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Henri entered, exclaiming, “May I present Miss Honey Buttermaker, Your Majesty!”
The room fell into a sudden silence.
The queen’s complexion turned several shades paler.
Oliver leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye, and whispered, “Honey is my step-aunt from Oklahoma, my uncle’s second wife. He passed away a few years back. Brace yourself. Things are about to take a very interesting turn.”
Puzzled, I asked, “Why’s that?”
“She’s Mother’s worst nightmare,” he replied.
“Then why was she invited to the wedding?” I questioned.
Oliver shook his head. “Believe me—she wasn’t.”
“Oh, she definitely was,” I retorted confidently. “Honey was on the backup list. I sent out the invitation.”
Oliver blinked. “We don’t have a backup list.”
“Uh-oh,” I mumbled under my breath, realizing there was the possibility an enormous error had been made, even though all I did was follow instructions.
In the wedding files, there had been a note emphasizing the invitation of backup guests to maintain the guest count around one thousand. I had sent out email invites to twenty people the day after I arrived, as it was too late for traditional mail for invitees in other countries.
I wondered how many other invitations were not supposed to go out. One thing was certain—the impending firework show was going to start any minute if the queen was not a fan of Aunt Honey.
I turned toward the dining-room door, just as Honey strolled in with an ear-to-ear grin. She appeared to be in her early sixties, wearing a vintage, pink velour Juicy Couture tracksuit that clung snugly to her curves. Her big hair, enormous chest, even her stacked white sneakers were impossible to ignore.
“Y’all don’t get up now,” Honey said, her eyes wide with amazement as she surveyed the opulent dining room, then pointed to the vacant chair next to Adriana. “That must be my spot to get my grub on.”
Honey sashayed over to the empty chair, treating us to a view of the word JUICY emblazoned across her posterior. A member of the waitstaff rushed to set her place, while another poured a generous glass of wine.
Honey took a long sip of wine. “Oh, that really hits the spot. What a long-ass flight! I still can’t believe I’m really here in Verdana.” She lifted her glass toward Oliver. “So great to see you again, sweetie pie. I’m just tickled pink for your wedding!”
“A pleasure to have you here, Aunt Honey,” Oliver replied politely, then gestured to me. “This is Grace, our wedding planner.”
“Hey, Grace!” Honey practically screamed. “Bless your heart for sending me that invitation. I’m just thrilled to pieces to be here. For some silly reason, I didn’t think I was invited!”
You have no idea.
Queen Annabelle stiffened, then shot an icy glare in my direction. “So, we have Miss Fullerton to thank for your visit.”
“Sure do,” Honey said.
“Henri,” the queen called out.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, moving to her side.
Queen Annabelle motioned him closer, then whispered something in his ear. His eyes went wide, then he glanced at me before leaving the dining room.
“But the wedding isn’t for another three weeks,” Queen Annabelle said.
“I know, ain’t it grand?” Honey said cheerfully, oblivious to the queen’s foul mood. “Gives me a chance to enjoy a nice long vacation here at the palace. I just couldn’t wait to celebrate! When I got the invite, I booked the very next flight and high-tailed it over here.”
The waiter topped off Honey’s wine.
“Thank you!” She took another sip, then starting eating her meal, her long, jewel-encrusted nails clicking against the fine china with every single bite. “Mmm, this food is dee-licious, although the greens could use a little kick, if you ask me. It kind of reminds me of a hound without its howl.” She picked at the turnip greens with her fork, then waved the dining room employee back over. “Y’all got some pickled pepper juice back in the kitchen?”
The man looked baffled. “I’m uncertain, madam, but I would be happy to check for you.”
