Princess for Hire (15 page)

Meredith snapped her head down and flicked her fingers across her keyboard, Mozart-style. “We’ve been here for a minute already, and you’re about two away from changing.”

“I know, but maybe it’d be good for our relationship—”

She stood and pointed at the bubble wall. “Worry less about me and more about your job. And if you have an emergency the manual can’t explain, my e-mail is in your address book. But don’t get caught! Now, shoo! My gosh! It’s like talking to a drunk duke or something.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.” I burst through the bubble, which was still hovering a few feet above the ground. A mound of horse manure softened my fall.

Not a very royal entrance.

Chapter
16

L
uckily, no one saw my arrival. No one except the chipper animals frolicking in the meadow. That’s right—little squirrels chattering in harmony with bees buzzing and songbirds singing. And the meadow blanketed a sloping hill in purple and yellow wildflowers for miles and miles. Funny I would land in a pile of manure in the middle of such perfection. Meredith must have planned a little welcome-back present. At least my hands were clean.

But it was hard to stay mad when there was fresh sunshine beating down on my mountain maiden face. I stood there for a moment enjoying the warmth while I transformed into Elsa. My hair formed into golden blond braids, my clothes into khaki shorts and a simple blue top. I felt my face, knowing without seeing that I/Elsa was beautiful.

When I was completely Elsa-ized, I had the giddy desire to sing
The Sound of Music
song about the hills being alive and my heart being…Oh man, I couldn’t remember the words. My heart dances like the wind? No, um, sings like a…songbird?

Anyway, here I was, probably in the same spot they’d filmed that movie. I threw back my head, raised my arms, and allowed the inner Julie Andrews in me to explode.

Thirty dizzying seconds later, the hills
were
alive with the sound of music. Well, not really music. I’m a pretty good singer, but Elsa was close to tone-deaf.

“Ach! Did you swallow a swallow? What’s that horrible sound?”

A woman with poofy dyed red hair and lipstick to match frowned up at me. She picked her way up the hill in fuzzy lime flip-flops and a floral print blouse that blew in the Alpine breeze, blending into the landscape about as well as Meredith would in Idaho.

“Oh!” I flopped to the ground. Elsa’s profile info did not quite do Nana Helga justice.

“What’s with the dancing?” she asked.

“Twirling. I thought I was alone.”

Nana Helga sniffed the air. “Smells like you were twirling in horse manure. Go shower. I need to get down to the village so we can pick up my heart pills.”

We headed down the hill toward what I could only guess was my home for however long Meredith had sent me here. The porch sagged, and one of the window shutters hung from a hinge. It took my eyes a bit to adjust once I’d ducked inside. The living room was filled with antiques—not fancy royal antiques, just furniture that had never been replaced. And there wasn’t much of it, much of anything. It was as if Nana Helga had removed anything that might pass for royal in her pursuit to shun her past.

Great. I bet I wouldn’t even have a hair dryer here.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Nana Helga nudged me toward the stairs. “My heart’s going to stop if we don’t leave soon. You smell like a cow. Go wash up.”

Elsa’s bathroom was right at the top of the stairs. Chipped tile and cracked plaster, Victorian-style fixtures, with an oval-shaped mirror hanging over a tiny porcelain sink. I showered and toweled off quickly, then carefully rebraided Elsa’s long blond hair.

The face looking back at me in the mirror seemed to belong in a fairy tale book: delicate and glowing without any makeup. And I know this doesn’t make sense, because it was me inside of there, but somehow I could tell that Elsa was sad. I felt her sadness—in a way it belonged to me too. She had circles under her eyes and tiny worry lines in her forehead. This was a girl who needed some impact. But why? And how?

I got my first clue when I came back downstairs. Nana Helga, who clearly was color-blind, wore mismatched shoes—the left one, road-sign orange; the right, green with tiny flowers. I had no idea if Elsa would point something like this out but…who wouldn’t? It was so
wrong
.

“Nana, are you sure you want to wear those shoes?” I asked carefully.

Nana Helga squinted down at her feet then broke into a nutty cackle. “Don’t you like my look? Haven’t you heard? This is all the rage in Paris!”

I bit my lip. She didn’t need to be rude. I was just trying to help.

