Princess for Hire (16 page)

Newspaper cutouts about Karl and his family were pasted onto the pages, along with dried flowers and photographs of Elsa and Karl from childhood to their early teens. There were also drawings of Karl’s hands, his family crest, and a tree swing with “Our tree” written underneath.

The sweetest things were the notes. They started off simple, the
Do you like me? Check yes or no
variety, but over the years, Karl and Elsa had written more—shared more in their letters. The most recent was dated over a year ago. Karl had even written—get this—
poetry
for Elsa. The last poem read:

Those golden braids

Are just like you

So complex, yet so simple

Beautiful and steady

They’re also like us

Me and you

Parts divided, overlapping

But that third piece

It surrounds us

Keeps us apart

If we can cut it

Then it will just be

Me and you

Forever

Then there were a few months of nothing—no pictures or letters. Finally, Elsa started keeping journal-style notes, beginning a few months back.

Today I was in the antique store with Nana Helga and saw these old gold cuff links with an engraved tree. They were so Karl, I didn’t care that they cost me nearly all of my savings (which was only about thirty euros, but anyway). Nana would kill me if she knew, but I sent them to Karl with a little “Thinking of you” note. And I wrote
love
at the end. Not I love you. Just love. That’s okay, right?

A week later:

Was that stalkerlike of me to send those cuff links? We haven’t talked in forever, but that never mattered before. And I know he likely has a million pairs of cuff links, but…it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Anyway, I just haven’t heard from him. I’d hoped it would be a good reconnection of sorts. Maybe he threw away the envelope and doesn’t have my return address? Or the palace mail carrier hasn’t delivered them yet?

Another week later:

Still nothing. I know he was at an event for Africa Is Hungry last weekend, so maybe he’s busy. I love that about him—he’s always contributing to all these causes and he’s so passionate about them! I wish I could be a part of it. I even mentioned to Nana how much I’d like to help out. When she made fun of charities, I tried to think of something smaller, something local, like starting a new soup kitchen. At this point, I’d be happy to attend a charity polo match! Anything to get out of the house! But Nana Helga shouted a big N-O. It’s such a waste that I just sit here in this house. If I was real royalty, not whatever-I-am-now, I would really change things, you know? I want to matter.

A month later:

I heard from my old friend Petrina. She said she’d heard a rumor at her school about Karl and some girl. And if it’s true then I guess that explains why I never heard back from him. My heart…it’s breaking. It’s broken.

My heart broke
for
her. Maybe because I kind of…
was
her. I could totally see us being friends. Just like me, she wanted something bigger. And she had liked a guy—Prince Karl—forever. Pretty much a royal version of my Hayden thing, except there was no evidence of a dunk-tank disaster in her book.

There weren’t any posts about Elsa on the message board, so I put in an inquiry on the General Quick Tips thread.

LostLoveFound?: Hey, apparently Elsa is friends with Prince Karl and there is a rumor swirling around about another girl. Any hints who she is? Because three’s a crowd, if you know what I mean!

My answer came quickly.

ALittleBird: There’s all sorts of stuff on the Karl thread. Check out this link and here’s a pic that might help. Who is Elsa anyway? Some Level One?

The picture—grainy and taken from far away, no doubt by a paparazzo—showed Karl on a yacht in those yucky boxer-brief swim trunks, lying next to a bikini-clad girl with a towel covering her face.

I clicked on the Karl link to figure out who the girl was.

SinkMySub34: The girl in the Karl picture is definitely Duchess Olivia. She’s actually a sweet gig if you can get it—sunbathing on a yacht all day in the Mediterranean, wearing dental-floss bikinis. So question: are they dating?

LetThemEatCake: Yep. I can tell you firsthand Olivia is dating Prince Karl and has an interview coming out where she confirms it. I think it’s mostly an image thing, but she wants her subs playing it up big-time now. I mean, wear an I ♥ PRINCE KARL! shirt big-time. And can you believe her bikinis?

Ah, so…all that “you’re the sweetest girl” and “I wanted to do this in person” stuff was Karl trying to tell me about the Duchess of Dental Floss. And if Elsa knew the whole story, oh man. She would be even more crushed.

Meredith said to contact her with an emergency. Yeah well, there was no way the manual covered
love triangles
! I sent her a short e-mail:

Meredith,

I need your help. This prince just popped into town. I’m not sure what his intentions are, but Elsa’s known him forever. She’s in love with him, but he has a girlfriend.…What should I do?

—Desi

Within moments of sending, a message pinged in my inbox.

MAIL DELIVERY FAILURE: Princess mail temporarily unavailable. Your message cannot be sent.

Well, I guess my choice was made for me. I couldn’t let Elsa down; I’d just figured out how to impact. Sorry, Princey. You aren’t getting rid of these golden braids that easily.

Prince Karl’s thin nose and close-cropped brown hair flashed in my mind. It’d be nice if he were at least cute. Or Prince Barrett. But whatever. He didn’t really have anything to do with me. This was all Elsa. Get Prince Charming for the lost princess and get out.

Easy peasy.

Chapter
18

T
he brunch invite came the next morning via a footman. Okay, maybe he wasn’t a footman. A royal worker of some sort. But footman sounds so cool, right? Almost as cool as being invited to brunch. And, seriously, this had to mean Karl felt something for Elsa. I’d seen the way he looked at her. And they had so much
history
.

Unless this brunch was just a private place for him to give her the royal boot. In which case, I would be all charms, all sweetness. Not to mention I planned on putting Elsa’s classic beauty to good use. I realized love issues might be one of the hardest ways to impact, because there’s only so much you can control, but it was a fight any screen siren would gallantly take on. I would channel my inner Grace Kelly. No guy could resist that.

