalese to wade through.

  “You ready?” Jonathan stepped into the library, slipping on his tux jacket. “Liam’s pulling the car ‘round.”

  “Did you print my speech?” Nathaniel swept the documents into folders, stacked them so they aligned, and laid them on the desk.

  Jonathan crossed the room, extending the white paper in his hand. “I read it over. Nicely done. It will satisfy Mrs. Butler.”

  “She said all she wanted was a quick word. Something about Great-Grandfather being so involved with the local hospital’s expansion and improvements.” When Great-Grandfather had made St. Simons a regular holiday spot, he’d donated sizable sums to the hospital. As did Nathaniel’s grandfather and dad.

  Nathaniel walked around the desk, scanning the words he’d penned with Jonathan.

  … we are honored to represent my father, the king, and all of Brighton Kingdom …

  … dedicating a hospital wing in his honor … please accept our donation as the first fruits of good faith and health …

  He listened to the words flowing through his mind. His words. But with her accent. Susanna’s. Lilting and bent with sweetness.

  The beautiful girl from the lover’s tree. Three days had passed since he’d helped change her tire, and still she flashed across his thoughts at random moments.

  Like now, when he was reading over his speech. Or when he was running on the beach. Or in the exhaling moments as he was drifting off to sleep.

  “Come across anything interesting?”

  Nathaniel raised his attention to Jonathan, who’d moved to the desk and the stack of legal folders Nathaniel had been reading.

  “Just what we know already. The Grand Duchy Hessenberg is to be given her independence from Brighton Kingdom if we find a royal heir.” At the moment, finding a long-lost Hessenberg heir felt akin to Nathaniel finding true love. Impossible. “Otherwise, the Grand ol’ Duchy becomes our province.” The reality awakened fear in Nathaniel’s heart. As one whose destiny was determined before he was born, his sympathies leaned toward Hessenberg. She deserved her independence if at all possible.

  Freedom, independence, was of priceless worth. Not to mention the relationship between the two countries had become like feuding siblings. They were at odds with one another more often than not. And in the last decade, Hessenberg’s economic woes had become a tangible leech on Brighton.

  They could no longer afford to bail her out.

  But the conditions of entail were ironclad. Heir or province.

  “I can’t image being King Nathaniel I and Prince Francis … negotiating an agreement while war loomed, doing the diplomatic dance with their royal cousins across Europe … the Kaiser, King George V, Tsar Nicolas II.” Jonathan flipped through the entail pages copied from the original. “Russia flexing, Germany threatening, Hessenberg’s southern and northern ports vulnerable to attack.”

  “What choice did Francis leave himself? He’d squandered Hessenberg’s wealth and resources seeking pleasure, trying to get ahead in the industrial age with his wild inventions, building that exotic car, Starfire 89, that wooed kings but was entirely unaffordable for the pe
ople.”

  “A car worth millions now … if you can get hold of one.” Jonathan closed the document and returned it to the desk. “This whole matter is complicated by the fact Francis was probably illiterate.” He regarded his watch. “Liam’s bringing the motor ‘round. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, yes, let’s go.” Nathaniel patted his jacket. Where were his notes? Ah, inside his breast pocket. “I don’t envy them, facing war, crafting an entail that required complete surrender of land and authority, and all rights to the Hessenberg throne to protect the sovereignty of Brighton.”

  “Then be grateful you face the end of the entail, not the beginning.”

  “The end doesn’t bring me much comfort either.” Nathaniel pressed his palm on the stack of documents and diaries as he passed the desk. “I thought my biggest trial was finding true love.”

  Even if Dad’s health stabilized, more than likely Nathaniel would be king in the years after Hessenberg became a Brighton province. A likely outcome since no heirs of the House of Augustine-Saxon had been heard from in sixty years.

  “Love? Ah, looking for a woman fit to be queen of your heart and your country? Making sure the House of Stratton lives on?”