Finding Home

by B. E. Baker

  Aunt Andrea and Uncle Franz both stare straight at her. She bears up under the scrutiny better than I expected.

  “Stuttgart was too small,” Aunt Andrea says. “And Munich is—” She scrunches her nose. “Tolerable. Neither of them are New York.”

  “James misses New York too,” Holly says, kindly drawing fire from her friend. “I think once you’ve lived there for a while, it imprints on your DNA or something.”

  In spite of Holly’s deft steering of the conversation, Aunt Andrea circles back around three more times to mention the terrible burden it must be to live in Vaduz. I’ve about had it.

  “You may be wondering why we asked you out.” Dad folds his napkin and looks at his hands. “I know it was short notice, and I appreciate you accommodating my request.”

  “Of course,” Uncle Franz says. “When the Prince commands, the rest of us obey.”

  I hope he’s kidding.

  “Obviously that’s not at all what I meant,” Dad says.

  “What did you ask us here for?” Aunt Andrea asks.

  “Well, you know that I’m dealing with some health issues,” Dad says.

  Beth’s words ring in my ears. There are some things you can’t take back, no matter how badly you wish you could. That’s a lesson I’ve already learned. I was so sure, absolutely positive in fact, that I shouldn’t gamble my future on this crazy, last-ditch effort. I knew that it would hurt too much to hope and then fail. I’m better off bowing out and letting Uncle Franz take over.

  But sometimes we don’t do what’s the best for us. Sometimes we do what we must.

  “And for the past four years, I’ve been managing nearly every part of the day-to-day affairs of the Prince,” I say.

  Uncle Franz and Aunt Andrea’s heads swivel toward me in a satisfying manner, their eyes wide, their lips barely parted.

  “Dad didn’t formally adopt me in the past, as I was unwilling to forgo my biological father’s extensive lands and title. But last week, he decided he couldn’t live with that oversight. He has drawn up papers to have me adopted, and we plan to petition the dynasts to vote on an amendment to the House Law. We wanted to ask you whether we’d have your support, since you’re next in line to inherit.”

  Uncle Franz’s eyes narrow. Aunt Andrea’s hands ball in fists next to her plate.

  “I know this feels sudden, but with as involved as you are, integral really, to the management of the LGT Group.” I pause. “I can only imagine that you barely see your family as it is, what with being CEO of the group and chairman of the board for the bank, not to mention the trust.”

  “You want to change the House Law?” Uncle Franz asks. “To allow adopted children to usurp the laws of primogeniture?”

  Dad squares his shoulders. “Cole is every bit as much my son as Alejandro is yours.”

  Uncle Franz’s nostrils flare. “Except he’s not. My blood runs in Alejandro’s veins. My DNA comprises every one of his cells.”

  “Do you know that for sure?” Beth asks in perfect German. “You had his DNA tested?”

  My jaw drops.

  Holly snorts.

  “Of course not.” Uncle Franz’s face is red.

  “Perhaps you didn’t get it tested because the certainty of the blood matching doesn’t matter, as much as the fact that you raised him.”

  “Who is this again?” Andrea asks in English. “Because I don’t appreciate her insinuations or her tone.”

  “Oh, I’m a nobody, don’t mind me.” Beth’s eyes flash.

  Uncle Franz wipes his mouth and stands up. “Thank you for dinner, Hans-Michael. It’s always wonderful to see you, but I’m afraid I should warn you. I won’t support this kind of change and neither will the other heirs, I’m sure of it.”

  After Dad sees his brother out, he shuffles back to the foyer where I’m waiting for him. His shoulders are slumped and his eyes downcast. “That was exhausting.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  He looks up at me then, his eyes finding mine. “Never apologize to me for being my son. I’m very proud of you Cole. We may not win this fight, but I’m honored to prepare for battle alongside you. And if Franz insists on toppling me, well, perhaps he’ll find it difficult to succeed as both a prince and a CEO.”

  “Are you saying—”

  Dad shrugs. “If he beats us here, maybe we take his precious CEO position away. After all, I own a controlling interest.”

