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“That’d be amazing, sugar.” Honey batted her fake lashes. “If not, check to see if the chef has got any of my favorite hot sauces, like Tapatio, Devil’s Revenge, Slap Ya Mama, Tony Chacheres, Nuclear Meltdown, or Rectal Roustabout.”
Queen Annabelle choked on her wine.
“Of course,” the employee said politely, quickly turning and heading out of the dining room.
“Where are you from, Grace?” Honey asked as she chewed on a piece of her filet.
“I live in Los Angeles,” I said.
Honey placed her hand on her heart. “Oh, I just love L.A. I had a layover there once on the way to Portland and ate at the Panda Express at the airport. I’m from Hooker, Oklahoma, about four hours west of Oklahoma City. And just so we’re clear, Hooker is a destination, not a vocation.” She winked, then chuckled. “Hooker is in my DNA. In fact, they crowned me the Hooker Queen three years in a row back in the eighties. There was that unfortunate incident during the Hooker parade when I fell off the float in my Sunday dress and landed on my back with my legs high in the air. Thank The Lord I was wearing undies that day! And the crown stayed on my head!”
“You must be so proud,” the queen deadpanned.
“Darn tootin’!” she said. “I come from a long line of Hookers, going back four generations. Some people like to make fun of our little town, but you know what I say? Screw them all!”
Adriana cracked a smile as the servant returned with a bottle of Tabasco sauce. “Miss Buttermaker, your sauce.”
“Bingo! That’ll work. Thanks so much,” Honey exclaimed, grabbing the bottle from the man and dousing her turnip greens liberally with the sauce. “These are some good groceries, my friends.”
For the entire dinner, Honey continued chatting away like a twister that had just touched down in the palace. I thought she was a breath of fresh air, positive and bubbly and sweet. Queen Annabelle obviously thought otherwise. She kept shooting me looks that could’ve frozen a sunflower in full bloom.
When we had finished our desserts, Henri returned and leaned in to tell the queen something, her eyes glaring at me the entire time as she nodded.
What was that all about?
Finally, the time came to retire for the evening.
I snuck by the queen, avoiding eye contact.
Oliver was right behind me.
The only thing I wanted to do was find the tiara, then double-check the wedding file to see if I had misunderstood the instructions. I was certain I hadn’t.
“Miss Fullerton, a word please!” Queen Annabelle’s voice cut through the air just as I reached the door.
Turning back around, I forced a polite smile. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
The dining room was now a tense triangle, with only Oliver standing alongside me, about to be caught in the crossfire.
Queen Annabelle fixed me with a penetrating gaze. “It has come to my attention that there is more to your story than meets the eye.”
Her words reverberated in my ears.
My stomach sank.
She knew.
“Your Majesty, I can assure you—” I began, but she cut me off with a dismissive wave.
“I had my people dig into your background after that atrocious dinner display with Aunt Honey,” Queen Annabelle said. “Something just did not add up. Well, it all makes complete sense after having learned of your sordid past. The viral videos, the lawsuits—you’re completely unqualified for this position.”
The words struck like a verbal slap, and I struggled to compose myself.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I stammered. “I’ve had some setbacks, but I’ve learned from those experiences. I can make Prince Oliver’s wedding an event to remember.”
“Miss Fullerton,” Queen Annabelle said, her voice turning colder. “Do you think I can afford to take risks with something as vital as our family’s legacy?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s just?—”
