Part-time Princess

by Pamela DuMond

  Queen Cheree bit her lip.

  “I’m the one who needs help, Cheree.” King Frederick stood next to a huge, glossy BBQ. “I forgot the tongs! Please ring young Mr. Philips immediately before something burns.”

  Cheree nodded. “Yes, honey.” She pulled out her pocket cell and tapped the screen.

  “Cristoph, my beloved grandson.” The elderly woman rolled toward us.

  “Yes, Nana,” he said.

  I curtseyed again—right as the woman parked her walker on my foot. I heard a tiny ‘crack’, felt a painful zing and I winced. “Ow.” I remained sunk low in the fairly deep knee bend. It hurt too much to move.

  “My sincerest apologies,” she said. “I think I broke your foot.”

  “No problem.” Tears filled my eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Cristoph grabbed my arm.

  “Peachy.”

  “If you’re going to be in the royal Timmel family, you need to learn to speak up for yourself,” Nana said.

  “Fine.” I winced. “Could you back up a few inches please? I’d be eternally grateful. Your Most Gracious Grandmother.”

  “Much better.” She squinted up at me with her bright crystal blue eyes—the same color as Cristoph’s. She pinched my cheek but wouldn’t let go. “Pretty face. You can call me the Queen Mum. Or Your Royal Nana. Whatever you prefer.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Your Royal Nana.”

  “Happy to hear you have an opinion.” She reached around and slapped my ass.

  Which startled me from a frozen position back into a standing posture. “Ow!”

  “She has ample hips, Cristoph. Good for babies, and ever since the Kardashian debacle, everyone likes a decent toucas. She’ll photograph well. Is she any good in the sack?”

  Cristoph and I hacked and covered our mouths.

  Esmeralda coughed as well. “Goodness!” She exclaimed. “Seasonal allergies going around—must be that time of year.”

  I glanced at her as she mouthed the word ‘no’ and sliced her index finger across her throat.

  “Cristoph doesn’t know if I’m any good in the sack, Nana. But I predict he will be plenty pleased in the sack on our wedding night,” I said. “Because I, Lady Elizabeth Theresa Billingsley, am an old-fashioned girl. Until he puts the ring on it in front of God, church, family and country, he’ll only be getting the appetizers.”

  Esmeralda burst out clapping and the little ladies followed her lead, forming finger shaped hearts. “Yay! We heart Princess Elizabeth! We heart Princess Elizabeth!” The girls squealed, high-fived each other and collapsed on the green grass in squidgy giggles.

  “Surprise!” the line of royal Timmels hollered in unison. “Welcome to the family!”

  And just like that, the official Fredonia Meet and Greet the Royals turned into a backyard BBQ and party. The Timmels and extended family went back to playing basketball, soccer, chess and badminton while King Fredrick obsessed over his grill. Nana rolled her walker off my foot. A bartender whipped up drinks at a small outdoor bar. Two uniformed servants refilled drinks and passed around plates of food.

  Cristoph helped me hobble into their midst where I plunked down on a cushy outdoor chaise lounge next to a table with an umbrella over it. The palace doctor was paged. His assistant X-rayed my foot on site, confirmed it wasn’t broken—just a nasty contusion. He wrapped my foot with an ace bandage, instructed me to keep it elevated and gave me a cane.

  Cristoph held ice packs on my foot as I ate a cheeseburger. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Nana’s getting up there. Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes. It’s been a little weird, but I guess I’m getting used to it.”

  “How’s the burger Elizabeth? I didn’t over cook it did I?” King Frederick yelled to me from the grill as he waved away billows of smoke.

  “It’s perfect,” I said. “Where’d you get this cheese?”

  “That’s organic from our goats that feed in the pastures next to our castle in the foothills of the Alps.”

  “I’ve never tasted anything like it,” I said. “It’s delish.”

  “Glad you like it,” he said. “That’s another thing your marriage to Cristoph will be saving.”

  “What’s he talking about?” I asked Cristoph.

  “You know I love you,” he said. “But I’m sure your Papa told you about the business arrangement and the contract. Right?”

  Both Nick and Papa had mentioned a business arrangement. And here it was being brought up again.

