Peaches & the Duke - Ginger Voight Page 0,34

newfound wealth, it wasn’t quite enough.

As it turned out, it wasn’t nearly enough to consider home ownership in much of Los Angeles, where the houses in safe neighborhoods with good school districts would take up quite a bit of the money I had been paid so generously by Auggie. Like anything momentous, it was going to take some time and thoughtful planning. I decided to put a pin in it for the time being. Besides, who knew what life would look like after the book was published? It was okay to sit on that decision for now.

“A new car?” Fern suggested.

I thought about Ol Prissy, the ecologically responsible hybrid that was compact and affordable, one that I shared with my sister. Our car was about five years old now, and completely paid off as of December of last year. “I suppose I’ll need something bigger,” I conceded. “I’ll need to figure out what’s a safe car for kids, though. And let’s face it, I’m not going to be driving myself around for a while. At least until September.”

“And not even then,” Mom interjected. “You won’t be able to fit behind the wheel,” she winked, making me laugh.

“Then buy me a car,” Fern said, sticking out her tongue. “Something to zip around in while you’re jet-setting around Europe.”

“You’ve got your own money,” I laughed. “And you’re coming on the road with me, remember?”

She giggled. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

That was when we landed on the only real option that mattered now: a new wardrobe.

“I don’t know how I feel about you girls going into town by yourselves with that kind of money,” Dad said.

“Not to worry,” I consoled. “We’re never alone. That’s part of the deal.”

The driver arrived just a little before noon. He stood next to the open door of the black Alda, his head down as per the royal protocol. Fern stole a glance my direction, but I shrugged. These were the rules we had agreed to live by. We slid into the back seat and I gave him the day’s agenda, first stop: the bank.

After about twenty silent minutes of driving back into town, Fern had had enough. She leaned forward. “Look, I know this is against the rules and all. But if you don’t say something, I’m literally going to wig out back here. Do you know what it’s like to be a woman in this world? If a guy’s silently driving us around in the countryside, it doesn’t always end well. Just give me a name. Something.”

I looked at the driver’s reflection in the rear-view mirror. He had eyes of jade green, and his salt-and-pepper hair was trimmed neatly to fit under the black hat he wore. His features were sharp and handsome, at least from the flashes I had seen. Older. Rugged. An iceberg of a man hidden behind the jut of his chin. Finally, he looked at Fern through the mirror. Then he looked at me. He pulled a card from the middle console before handing it to her.

We both glanced at the card, which bore his full title: Major Sean Tover, officer in the Queen’s Royal Army. He wasn’t just a chauffeur. He was an officer of their Royal Guard, which meant we were in the safest hands possible.

“Thank you, Major Tover,” she said as she handed the card back to him.

He stole another glance her way. “Sean,” he said at last, in a full Aldayne brogue that fell somewhere between Irish and Scottish, which stood to reason, considering Aldayne was taken over by Celtic tribes in the 12th century.

Fern didn’t even bother to hide her victorious smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Sean,” she grinned. I watched the corners of his mouth fight the impulse to do the same. Fern knew how to get her way, and very few could resist her, particularly if they were men.

I was so glad she was coming with me on this journey. My sis was my Ride or Die.

When we finally got to the bank, Sean opened the door for us as usual, but this time he followed us into the building. I figured this was part of his guarding duties, but it was more than that. He didn’t even allow us to get into line. He sat us in the reception area and went to speak with a banker directly.

We were then ushered back into a private office for the Vice President of the bank, who went out of his way to make us feel welcomed, with

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