“It sounds perfect for you both.” My mother’s pleasure was evident even over the phone. “But what about the actual house? Tell me about that.”
“Oh, it’s lovely.” I rolled to my back. “Ten bedrooms, seven baths, a massive library and a very cozy reception room ... and several sitting rooms, too. When you all come to stay, we’ll have tons of space.”
“Well, the whole family is looking forward to it.” Mama sighed. “It feels like it’s been forever since we saw you, sweetie. And of course, we’ve been so worried about both you and Nicky.”
“We’re okay, Mama, I promise.” A curious warmth spread over me, a mix of anticipation and excitement. “We’re more than just okay, actually. Things between us are better than ever ... I mean, yeah, worrying about the stupid eco-terrorists isn’t exactly fun, but we’re together, and we’re dealing with it. I’ve never been happier in my life.”
“That’s exactly what a mother wants to hear.” I heard a noise in the background, and then my mother spoke to someone else. “Sorry, Ky. Honey wants to speak with you briefly, and then we’ve got to go. We have a meeting in ten minutes, and we’re running late.”
“No problem. Give Daddy and the girls my love ... and email me as soon as you’ve worked out the travel arrangements, all right?”
“Will do, sweetheart. Love to Nicky. Love you!”
A moment later, my grandmother’s voice was on the other end of the phone. “Hello, sweetie! How’s everything in merry old England?”
I laughed. “All is well, Honey. Mama will fill you in—she says you’re running late to a meeting. What can I do for you?”
Honey adopted her business tone. “I wanted to ask you if Serena had any updates on that Rick Lester—the employee there in London the two of you had some misgivings about. We ran additional background checks on this end and didn’t come up with anything. His references and CV all checked out.”
“Same here,” I admitted. “I spoke with Serena last week, and she said none of his subsequent work had given anyone cause to think he’s anything but a dedicated worker. I guess what happened was just coincidence—and maybe me being particularly paranoid.”
“Your radar is usually spot on,” observed Honey. “And your father told me that it now seems that some of what seemed like random happenings may be linked to the terrorist group.”
I sighed. “That’s true. Scotland Yard believes the vandalism at Lackett Nursery last year was the work of the eco-terrorists. These people seem to have a wider net of connections than any of us dreamed. It’s horrible to think about.”
Honey made a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. “Horrid people. I’d like to have them in a room alone for about half an hour. I’d knock some sense into them.”
I bit back a smile at the fierceness in my grandmother’s voice. “I know you would, Honey. I believe it.”
“Well, if you don’t have any other news, I’d better go. Your mother keeps tapping her foot and raising her eyebrows at me. She reminds me of your grandfather.”
“All right, Honey. I’ll definitely let you know if I hear anything else. Love you.”
I dropped the phone onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was early evening, and the cottage was quiet. We’d both had engagements during the day, but we’d managed to make it home in time to share Chinese food from my favorite takeaway spot. While we’d eaten, Nicky had let me know that all the details had been finalized for our purchase of Chiswick Hall.
After that, I had been so excited that Nicky had sent me upstairs to call my mother, knowing I’d never be able to settle down for the night without telling her. Itwasan exciting idea, that we’d be moving into our own home, a place that we could make into a private refuge of freedom and peace. I’d fallen head over heels in love with the estate when we’d gone to see it last weekend. I could envision living there with Nicky, both of us gardening, planting, entertaining on occasion ... loving and laughing and raising those oodles of children we always joked about having.
A smile curved my lips. Nicky was downstairs, catching up on email after he’d cleared away from our dinner. We had grand plans to snuggle in front of the fire and watch the next episode in the latestDr. Whoseason, but it was possible that I had a little something else up my proverbial sleeve.
Nicky’s eyes were glued to the screen of his laptop when I wandered down the steps into our small living room. I smiled a little as I noticed the fading tan on his neck, the last lingering reminder of our weeks on the island.
Or maybe not.
“Nicky.” I leaned against the newel post. “Can I ask you something?”
“Mmmmm.” He didn’t look up, and his fingers continued to move over the keyboard.
“You know how the papers write about all the quirky little things that the Queen doesn’t like to see or hear in her family?”
He glanced at me, frowning. “Do they? Like what?”
I flipped over one hand. “Oh, like that we should only wear light pink nail polish—”
“Not true. Granny never says anything to me about my nail polish color choice.”
“Very amusing.” I rolled my eyes. “I happen to know that one’s legit, because Alex told me. And stockings—the Queen feels the women in the Royal Family should wear pantyhose when dressed for engagements or social events.”
My husband’s attention had returned to the computer. “Uh huh.”
