Page 18 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
What on earth had she been thinking when she’d finally broken down and agreed to get on the plane?
“I didn’t talk you into it. It was a group effort,” Clara countered. “You know I sent that video by accident, right? I had no idea there was footage of you from one of your hospital visits on that reel. I promise.”
Gracie nodded. “I know.”
“You promise you’re not mad?” Clara’s gaze flitted over Gracie’s shoulder and lingered a moment on the elegant castle directly opposite the medieval village square. Eyes sparkling, she glanced back at Gracie. “I’m trying my best to look contrite right now, but it’s really hard when I feel like we just landed in a winter fairy tale.”
It was no exaggeration. The photos on the contest website really didn’t do the kingdom justice. The B&B and all the surrounding buildings legitimately looked like they were made of gingerbread, with fanciful white trim and painted gumdrop accents. The windows shimmered like sugar glass, and the gable roofs were covered in deep brown shingles that could have been peppermint bark. Candy cane-striped poles lined the cobblestone walkways. If Gracie hadn’t known better, she might have believed she’d been plopped down on a Candy Land game board.
Only the world’s biggest Grinch would’ve been able to muster up any real sense of indignation, and Gracie was no Grinch.
“I’m not mad. Everything is going to be fine,” she said. A huge understatement.
Once she left San Glacera with a thirty-thousand-dollar check, Perfect Party Princesses would be more than fine. Princess Snowflake and her fairy tale sidekicks would be all set to take over Denver. Maybe even the whole state of Colorado. All Gracie had to do was shake off a years-long case of stage fright sometime in the next seven days.
She could do that, right?
Never be afraid to melt. Gracie had made the adage her tagline way back when she’d slipped into her first snowy white ballgown.
She inhaled a dizzying breath of frosty air.
“Let’s go check into our room.” Clara rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a hot toddy and a nap.”
Nerves trumped jet lag, but Gracie nodded. Then she reached to grab hold of the handle of her giant suitcase, but it had disappeared. “What happened to our luggage? It was right here a second ago.”
“The chauffeur took it inside for us while you were gawking at the castle.” Clara winked. “We’re getting the royal treatment. You should probably get used to it.”
“I wasn’t gawking,” Gracie countered. On the contrary, she could barely look directly at it. It was like staring straight at the sun, blindingly bright in its magnificence.
You can do this. She had a full day to get acclimated to San Glacera. Tonight, Gracie was scheduled to appear as Princess Snowflake at the official opening of the Ice Village and meet the royal family for the first time. It should be a simple meet-and-greet photo op with children and tourists—the sort of thing Gracie did back home every single day.
With the addition of a king, queen, prince, and princess.
San Glacera’s royal family was picture-perfect. At least they’d seemed that way when Gracie and Clara had Googled them and pored over photographs of the royals cutting ribbons, unveiling plaques, and attending state dinners in fancy gowns and tuxedos. The princess was just a teenager but seemed to carry herself with the kind of poise that Gracie was still trying to master with her party princess appearances. Her older brother, the Crown Prince, was so classically handsome that he almost seemed fictional.
Regal square jaw? Check.
Dreamy gray eyes? Double check.
Dark, slightly tousled hair that could only be improved upon by the addition of a crown on his head? Triple check,
Still, they were only people. How hard could it be?
Clara yawned. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” Gracie said. She tucked her arm through Clara’s and pushed open the door to the B&B.
The inside of the quaint chalet looked even more like a Christmas dream than its exterior did. Spun glass ornaments and fragrant pomander balls hung from every square inch of the ceiling, suspended by red velvet ribbons. A fire blazed in an enormous stone hearth, surrounded by a leather sofa and a mismatched collection of overstuffed wingback chairs in various tartan patterns. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, and a platter of homemade cookies welcomed them at the registration desk: Linzer stars with ruby-colored jam in the center, delicately frosted gingerbread snowflakes, and buttery Scottish shortbread.
“That’s it. I’m never leaving this place.” Clara slipped off her gloves and bit into a crescent-shaped cookie covered in powdered sugar. “So long, Colorado. I live here now.”
“Good morning!” A woman with salt-and-pepper hair fashioned into a neat French twist and wearing a ruffly red apron covered in a cute Christmas print came bustling into the room. “You must be the guests of the royal palace. We’ve been expecting you.”
Gracie and Clara exchanged a glance. Guests of the royal palace. Gracie was beginning to feel like Cinderella. Not the party princess version, but the real deal.
“Yes, we are. I’m Gracie, and this is Clara. We’re excited to be here,” she said.
“I’m Ingrid Krieg. My husband Max and I run this place.” She waved a hand, encompassing the cozy lobby. “Welcome to our home. I’m sure you’re both exhausted from your trip, so I’ll be brief. We serve all our meals in the dining room, which is just around the corner. I’ve placed a schedule in your room, and we have fresh baked goods in the lobby at all times.”
Clara reached for another crescent cookie, and Gracie chose one of the Linzer stars. It was buttery soft and melted in her mouth in an instant.
