Fit for a Queen

by Nicole Burnham

  “Good idea. It’s worth a try.” Certainly better than waiting the better part of an hour. Besides, he liked walking. He imagined when he was old, he’d be one of those gray-haired men who shuffled around the neighborhood, telling everyone he was “getting air” while they looked at him in concern and asked each other if they should call a family member to retrieve him. It was one reason he’d enjoyed his time in Guatemala. He’d spent nearly every waking hour on his feet.

  Daniela, though, probably wasn’t used to hiking around a jungle, even the concrete variety. He made a show of looking at her sneakers. They were the trendy, white canvas type, their pristine laces an indication that she’d bought them for the trip. “Those are comfortable enough?”

  “I’ve worn them all week, no problem. I can handle another kilometer or two. More, if necessary. At home in Sarcaccia, I walk three kilometers each way to university, and that’s with a heavy backpack. This is easy.” She swung an arm to indicate that they should get going, and they fell into step on the wide sidewalk. “Plus, this is flat. Sarcaccia isn’t.”

  “Sarcaccia is one of the few European countries I haven’t visited,” he admitted. “Closest I’ve been is Naples. I’m fascinated by the royal family and the island’s traditions, though. Not many true monarchies left, but the Barrali family have made it work. I saw an article a few weeks ago that ranked Sarcaccia as one of the happiest countries in the world.”

  Her expression lit. “I do love it. The food is amazing, it has a rich history, and the government does a lot to encourage preservation of the old buildings. The area around the university in Cateri is an architect’s dream. Leave the city and there are wineries, hiking trails, isolated swimming holes…the water is a stunning shade of blue. It’s gorgeous.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Have you ever been to Corsica? Sardinia?”

  “Corsica.”

  “Then you have a good idea. The interior of Sarcaccia is a lot like the interior of Corsica. On the other hand, I’ve never been to San Rimini. You’d think with it being so close, I’d have made it there. But the closest I’ve been is Venice. I imagine they’re quite different places.”

  “Been to Monaco?”

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  “Then you have a good idea. Imagine Monaco with Italian as the primary language instead of French, and you’ll have San Rimini. Casinos, fancy shopping, royal family, and all. San Rimini even has a great aquarium. If you can afford it, it’s a wonderful place to live.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  He lifted one shoulder, then let it drop. “I wouldn’t say I miss it, necessarily, but I feel like I haven’t run out of things to do. It’s a great spot to be if you want to explore the rest of Europe. San Rimini is the longest my parents have lived anywhere. I was sixteen when we moved there from The Hague.”

  “Oh, wow. You lived in The Hague? I’m jealous,” she said, skipping over a broken flip flop that’d been left behind on the sidewalk. “The bicycle culture appeals to me. Sarcaccia is so hilly, bicycles aren’t practical. But the Netherlands, Denmark, northern Germany…I love seeing the bicycles whenever I have the chance to visit. And The Hague has so much to see and do, with Leiden and Amsterdam right at your doorstep.”

  “My father loves Leiden.”

  “Mine, too.” Her voice grew wistful. “I’ve been fortunate. I grew up near a rural village called Lescailles. It’s an easy drive from Cateri, so we could go to town on the weekends if we wanted. My parents are both history teachers, so during the summers, if they weren’t tutoring, we’d take the ferry over to Italy and start driving. Just go wherever the roads took us. I hated it when I was little—I felt like I was losing time with my friends during the summer—but as I grew older, I came to appreciate it. Once my parents started asking my opinion about where we should go, I started to look forward to it.”

  They talked like that for another ten minutes, recounting their travels, which countries and customs appealed, which places they had no desire to visit again, and their shared experience as only children of parents with serious cases of wanderlust. It was safe conversation, but fascinating. The fact he’d traveled so much wasn’t a topic he discussed with many people. Those who knew him didn’t give him the pitying looks he’d mentioned to Daniela earlier, as if he were a man without roots, but he never wanted to come off as privileged or a know-it-all, either. With Daniela, though, the discussion felt natural. Neither of them were bragging; it felt more like comparing notes. Learning what they’d missed, remembering details they’d each forgotten—such as a particularly gruesome statue in Vienna or a good people-watching spot in Paris—and recounting travel disasters.

  As they spoke, he found himself growing more and more attracted to her. Daniela was easy on the eyes, of course. He’d spotted her in the mass of dancers on the floor and taken note of her bright smile and the careful manner in which she’d pinned her long, blonde hair on top of her head so she’d stay cooler in the overheated space, when nearly every other female wore a haphazard bun. But there were dozens of gorgeous women in the club. He’d admired more than one while nursing his beer and listening to the DJ entertain the crowd.

  There was more to Daniela than her appearance. Looks alone wouldn’t have compelled him to speak when he’d noticed her sitting on the bench outside, then perusing the bus schedule. There was an undefinable quality to her that piqued his interest. He’d wondered about it even after she’d misread the bus schedule and they started walking.

  Once they’d covered a few blocks, he finally identified it.