  Beth may not have made the night go more smoothly, but she’s the one who pushed me to change my mind. For the first time in a very long time, maybe since Noel’s death, I feel like I might actually belong right where I am.

  7

  Beth

  I’m plugging my phone in for the night when a text comes in from Rob. YOU AWAKE?

  BARELY.

  BREKKA WANTS TO DO THE GENDER REVEAL. TWENTY WEEKS ULTRASOUND WAS EXCELLENT. WOULD NOW WORK?

  My excitement quickly burns through my exhaustion. ABSOLUTELY.

  Rob sends a zoom link to my phone, and I boot up my laptop. This isn’t really a tiny-phone-screen kind of event.

  “Hey, Beth!” Brekka waves at me.

  Rob’s sitting right next to her. “We figured if we waited this late, your show might be over.” He leans closer to the camera. “Whoa, where are you? That’s a pretty amazing hotel.”

  I probably should have told my family that everything was delayed, but it’s too late for that right now. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t miss this,” I say. “It’s going to make my whole day.”

  Rob angles the camera on the laptop a little bit so that I can see Christine, Jennifer, Mom, and Dad who are all sitting behind him.

  “I’m the only one who’s not there?” I try to avoid sounding as whiny as I feel. I don’t really succeed.

  “My parents will be on shortly,” Brekka says. “Or, my mom will, anyway. Dad’s in Hawaii, and I’m not sure what his schedule’s like. My mom’s at Geo and Trig’s house right now. They’d have come, but she just had her baby last week.”

  “Whoa, Geo had her baby?” I ask.

  “Yeah, the day before Paisley left for Europe. He was three days late and we were all worried she’d miss meeting him,” Brekka says.

  “And, how is he? Everything okay? Delivery go alright?”

  “Little Mark is absolutely perfect. Dark, dark hair, like you’d expect from Trig and Geo. He was only six and a half pounds at birth, but in nine days he’s already gained weight like a champ. He’s just shy of seven pounds, which the docs say is amazing.”

  “Does he sleep yet?” I ask.

  Brekka shrugs. “Not much, but Mom hired a full-time night nurse—for some point in the future when Geo will actually take a break. To hear Trig talk, little Mark is never out of her arms.”

  Geo sounds happy. I’m such a lightweight that tears well up in my eyes at the thought of Rob and Brekka’s baby playing with little Mark.

  Brekka wipes at her eyes and shakes her head. “Do not cry, Beth. I will lose it.”

  “Speaking of, we are keeping things pretty low key,” Rob says. “We bought one of these candles.” He holds it up. “It’s either pink or blue underneath, and we’ll light it once everyone is here. Then you guys can make your guesses and tell us which you think it will be, one by one. By the time you’re done, it should be showing the color.”

  “What, no paintball guns or balloons as big as my head?” I shake my head. “I’m a little disappointed. I was expecting a little more from my rich family—maybe a skywriter, or like, acrobats.”

  Christine raises her hand. “I offered to bring a balloon, but only because the party store didn’t have a confetti cannon. They turned me down.”

  Jennifer swats at Christine’s hand. “They could have at least done cupcakes, right? I’m starving over here. Who has a party and won’t let you eat food until after it’s over.”

  Jennifer’s always hungry, so when I roll my eyes, I’m in good company. Mom, Dad, Rob, and Christine all roll theirs too.<
br />
  Brekka’s mom pops on then, her face less than two inches from the camera. I suppress my laughter. Trig’s face appears next, his irritation plain on his face. “Hey, guys. Let me get this set up. Just a second.”

  He disappears, and the screen bounces all over, but eventually it’s set up right, and Geo comes into view. She’s holding the tiniest little blue-wrapped baby I’ve ever seen. The hair poking out from under his deep blue cap is nearly black.

  I can’t help myself. “Awwww.”

  I’m not the only one gushing.

  And even without me starting her off, Brekka starts crying. “He’s so beautiful, Geo.”

  “He looks exactly like his father,” Geo says.

  “But with your eyes, thankfully,” Trig says.

  “Okay, let’s get this started,” Brekka’s mom says.

