Page 21 of Royal Agenda

Nancy sighed. She loved seeing the fruits of their hard work walking around the Cove, holding hands and sneaking kisses.

The hush in the room as they contemplated a possible mismatch reminded her of when she was working with the development team to develop a vinegar-based cleaner with a shelf life of over one year. They’d tried and failed several times, almost giving up entirely. Then one day—eureka!—they had it. “Love is a work in progress, right?” she tried to encourage them.

Hmms, and rights! echoed around the table, and then the room fell silent again.

Rosa gathered herself like a hen fluffing her feathers. “I saw them together! The strong chemistry made my eyes water—like chopping onions.”

Nancy smiled at Rosa’s flair. She remembered the moment when Grace and Ryker’s eyes caught in the mirror and the slight blush that tipped Ryker’s ears before he turned away. He was–at the very least–interested. Interested was one step away from smitten. “I think Rosa is right. We will try getting these two together one more time before giving up. Any suggestions?”

Walt drummed his fingers on the table.

Don glared at the wall, the wheels in his mind spinning.

Polly’s foot tapped.

“Genealogy,” Winnie blurted. “Grace likes to trace genealogy. We should get her to do Ryker’s.”

“Okay.” Nancy nodded slowly as the idea sank in. She didn’t know much about Grace’s work–or more like passion. “How? Without being blatant and hiring her? That’s a little heavy-handed for our group. And she hasn’t given me an answer on how long she’s in town. The woman has no respect for calendars.”

They looked back and forth between one another.

“Too bad we can’t find her a job in Diamond Cove,” Polly narrowed her eyes, probably mentally running through the available positions listed in the local paper. “Then she’d stay longer.”

“I think you’re onto something there,” Samantha said. She didn’t speak up unless she had something of value to add and so everyone gave her their full attention as she continued, “I’ve been teaching a class on genealogy—The Palms has several accounts with Acenstry.com. We have a dozen residents in class now and a waiting list. Quite frankly, I’m over my head with a lot of this stuff. Having a professional genealogist with a degree—”

“Two.” Nancy jumped in. “She has two degrees.”

“Even better.” Samantha grinned. “Having a professional genealogist with two degrees teach the class would lighten my load considerably. Maybe we could add extra classes for those on the waiting list.” She brightened at the thought. “I hate making them wait when they have an interest in something.”

Nancy smacked the table. “Great idea. Samantha, as usual, your input is invaluable.”

“Thank you,” she said as she glanced down, so modest. If they hadn’t promised not to set her up, Samantha would be the first one on their list. She deserved to be loved and loved on by the right man.

“Samantha and I will get Grace a job—hopefully that will help her commit to staying in Diamond Cove long enough for this match to click. The rest of you figure out how to get Ryker to come to class.” Heads bobbed in agreement. “One last thing. How do we get Stephán out of my house?!”

Her blood pressure spiked and she reached for her water bottle, taking a long drink. Samantha raised an eyebrow at her. Nancy took another sip.

“Tell her what he is really like,” offered Harry.

Polly gave him a dubious look. “Since when has a grandparent telling their grandchild that their boyfriend is no good ever worked in the history of this planet?”

Harry frowned. “Good point.”

“But . . .” Polly sat up in her seat. “If we could show her what he’s really like, then she could make up her own mind.”

The idea caught fire.

“You said she was smart.” Walt pointed at Nancy. “She’ll put two-and-two together right quick and dump his trunks–all of them.”

They worked out a plan, and Nancy hoped she would get her bungalow back. With a smile, she announced, “Meeting adjourned. Don, what do you have for us today?”

One of his home-baked treats was just what the doctor ordered.

Don proudly pulled the foil off the serving dish to reveal his latest creation, lemon crinkle cookies. “I know lemons can calm your stress levels, Nancy. Thought you might need these.” He passed her the tray first, and everyone encouraged her to take a bite instead of waiting for them to get a cookie, too.

As Nancy breathed in the fresh lemon scent, her soul expanded, and the knot between her shoulder blades gave way under the gentle soothing that came with citrus. It had always been like that with lemon. That’s why her first line of cleaners had smelled like the fruit—lemon was clean, lemon was a new start, lemon was hope and accomplishment wrapped up in one.

Which was exactly what she needed because she had to convince her wanderlust granddaughter to settle down in Diamond Cove and do something that she once said would make her soul shrivel up like a dead bug—get a job.

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