  Independence. Daniela was independent. But hers wasn’t an independence that shouted, one that said, look at me, I’m different. It was an independence that appeared in more subtle ways.

  While her clothing was feminine and pretty, which was typical for spring breakers on a night out, she wore shorts and sneakers with her lacy top, rather than the ubiquitous spaghetti-strap dress and sandals. She’d enjoyed time at the bar with her friends, but was comfortable leaving on her own.

  She also seemed genuinely curious while talking to him, asking thoughtful questions, and actually listening to his answers.

  He hadn’t felt this relaxed with a female in a long time. Oh, he’d done the casual, get-acquainted chat so many times it was second nature. But he hadn’t felt this engaged in a conversation. Perhaps that explained his desire to walk closer to Daniela’s side, to lean in when she talked, to want the distance between hotels to stretch farther.

  “Did you study ecology or engineering?” she asked. “Is that what drew you to fix roads in Guatemala?”

  “Neither. I majored in political science with a focus on international security, and picked up a minor in physics.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “That’s an odd combination. A military career would explain the international security bit. But why physics? Weaponry?”

  “Good guess, but no. I did it completely for fun. Once I finished the basic classes, my electives were astrophysics.” He aimed his index finger skyward. “Stargazing.”

  “Carl Sagan and Neil DeGrasse Tyson territory.”

  “You’ve read them?”

  “No, but I know a little about their work.” She started to say something else, but it was lost as a taxi made an abrupt stop at the curb and two students spilled out. The first landed on his knees. A friend stepped out behind him, swaying as he did so, then pulled the fallen guy to his feet. “Come on, Kyle,” the second student mumbled as he gestured for the driver to wait. “Let it out and you’ll feel better.”

  Daniela and Royce kept walking. When they were a dozen steps beyond the vehicle, the sound of retching came to their ears. She looked at Royce and made a face. “Taxi driver won’t feel better.”

  “At least they made it out of the car. Wouldn’t want that mess in the back seat.”

  “No driver is paid well enough for that.”

  Another taxi zipped by them, then turned into a wide drive that wound past a mas
s of palms and tropical flowers. “That’s the entrance to Le Blanc,” Daniela said. “Maybe we can catch that taxi?”

  They increased their pace. When they reached the front of the building, however, the driver told them he was already overdue for his next pickup and wouldn’t be able to take them. His suggestion was to wait and hope for a driver who wasn’t due to answer a call—which he didn’t think was likely—or see if the hotel might have an employee available to make a van transport.

  Daniela thanked the driver, but Royce could tell from her face that Daniela shared his lack of optimism. Either option was a long shot, and taking a hotel van would likely cost as much as an airport transfer. Not cheap.

  A group of students approached, each clutching new T-shirts indicating they’d come from a concert venue not far from the dance club where Daniela and Royce spent the evening. A tiny brunette in a pink floral sundress asked Daniela, “You miss the bus, too?”

  At Daniela’s nod, one of the guys chimed in, “Miscalculation on our part to stay for the encore, but it was quicker to walk than wait for a taxi.”

  “Let’s try the next hotel,” Royce suggested after the group wished them good night and entered the lobby. “You good to go?”

  “Sure.”

  Unfortunately, they faced a similar situation at the next two hotels. When they reached a third, Daniela stopped walking, put her hands to her hips, and angled her head toward its long driveway. “We’re adding kilometers every time we walk one of these, you know.”

  He knew. He withdrew his phone and clicked redial. “We may as well get on the waitlist.”

  “Or we could suck it up and walk.”

  “It’s a long way.”

  “Or a long wait.” She eyed his footwear. “Unless your shoes are getting uncomfortable—”

  He liked that she’d grown comfortable enough to tease him. “Let’s go.”

  A wash of cool air came off the water, giving them a boost of energy as they continued. He looked over his shoulder briefly, taking in the length of the boulevard behind them. Few pedestrians were in sight.

  “We’ve talked about my studies,” he said. “What about yours? What year are you?”

  “A senior. Double major in accounting and organizational studies. This is my last full semester, but I have a research project to finish before I graduate. I’ll do that in Sarcaccia over the summer.”

  “Plans after that?”

  She shook her head. “I had a meeting with the placement office at the University of Cateri before I left for Michigan. I’m hoping for a position with one of the major accounting firms in Sarcaccia, though I’d be open to moving to Naples. It all depends on the job. I’m trying to focus on good long-term possibilities. Positions with room for advancement.”

  There was a note in her voice he hadn’t heard before, one that made him ask, “But?”

  “But what?”

  “You sound like it’s what you think you should do. Not necessarily what you want to do.”

  She cocked her head. “I’m the type of person who naturally sees inefficiencies and can fix them. I’m good at bringing order to chaos, whether it’s finances, scheduling…you name it. I worked part time as a hostess in a family restaurant last year, and I ended up helping the owner reorganize the way he ordered his supplies to save money and make deliveries more efficient. He was really happy with the changes. In the long run, I’d love a job where I’m in charge of organizing complex projects. Accounting is a good place to start.”