“Quick, call the paparazzi! Post it in your
Royalty News
magazine. Another royal has made a fashion faux pas. The world will come to an end. Civilizations will crumble! Please, Elsa. Maybe I
like
to wear mismatched shoes. Proves how little I care about all those elitist buffoons.”

I tried not to look stunned. Elsa was probably used to such outbursts. Poor girl. “Sorry.”

On the way out, I grabbed a gardening magazine from the three-legged coffee table (not the top of it. The fourth leg
was
a stack of magazines) so I could pretend to read it and hopefully disguise the fact that I had no idea where we were going. Nana Helga hobbled ahead of me, muttering to herself under her breath.

The more time I spent with Nana Helga, the clearer it became that she and Elsa were not in the habit of holding hands and enjoying quality time together. More than anything, Helga seemed determined to annoy and embarrass her granddaughter as much as possible.

Although the magazine helped minimize conversation with Nana Helga (and taught me the best time to plant daffodil bulbs), it kept me from taking in the full beauty of the village. I tried to stay focused and not stare at the rustic storefronts and quaint farmers’ market, all things Elsa would be wholly familiar with and so uninterested in exploring.

As soon as we walked into the village pharmacy, Nana waddled straight to the counter at the back. “Hey, Edgar, those pills won’t pour themselves.”

I left the two of them to chat and browsed a chocolate aisle the size of Hershey, Pennsylvania.

Almonds or no almonds? Truffles? Hazelnuts? Oh, wait. Elsa doesn’t like nuts. At least she didn’t have braces. Bingo. Caramel.

I automatically dug into my pockets. Great. Of course I was subbing for the penniless princess when I finally beheld European chocolate Nirvana. Sighing, I put the sweet bar of goodness back on the shelf.

“How much do you need?” asked a male, accented voice.

I whirled around. In front of me was Prince Karl of Fenmar. THE Prince Karl, the younger brother of the hottest man alive, Prince Barrett. Here. In Elsa’s village. Staring at my frozen hand and smiling tentatively.

“Well? How much?”

“I…I…Three…three…euros? But it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He held out the money, his gold cuff links catching the light. “No, really. It’s the least I can do for an old friend. Come now, Elsa. Aren’t you going to say hello?”

Of all the awkward subbing moments, figuring out how Elsa knew Prince Karl and how
well
she knew him was the worst. Well, after dancing half naked. And, okay, the roly-poly incident.

I took the money out of his still-outstretched hand and smiled. “Thanks. Uh…it’s good to see you. How…are you?”

“Brilliant. I saw you across the village square and thought I’d stop in and say hello.” Prince Karl cast his dark eyes around the store. “This whole village is a massive mob.”

I looked around the store. It was nearly empty, but there was a huge crowd gathered outside the window, watching us. “I know. What’s with that? You’d swear they’ve never seen two people buying a candy bar before.”

He nodded eagerly. “Good form, Elsa. Yes. Yes, just buying a candy, eh?”

I finally lowered my hand and shifted my weight, unsure if I’d made a wrong move. Was Elsa funny? Did Karl know her well enough to know her sense of humor? Was he teasing? Aside from Drake, I didn’t know any older guys.

“Listen, I’m here on holiday for a few days, and I’d really like for us to sit down and talk.” He scanned the store, looking for a seat. “Or not sit down.”

“No, it’s fine. We can stand, Your Highness.”

He startled. “Elsa, since when do you call me Your Highness?”

Uh-oh. Ugh! Why wasn’t there anything about this prince in Elsa’s bio? “Since…now?”

“Just Karl is fine.”

“Okay…Karl. What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Oh.” Karl ran a hand down his face. “Well, first off, how is everything? How is…your Nana Helga?”

We glanced at Nana Helga, who glowered back at us. “Friendly as ever,” I said.

“Yes. Quite right. And you? Have you been well? I’m sorry I haven’t…called. There are things I’ve wanted to say that I felt you deserved to hear in person.”

“Yes?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“What did you want to say?”

“Oh…um…well, let me just tell you I think you are wonderful. You know that, right? You’re an incredible friend and probably the sweetest girl I’ve met. Ever.”

So did they like each other? Was he asking her out, here? Or was he giving her the “friends” line because they used to be an item? Was this a breakup? I needed to get away and check the manual! “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

Karl was gazing at me. Taking in every line on Elsa’s face, like a silent movie actor who can’t say how he feels, and has to show it with his eyes. “Elsa, it’s always shocking to see how…You look nice.”