  Queen Cheree strolled up accompanied by a gorgeous yellow Labrador Retriever. “I’m so sorry about the foot, darling. Do you mind if Sunny and I sit next to you?”

  “Be my guest,” I pet Sunny’s head and smiled. The dog wagged her tail and licked my hand.

  Cheree took a seat in a lawn chair next to my chaise. “Cristoph—amscray. I’m kidnapping Elizabeth—just for a bit. Go help your father with his…” she waved one hand in the air. “… grilling.”

  “Boring, Mom,” he said but stood up.

  “Buck it up, kiddo. I’ve done it for thirty years.” She smiled at him.

  Cristoph leaned in, kissed me on my cheek and whispered. “Best family introduction, ever. You nailed it Elizabeth. See you in a bit. Mom’s acting sneaky. Don’t let her talk you into anything you don’t want to do.” He ran his finger across my lower lip, and then strode off toward his dad holding court at the BBQ.

  Sunny glanced around and whimpered.

  “Yes, Sunny, soon. You’re a good mama.” Queen Cheree cooed at her and scratched her chest. “Sorry about the dungeon,” she said. “It’s a secret Timmel family prank thing. They did it to me too. I sprouted my first silver hairs that very night. Please don’t let that stop you from joining the family.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good!” She patted my arm. “We’re an odd but kind of a fun group once you get to know us better. Besides your increased blood pressure and injured foot, I swear things will improve from here on out. I can’t wait to help you plan your wedding! Truth be told, I already called a few folks a couple of days ago. I hope you don’t mind if I get involved. It’s the first wedding in our immediate family since, well, mine, and I’m so excited! Do you think you can walk?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Good.” She extended her hand and helped me to standing. “I want to give you your welcome to the family gift.” She handed me the cane and walked away.

  “Thank you.” I limped behind her. “This is the nicest cane that anyone has ever given me.”

  She laughed. “That’s not your gift, silly!” Sunny barked. “I don’t remember you being this funny. I can call a couple of guards to carry you on a stretcher?”

  “Thanks,” I said and remembered the death threats. “Let the guards do the guarding and I’ll stick with the limping.”

  We reached a small doorway in a stone wall that surrounded the enormous backyard. Queen Cheree keyed in a code and hit a button. The door slid open and Sunny bounded through. “Follow me,” she said.

  We entered a small yard covered with a tarp stretched overhead that screened out the majority of the weather: sun, snow and sleet.

  Sunny raced to a medium-sized pen in the yard’s corner, pawed at it and barked. Three blonde, fuzzy, fat puppies stretched up against its metal confines and yipped back at her.

  “I’m sure you’ve already been informed that I’m a bit of a nut when it comes to Labrador Retrievers,” Queen Cheree said.

  “Everyone said you really love Labs.”

  “I do. I grew up with them. There are worse addictions to have.” She bent down, unlatched the gate and two puppies bounded onto the lawn.

  Sunny tackled one pup, pinned it with her front paw and licked her baby from head to paw.

  Queen Cheree jogged a few feet, grabbed the second puppy off the ground, raised it to her face and smooched it. “Scrumptious!” she said. “I adore them! So much easier raising dogs than my own children.”

  I didn’t rememb
er Lady or the Damp telling me Cristoph had siblings.

  But this wasn’t the time or place to ask.

  When I heard a whimper and my gaze was drawn to a chubby puppy still in the pen that glanced around, a bit confused. I recognized that look—I saw it every day in the mirror since I left Chicago. I hobbled toward her, plopped down on the lawn adjacent to the pen’s open gate and held out my hand. “Here, baby. Come here.”

  The puppy eyed me curiously, planted two fat paws onto the lawn and licked my fingers.

  And I smiled. “You are so cute.” I picked her up, pulled her out of the cage and cradled her like a baby against my chest. She wiggled for a few moments and then relaxed.

  I inhaled her puppy breath (best scent in the whole entire world) and sighed. I tickled her fuzzy belly as she squirmed again. “She is the sweetest thing ever!” I said. “She is a she—right?”

  “Yes.” Queen Cheree released her pup. He raced across the lawn and tackled a rope toy, sinking his teeth into it, wrestling it from side to side while growling in a wicked soprano tone.