  “What comes naturally and what interests you aren’t necessarily the same thing. Does accounting interest you?” Perhaps she had a passion she hadn’t pursued. One that was her equivalent of astrophysics.

  “I’ve never thought of it in terms of interest. I won’t know until I start working full time, but think I could be happy doing it for a while, if that’s what you mean.” A devilish look entered her eye. “It’s embarrassing to admit, but I feel a sneaky pride when I get the highest grade on a project or exam. I’m perfectly calm on the outside, but mentally I’m pumping my fist. I’m sure I’d feel the same way fixing a thorny issue for a client. Starting in accounting would give me a chance to prove myself, and I’d have a broader goal to work toward.”

  “Then why the hesitation over a job with an accounting firm? And don’t deny that you’re hesitant.”

  A frown dashed across her face, there and gone as if carried away on the breeze. They passed another hotel entrance and a large kilometer marker before she spoke. “Last week, I received a phone call from the director of the placement office. She told me that the head of the palace’s household staff contacted them with a list of criteria for an open position and asked if they had any students nearing graduation who fit. Apparently the list was quite specific.”

  “What’s the position?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He raised a brow at that. “What were the criteria?”

  “I don’t know that, either. Apparently the placement director wasn’t permitted to share. But out of the thirty-five hundred or so students graduating at the end of the semester, four fit.”

  “Four? Must have been some list.” He looked sideways at her. “And you’re one of them.”

  Glossy plants laden with red flowers lined the walk on this section. Hazy landscape lights aimed at the underside of the thick leaves cast a glow bright enough for Royce to see Daniela’s face color in a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “I’m one of them.”

  In that moment, he fell a little bit in love.

  Chapter 5

  Whoa. A knot lodged in Royce’s throat and he swallowed past it. Where in the hell had that sentiment come from?

  Infatuation wasn’t his style. If she knew his thoughts, he’d be the embarrassed one. He certainly hadn’t had that much to drink.

  “The criteria could be anything,” Daniela said, brushing off the point he’d made in his tone if not with his exact words, a point that said, if there are only four, you’ve cleared a very high bar. “It could be a combination of classes we’ve taken, places we’ve worked or volunteered. We could’ve been chosen based on height or eye color or astrological sign, for all I know. But of the four, one already has a job, so that leaves three.”

  “Those are good odds.”

  Daniela nodded. “The director of the placement office is in regular contact with the palace, since they regularly hire service personnel from the university, but she’s never had a request like this. She told me it could be a good opportunity and urged me to apply.”

  Royce thought about that. “Perhaps it’s an accounting position within the royal household? I could see why they’d keep their search focused for a position like that, and why they’d want someone right out of school. They could train you according to whatever system they use.”

  “That was my first thought. I haven’t worked for any of Sarcaccia’s large accounting firms or for the government, so I wouldn’t have any conflicts of interest, which must be a frequent concern for them.” She raised a hand, then let it drop. “I got excited, thinking that’s what it must be. Working in accounting for the royal family would be amazing. It would give me connections I could use to move into broader positions. Then I learned that the other two students who fit the criteria aren’t accounting majors. They aren’t even business majors. So it’s all a mystery.”

  “Why not interview and find out?”

  She took a misstep at an uneven spot on the sidewalk. Royce caught her elbow, but she’d already regained her balance. After a brief look of gratitude for his assistance, she said, “Two reasons. First, the interview is at the palace and it’s the same day that NBS—the National Bank of Sarcaccia—holds on-campus interviews for seniors. I couldn’t interview for both.”

  “The bank doesn’t interview otherwise?”

  “The other on-campus dates are while I’m still at Michigan. It’s extremely competitive. I’m sure I could ask for an off-campus interview, but even if they agreed, asking for special ar
rangements doesn’t give the best first impression.”

  That made sense. “What about other employers?”

  “There are several who come to campus. I’d be back in time to interview with them. Most don’t have positions as appealing as those at NBS, though. The NBS training program is one of the best in the world, and there are opportunities for advancement and to move from division to division if my interests change. It’s also about as secure a job as one can get. If I interview for the palace job, I could probably kiss an opportunity at NBS goodbye.”

  She liked security. Predictability. Most people did. He couldn’t blame her for that.

  “All right, that’s the first reason. What’s the second?”

  “Sarcaccia’s royal palace employs a lot of people. Everyone from cooks to gardeners to maintenance workers. People whose sole job is to maintain seasonal decorations—”

  “Seasonal decorations?”

  She flashed a lopsided grin. “One of my roommates’ cousins works in seasonal decoration. If there’s a holiday, there’s a palace event for it—probably multiple events for it—and that means appropriate decor. In any case, while most of the jobs at the palace are steady and offer good benefits, they don’t exactly provide room to advance and grow. I need a challenge. Goals. Something to aspire to. Not many positions offer that.”

  “I doubt many positions are so specialized that only four people out of an entire graduating class fit the bill to even interview.”