“Hey,” I say to her as we take a side street to the coffee shop. “Can I tell you something weird?”
“Weird?” Cynthia asks. “I love weird.”
I know she does. She’s wearing this necklace that looks like it’s made of tiny animal bones sloppily painted in neon colors. She says a student gave it to her for Christmas, and she hasn’t taken it off since, even though I think those bones belong to a frog and that the child may have cast a curse on her or something.
“Okay, so two weeks ago, when the duke and duchess were in town, well, I went straight home because you told me it was chaos in town, and you were right. Except when I went home, there was a PPO blocking the road.”
“What’s a PPO?”
“Like the royal bodyguard.” She gasps, her hands to her mouth. I go on. “Not just that, but the royal bodyguard. The sexy one. The brooding one.”
The asshole one.
“No way.”
“Uh-huh. He had to escort me to my house.”
“No! Piper. He escorted you to your house? Please tell me you let him do a strip search on you.”
“No,” I say, feigning disgust. His big, strong hands all over my naked body? I, uh . . . “No,” I repeat, more for myself. “He was controlling and a total prick on a power trip. Anyway, the whole point is that Monica and Eddie were looking to rent the place next to me. Obviously it would be perfect for them.”
She gives me a questioning look. “I’ve never been to your house. I don’t even know where you live.”
“Scott Point.”
She purses her lips. “Well la-di-da. Scott Point on a teacher’s salary.”
“It’s a long story, but believe me, it’s not what you think. I live in the old servants’ quarters, and there is no view. And anyway, he was all concerned that I would be a threat to their safety. I mean, me.”
She nods, taking that in. “That’s true. You’re the least threatening teacher on the faculty.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
I shrug. “I guess because he told me I couldn’t tell anyone and then I kind of forgot with all the end-of-school madness. Turns out, I never saw them again, and it all died down. It’s like it never happened.”
“I guess he really did think you were a threat,” she says, an amused smile on her hot-pink lips, which match her neon bone necklace. “Miss Piper Evans, the most feared teacher on SSI.”
I attempt to elbow her, but she moves her lithe body out of the way. “Hey, apparently he thought I was someone to reckon with.”
She laughs, shaking her head. I’m only five foot three, so any ferocity I have can be likened to a chihuahua’s. “I can’t believe that happened to you,” she says with a sigh. “What a shame, huh? How cool would that have been?”
“I don’t know,” I admit as we approach the coffee shop and I hold the door open for her. “I talked to Bert, the head of the RCMP, and it seems a lot of people wouldn’t have been all that happy if they moved in. Crisis averted.”
“More like opportunity wasted.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault,” I tell her, and then bring my voice down to a whisper once we enter the shop. “There could have been a million factors as to why they didn’t settle here. Honestly, I couldn’t really blame them. This can be a strange place.”
Being lunch hour, there’s already a line, so I briefly consider going to another coffee shop and skipping the cinnamon bun, but who knows what the line will be like over there.
We’re almost at the counter when a woman sitting at the corner table loudly exclaims, “No!” and her friend leans over to see whatever it is on her phone.
She gasps.
They both gasp.
Then I see someone running past the shop.
And another person.
And another person.
Heading in the direction of the harbor.
My first thought is that there is some sort of emergency.
But then the woman and her friend jump to their feet and she quickly says, “Prince Eddie and his wife just arrived by seaplane!”
That’s all it takes for nearly the whole coffee shop to abandon their cinnamon buns and lattes and run outside, joining the pack of people already running to the harbor.
“This is insane!” I exclaim, looking around. “Everyone has lost their mind.”
Cynthia turns to me and gives me a pleading look with puppy-dog eyes.
“What?” I ask incredulously. “You want to join the mob and run down there too?”
“My mother is obsessed with Monica. It would make her day if I could send her a picture. Maybe she’d finally come and visit me.”
“Fine, go,” I tell her. “I’ll get your coffee for you.”
“And the cinnamon bun!” She grins at me, and then she’s running out of the shop too, her necklace swinging.
I shake my head, and suddenly I’m the next in line since everyone ahead of me ditched out. I look at the barista with her pale silver-purple hair and nose ring. She’s staring longingly at the door, her phone in her hand, mid-text.
“I’d take over for you if I could,” I offer.
She smiles begrudgingly and rings in my order for two oat-milk lattes.
I snag the last cinnamon bun for myself.
Afterward I walk back to the school, hoping Cynthia can tear herself away from the mayhem before the lunch bell rings. Every now and then another person runs or speed walks past me, and I have to wonder what the hell is going through their heads. Maybe it’s because I’d already had that meeting with Harrison, but I don’t understand the obsession. This is like Beatlemania for the twenty-first century.
That said, there is a smaller version of myself, adorned with furry devil horns, perched on my shoulder and whispering in my ear, “They’re back, the royals are back. They might be your neighbors after all.”
That version of me sounds a little too excited, so I flick her off my shoulder and try to regain my composure. The whole town is going nuts for these royals, not me. Besides, just because they’re back doesn’t mean anything, and it certainly doesn’t mean they’ll be my neighbors.
My thoughts become reality. Aurelie Lamont, the French teacher, is leaning against the main entrance into the school, staring off into the distance. She’s from Quebec, so there’s something about her pose that’s even extra dramatic, her dark hair flowing around her.