To Catch a Groom

“Somebody could have made up a tall tale about it that grew legs down through the years,” Greer reminded her sisters. “Still, we do have it in our possession, and no one’s been able to prove we’re not related. Anyway, you’ve given me an idea.

“We know Marie-Louise went by three other titles; Duchess of Colorno, Duchess of Piacenza and Duchess of Guastalla. So what if we each took a title representing our relationship to her? We could outcon all the playboys we want.”

At this point her sisters stared in awe at Greer whose eyes reflected the exact color of the Duchess of Parma violet.

The flower had been named for their ancestor who loved violets so much, when she wrote letters she often left the imprint of the flower rather than her signature.

A conspiratorial smile broke out on Olivia’s face. “I say we start on the Italian Riviera with one side trip to Parma and Colorno to see the palaces where she lived. Then work our way along the coast to the French and Spanish Riviera, letting it be known we’ve been in Italy visiting our…royal relations?”

Brilliant! Sometimes Olivia’s innovative ideas reflected pure genius.

Greer’s thoughts leaped ahead. “We’ll do business while we’re there so we can write off our trip as an expense on our taxes. It shouldn’t be difficult to find someone to translate our calendars into various languages and distribute them for us. It might be the start of something really big.”

Piper’s eyes gleamed. “In time Violetta and Luigio could become household words all over Europe. Just don’t forget we’ll have to honor Daddy’s wishes by trying our hardest to snag a husband at the same time,” she reminded them.

“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Olivia declared. “As soon as we let it be known we’re duchesses, our unsuspecting victims will fall all over us.”

“And we know why, don’t we,” Greer said with a definite smirk. “Because they’re nothing but a bunch of impoverished adventurers who prey on wealthy women and prefer to marry a titled one if possible.” One delicately arched brow lifted.

“Their black moment will come when we smile sweetly and admit we’re the poor American duchesses. ‘Sorry. No tiara.’ So if they want to take back their proposals…”

Piper shook her head at Greer. “You’re wicked.”

“Terrible,” Olivia concurred.

“Not as terrible as they are. Just watch the bodies fall!” Greer eyed her sisters with unholy glee. “Let’s go inside and make our plans while we eat lunch.”

Piper was the first one out of the car. Olivia followed. “If we hurry, we can apply for passports before the place closes today.”

Greer brought up the rear. “Airfares are really cheap to Europe right now, which is good news since we’ll need new wardrobes.”

“If we’re going to do this thing right, maybe we should charter a private yacht.”

“I’m way ahead of you but I don’t think we could afford it.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to find out,” Olivia said. “Maybe if it were a small one?”

Once inside the apartment Greer hurried over to the computer in the living room, which they’d made into their office. The girls hovered around while she did a dozen searches of yachting services.

“Hmm. I’m afraid they’re out of our price range. So far the best we can do is charter a crewed sailboat for twelve people. It’s $5,000 a week per person if the boat is full at the time of departure. That’s no good.”

Piper leaned over Greer’s shoulder. “Just for fun, click to the crewed catamaran listings. It’s says they’re cheaper.”

When the information appeared on the screen, they studied the names of the boats with avid interest.

“Look!” Olivia blurted. “There’s one called the Piccione.”

Greer had already spotted the Italian word for pigeon. Their dad had always called his daughters his “pigeons” because of the beautiful white Duchesse pigeon the Italians had named in honor of the Duchess of Parma. Just for fun she clicked to it. After the specifics popped up, she read them aloud.

“This immaculate, white, fifty-one-foot sloop sleeps two to six guests. Crew of three. Full amenities, three meals per day. $3,000 per person. Ten days on the Mediterranean.

“Ten guys! Plan your own itinerary. The swift way to get close to any beach. Contact F. Moretti, Vernazza, Italy.”

Olivia nudged Greer. “That’s what you call exclusive at the right price. It must be destiny! E-mail them and find out if they have any openings left for this summer or early fall.”

“Do we care which month?”

They both shook their heads.

After sending an inquiry, Greer joined them in the kitchen. They hurriedly ate sandwiches before rummaging around for their birth certificates.

Once those were found, they left for the passport office. En route they stopped to get their passport pictures taken, reminding them they all needed a new hairdo to go with their new duchess look.

An hour later they started for home. On the way Piper noticed a travel agency. She told Olivia to stop the car so she could run inside and get some brochures.

On the way back to the apartment, they almost got into an argument because everyone wanted to savor the brochure on Vernazza. Greer had to admit the place sounded like heaven.

One of the most unspoilt areas of the Mediterranean. To visit Vernazza is to visit the Cinque Terre, a kingdom of nature and wild scents; five villages suspended between sea and sky, clinging on to cliffs and surrounded by green hills. Who visits Cinque Terre can choose between a dive in the sea, a hike in the hills, a walk in the narrow “carruggi,” or a boat trip to a sanctuary or to a seafood lunch.

Piper was the first to reach the computer after they’d entered the apartment.

“We’ve got an answer to our e-mail!”

Greer and Olivia leaned over her shoulder while she read it to them.

“Thank you for your inquiry. Due to an unexpected cancellation, the June 18 slot is available. Woohoo!” She jumped up and down in the swivel chair.

“You are very fortunate since the twentieth is the date of the Grand Prix in Monaco where we have docking privileges. If you wish to take advantage, you must advise us immediately.”

Piper swung around in the chair. “Monaco, guys. The playground of the rich and ‘wannabe’ rich and famous. The Grand Prix! Think, Olivia— Maybe you’ll be able to see that dashing French race car driver you talk about all the time. The one that puts Fred’s nose out of joint every time you mention him.”

“It’s Fred’s fault if he introduced me to Formula I racing. Wouldn’t it be something to bring home Cesar Villon’s autograph?” Olivia’s eyes were shining.

Greer was thinking it would be even more exciting to meet an Italian from their own Duchesse family who could provide the documentation proving their relationship to the Duchess of Parma.

“Piper? Find out if they’ll accept another thousand a piece from us so we can have the boat to ourselves.”

“Ooh, I forgot about that, Greer. Good idea. I don’t dare tell Tom about this or he’ll want to come along.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It isn’t as if you’re in love with him.”

“How do you know?”

“Well are you?”

“Maybe.”

“Then ten days away from him will prove it one way or the other. Right?”