Page 2 of Learning to Love

"I won't." I try again to change my father's mind, but the look on his face tells me it's futile.

"No, you're going. I've arranged for you to go to a resort in America. Mr. Hinchbottom will be accompanying you to ensure you behave and learn the role of a true royal, not a playboy. Any more arguments and I will pass the title over to your cousin and cut you off financially. Do you understand, Dalton? This has to stop."

I feel the vomit pooling in the back of my throat again. I've only ever wanted to enjoy myself before the serious task of ruling the country is handed down to me.Surely I've not been that bad?

My father doesn't say another word to me. He simply motions for the security team to get my belongings together. I don't have time to shower before I'm thrown a pair of pants and a shirt, and I’m told to dress. The second I fasten the last button on my shirt, I'm dragged like a rag doll through the palace and into a waiting car.

This is really happening?

I'm being thrown out of my home.

Hinchbootie climbs into the car next to me—the look of disgust on his face tells me everything I need to know.

I've got a lot to learn.

One

Elodie

"Hi, Mrs. Smith, beautiful day, isn't it?" I wave to one of the older cleaners of the upmarket spa resort, Serendipity, where I run my thrice-weekly yoga classes.

I've been a qualified yoga teacher for several years now. It’s the only thing I've ever wanted to do since the first time I accompanied my mother to a lesson. I've studied worldwide to obtain my qualification, and I learned from some of India's best instructors. Most people would call me a total geek, but you can't help what you love.

"It is…well, it was until that man arrived?" Mrs. Smith frowns, which shocks me because she is always smiling. I mean, her beloved pet dog died the other month, and she still came to work with a smile on her face.

"What's wrong? What man?" I ask, confused.

"You'll see. The manager wants to speak to you."

Mrs. Smith doesn't say another word to me. She simple stomps off, the sound of her beige pumps echoing a thunderous path over the carefully laid flagstones as she disappears into the resort.

Okay, that was weird?

I shake off the strange interaction and put it down to a difficult guest. I just pray he doesn't book any yoga lessons. I have regular clients from the small town surrounding the fifty-acre estate that comprises Serendipity, but I also allow individual, private bookings for guests who come to stay at the resort. It adds a bit of extra money into my pocket. I don't need to work, but I want to. My parents both died in a car accident a few years ago, and I inherited everything they had. I think I keep working because I'd much rather have my mother and father instead of their money.

It was a difficult time, but I survived it because I had to.

I make my way to see Mr. Callaway, the manager of the resort. The company is owned by a wealthy businessman living somewhere in England. However, in his absence, the owner has put in place an outstanding manager whom he trusts implicitly. Unemployment was high in this area, north of West Palm Beach in Florida, until the resort was built. By creating lots of jobs and pulling the community together, the location is now thriving.

I knock loudly on Mr. Callaway's door, and while I wait for him to answer, I hum a happy tune I heard on the radio this morning. I'm always singing or humming, but only when it’s appropriate, of course. I love noise, even if it's just the sound of radio static.

"Come in?" Mr. Callaway calls, and I open the door. He's usually a relaxed, young man, but just like Mrs. Smith, he looks stressed this morning. Worry lines mar his forehead. "Elodie, thank you for coming to see me."

"It's not a problem. I'm a few minutes early for my class anyway. What can I do for you?"

Mr. Callaway runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair.

"It's about your classes, actually. For the time being, you're going to have to cancel them all."

"Why?" I spit out, disbelieving what I'm hearing. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, not at all." Mr. Callaway gets to his feet and comes around his desk. "The resort has been booked by a customer for his exclusive use for an indeterminate period. The gentleman doesn't want anyone on the property other than the bare minimum of staff. I'm sorry. I can't allow you access to the premises for your yoga classes at the moment. The studio has been turned into additional gym space overnight."

My world falls apart. I love teaching yoga. It's a passionate discipline not just for me but for all my clients. I start thinking about alternative locations in the area where I could teach, but none are as suitable as Serendipity.

"This can't be happening. Other people need to train as well. Surely one person can’t dictate the rules to the detriment of a whole community? A community that relies on this resort and its amenities." I plead my case to Mr. Callaway, but I can tell my attempt is falling on deaf ears. He's not himself, just as Mrs. Smith wasn’t herself. Whoever this man is, he’s making them upset and needs to get ahold of himself.It’s not like he's the ruler of the world.

"I'm sorry, Elodie. I don't want to do this, but my hands are tied. He's paid a lot of money to ensure the place is to his liking, and I have to accept it. If I'd known in advance…" Mr. Callaway trails off before snapping back to his caring self. "I will do all I can to try and get him to change his mind, or I’ll help you find other premises. You just have to give me a few days. This was all sprung on me at the last minute. I'm treading water, trying to keep up with all his demands."

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