Page 3 of Royal Agenda

They all swiveled to Walt to get his reaction. “I’m game.”

“You want us to break them up?” Rosa clarified. Nancy dropped her chin once–her resolve to see this through strengthening with every morsel even as she felt like she was having an out of body experience.

“Happily!” Rosa slapped the table. “He doesn’t deserve your Grace!”

Nancy nodded numbly. “How did she go so far off the rails?” She stared at nothing, finishing off the magical chocolate delight. It had walnuts—they were crunchy and yet soft and she liked them so much. “I mean, I didn’t love her gypsy job, but I never thought she’d be so irresponsible with her heart.” She looked to Winnie for help. “Why Stephán?”

Winnie rubbed her arm, but Nancy barely felt a thing. “I think you’re going into shock, dear.”

Nancy nodded. “Probably.” This is what shock felt like. Numbness. Light headed. A disconnect from reality. Check. Check. And . . . check.

“All those in favor, say aye,” Don called for a vote which was normally Nancy’s job. “The ayes have it. Nancy?” He shook her shoulder. “Hang in there. We’re going to help you.”

Nancy nodded. “Yes. Help her. Help Grace find love.” She absently grasped for another cookie only to find the plate empty. She stared at the white surface covered in crumbs for a moment. She moved it under the table's edge and brushed crumbs onto the pearly white surface. A clean desk was a happy desk.

“Let’s consider our options.” Don marched to the murder board. Nancy let him lead the meeting—she was in no state of mind to make rational decisions and Don was an expert strategist. Seeing Stephán’s form sprawled across her couch had shaken her—and she wasn’t a woman who was rattled easily.

She’d have to get it together before she went back to the bungalow. Grace couldn’t know she’d become the Secret Seven’s target. If she so much as suspected Nancy was trying to break her and Stephan up, she’d pack up her flower child camper-van-thing and high tail it out of Diamond Cove. A free spirit, she rebelled at the first sign of rules, control, or well-meaning advice.

For now, Nancy could lean on her friends and trust that they would do what needed to be done. They were good people and she was grateful they were on her side because she couldn’t be the one to throw Stephán out of her house—not if she wanted to keep her relationship with Grace.

And she loved her granddaughter.

Struggled to understand her, but loved her nonetheless. That love was enough to move mountains—or ex-paddleboard yoga instructors—whatever needed to be shoved aside so that Grace could find real happiness while here in Diamond Cove.

One

Grace Matthews stretched her arms above her head in the morning light that spilled through the open window and let out a groan as weeks of muscle aches bid her farewell. One night on Grandma Nancy’s guest bed and she was halfway unwound from the ball she’d slept in for the last two months.

Outside, the waves crashed against the beach in a soothing rhythm that allowed her to sleep later than her internal clock usually let her. The scent of fresh saltwater and gardenias blooming hung heavy in the air, making the bright room seem even brighter.

Grandma’s sheets were smooth and soft against her skin—such a contrast to the rough-haired cot she’d occupied while in Mexico tracking down a family line for a client, and the bunk in the Volkswagen wasn’t much better. The two months it took to earn the young priest’s trust and then be allowed to search through the records, some more than two hundred years old, was worth the effort and patience.

She’d left the village with a plethora of new friends—including the priest—and permission for her photographer to come in and preserve the info for future genealogists. The archivist she’d contracted would take months to get the info online for others to view and use in their quest for their ancestors.

Moseying back to the states, taking detours that filled her evenings with delicious meals and local music at festivals, she’d picked up Stephán in a small coastal town. He was a surfer, in Mexico to catch some big waves and enter the local competitions. He’d done well too, bringing home several purses. They clicked on several levels and she’d offered him a ride back to the states as checking surf boards at the airport was a pain.

She liked his easy-going attitude and the fact that he didn’t pressure her for a commitment, gave her the freedom to enjoy the time they had together. He wasn’t in love with her—he was in love with surfing. And that was fine because she wasn’t looking for love right now. Maybe someday. If she could find the right man–a man who would love her like her grandpa loved her grandma.

Gramps was a rare find in the world, and she was afraid they just didn’t make them like they used to.

Her phone rang, and she snagged it off the side table. “Morning, Celeste.”

“You sound chipper.”

Grace threw off the blankets and sat up. “I will be if you tell me you’re in Todos Santos.” Celeste was an old college roommate who loved photographing records. She had all the equipment, had nothing tying her down, and a passport full of stamps, which made her the perfect freelance photographer to take on any project Grace came across.

“Just getting in now. I see the church. It’s incredible.”

“Right?” Grace tested the shirt she’d washed in the sink last night and hung near the open window to dry instead of turning on the washer and dryer. In this house, schedule mattered, order mattered, and she’d thrown both out the window when she showed up unannounced. Sure, Grandma was happy to see her but she didn’t miss the eye-tick. The silent but traitorous tick that gave away Grandma’s true thoughts about opening her door to find two overnight guests.

No warning.

No phone call.

Just a wild hair on Grace’s part to reconnect with her family matriarch after being on the road for six months. What could she say? Sometimes a woman just needed the steadying influence of a grandmother’s hug.

The shirt was dry enough, so she slipped into it and pulled on a pair of cotton shorts. Her dreads hung free and she flipped over, gathering them into a high bun on top of her head.

---