The Royals Next Door

This probably won’t go well.

“It’s the new neighbors,” I tell her brightly. “This is Monica.”

“How do you do?” Monica says, coming forward toward my mom, her hand extended. “I brought you flowers.”

My mother stares at her, at the flowers, at her hand, then back to her face again.

My mother squints her eyes and then wipes her dough-covered hand on her apron in a rough manner, before shaking Monica’s hand.

Oh god!

But Monica takes the doughy hand in stride and gives her a hearty shake.

“Thank you . . . ,” my mother says to her, releasing her grip as Monica hands her the roses. Then my mother looks over at Harrison. “And you, you’re back.”

Harrison just nods.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” Monica explains. “I had met your daughter the other day and thought it would be nice to get to know you too.”

Now my mother is giving me the full-on stink eye. She looks like she’s seconds from blowing up. She hates not knowing things, and she’s going to take this as a betrayal.

“I thought I would just drop by,” Monica goes on, and it’s apparent from her expression that she’s worried this isn’t going over well. “Eddie is in a meeting, well, a virtual meeting, with his advisors back home and—”

“Who is Eddie?” my mother asks, and oh wow, she really doesn’t recognize Monica at all.

“Eddie is my husband,” Monica says, not rebuffed in the slightest. “We only moved in next door a few days ago.”

“Then who the hell is this guy?” my mom asks, jerking her chin at Harrison.

“He’s our PPO, personal protection officer. Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite.”

And that’s when it all seems to come together for my mother. She looks at Monica, looks at Harrison, looks back to Monica, and then finally to me, her brows raised.

“This isn’t . . . They aren’t . . . ,” she says, pointing at Monica.

“Mom,” I tell her calmly, putting my hand over her accusatory finger and lowering it, “this is Monica, the Duchess of Fairfax. She and her husband, Prince Eddie, have moved in next door to us.”

My mom goes silent. Mouth clamped shut. This could go so many ways. She feels things so deeply that if she feels blindsided or rattled at all, she might explode in an angry rage, the kind of anger I’ve seen consume her countless times before.

I have no idea what’s going to happen next.

Then she lets out a huff of air, like she was holding her breath too, then breaks into the biggest smile, clapping her hands together.

“I can’t believe it!” she cries out. “I heard on the news you were in the area, but I never thought you would move next door to us!” She reaches out and smacks me playfully (and hard) across the arm. “Piper! Why didn’t you tell me? This is amazing.” She gestures to the house. “Please, please come in.”

Oh no.

“It’s quite all right, I don’t want to be a bother,” Monica says, shaking her head, but I know she’s doomed. My mother won’t stop.

“I insist, I insist,” my mother says, and then she reaches down and grabs Monica by the elbow and pulls her up the stairs, leading her inside.

Harrison immediately springs into action, but I manage to step in front of him, putting out my hands. “It’s okay. She’s a lot to handle, but she’s okay.”

He doesn’t seem to listen, instead brushing past my hands and following Monica and my mother inside.

I exhale, pushing my fingertips at my temples in a futile attempt to steady myself, then follow them all inside.

My mother is at the sink, washing her hands, while Monica is crouched down in the hallway, getting sloppy kisses from a very happy, wriggly Liza.

“Oh, she’s adorable,” Monica says, even as Liza attempts to jump up on her.

“Liza, get down,” I tell her, coming over and grabbing Liza by the collar and trying to haul her away. “I’m so sorry, she doesn’t realize who you are.”

Monica laughs, still petting her. “I rather like that. Now I know it’s genuine.”

Liza continues to lick her, then turns her attention on me. Then notices Harrison lurking in the corner of the living room.

The hair on Liza’s back raises, and I can tell she’s ready to bark.

“Shhh,” I tell her, whispering in a soothing voice. “It’s okay, Liza. That’s just Harrison. He looks creepy and constipated, but as the duchess said, his bark is apparently worse than his bite.”

“Constipated?” Harrison repeats, his brows raised.

I quickly look at Monica, knowing that I just insulted her PPO, but she’s biting back a smile.

“Okay, I’m ready now,” my mom announces, coming over to us. “How about a tour?”

“Mom, this is the tour,” I say, letting go of Liza and straightening up. I gesture to the house. “This is it.”

“Nonsense,” my mother says, and she walks over to the sliding doors to the deck, beckoning for Monica to follow. “Come see our deck.”