Page 33 of Royal Agenda

If he had a woman—not just any woman but the beautiful Grace—he would go to great lengths to keep her content and delighted as well. Bringing a smile to her face would give him much satisfaction. However, hearing her soft moans of pleasure during his scalp massage, moans he wasn’t certain she knew she made, made him want to see what other sounds he could coax out of her.

He gave himself a shake. The odds of him having that chance were niente. Nothing. He would do well to forget his heart and hide away in the barbershop for the rest of the time she was in town.

He added a light balm to Walt’s hair and then used a fine-tooth comb to style it. “All done.” He whipped off the cape.

“Great.” Don and Harry surged to their feet. Don’s beefy hand landed on his shoulder in a silent warning not to struggle against what was about to happen.

Harry took the cape out of his hands, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it into the chair Walt vacated.

“This is not an art class, si?” he asked. He was not a good artist, and no amount of classes would change that.

“Don’t you worry about a thing.” Don slapped him on the back a little too hard for a regular person but much too hard for a prince. “You’re going to enjoy this, I promise.”

Why did the smile on Don’s face remind him of a fox?

Eleven

“Okay, I guess I’ll meet you back at the bungalow.” Grandma dusted off her hands.

“Oh no you don’t.” Grace checked her grin as she took Grandma by the shoulders and steered her to a computer. “If I have to be here, you have to be here.”

Grandma looked horrified. “But I don’t know the first thing about all this.” She waved a hand at the computer.

“That’s what a class is for—to learn.” She clicked the power button on the screen, and the computer booted up. At least they had top-of-the-line equipment and fast internet. That would make this so much easier. She typed a webpage into the search bar. “I’m going to log you in through my account, and you can follow our family lines that way. We’ll set you up with your own account tonight, and then you’ll be ready to go.”

Grandma slumped. “You’re not letting me out of this, are you?”

Grace laughed heartily. “Nope.”

Several women trickled into the room. Betty, with her poofy white hair and a sparkle in her crystal blue eyes, threw out an arm and stopped the group's progress. “Where’s Samantha?” Her eyes darted to Grandma and then took on a knowing gleam. “Nevermind. I’m sure there’s an excellent reason you’re here.”

She held out her hand, and Grace shook it, confused at the abrupt change. In art class, Betty was a hoot, a good time, a best friend, and a grandma rolled into one adorable package. If she was here, this might not be the emotional drain Grace dreaded. “Hello again, Betty. I have your folder.” She riffled through until she found the one with Betty’s name. The next woman stepped up, and they found her folder too. Introductions proceeded that way until all ten of the students had their pedigree charts and were logged in.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to do something a little different today.” Grace waited until they were all looking at her. She wrote on the whiteboard as she talked. This was no different than presenting at a conference. She could look at it that way, and maybe her nerves would settle down. She tried. Nope. She was not nervous about teaching strangers. She was a bottle of nerves in a soda can about to be shot out of a cannon because Grandma was here.

Ever since she’d told Grandma she’d changed her major from marketing to genealogy, she’d felt a quiet disapproval. Not that Grandma would ever say she was disappointed in Grace. Never. The word wasn’t in her vocabulary. She just couldn’t understand how someone could make a living doing what Grace longed to do, and there was probably a huge dose of grief that her granddaughter wouldn’t join her in the family business to go along with the confusion. Which was why Grace never pushed what she did on Grandma. It was a no-go zone between them, and as long as they didn’t trip wires, they were able to keep their relationship on a steady path.

Well, she was about to not only trip one of those wires but stomp all over it and then stand there when the explosion went off.

“Type this web address into the search bar, and let’s see what happens.” The activity was always a fun one to do with a new group, and she hoped it would bring them all some delightful surprises. “You’ll have to enter a deceased ancestor into the search bar, and then you’ll find out what famous people you’re related to.”

“Why a deceased one?” asked Grandma, skeptical.

“Because the site can’t access your information because you’re still alive. Records for those who had died are made public and therefore searchable.” She smiled as some of the women nodded like that was the wisest thing they’d heard in a while.

“So it’s safe?” asked Betty.

“Totally safe,” she assured them.

A few minutes later, people exclaimed and eagerly called out the names of their famous relatives.

“Amelia Erhart!”

“Ronald Reagan?”

“Jesse James; yee haw!”

Grace approached Grandma’s chair and leaned over to look at the screen. “James Tilley from the Mayflower, George Washington?” Grandma whispered. Her hand fluttered to her lips. “Loisa May Allcott. Henry David Thoreau, Neil Armstrong. Is this real?” She turned to Grace for confirmation.

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