  “Conference call?” Brekka straightens and shakes her head. “Really?”

  “Nothing like that,” her mom says. “But this little guy needs tummy time.”

  “Would you believe she’s made us a schedule?” Trig’s eyes widen and the corner of his mouth turns up. “For everything. Feeding, tummy time, burping, diaper changes. All. Of. It.”

  “We’re sticking with it perfectly so far,” Geo says. “And actually, it’s been sort of helpful.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mom,” Brekka says. “But no schedule for me, thanks.”

  “We’ll see,” her mom says. “But let’s get moving.”

  Brekka turns toward Rob. “A year ago, she’d have been basking in our news, but now that she already has a grandchild, we’re chopped liver.”

  “Can’t we be chopped brisket at least?” Rob asks.

  “That’s the point,” Brekka says. “No one wants liver.”

  “Ah, right.”

  “Light the candle,” Mom says. “I want to go first. I’m sure that I know what it is.”

  Rob leans toward the end table and lights the candle.

  “It’s a boy for sure,” Mom says. “You’re carrying high, and you’re not sick at all, and Mark needs a best friend.”

  “Dad?” Rob asks.

  “Boy,” Dad says. “Your mother’s never wrong.”

  “I hate to be boring,” Trig’s mom says, “but I think it’s a boy too. I have a sense about these things, you know. I knew Geo was having a boy, and she did.”

  “Alright,” Rob says. “What about you, Beth? You seemed the most excited of all the family. Any intuition?”

  “It’s a girl,” I say.

  “Why do you think that?” Brekka asks.

  I shrug. “Because Jennifer has Liam and Owen, and now Geo has Mark. Mary and Luke had a boy, too. I think it’s time someone has a little girl to pamper and spoil and dress up.”

  “I’ll second that,” Christine says.

  “Liam and Owen have been praying for the last week that the baby can be a boy,” Jennifer says. “So I vote boy.”

  “You know it’s not actually a vote, right?” I ask. “I mean, the gender has already been chosen. We’re just guessing.”

  Jennifer arches one eyebrow. “You knew what I meant.”

  I shrug. Siblings. Gotta pick at them, or they don’t know you love them.

  “Is that everyone?” Rob asks.

  “Aloha.” Brekka’s dad pops up on the Zoom meeting. “Am I too late? I’m afraid I didn’t hear my phone alarm and just realized what time it was.”

  “No, Dad,” Brekka says.

  “Is something on fire?” He squints at the screen. “Oh, never mind. That’s just a pink candle.”

  “Whoa,” I say. “Pink? It’s a girl!”

  Suddenly, I can barely pick out individual voices for all the whooping. Rob blows out the candle and picks up his tiny wife, dancing around the room with her. I watch the hoopla for a few moments before begging off and calling it a night. I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow, dreaming of pink booties and purple and pink blankets.

  A strange sound wakes me up as the sun’s rays are barely illuminating my window. A chugging? Heaving, maybe? I pad across the carpet and open my door.

  Paisley’s on her knees on the ground in the hall, puking.

  “Oh, no,” I say.

  She wipes her mouth and turns toward me. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

  There’s a small pile of puke on the carpet. I duck back into my room and grab a wad of toilet paper, wet a bathroom washcloth, and snag a hand towel. I race back out to where Paisley’s staring, dully, at the ground.

  “Please don’t apologize. I’m sorry you feel so lousy.”

  She wipes the back of her hand and wrist across her mouth. “This baby is trying to kill me.”

  I kneel down in front of her and wipe up the puke with the toilet paper and set it aside. I scrub the carpet with the washcloth, and then I pat it as dry as I can with the hand towel.

  “You’re efficient at that,” Paisley says.

  “We have a Persian cat,” I say with a smile. “It hocks up hairballs pretty often.”

  “Oh good,” she says. “I’m now on the same level as a fluffy feline.”

  “What can I do?” I ask.

  “I wish there was something to do.”

  I flop backward and lean against the wall. “Where’s James?”

  “He’s still asleep. Poor guy has been staying up half the night handling work calls—the time change is hard on him.”

