Chapter 21 - 21: Meeting Diana’s AdmirerChapter 21: Meeting Diana''s Admirer

    "Wait... you spent the evening with Diana?"

    "Diana, the former Princess of Wales?"

    "Yes, Aunt Nancy—the very same. You might want to close your mouth before your jaw hits the floor!"

    Ignoring Martin''s teasing, Nancy asked again, "Are you absolutely sure? It wasn''t some impersonator?"

    "Oh, come on, Aunt Nancy. I''m not blind! Besides, she invited me up after hearing my song. She didn''t even know who I was."

    "Hmm, that makes sense..." Nancy murmured, pondering aloud. "Martin''s new to London; he''s not famous here yet. I doubt anyone would go to such elaborate lengths just to trick him. Especially by renting a presidential suite..."

    "So, it''s really Diana."

    "As real as it gets! No one else could carry that royal elegance."

    Nancy finally seemed to accept it, though she remained astonished. "And what did you talk about? Why did Diana... I mean, Miss Diana... offer to help you with an album?"

    "Please call her Miss Diana," Martin corrected gently. "She doesn''t like being addressed as ''Princess'' anymore."

    "Well, now I believe it really was her," Nancy said, chuckling.

    Martin then recounted their conversation, telling Nancy about his evening with Diana. As he did, a delighted smile spread across her face.

    "Oh my gosh, Martin! You''ve won over Princess Diana! Wait, I mean... Miss Diana. And she actually said she''d help you with an album?"

    "Not quite, Aunt Nancy. She said she''d consider introducing me to someone who might help. She hasn''t decided yet; she''ll give me an answer tomorrow."

    Nancy hardly seemed to hear him, caught up in her excitement. "I''ve decided! Tomorrow, the film crew will have the day off. I''m coming with you to meet Diana."

    "Wait, what?" Martin started, but Nancy was already planning ahead.

    "You''re just a child, Martin! You''ll need an adult with you for these sorts of discussions," she said, dismissing his protests.

    She began pacing the room, muttering to herself.

    "Let''s see... I''ll need a suitable dress, and a camera... Oh, and a pen for her autograph. Maybe a small gift, too. First impressions are important..."

    She continued rambling, brainstorming outfit choices. "Maybe I should stop by Oxford Street for something appropriate in the morning..."

    Martin watched in bemusement. It was official: Aunt Nancy was a die-hard Diana fan.

    ...

    True to her word, Nancy announced a surprise day off for the film crew that evening. The next day, she gleefully took Martin on a shopping spree down Oxford Street.

    Just buying one dress? Not a chance.

    Once Nancy started shopping, there was no stopping her. By the time they returned, the car they had rented was loaded with bags, leaving Nancy thoroughly pleased and Martin thoroughly exhausted.

    Shopping with a woman is more exhausting than a full day on set, Martin thought as he dragged himself inside.

    ...

    That evening, Nancy accompanied Martin upstairs to Diana''s suite.

    But when they reached Diana''s door, all traces of Nancy''s usual professional poise vanished. Instead, she practically morphed into a fangirl, bubbling with excitement.

    "Oh my gosh, Miss Diana! I never imagined you were staying right above us!"

    Diana, amused, explained, "I returned quietly to London this time. After the divorce, I couldn''t handle the media and paparazzi. They''ve caused enough trouble—I don''t want them interfering with my work."

    Diana''s tone grew serious as she spoke, recalling her experiences with the relentless English tabloids.

    After the divorce, she''d discovered the full extent of their intrusiveness—one of her bodyguards had even found three listening devices hidden in her hotel room.

    Turning back to Nancy, Diana asked curiously, "And you are...?"

    "Oh, I''m so sorry! I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Nancy Meyers, Martin''s aunt and the producer and director of the film he''s currently working on."

    "Ah, a strong woman in the industry—what an honor!" Diana''s eyes brightened with genuine admiration.

    Diana had always supported women''s independence, both financially and personally, so she held those who made names for themselves in high regard.

    Nancy and Diana quickly fell into an easy conversation.

    Nancy discovered that, away from the media, Diana was far more approachable and relaxed. There was none of the rigid formality that the press usually associated with her.

    What she didn''t realize was that Diana was usually reserved around strangers. She was treating Nancy warmly out of fondness for Martin, whom she had taken an instant liking to.

    When Nancy and Martin finally took their leave, Diana was already referring to Nancy as a friend.

    "I never imagined that the princess would be so easygoing—so down-to-earth," Nancy gushed as they walked back to their suite.

    "Oh, I took so many photos with her! I''ll definitely enlarge a few and hang them in my office."

    "Would you believe it? Miss Diana and I both love purple, Chinese tea, and Jamaican coffee. We''re practically kindred spirits!"

    Martin raised an eyebrow at his aunt''s enthusiasm. Has Aunt Nancy gone a bit too far with this "soulmate" idea? She''s practically forgetting that they''re both women!

    Eventually, Nancy remembered the real purpose of their visit. "Oh, Diana gave me a business card! I didn''t even look at it yet."

    "Well, you were busy chatting about combining film and charity," Martin teased. "It''s in the inner right pocket of your coat."

    "Right, yes... Ah, here it is! Let''s see... a music producer—Grant Brooks. Oh, what a coincidence! He shares a name with your father!"

    Martin found it amusing how his aunt''s excitement kept making her miss the little details. She went from "Miss Diana" to just "Diana" rather fast. Do they really need to be on a first-name basis already?

    But as for the coincidence of the music producer''s name matching his father''s, Martin barely gave it a second thought. In the West, shared names were exceedingly common. Shout "John" in England, "Hans" in Germany, "Enrique" in Spain, or "Charles" in France, and half the town might respond.

    "Just a few more days, and we''ll wrap up the London shoot. We''ll go meet Mr. Brooks right after."

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