I laugh and slip my notebook into my tote. “They’re people. If they are anything like Princess Elizabeth, I’ll be fine.”
Princess Elizabeth of York is a regular customer of our bakery. She is incredibly lovely, queues with the other customers, and has even put pictures of our shop up on her Instagram and Connectivity Story Share.
“Oh, I hope so—Liz is delightful. You wouldn’t know she was royalty,” Matilda says.
“But even if they aren’t,” I say, picking up my canvas tote and fishing out my keys, “I know how to keep my calm with demanding clients. Remember the woman who told me I ruined her cookies because I didn’t do polka dots on the background, and an hour later came back and said polka dots were a horrible idea, so just forget it?”
Shane laughs. “She was in the mood to shout that day.”
“Well, I don’t think Prince Christian will shout at me. At least not today,” I say, smiling.
Hmm. Now that I think about it, Prince Christian and Clementine probably have people on their staff who will shout at me on their behalf.
“And you emailed back your confidentiality agreements?” Matilda asks.
I nod. Matilda is a chronic worrier. She’s double-checked everything from the choice of ribbon on my box to the idea of putting a pink flower on the cactus instead of a yellow one. I half-expect her to ask if my coloured sketch pencils are all sharpened to the same point in a minute.
“Yes, I signed them as soon as I received them,” I say, reassuring her.
“I wonder if Clementine is how the tabloids say?” Matilda muses out loud.
The back door swings open, and two of my coworkers walk in from the kitchen. We all fall silent, as the three of us are the only ones who know about this potential new royal client.
“Royal family gossip again?” Ian asks, arching an eyebrow as he carries a huge tray filled with big, flakey croissants. Then he stops and looks at me. “Why are you so dressed up?”
I smile. “Big meeting to land a corporate account. Dress to impress, you know,” I say, prepared for any comments about my change in attire this morning.
Charlotte, the shop manager, pops her head in the door that leads to the shopfront. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready to open,” she says. “I’m going to unlock the front door.”
“Oh, thank you, Charlotte,” Shane says, nodding at her. “And you’re not interrupting.”
“They’re just gossiping about the royals,” Ian says, rolling his eyes.
I bite back a laugh. Ian would abolish the monarchy in a minute if he could. He doesn’t see the point of it. I know a lot of people agree with him, but I can see the value in the history. It’s a part of our fabric. Not to mention the tourism pounds they bring in. The younger royals are generating an interest and star power that has been missing from the monarchy for years now, and I think they will do great things for the UK, both financially and for the causes they support.
“What’s the latest royal gossip?” Charlotte asks, looking intrigued.
Shane sighs. “What isn’t?”
“For the record, I think the rumour about Clementine and the queen not getting along is true. I don’t think Queen Antonia likes the idea of an American coming into the monarchy,” Charlotte says knowingly. “Those stories make sense, if you ask me.”
“I heard Clementine is merely an American angling for a duchess title and not truly in love with Prince Christian,” Sarah offers, following Ian with a tray filled with glorious spiced-orange Chelsea buns.
I stare at the buns, my attention to royal gossip completely averted at the sight of them. Even though I’m surrounded by sweets and pastries every day, I long to snatch one to have with a big cup of coffee. As Sarah pauses next to me, the scent of orange and cinnamon wafts towards me, and yes, perhaps I could eat one at red lights on the drive over to Kensington Palace.
Shane rolls his eyes. “Next, she’ll be a CIA agent sent to infiltrate the monarchy.”
“But that makes no sense—what would the CIA do with the monarchy?” Sarah asks as Charlotte holds the door open for both Sarah and Ian to walk through. “What about the one that she truly fancies Prince Alexander? They claim the brothers are fighting, you know.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. All these tabloid stories sound utterly ridiculous. Half the things that cross my phone about the royal