  “Can I get you something?” I ask. “Subway sandwich?”

  Her eyes light up. “I can’t eat the whole thing, but little nibbles help keep me from being so sick.”

  “Are there keys I can borrow to someone’s car?”

  “Take mine,” she says. “They’re hanging next to the door. Do you know how to get there?”

  I smirk. “It’s not far. I think I can manage.”

  Paisley sighs. “Can you grab an extra baguette? I love their bread.”

  I don’t laugh, but it strikes me as hilarious that the princess of Liechtenstein is obsessed with a place as pedestrian as Subway. “Will anyone be upset that I’m coming and going?”

  She smiles. “Nope, you’re on the list of people who are allowed.”

  “This may be the first time I’ve ever been on an exclusive list in my life.”

  “You were at Rob’s gallery opening.”

  “That’s true, I am a little fancy.” I clamber to my feet. “Do you need a hand?”

  “I’m going to lie down in the room next to yours. That way my vomiting won’t wake up James.”

  “True love’s test: pregnancy.”

  “That’s truer than I expected it to be,” Paisley said. “Count your blessings that you’re so young. No pressure for you to have babies, even if you got married sometime soon.”

  I think about Mary, Brekka, Geo, and Paisley. My sister Jennifer and her two boys. The joy on Brekka’s face as Rob spun her around. Even a puddle of puke at my feet or the prospect of countless sleepless nights doesn’t deter me. “I want babies. Lots and lots of them.” And I would never give mine away, not to anyone, not under any circumstance.

  “You really must want them,” Paisley groans. “To be saying that now.”

  “I’ll go so fast you’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

  The trip to Subway is quick, and it’s open, thankfully, and within moments I have exactly what she asked for in my hands. I’m jogging back to the car when I notice Jostli at the Hotel Adler. He waves and smiles.

  It would be rude to ignore him, so I pause. “Good morning. What are you doing out so early?”

  “The hotel is closed right now. There was a plumbing leak, so we’re doing some spring cleaning.” He gestures behind him where there are several people setting up scaffolding.

  “Painting?” I ask.

  He nods. “But first we clean windows. You want to practice your songs today?”

  I have a work of art waiting for me back at the palace, but there’s a sleeping husband, a sick friend, an
d Cole to think about. “I need to deliver something, but if you’re okay with it, I’ll be back.”

  Jostli beams and nods.

  “Great, see you soon.”

  I drop off Paisley’s sandwich and bread and make sure she’s alright, and then get her permission to use her car again. “You can play here,” she insists, “but that’s also fine. Whatever you want.”

  “I’d rather not risk bothering anyone.”

  The scaffolds are up and a man and three women are scrubbing windows and squeegeeing them off when I arrive.

  “Are you sure this is fine?” I ask.

  Jostli ushers me into the main dining room. “We’re excited, actually. Is nicer than the radio, to have live piano.”

  “Your neighbors won’t care?”

  “They will love it.”

  “Unless they’re still sleeping,” I say.

  He chuckles. “We work hard here—not sleep long in day. Is fine, I promise.”

  No one seems to notice I’m even playing for the first few songs of the playlist, but when I play a few of Henrietta’s more well known songs, the cleaners wave at me and toss thumbs ups my direction through the now sparkling glass. I play those songs a few more times than strictly necessary, but it won’t hurt for me to be over prepared. With this delay on the tour, I need to make sure my part is utterly perfect. I don’t want to disappoint my bio mother after knowing her for just two weeks.

  I play until my fingers begin to tire—more than three hours. I gather up all the sheet music Paisley helped me print yesterday and stand. That’s when I notice the people.

  Dozens and dozens of them, gathered outside the cafe.

  Jostli crosses the room to where I’m standing, my mouth hanging open.

  “You gather many fans.”

  “I’m just playing the supporting music.”

  “We have many musicians here in Liechtenstein,” he says. “More than where I am from in Switzerland, and many, many more than in Germany. We have good taste, and we all think your playing is very special.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I’m just glad no one minded.”

  “If you can stay for lunch, I can pay you. Two hundred francs?”

  My eyes bulge. “For lunch?”