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“The two of you still have that rivalry? Over pies? Seriously, when will you grow up?”
“There is no law that says I have to.” Alex licked his fingers making a vein pop out of Giles’s neck. Leo was certain that’s why his brother did it. They both had impeccable table manners. “I wonder if I could get the recipe for that pie from last night? A creation like that would demolish any competition.”
Leo perked up at the thought of pie. Specifically, at the thought of a particular pie shop which just so happened to be walking distance from a certain kindergarten teacher’s school. His stomach grumbled with want.
“You know,” Leo tried for a casual tone, “it’s on the way to the airport. I could swing by and grab one before we’re due to board.”
From the corner of his gaze, he saw Giles bristle. Leo licked his bottom lip. All trace of any sweetness was gone. It was just as well.
“On second thought,” Leo said. “I don’t have the time in my schedule.”
Leo took his covered plate from the table and left the room. He made his way into the kitchen where the staff had cleaned all trace of the flour fairies’ shenanigans from the room. He placed the dish under the faucet and washed the crumbs down the drain.
Sweets were fine. Every once in a while. But he had always enjoyed a healthy diet. It was time to get on from dessert and plan his main course.
Chapter Twelve
The one good thing about the Global Learning Preparatory Academy, aside from their generous catering budgets on teacher workdays, was the copious amounts of school breaks. GLPA took every holiday off, and that included all religious and cultural observances. The powers that be at the school were overly cautious as to not offend any of their enrolled families who happily forked over the high-priced admission fees and tuition.
This long weekend of a Thursday and Fridday off were courtesy of United Nations Day. Though not a National American holiday, it was instituted by the UN which asked its member countries to celebrate. The United States did the courtesy of putting the day on the calendar but didn’t upgrade it to the federal level.
Banks would be open. Parking meters would still tick. Most public schools would be open, but not GLPA. The students and staff would take those two days to celebrate the diversity of its school population by staying home. Surprisingly, the working parents at GLPA weren’t pleased.
“Miss Picket.”
Esme took a deep, calming breath at the grating sound of Principal Clarke’s voice. She glanced over her shoulder, only offering her profile and not her full attention. The move cranked the nape of her neck.
“Are you sure you can’t work during the break?” he asked walking toward her.
This year, one of the parents, Aubrey Thomas’s mother, had suggested that during some of the breaks, like this one, the school offer supplementary learning programs for their students. The new program came with a nice bonus check for those teachers who offered their services. Esme had considered it, but that was before … the thing.
“Most of our staff have husbands and children,” Principal Clarke continued. “They’ll be celebrating their own unions. And you …” He cleared his throat and looked down.
The pain in her neck increased in the unnatural twist, but she didn’t turn to face him. She was headed out the door and not looking back. She needed these extra days to recuperate.
Esme had gotten herself a stack of books, loaded up her Amazon Prime video shelf with Jane Austen movie adaptations, and was prepared for a girls’ weekend with Jan.
Along with pie. There would be lots of pie. It was just what she needed to get over the thing that would never be with a king that was beyond her realm.
Starting this weekend when, whenever she saw Colin Firth’s face or Hugh Grant’s face, she would picture Leo’s dark, good looks. When the movies faded to black after a proper happily ever after, she’d likely cry. But at least she could press rewind and experience the feelings all over again on repeat.
That would not be happening in real life as the king of her dreams was likely on a plane to a faraway land. He hadn’t run after her as she entered the elevator. He hadn’t been standing outside her door this morning. He hadn’t come to the pie shop at lunch. It was over.
“I’m afraid I’m unavailable, Principal Clarke. I’ll see you next week.” And with that, Esme untwisted herself and reached for the door. Unfortunately, the pain in her neck didn’t cease.
“Before I forget,” he called after her, “this was just sent over this morning.”
The envelope he handed her had the mark of Cordoba; a regal lion with its claws extended that had the lower body of a fish. Esme’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe it wasn’t a dream after all. Maybe it was her invitation to the ball this weekend at Cordoba’s Union Day. It was a fat envelope. A goodbye, just like a college rejection letter, would be thin.
She stepped outside and carefully peeled at the corners of the delicate envelope. She wanted to keep it as a memento of how their love story began. But little tears heeded her progress. Until finally, she tore the expensive paper apart.
A short note tumbled out. When she opened it, she saw the neat script.
Thank you for the math and cooking lesson, HRH Penelope Antoinette Marguerite Almeria.
A cookie tumbled out of the envelope as well. Nothing else.
Esme flipped the note over. Nothing.