My plan was quickly nixed when Nana Helga snuck up on me and read the invitation.

“What is THAT?”

I hid the paper behind my back. “What?”

“This.” She grabbed the paper and held it up between her purple polished nails.

“Um, an invitation. To brunch. Really quality paper, huh?”

Nana Helga ripped the paper in half and tossed it on the coffee table.

I folded my arms. Whoa, okay, so Nana needed some impacting of her own. This whole forcing-Elsa-not-to-beroyal thing was not jiving with me. Why deprive her granddaughter of all those opportunities just because she’s some bitter grump? Elsa had mentioned a polo match. At the very least I would get that girl to a polo match.

“Nana. Come on.”

“Either that boy is persistent, or you didn’t give him the brush-off.”

“I know. But we’re friends.” I picked up the shreds of paper so I could save it for Elsa’s Karl book. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“You’re not going.”

“Please? Please, you never let me do anything. And you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for something exciting like this! And Karl’s very…” I grasped for a word. Serious? Brooding? Awkward? “Polite. It’s not like I’m asking to go to a gala. It’s just brunch.
Please
?”

“We are not even discussing this.” Her face and hair meshed together into one mad flame. “Go to your room.”

I stormed upstairs and slammed the door behind me. This was so unfair to Elsa. Plus, I’d been waiting for a sub adventure like this since I’d signed on the magical line. I couldn’t impact while sitting in this stupid bedroom in this tiny house.

No crotchety grandma was going to stop me.

I raked through Elsa’s wardrobe. Let’s see, I could wear a blue shirt with khakis. Or a gray shirt with khakis. Or a grayish blue shirt…with khakis. There was that white dress suit, but no way would that work. Unless…

I yanked it out of the closet and held it up to Elsa in the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t as old as I thought. The jacket, shoulder pads and all, had to go, but the sheath dress was decent. I slid it over my head. Whoa, I/she/we actually looked pretty hot. All I needed to do was hem it, and it’d be the perfect white summer dress. Easy enough. I paired it with some simple sandals and Nana’s antique yellow shawl that was straight vintage glamour. It matched Elsa’s blond hair, which I could let out of its braids and…Ooh! Elsa had those gorgeous sapphire earrings and locket.…

I beamed at Elsa in the mirror. I could do this. Forget the evil Nana; Elsarella was totally going to the ball.

Five minutes before eleven, I stepped into the kitchen. Nana Helga’s head was bent over a large pot of cabbage soup. Closing her eyes, she took a taste from the cracked wooden spoon and nodded.

I tiptoed past her toward the door.

“Elsa. Don’t.”

I spun around slowly. “I have to go.”

“I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I’m going to brunch with a prince, Nana Helga. It’s a total no-brainer.”

Finally, Helga turned around. Her face softened when she saw me. “Is that the dress you wore to the symphony with your mother and me? Vivaldi. She loved Vivaldi.” She swallowed. “And those earrings…I thought you’d stopped wearing those to spite me.”

I tugged at my earlobe. “I love these earrings.”

“They’re one of the only things I kept from my grandmother. I always thought they matched your eyes.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, they never did much for me.” She went back to stirring her soup. “If you leave this house, you’ll regret it. Truly.”

“I’ll regret it more if I don’t.” I walked purposefully out the front door before Nana Helga could say anything else. Surprised she didn’t follow me, I clicked the door shut. Well, she hadn’t locked me in a tower. That had to be progress.

Karl said he’d send a “car or something,” but he’d obviously used that term very loosely because there was actually a limo parked just outside the house. No “something” about it. One of his bodyguards stepped out and opened my door for me.

“My lady,” he said.

I dipped into an awkward curtsy before sliding into the car.

Which had a flat screen.

And a bar.

And room for twenty.

I folded my hands in my lap, determined not to explore the interior wonders. That’s what a common girl would do. Actually, they’d probably open the sunroof to behold the Alps while lounging on the leather (massaging!) seats.

I wasn’t going to be the OH-MY-GOSH-I’VENEVER-BEEN-IN-A-LIMO girl.

Oh, and surround-sound speakers.

It was the longest car ride of my life.

I should have known, of course, that “summer house” really translated to
Pride and Prejudice
–style MANOR complete with a mile-long front lawn and a stone nymph fountain. I was so focused on looking like I belonged that I didn’t get intimidated until we walked into the front entryway.

The driver led me in and introduced me to a butler, who took my shawl and hung it in a closet underneath the left staircase. (Yeah, left. Meaning there was a
right
staircase, both with slide-worthy banisters.) Life-size portraits of Karl and his family—father, mother, and older brother—hung where the staircases split. Karl looked like he was posing for an outdated JCPenney catalog. Seriously, I bet if you turned to the school uniform section, he’d be there, hair combed to the side and every crease annoyingly pressed.

Barrett, on the other hand, somehow managed to look cool and gorgeous in his military uniform. And I was maybe going to meet him!

Stay focused, Desi. You’re here to impact, which means being as charming as possible so Karl will be smitten once again and Elsa can come home to her lost love.

My escort led me down the wide hallway, portraits of dead royals following us as we walked. “His Highness is in the entertainment room.” He motioned toward a closed door. “Brunch will be served shortly.”

I gingerly placed my fingers on the doorknob. Wait, wasn’t I supposed to be announced?

I didn’t have to press my ear against the door to hear the voices. There had to be five people behind there, and they were all shouting. Violently.

Was the family fighting over my invite? Maybe Nana Helga was right. I was way out of my league and I should just…

Stop it.

It’s brunch.

Brunch with a high-school-aged prince who thought I was an older and wiser sort-of princess.

I shook the handle as a warning before turning it slowly. When the door opened, the sound was amplified by a few thousand decibels. Rock music.