British Black Sheep - Lauren Smith

1

Newark Liberty International Airport, New Jersey

“You’re not going to die.”

Brie Honeyweather laughed at her friend’s quip over the phone. If anyone could calm her down right now, it was Bridget.

“I know,” Brie said with a sigh. “But it’s been a while since I’ve taken one of these international flights. It’s a little scary. That’s all.” She shifted on the blue leather chair in the gate area. Her flight was scheduled to board in half an hour and all around her the other travelers were stuffing snacks in carry-on bags and adjusting curved pillows around their necks.

“It’ll be fine. Simon, Brendan, and I just landed this morning. We’re on our way to Merryvale Court. We can’t wait to see you.”

Brie grinned as she hastily pulled her backpack out of the way of a passenger stepping through the rows of chairs.

“I’m excited, too. I still can’t believe you helped arrange all this. I mean, Christmas in an English country house? It’s going to be a dream come true.” Brie could already picture the snowy gardens, taste the Christmas pudding, and see a large tree shimmering in the great hall.

“I only got the ball rolling, Brie. When I sent your books to the Countess of Merryvale, she was so impressed. She was so taken with your writing that she called your publisher for her Christmas holiday book.”

Brie blushed. She’d been a ghostwriter in Rhode Island for four years and loved writing the stories and biographies of famous people, but this project with the countess felt different. The countess called Brie three months ago and explained in a beautifully polished British accent that she wanted to write a Christmas tradition book detailing how the holidays were celebrated on grand British estates over the years. Brie had been hesitant until she’d realized that Merryvale was the location where her favorite Regency romance series had been filmed. Both Merryvale and the countess were legendary—to Brie at least, who’d poured over the garden maps and immersed herself in the architectural history of the grand manor house.

“So, you leave at 7:30 tonight and you arrive at 7 AM tomorrow in London? Are you staying in the airport all day tomorrow to wait for your flight to Manchester?” Bridget asked.

“Yeah. I have to. My flight from Heathrow to Manchester leaves around about six. Then I’ll have a car take me to Merryvale tomorrow night.” Brie glanced around at her fellow passengers in the gate area. “The flight is going to be packed.”

“At least the countess is flying you first class.”

“I know.” Brie exclaimed. “I’ve never flown first class in my life.”

“And overseas is the best. You get those little pod things to sleep in. It’s so nice. Brendan and Simon stayed up all night watching movies, of course. Now he’s exhausted.”

“Brendan or Simon?” Brie giggled.

“Simon,” Bridget clarified. “Brendan never runs out of energy.” Brendan was Bridget’s twelve year old son from her first marriage. A few years after her husband died in a car accident, Bridget had met and married Simon.

“How about the twins?”

“Eleanor and Elizabeth are staying with Simon’s parents for a week while we stay at Merryvale.”

“How does Simon know the Countess of Merryvale? I feel like I need to start taking notes.” Brie was beginning to think she needed a notepad to jot down all the family members and the titles of her hosts.

“Simon went to university with Lady Merryvale’s son. They’re ‘old school chums’ as he says. Simon’s friend called his mother and had her invite Simon, Brendan, and I for Christmas while we are here visiting Simon’s parents in Leeds. She thought it was a great idea since she was having you fly over for a few days.”

Brie dug around in her backpack for her laptop to take some notes. “Right.” If she was going to write about Merryvale and its family she was going to need more details.

“Well, I should go. You’ll be boarding soon…and I need to stop Simon from buying half the convenience store snacks for Brendan before we get back on the road.”

“Good luck!” Brie chuckled and hung up.

A minute later, the flight attendant at the gate desk announced that special needs passengers and families with priority boarding were to line up. First class would be next. Brie took one last moment to people watch at the gate, creating little stories about them in her head. The older couple who were dressed expensively, perhaps an anniversary trip? The family of six with two exhausted parents and wrinkled clothes, a Christmas vacation?

And