To Catch a Groom. Rebecca Winters

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?”

      “I suppose so.” Piper finished typing the question and sent an instant message.

      While they waited for an answer, Greer studied one of the brochures with a map detailing the Mediterranean coastline bordering Europe.

      Another shriek of delight came out of Piper. “They’re willing if we pay in full now.”

      “Before we commit, we’ve got to find out if we can get plane reservations,” Greer cautioned.

      “I’ve already inquired.” Olivia put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Everything’s booked solid into Milan, Rome and Bologna, but we could still get seats to Genoa for June 16, returning June 29.”

      Greer looked at the map once more. “That’s only fifty or so miles from Vernazza,” she estimated aloud. “We could take a train and find a hotel for the 17 and 28. Book those flights for us, Olivia!”

      Piper turned to Greer. “How do we want to pay for the boat?”

      She pulled the wallet out of her purse. “Here. Use our business credit card to pay the bill in full. Let them know it’s the Duchess of Kingston of the House of Parma-Bourbon making a reservation for an exclusive party of three, and you want that information kept confidential.”

      When the deed was done, their laughter bounced off the living-room walls.

      “That was good thinking, Greer. Now it’s guaranteed word will leak out,” Olivia murmured. “We’ll have to arrive at the dock looking sensational.”

      “Oh—” Piper cried. “You just made me think of something else. Remember that Paris elevator scene in the film about the American girl whose fiancé falls in love with a French girl? Remember the knockout dress she had on?”

      Olivia’s delicate brows arched. “Who could forget? We ought to be able to find inexpensive outfits and beachwear like the ones she wore. Maybe a hat or two? No one will know we didn’t pay a fortune for them.”

      “Not if we wear our pendants,” Piper inserted.

      “Exactly. The men we’re targeting survive by going after women with jewels. Without a jeweler’s loupe, they won’t be able to detect the fakes from the original.” To this day Greer couldn’t tell the difference.

      “Then