Page 5 of Royal Agenda

“All I’m saying,” Elizabeth continued, “is not to get her riled up and don’t pick fights.”

Grace snorted. “You’ve met us, right? We’re like oil and water together.” Grandma was all schedules and agendas while Grace moved by intuition. That’s not to say she didn’t succeed in her chosen field—but she decided not to let her work run her life.

“Just . . . try?” Elizabeth pleaded.

“I’ll do my best.” She grimaced. “The problem with oil is that it can’t be anything else. It’s always going to be oil, and because of its very nature, it can’t mix with water. I love her and I’ll bite my tongue the whole time I’m here if I have to.” If she didn’t love Grandma and Grandma didn’t love her—they’d have drifted apart long ago. But their love was just too strong to let their personalities get in the way.

“And how long will that be?”

“That is yet-to-be-determined.” She had several clients waiting for her to jump on a plane. She would too, but she wanted to spend some time with her grandma and recharge her own family-centered batteries. Besides, Steph?n was here and they could spend a little more time together before she said goodbye.

“Good. I’m coming down soon. I want to introduce you to Chad in person when he gets back from the conference. No more of these video chats.”

Sounded good to her.

They said their goodbyes and Grace brushed her teeth and got ready for the day. She’d barely gotten out of bed and already fielded two phone calls—her first day in Diamond Cove and she was already turning into Grandma Nancy.

She shuddered.

Stephán was not in the living room. A glance out the front window told her his board was off the porch, which meant he’d headed to the ocean. That was probably a good thing. Grandma was mortified at having a man camp on her couch last night. She’d done that thing where she clamped her teeth together and pressed her lips so hard they disappeared.

Grace headed to the kitchen, where she came up short at the sight of Grandma sitting at the table, her chair facing the sliding glass door to the ocean beyond. Grandma wasn’t a still person. She was a bundle of energy and a bottle of soda—shaken. She sipped peppermint tea, the scent wafting to Grace on the light breeze coming through the open window over the sink.

Her blonde hair was tidy. Grace rolled her eyes at the crease down the pants of her navy blue tracksuit. She was a beautiful woman and could pull off anything from a leather jacket to a sweatshirt and yet she continually dressed as if she had a meeting that day.

She wasn’t being critical. Okay, perhaps just a little bit. But it stemmed from the fact that Grace always felt like she didn’t quite measure up to Grandma. She’d tried on several occasions to put as much care into her appearance and hated it. She’d rather have the dreads so she didn’t have to worry about her hair while she focused on saving hundred-year-old records. And her clothing needed to be durable so she could trek through the jungle or climb into a crypt.

Although the crypt thing had only happened once, but she wanted to be prepared because she’d totally do that again if given the opportunity.

Grace had been in Scotland when Grandma was diagnosed with a heart issue. Standing in an abandoned castle where her client believed family records were hidden in the wall, all thoughts of the treasure hunt they were on evaporated with the text: Grandma had a heart attack. She’d flown straight home and rushed to Grandma’s hospital room the moment the plane landed—only to receive a scolding from her grandmother for making a big deal out of nothing and leaving a job unfinished.

She thought back to that day and the angry woman in the hospital bed. . .

“I can’t believe you’d leave a client behind! That’s not how the Matthews do business.” Grandma tugged on the ugly hospital gown that hung on her thin frame. Where had the padding gone, the soft layers that snuggled Grace close when she heard something go bump in the night during one of their sleepovers?

“I was worried about you,” Grace protested as she grabbed Grandma’s hand and held tight–reassuring herself that Grandma was still here, blood still pumped through her veins, and her spirit filled her body with life. “You have a hole in your heart—that’s not something to brush under the rug or ignore and hope it goes away.”

“You, of all my family, should be the calmest.” Grandma looked at her like she’d offended her—personally.

“Me? Why me?!” She was the flighty one who couldn’t sit through a meeting without tapping her pen–much to Grandma’s frustration. The eye-twitch had started in just such a meeting.

“You’re the one who says we don’t really die. You’ve had more conversations with my mother than I have—and she’s been dead since before you were born.” Grandma threw a dismissive hand in her direction.

Grace sucked air in through her teeth. She ignored the jibs and jabs at her spiritual gifts and stayed focused on the moment. “Did they say you’re dying?”

“We’re all dying.” Grandma stared at the sheet. “Isn’t that what you say?”

Grace moved so she could put her arm around Grandma and leaned her head on her bony shoulder. “I would miss you terribly.”

Grandma stiffened her spine. “I’m not going anywhere—yet. There’s still too much to do.”

Too much to do was the theme of Grandma’s life. As a young mother, she’d started Nancy’s Niceties, ran for office, run the PTA for three years, and did countless acts of service for the women and families who attended the same church.

When Mom called to explain the plan to vote Grandma out as President of Nancy’s Niceties for her own good, Grace’s gut clenched and her heart twisted.

“Without the company, what will she live for?”

She truly believed that if Grandma stopped working she would give up on life.

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