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“I'm glad to hear it.” She gestures at Vladimir, who disappears from the room.
“Before Gustav gets here, I just wanted to thank you for the awesome welcome I've had here, Grandmama. You've been so welcoming, and my rooms are amazing. No cap.”
“I'm glad you think so. We are so very happy to have you here, Madeline. But why do you say you have no cap? And why would you want a cap, anyway? Are you going to the races?”
“The races?” I question. Then it dawns on me. “‘No cap’ means honestly. But you don’t need to go using it or anything.” I’m thinking of the whole “cool” debacle from the day I arrived. “I’ll try to stick with less slang terms from now on to make things easier.”
“That would be helpful, Madeline dear. Thank you.”
“You know, my friends call me Maddie.”
“Would you like me to call you Maddie?”
“Definitely. Dad only ever called me Madeline when I was naughty, and you’re my grandmama. It feels right.”
“And you haven’t been naughty lately?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.
“Not for at least three months, promise,” I deadpan, and Grandmama looks shocked. “I'm kidding, Grandmama. It’s a joke.”
“Oh, I see.” She laughs. “It seems I'm going to have to get used to your language as well as learn to know when you are joking.”
“Grandmama, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can, my dear.”
“What was it like when my mom left?”
She pinches her lips together and I can tell I've raised a difficult topic for her. It's been playing on my mind since we arrived here. It's been impossible not to think about her.
Grandmama picks up her cup and saucer and takes a sip of tea. “It was a very difficult time, but your mother made her decision and, ultimately, we had to support her.”
“Had to?”
“It was either that or lose her completely.”
This doesn't make sense. If my grandparents supported her, why didn't we see them? And why didn't I know I was connected to them? That I was their granddaughter?
“But we didn't see you much when Mom was alive. I only have vague memories of coming here once, and that was when I was little, and I sure don't remember you visiting Houston.”
“Things weren't…straightforward,” she replies allusively.
“Straightforward?”
“We're not like other families, my dear. We’re royal. Your mother was born into her role. When she gave up her official duties, things were never going to be the same again.”
“But that doesn't mean you stopped loving her.”
“Of course not. We always loved your mother, and it was so very hard when she passed away so young.”
I lower my gaze, my throat tightening.
“Your parents wanted you to lead a normal life. Your grandpapa and I respected that.” She gives me a soft smile. “Personally, I think they did a splendid job with you.”
I lift my eyes to hers and smile back. “Thanks, Grandmama.”
There’s a knock at the door and Vladimir returns. “The royal dressmaker, Gustav.”
In walks a tall man who screams Look at me! He’s wearing a bold, floral patterned blazer Barbie would be envious of, a crisp black shirt teamed with pale pink slim-fit trousers, and red patent leather loafers. The look’s topped off with a pair of thick rimmed red glasses and not a hair out of place. He's everything I imagined a personal stylist to royalty would be, a veritable caricature from a movie where the hot mess of a girl gets her makeover.
