Royal Holiday - Jasmine Guillory Page 0,1

spend all your time working or helping me or helping out with Aunt Jo. I know you don’t want to leave Aunt Jo, but you need a break.”

“Maddie . . .”

“Great, it’s settled. Talk to you later!”

And with that, Maddie had hung up, and two days later they had plane tickets. Vivian hadn’t even known until they were about to board the flight that they were first-class tickets.

She laughed to herself just thinking about that flight. The last time she’d been on an airplane, she’d felt lucky to be in an aisle seat. She’d had an aisle seat this time, too—a huge, futuristic, podlike seat, with room not only to stretch her legs, but to lie almost flat. With just a wave, she could summon champagne and snacks to her side, and for all she knew, there was some secret button to give her a massage, too. She and Maddie had spent the first two hours of the flight just looking around and giggling with each other.

Despite how amazing the flight had been, Vivian still wasn’t sure she should be here. She was with Maddie, but what about the rest of her family? Her sisters needed her, especially her sister Jo. And she’d never been away from the Bay Area for Christmas in her life. What was Christmas going to be like without her great-aunt Shirley’s ham, or her cousin Loretta’s greens, or those dinner rolls her cousin Marilyn always said she made but everyone else knew she got at Safeway?

But then . . . she hated those greens. There was never enough pork in them and way too much vinegar. It might be nice to have a change of pace for Christmas, even though she had serious doubts anyone in England knew how to make a sweet potato pie.

The very polite man in the suit escorted them to a waiting SUV, and Vivian and Maddie kept making faces at each other as he offered them three different kinds of bottled water and told them how to turn on their heated seats.

Maddie opened a bottle of water and handed it to Vivian.

“It’s supposed to take a few hours to get there, so . . .”

“What?” Vivian stopped her. “A few hours? Where are we going?”

Maddie laughed.

“Didn’t you read the email I sent you about that? The royal family always spends Christmas at Sandringham. It’s in the east of England but a bit north of London.”

Like she’d had time to read Maddie’s lengthy emails. She’d gotten herself packed and to the airport, hadn’t she?

“I had too much to do in the last few weeks; I had to get ready for a last-minute international trip, remember? Plus, your emails are too long.”

Maddie sighed.

“I should have known. Anyway, Sandringham is a big estate; there are a bunch of royal residences on it, and then lots of trees and land; at least, that’s what the pictures online look like. I guess we’ll see for ourselves shortly.”

Vivian sat back against the plush heated seat.

“I still can’t believe we’re really staying with the Duke and Duchess.”

Maddie had told her this for the first time about a week ago, and like everything else Maddie had told her about this trip, it sounded as though it couldn’t be real.

Maddie shook her head.

“I know. The Duchess insisted. She said it would be easier if I was right on-site, and that there’s plenty of room in their cottage on the estate for us. When she was so enthusiastic about you joining me, I suspected she was missing her own mom, so I think she’s really looking forward to having us there.”

This all seemed surreal. Vivian really couldn’t believe she was about to meet someone she’d read so much about.

She was a social worker from Oakland, for God’s sake! How was this happening?

Speaking of her job . . .

“So, I haven’t told you this yet,” Vivian said to her daughter, “because I wasn’t sure if it was really going to happen, but Darren made the announcement before I left the office yesterday: he’s retiring. And he wants me to get his job. He first talked to me about it a few weeks ago, and yesterday he brought it up to his boss when I was right there, so I guess he means it.”

Maddie screeched.

“Mom! Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re just telling me this now! This is so exciting! What’s the title, director of social work?”

Vivian nodded slowly.

“Yep. He’s leaving sometime in February, and the hospital director already told me