Chapter 58 - Perhaps There Is Use In Crying Over Spilled Perfume

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A week after the war, the family said their farewells to Buckingham Palace.

Luckily while they were gone for five years, Sandringham hadn't been bombed. Everything inside was just how they had left it.

The family opened up their home to a few select citizens whose homes had been bombed during the war. They would stay at the house until they would find new places to live. The house was opened to five families.

The first three came to the house, grateful that this was their new refuge.

Around lunch, a couple arrived. The woman had brown curls and green eyes. The man had shiny blonde hair and blue eyes.

Everything was normal until Anastasia noticed something on the man's suit. Something about it was so familiar but she couldn't quite remember. She figured it would come to her later. The family welcomed them in.

A few hours later, the last family arrived. When Maria and Anastasia answered the door, it was none other than Hugo's family.

"Hugo!? Paul!?" Maria exclaimed. 

"It's us!" Hugo hugged Maria while Paul hugged Anastasia. A much older Rosie and Charlie stood behind them.

"Oh my gosh! You're both so much older than when we last saw you!" Maria led them inside.

"Welcome to our house!" Anastasia carried their suitcases.

"You mean palace?" Hugo flashed a witty grin, referring to their small bicker years ago.

Hugo's family spent the rest of the day talking about what they had done since the girls had seen them last. Paul was thirty-nine. Hugo was thirty-seven. Rosie was sixty-nine and Charlie was seventy-one.

A woman had also arrived with Hugo's family. Her name was Flora Edwards. She was Paul's new wife, a few years younger than him. Paul had met her in the years leading up to the war. They married in nineteen-thirty-eight.

Hugo was courting a girl from town but her home had been destroyed in the war. She had gone to France to live with relatives. Paul had fought in the war while Hugo did not.

The Romanovs and Golovins had prepared dinner for their guests and had gotten to know them as the night went on.

During dinner, Anastasia couldn't take her eyes off of the couple. Something about them was so familiar.

It wasn't until later that night when Anastasia finally received her answers.

The sisters were checking on their families before they went to bed when Anastasia decided to check on the couple. She knocked on the door and heard a reply from inside. Anastasia opened the door to see the woman in bed, wearing a pale blue nightgown. The man was sitting in a chair, reading a book.

"Hello!" the woman said cheerfully. "Thank you so much for opening your home to us!"

"Your welcome." Anastasia smiled at her for a moment. "What are your names again? I'm afraid I wasn't listening the first time you mentioned them."

"I'm Maxim. This is my wife, Svetlana." Maxim repeated.

Anastasia's mind cleared. She had an image of the two from when she had first met them back in Russia in nineteen-eighteen. Svetlana had broken Tatiana's perfume in the motel. Anastasia gasped, so surprised to see them after all this time.

"Is everything alright, Anastasia?" Svetlana asked.

"Do you have an emerald brooch, Maxim?" Anastasia pondered. She had to make sure that it was really them.

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