  “Now I know why you love the Labradors.” I kissed the puppy’s cheek. “This is the absolute best I’ve felt in months.”

  “Good,” she said. “Because she’s your present. You’re holding Tulip von Pumpernickel. She’s twelve weeks old. You can change her name if you don’t like it. You can also turn down this gift, no harm, no foul. Not everyone likes or wants a dog. In fact, I don’t want you adopting this dog unless you truly want her.”

  “I totally want her! Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome. And if you ever decide you don’t want her? In twelve weeks or twelve years—give her back to me. And we’ll be good. Fair?” Cheree asked.

  “Oh my God. Beyond fair.” Tulip wriggled in my arms, I lowered her to the lawn and watched her trot off. “Queen Cheree? Best. Present. Ever. Can we go shopping for puppy supplies? I’m going to need food and a dog bed and—”

  She laughed. “Please call me Cheree when we’re in private. All your puppy needs are being delivered to your father’s condo even as we speak. Let’s get down to business and plan your wedding, yes? I told Young Mr. Philips to bring out the bridal dress sketches and the fabric swatches. They’re waiting for us back at the BBQ.”

  I hoped Elizabeth, Lady and the Damp would be cool with this. Especially Elizabeth. She’d be marching down the aisle very soon.

  “Sounds perfect,” I said. “I have no idea how to plan a wedding.”

  Cheree laughed. “Hah! You and your Ladies have been planning your weddings since grade school.”

  We sat at an outdoor table piled high with dress sketches of designer wedding gowns and fabric swatches while Queen Cheree flipped through and then passed them to me. “Too old-fashioned. Too tragically hip,” she said. “Too over the top fairy princess.”

  “Agree.” I tossed the rejects into a pile on the side.

  “Hmm. Definite possibility.” She handed me a drawing.

  I shook my head. “Too stern.”

  “You’re right. We should convene your Ladies for a bridal conference: they can weigh in on the gowns and the flowers. I’m assuming you want them to be your bridesmaids?”

  Would Elizabeth want them to be her bridesmaids?

  “Of course!” I said and glanced at the mini-Ladies playing with the puppies and Sunny on the lawn. “Can Jeannie and her friends be my flower girls?”

  “They’d be thrilled!” Cheree said. “Considering this is all happening in less than two weeks—holy smokes we’ve got our work cut out for us!”

  “Two weeks?” I squeaked. “Two weeks? I thought royal weddings took months to plan?”

  “Not this one, darling. We’re on a tight time schedule. But you know that, right?”

  I heard a ruckus, a loud roar from the basketball court. “Dude! Most excellent–you scored from outside the paint,” teenage Liam said. “Who’s the hottie? She looks familiar?”

  “Squee!” Jeannie exclaimed. “He’s here! He’s finally here!”

  “Who’s the scary girl squeezing his arm?” Tonya asked.

  “I luff him,” a third girl exclaimed. She and the mini-Ladies sprung up from the lawn and raced off.

  “Sorry I’m late for the family party,” a familiar voice said with a hint of a slur.

  I knew that voice. I missed that voice. I hated to admit it, but I ached for the man it belonged to. I swiveled as if in slow motion, willing the sea of royals to part so I could see if it was indeed him.

  And just like I’d issued a royal edict—Nick came into view. His hair was messy, he looked a little flushed and he sported a more than five o’clock shadow. He wore a leather biker jacket and held a lager in one hand. His other arm was wrapped around the waist of raven-haired, petite, booby girl wearing too much makeup, a micro-mini and sky-high platforms.

  “Ivanka and I just arrived in town from Croatia and well—” his eyes locked onto mine. “—let’s just say we were delayed by some bumpy weather.”

  My hand flew to my chest.

  Esmeralda glared at him. Then stared at me. “Oh, crap,” she said.

  Chapter 24

  Cheree frowned but pulled it together. “Hi honey.” She stood up and walked toward Nick. She passed Esmeralda, who strode the opposite direction toward me as she tugged her thumb and forefinger across her lips in the universal sign for ‘zip it.’

