Royal Day Out by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot [Cabot, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250120403
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends
Published: 2016-05-10T05:00:00+00:00

Saturday, May 30, 2:00 P.M.

Royal Genovian Yacht Club

After Deck

I know it’s rude to say I told you so. But I did tell Grandmère so.

Still, when we got to the Royal Genovian Yacht Club, I kind of thought it might all work out, in spite of everything.

The moment we pulled up, I could see that the maître d’, Rudolfo, was waiting at the side of the marina with a silver tray. On the tray was sitting Grandmère’s favorite drink, a sidecar. I could tell because sidecars (at least the way Rudolfo makes them) are:

• Served in a tall, stemmed glass.

• Have sugar around the rim.

• Have a slice of orange—traditionally Genovian—on the side.

Next to the sidecar was another glass with ice cubes and a brown liquid inside, and a pink straw poking out the top.

I knew right away what that was. A full-sugar Coca-Cola.

Rudolfo had remembered my favorite drink, too!

There was more than one reason I loved the Royal Genovian Yacht Club so much. It wasn’t just the ice cream.

Of course, only royal people who own yachts are allowed to come here, which means there are very few members. Mia always complains that this makes the Royal Genovian Yacht Club very snobby and exclusive, to which Grandmère always replies, “That’s exactly why I like it!”

I have to agree with Grandmère. The yacht club is the best!

“Rudolfo,” Grandmère cried in relief when she saw him—or maybe the drink. “You are a sight for sore eyes. I feel as if I’m back in civilization.”

“Of course, Principessa,” Rudolfo said, bowing to us as Grandmère took her drink from his tray, and I took mine. “It is a pleasure as always to see you both! How are you? You are looking beautiful as always. May I escort you to your usual table? I have already shooed away the seagulls, and everything is ready for you!”

Grandmère and I always get the same table at the Royal Genovian Yacht Club, under a large striped umbrella on the after deck, looking out over the bright blue marina, downtown Genovia, the palace perched on the cliffs above, and of course all the yachts.

Knowing we were going to be lunching at the club, Grandma was wearing one of her biggest hats, her hugest sunglasses, and of course SPF 100 to protect her skin from the sun. She’d made me put on SPF 100, too.

“A woman’s most valuable asset, Olivia,” Grandmère was always saying, “besides her good name and character, of course, is her skin. You must always do everything in your power to protect it.”

“Really?” I often asked. “Then why do you smoke so much? Smoking is very bad for your skin. And your heart, your lungs, and my lungs, and the lungs of everyone around you—”

Grandmère really is trying to quit smoking, though. I told her that I’ve already lost a mother to an untimely death, and I can’t lose a grandmother, too, especially now that I’ve only just found her. She wears nicotine patches all over her arms,

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