I looked down, uncomfortable. “Thanks. So was that it?”

He reached a hand out like he was going to touch me, and grabbed two caramel bars instead. “No. It’s not. Maybe this isn’t the best setting. I’d love for you to come visit our summer home.”

Come on, MP. Give me a clue what’s going on here.

“Wow, um…”

“It’s only Barrett and me. Mother and Father didn’t want him attending the wedding after his last escapade, so we came here last minute. Well, I’ve been hoping to come anyway, so this worked out. I’m my brother’s keeper, I suppose.” He smiled at the floor. “Perhaps you can help me.”

My eyes nearly popped out. ME! MEET PRINCE BARRETT!!!!! Whoa, whoa…and whoa. If I see Prince Barrett, I might have a heart attack. Or a heat stroke from all his hotness. I tried to contain my excitement. “That would be great!”

Prince Karl frowned in concentration. “When would be an appropriate time? I could send a car or something.”

Let’s see. Busy schedule back at the Casa AntiRoyal. “I can make time for you.”

“See? So sweet.” Prince Karl stared at me again, his expression edging on anguished, before turning away, suddenly hurried. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that we can finally talk. It’s been a long time coming.”

I followed him to the counter and handed his money to the openmouthed cashier.

“Thank you again,” I said.

“You’re welcome.” Karl did a quick little bow. “Enjoy your chocolate, Elsa. I’ll call you soon.”

He walked out of the store and into a mob of villagers, which swallowed all five and a half feet of him in seconds. Men in black suits swept in and ushered him into a limousine.

As the limo drove away, Nana Helga stormed up next to me. “Please tell me you didn’t just agree to see the Prince of Fenmar again.”

“I guess I just did.”

“Humph. You know how I feel about
those
people.” She folded her strong arms across her chest. “
Schatz
, I know you two were friends when you were kids, but you’re a big girl now. So why don’t you run out there and tell that boy to shove off?”

Whew-hoo-hoo. Issues, much? I doubted Elsa had any say when it came to “those people.” I surveyed Nana Helga. When you’re facing a hard wall, a few rocks aren’t going to shake it down. So instead of fighting it, I tried to find a way around. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m glad you finally get it. Your mother never did.”

I unwrapped the chocolate and took a delicious bite, but the sweetness couldn’t counteract Nana Helga’s bitterness. Looked like I’d have to go stealth on this job.

Chapter
17

W
hen we got back, Nana Helga tore open the frost-filled freezer and slapped two frozen dinners on the counter. “Cook these in the oven this time; it tastes better. And bring them into the TV room when they’re done.” Her polyester pants brushed together as she shuffled out of the room.

Yuck. Half-dark, half-white turkey meat. All natural, sodium free. I stuck them into the easy-bake-looking oven and poked around the kitchen for some real food. Goat cheese, apples, and old bread. Royal, if you’re living in the 1300s.

While “dinner” cooked, I ran upstairs to Elsa’s room. I’d learned from my Simmy experience that you could find out more about a person just snooping around than you could from those stupid profiles.

There wasn’t much to investigate. Elsa’s wardrobe was monochromatic—T-shirts and button-downs, all blue, white, or gray. Khakis in every color. One white floor-length dress with a matching jacket that probably hadn’t fit Elsa in years languished in the farthest corner of her closet. I fingered the stiff fabric, imagining what royal engagements, if any, Elsa had attended.

I bumped into her nicked dresser and heard a tinkling from inside the second drawer. Underneath a stack of neatly tucked white socks was a silver jewelry box, the kind locked behind glass doors in nice antique stores. A remnant of the royal days. But the real treasures were inside: pictures of Elsa with her mom, who was every bit as beautiful as her daughter; a fraying luncheon invitation dated five years back, bearing Prince Karl’s family crest; sapphire stud earrings and a silver oval-shaped locket. Eager for a clue, I carefully opened the oval, but it was empty.

I set the box and necklace on the dresser. Elsa’s privacy had officially been invaded already, so I thought I might as well go for the gold. I dropped down to my hands and knees and fumbled under her bed until I found an unassuming spiral notebook with I ♥ KARL scrawled in flowing print on the cover.