“Well, someone woke up in a good mood.” Max was sitting at the table where breakfast was spread out.

“It’s a pretty morning.” I sat down across from him and swiped some fruit and toast.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

“Did you hear about Selene?” I picked through the bowl of fruit until I found some grapes.

“They called last night to say that she was making a remarkable recovery. I think she will get to leave soon.” Max looked up at me from the paper he was reading.

“I had the same message this morning.” I took a big bite of buttered toast. “I think they’re ready to send her away.” I laughed around my mouthful.

“Speaking of messages . . .” Max folded his paper in half and turned it in my direction. “Have you seen the news this morning?”

Some of my good mood faded immediately. “Let me guess, I made the headlines.”

He tapped the picture and I set my toast down and grabbed the paper.

“Oh great.” I wrinkled my nose at the title.

“Frisky Royal.” I’d think this was a joke, but I’d seen all of the idiotic titles about Sam and Alex. The word frisky would bring in a lot more attention than something about a movie date.

“It could be worse.” Max shrugged.

“No kidding.” I frowned, thinking about Alex and his drama.

“So you did do something more than hold hands with him?” Max narrowed his eyes. “He’s not going to come waltzing out of your room any minute, is he?”

“No.” I sneered at him. “And you’re one to talk. How many times has some girl done the walk of shame for you?”

“Oh, that’s not shame.” He picked up his teacup and raised an eyebrow. “That’s satisfaction.”

I made a gagging noise and rolled my eyes, but my heart wasn’t in it. It bothered me to see David’s face and name plastered in the paper. If it wasn’t for me, they’d be leaving him alone. I skimmed the article, the half truths and assumptions. It wasn’t any worse than I had expected, so I folded up the paper and pushed it back to Max.

“Here.” I finished my food and carried my dish to the sink in the small kitchen. “I have to get ready for a meeting in town. What’s your schedule like?”

“Nothing until this evening. I was going to get some studio time in.” He frowned at me. “Why?”

“Would you mind checking on Selene? I hate that there is no one there with her.” I widened my eyes a little and frowned.

“Yes, but not because of your anime eyes.” He shook his head. “I just like Selene.”

I walked over and threw my arms around his neck. “Thanks!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I spent time making sure that I looked just like a princess should before leaving the hotel. My dress was immaculate, my suit jacket was cute in a way that was classy but sexy, and my hair was pinned in place.

While in the car to the local artisans’ guild I texted David to tell him thank you for a great night. He didn’t respond for the rest of the ride, but I wasn’t too worried. It was likely that he was too busy to even look at his phone. Samantha had timed it so that he was busy doing a lot of school and business visits while she was away. No one would say that my sister-in-law wasn’t smart; considering how much she hated to do speaking events she must have planned this out a long time ago.

There were more reporters at the guild building and Tabitha seemed to be enjoying having them call her name. It was amusing to see her smile for the camera. It almost looked like she had practiced how to stand and where to turn. Then again, when I was younger, I’d been taught those things as if they were part of a normal education.

The guild was full of people, men and women alike, all eager to hear what I had to say. It was lovely to talk with people that felt the same way I did about art education. By the time I had finished my speech, I felt excited and hopeful. Here was a room full of people who had made a name for themselves with art; ran successful business and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. It validated all of my belief and hard work on the project.

“Can I set up a monthly donation?” a woman wearing a flowing green skirt asked. “I can’t do a large sum, but I can do a steady amount every month.”

“That would be wonderful.” I held my hand out. “I’m Catherine.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Hilda Thatcher. I run the local pottery studio.” She bobbed a quick curtsy.

“Please call me Catherine.” I smiled at her. “Is that the place on Portvel Road?”

“Yes, it is.” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “That’s my shop.”

“We drove by this morning. I loved all of the wind chimes hanging out front.” I folded my hands in front of me. “I bet that sounds lovely in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am, it’s a wonderful way to start the day.”

“I’ve been thinking about having people donate time instead of money. Maybe you’d be willing to be a guest teacher at a local school and teach the kids about pottery.”

“I’d like that very much. Very much.” Her smile grew until it stretched across her face from ear to ear. “But I’d also like to donate money as well.”

“Tabitha will help you set up a payment if you’d like, or you could just send money in when you can. I can’t wait to start the children’s program.” I reached out to shake her hand again. “Thank you so much for helping make it possible.”