  “I didn’t know you were bringing I-wanna.” Cheree and Nick hugged.

  “That’s Ivanka, Your Royal Highness,” Ivanka said.

  Cheree waved her hand in the air. “Whatever darling.”

  “Cristoph has a date,” Nick said. “I can have one too.”

  “Absolutely, honey,” Cheree said. “I’m just a little surprised it’s Ivanka.”

  “So nice to see you again, Queen Cheree.” Ivanka bent her knee ever-so-slightly.

  Way to show respect—not. Even I knew that curtsey was totally pathetic.

  “And you, as well,” Cheree said, her face frozen. “It’s been a few months since we were graced with your company. I could only imagine what had become of you.”

  “Travels, work,” Ivanka said. “I’ve been out of the country since Cristoph and I—”

  Cheree held up one hand. “Splendid!” She said. “How nice for you.”

  “Glad you could put in an appearance—black sheep,” King Frederick said.

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Nick said.

  “Burger, chicken or sausage?” King Frederick asked. “I remember what Ivanka wants.”

  Queen Cheree and Royal Nana shot each other looks, turned and frowned at him.

  “The combo platter!” the King said, oblivious.

  Ivanka giggled. “Oh your Royal Highness.” This time she performed a perfect deep curtsey and flashed the entire party an enormous amount of cleavage. “As always—you flatter me.”

  Cristoph strode toward Nick. “This is a cheap shot, dude,” he hissed.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nick shrugged and slugged back his lager.

  “Oh yes you do,” Cristoph said. “This is family. This is an old-school tradition. And you show up here with my ex—”

  “I showed up here with your brother, Cristoph,” Ivanka said. “At least Nick is a gentleman. It’s so nice to see you again, too.” She turned toward the King. “I’d love that combo platter, your Highness. I’m ravenous.”

  “She always is,” Queen Cheree muttered under her breath, turned and walked back toward me, one eyelid twitching.

  Liam kept bouncing his basketball.

  “So nice to see you again, Lizzie.” Nick guzzled his drink and slammed the bottle down on a table.

  “You’re… you’re… you’re Cristoph’s brother?” I asked.

  Half the crowd burst out laughing. “You’re hysterical,” Liam said.

  “I wanted a boy and a girl,” Queen Cheree said. “God saw fit to bless Frederick and me with two sons. Practically Irish twins. My princes
are only ten months apart.”

  “Don’t bring up the Irish,” Royal Nana said.

  Queen Cheree swiveled toward her. “I’m American with half Irish descent,” she said. “After thirty years, you’re going to have to accept that some day. I suggest today. Oh, and the not marrying into the BRF thing too.”

  “BRF?” I muttered.

  “British Royal Family,” Esmeralda said. “You know that.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Royal Nana sniffed. “I’m eighty-five. I don’t have to accept anything.”

  “You’re a prince.” I said.

  Nick cocked his head and regarded me quizzically. “Is that your hypoglycemia or the head trauma talking?”

  “Hey Cristoph, you’re marrying a girl with a sense of humor,” Liam said. “Score, dude!”

  Esmeralda poked my arm and whispered, “I figured out why you’ve been acting differently lately.”

  I flicked her hand away. “It’s not the head trauma or the hypoglycemia. It’s just me,” I said.

  Esmeralda leaned in again. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Too late, Lizzie,” Nick said, turned his back to me and wrapped his arm around Ivanka who, balanced her combo plate on one hand.

  My gaze was riveted on Nick and Barbie-I-mean-whatever her name was as they stumbled toward a picnic table. “Just kill me now,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “You fell in love with the wrong prince, didn’t you?” Esmeralda asked.

  “Absolutely not!” I stamped my foot, but that hurt and I winced.

  “Instant karma,” Esmeralda said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just lied,” she said. “Karma tends to hit liars a little faster than other sinners.”

  “That’s not fair.” I frowned.

  Esmeralda shrugged. “I didn’t make the Karma rules.”

  “Fine. I don’t know. Maybe. Okay. Kind-of. I certainly wasn’t planning on it.” I swallowed. “I definitely wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Crap,” she said.

  “Total crap,” I said. “What should I do now?”

  “One. We should have a drink.”