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“Well, I have all the gear now. I should be fine, right?” Palmer said before she could stop herself.

Was she flirting? Was Palmer flirting with a Queen?

“I suppose you do,” Elizabeth replied. “I’ll ask Rebecca to make arrangements. I’ll see you tomorrow, Palmer.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“Sleep well,” Palmer said softly.

Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You too,” she finally replied.

The call ended. Palmer hung up the phone and looked down at the box and the items in it, thinking about how nice it was for Elizabeth to arrange for someone to pick these things up for her and have them dropped off at the hotel. She read and reread the note a few more times before she got up and tucked it into the small pocket of her shoulder bag to save. Something told her she would want to remember the day a Queen bought her a nice gift.

Then, an idea for a different article came to her. It might not be one she’d actually turn into her editor, but it was something she wanted to write. She moved back to her laptop and typedThe Day I Met a Queenat the top of the page. Leaning back against the pillows again, she tried to put into words her thoughts and feelings about meeting Elizabeth for the first time. She started with the minute in the car and continued with the interview today, but as she typed, Palmer knew she wouldn’t turn this into her editor after all. This wasn’t an article. It was a journal entry, and she was smiling the entire time she wrote it.

CHAPTER 9

“What time do I have to be there?” she asked.

“Seven,” Rebecca replied. “But, Ma’am, you have to get ready first. We should start soon.”

“I told her five,” Elizabeth told her.

“Ma’am, it’ll take an hour just to do your hair and makeup, and then we have to get you into your dress, and–”

The door to her bedroom suite opened, revealing Jenny, who curtsied and announced, “Your Majesty, Miss Palmer Honeycutt has arrived. Where would you like me to escort her?”

“You’ve known me since I was six years old, Jenny; please call me Lizzy. Or, at the very least, Elizabeth.” She looked at Rebecca. “You’re a terrible example.”

“Ma’am?” Jenny asked.

“In here is fine.”

“Ma’am?” Rebecca asked her. “Your office would be more appropriate for an interview.”

“I have to get dressed, don’t I?” Elizabeth asked. “Send her in, Jenny. Thank you.” She turned to Rebecca then. “It’s fine, Rebecca.”

“Elizabeth, I get that you like this woman; that she might make a nice friend for you, and you could use more friends, especially now, but sheisstill a reporter.”

“You’re the one that told me I should meet with her.”

“For a quick interview. You’ve done that.”

“And she asked for a follow-up.” Elizabeth looked toward the open door of her bedroom. “When am I leaving for the house, Rebecca?”

“Tonight, Ma’am.”

“After the dinner?”

“Yes, once the dinner finishes, we’ll take you out through the private garden and down the block to the waiting cars. We’ll report to anyone who asks that you’re in the palace, working on plans for the coronation.”

“What happensafterthe coronation? What lies will we tell people when I need to get away then?”

“None, Ma’am. You are the Queen – you are free to rest and relax when needed, Elizabeth. We’re doing this now because we need to keep you safe until–”