Page 89 of Maximum Dare
“No, not in London, Mum.”
“I thought perhaps you had a friend visiting London.”
“It’s a woman.”
She hesitated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“I went to all this trouble to pull off the impossible and you try to sabotage it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s fine,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “A little jealousy might inspire Cresilla to sayyeswhen you invite her out.”
“Who the hell is Cresilla?”
“Have you ever heard of the Turnip Toffs?”
“Um…no.”What the fuck.
“Thank goodness you have me, Max.” She patted my arm. “The future Queen of England just so happens to be the Queen Bee of a prestigious and very elite group of people.”
“Turnip Toffs?”
“Yes.”
“Princess Camilla?”
“No, silly, Kate Middleton.”
“She’s Kate Windsor now. And Prince Charles is next in line, as king, right?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Can we still be beheaded for saying these things?”
“Stop it. I can’t take you anywhere.” She lowered her voice. “The Turnip Toffs are so called because of their collective ownership of most of the English countryside. These wealthy people are Earls, Countesses, Duchesses—”
“We’re wealthy, too.”Not that I cared because I earned a stellar salary.
“We’re talking about prestige. About integrating with the Royal Family. We’re talking hunting parties on the weekends and dinners with the elite. Fine dining at Buckingham Palace. The goal is to match you with someone who is in the top tier of the Turnip Collective.”
Running my fingers through my hair in frustration, I wondered if now was a good time to tell her I’d never be a willing participant in anyone’s vegetable clan. Deep down she knew I’d rather be surfing, or eating a casual meal in a small café with sand between my toes. Or watching the sun set after a day on the beach…with Daisy. I wanted to share all of those experiences with her.
“Cresilla will elevate you to the highest echelons.”
“Maybe I can meet her during my next visit?”
“I’ve invited Cresilla Cranbury and her wonderful parents to dinner. We’ll have a lovely evening and get to know each other.”
“You’re going to have to uninvite them.”
“They’re sitting over there—”
My gaze shot to a table nearby where an attractive middle-aged couple sat with their pretty blonde daughter. They gave us a friendly wave, smiling, and then swapped a look of approval with Cresilla. Clearly, I’d received passing marks in the “looks” department. A bunch of baby turnips was already on the agenda.
I glanced at the emergency exit.
