Page 24 of Roaming Holiday

She and Jace would be inseparable.

That was in Mom’s letter to Aunt Beverly. She wanted Jace and me to be friends. Another mournful pang echoes through my stomach at what could have been. My cousin is tall with pale skin and brown hair.

I offer a polite smile. “Hi, I’m Nina, this is?—”

“Maia,” Roman interrupts, taking my sister’s hand and shaking it even though she hadn’t offered. “The goddess of love.” I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. He acts like those beautiful men who know they’re beautiful, but he’s missing the most important part.

Maia has enough manners to pleasantly return the greeting, but I notice her wiping her palm on her skirt. I already know who Vanessa and Jace are from my extensive Google search. Ever since my mother’s death, the royals have mostly stayed out of the public eye. The monarch has remained dormant, not improving, not declining. People have been calling for the end of the Maldanian monarchy while others want the tradition to live on. Vanessa and Jace offer enough publicity to remain relevant enough to collect taxpayer money, but they’re largely boring to the public. To me, that’s a good thing.

But Roman wants to change that. We spend an hour chatting about their lives as royals and how they can improve. Roman makes it clear he thinks Maldana can get richer if the royals become a consistent part of the media. While I remain guarded, Maia is more candid. She talks about what she would want to raise awareness for—specifically causes that pertain to the environment. In turn, Roman brags about the countries he’s traveled to.

After another slice of tora di pomke, I excuse myself to stretch my legs before the main course is served. I wander through the garden, regretting it more with each heeled step on the grass. City noises erupt in the distance, but the area is serene. My fingers brush over hydrangeas and marigolds, and I perk at the sight of lilies. Without hesitation, I stick my nose in them and inhale the aroma. Serenity, indeed.

“Your mother designed this garden,” Aunt Beverly says softly, appearing to my right.

I back up from the shrub. “She did?”

“She loved helping people as queen, but this—this was her happy place.” She looks at the vine-covered arch above her. “Gardens.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Maia loves plants.”

“I know.”

Silence topples over us. What am I supposed to say to her? All I can think about are the missed years—missed birthdays, Christmases, family vacations. I may not remember much of anything about Mom, but I know this would sadden her.

Despite being at least six inches taller than Aunt Beverly in heels, I shrink when I notice her staring. “What?”

“Sorry—that was rude of me.” She blinks herself back to reality, running manicured fingers along her hairline. “It’s only—you’re all grown up.”

And you missed it.

She notices my discomfort. “You’re mistrustful of me, rightfully so. But please understand—I was given no warning when Ophie left, she?—”

“Over twenty years ago,” I interject. “If you didn’t want to be in your nieces’ lives after her death, then you couldn’t have loved her all that much.” Or me, for that matter. I fail to keep my voice from cracking.

There’s nothing Maia could do that would drive me away. If I was Aunt Beverly, I would make the Atlantic Ocean look like a puddle with how much I’d travel. Better yet, I’d relocate.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. You’ll excuse me for being so forward, but I recently discovered my family chose to stay out of my life.” The words are harsher than I want them to be, but I didn’t realize my level of hurt until she started talking. I curve around her to head back to everyone else. She let Maia and me down when we needed her. Dad never recovered from Mom’s death.

“I’m sorry,” Aunt Beverly exclaims, and I halt. “I did not think—I did not consider you or your sister… I’ve made a horrible mistake. I know that now. I don’t deserve it, but I’d like the chance to fix it.” She takes a few tentative steps toward me. “You are wanted here, Nina. Say the word, and we’ll let the adventures begin so we can show you that.”

“Adventures?”

“The kids want to show you girls around the country a little bit, and the Higher Court is dying to meet you and Maia. It won’t be a commitment,” she rushes to add at my hesitation. “They can answer any questions you have about the institution. It is just an introduction.”

I exhale. It doesn’t sound appealing. I don’t want to learn about the institution. I want to learn about Mom.

“I’ll think about it. But, um… would it—would it be okay if I spent some time with the letter Mom sent you? The original one—in Maldanian. And the… the scrapbooks you made.”

“Oh,” she says, her blue eyes wide in surprise. “Of course. I’ll have them safely delivered to your room.”

I rejoin the lunch with less animosity toward Aunt Beverly. It may not be wise to dwell on the past, but it’s hard when that past is my childhood.

By the time the meal is over, I’m overwhelmed with the amount of social interaction and want to avoid conversation for at least two hours.

What I love most about Maia is that she understands my need to be alone sometimes. I’ve been the calm, responsible one in the family for years, and I need my own space to keep doing that. She doesn’t argue when I tell her I’ll meet her for dinner later this evening.

---