be fine. Allegra has been wonderful about stepping in for him.”
Her middle sister. The one who had always enjoyed palace life. Of the three Santaro girls, Allegra was the one who loved the state dinners, the conversations with dignitaries, the museum openings and policy discussions. She had sat by their father’s side for more state business than any of the Santaro women—and for naught, because as the second-born, she was not first in line for the throne.
“I’m glad she’s there,” Mariabella said.
“I am, too. Your father misses you, of course, but he is happy to have Allegra with him. For now.” Unspoken words hung in her mother’s sentence.
Mariabella’s father had made it clear he expected his eldest to return and take her place as the heir to the throne. Allegra was merely a placeholder.
Her father had voiced his displeasure several times about Mariabella’s choice to leave the castle and pursue her dream of painting. At first, he’d talked of disowning her, until her mother had intervened. He’d relented, and given her a deadline. She’d been given a little over a year and a half—the time between college graduation and her twenty-fifth birthday, in February—and then she had to return.
Or—
Abdicate the crown and give up her family forever.
That was what her father had written. Choose the throne or be disowned. Mariabella hadn’t told her mother, and suspected neither had her father.
“Don’t worry,” her mother said. “It will all be fine.”
Easier said than done. She thought of her mother, and how worried Bianca Santaro must be about her husband. The miles between mother and daughter seemed to multiply. “I should come home. Be there for Christmas.”
“I wish you could, cara. I would like nothing more than to have my daughter with me for Christmas.” Her mother sighed, and Mariabella swore she could hear her mother begin to cry.
Half a world away, Mariabella’s heart broke, too. Christmas. Her favorite holiday, and Mama’s, too. The castle would already be decorated top to bottom with pine garlands and red bows. Christmas trees in every bedroom, set before every fireplace. None of them would top the giant tree, though, the twenty-five-foot beauty the palace’s landscaper searched far and wide to find, then set in the center hall.
Every year, her mother personally oversaw the decorating of that tree, draping it in gold ribbons and white angel ornaments. And every year, it had been Mariabella’s job to hang the last ornament on that tree. To be the one to pronounce it finished, and then to turn on the lights, washing the entire hall in a soft golden glow, sending a chorus of appreciation through the audience of onlookers brought in from the city.
But not this year. Or last year.
No, she had been here, instead. Leaving her mother to handle Christmas with her sisters. Who had lit the tree? Who had hung that last decoration?
“We will miss you,” her mother said softly, “but if you come back, you know what will happen.”
Mariabella let out a sigh. “Yes.”
She would be expected to step back into her role. To go back to being groomed and primped for a crown she neither wanted nor asked to be given.
Because her father would not be convinced to let her go a second time. She knew that, as well as she knew her own name.
“Stay where you are,” her mother said, as if reading her daughter’s mind. “I know what this time, as limited as it is, means to you.” Her mother’s gentle orders were firm.
“Mama—”
“Don’t argue with me, Bella. I sent you there. I know your father isn’t happy, but I will deal with him. You deserve a life outside of this…birdcage.”
That was, indeed, how Mariabella had come to think of life back home. A cage, a gilded one she could look out of, but not escape. People could stare inside, see her and judge her, but never really know her.
Then she’d come to Harborside and felt free, like a real person for the first time in her life.
“I’ll call you if anything changes,” her mother said, “but I have to say goodbye now. I’m late for a state dinner.” She sighed. “You know how the prime minister gets. He hates to sit next to the visiting dignitaries from other countries and make small talk. The man has no social graces.”
Mariabella laughed. She certainly didn’t miss that part of palace life at all. The stuffy meals, the endless dinner parties. “Have a good time. If you can.”
“Oh, I will. I seated the prime minister beside Carlita.” Her mother let out a little giggle.
“Mama!”
“Your little sister will talk his ear off about horses and dressage. The man may just fall asleep before the soup arrives.”
Mariabella laughed. Oh, how she missed some of those moments. The little fun they’d have behind the scenes, the laughter with her sisters, her mother. “I love you, Mama.”
Her mother paused, and Mariabella could hear the catch in her voice when Bianca Santaro spoke again. “I love you too, cara.”
They ended the call, and Mariabella closed her phone, but held tight to the cell for a long time, as if she could hold her parents in the small electronic device. For a moment, she was back there, in her mother’s bedroom, sitting on the chaise lounge, watching her mother get ready for a party. She saw Bianca brushing her hair, heard her humming a tune. Then she’d always turn and open her arms, welcoming her eldest daughter into her embrace. With Mama, there had always been time for a hug, a kiss, one more story before bed.
How she missed those days.
Even if she returned to Uccelli, those moments were gone forever. When her father stepped down, Mariabella was expected to fill the king’s shoes. Which meant every day of her life in the palace had been spent grooming her for the throne.
If she returned, she’d be stepping right back into the middle of the very expectations she’d run from.
Her role as future queen.
Mariabella sighed. As much as she missed her parents and her homeland, she couldn’t go back. Returning came at too steep a price.
Freedom.
Carmen came bursting through the door. Mariabella slipped her phone into her purse and with that movement, brought her mind back into work mode. She would dwell on the events across the world when she was alone.
“You will never believe what just happened when I was in Savannah’s shop.” Carmen slammed her hand on the counter in emphasis.
“An incredibly rude man offered to buy her place, yes?”
Carmen’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”
“He was here, a few minutes ago. And wanted my gallery, too.”
“The gallery,
