The Princess Test

by Shirley Jump

  She sighed. Toyed with her cell phone, turning it over and over in her palm.

  It was time.

  The call seemed to take forever to connect. Carrie’s thumb danced over the disconnect button once, twice, three times. But in the end she waited for the ring and the familiar greeting.

  “Mia bella! What a wonderful surprise!” Her mother’s voice was warm, full of love and for a second, Carrie considered making this a purely social call. But she couldn’t. She needed answers.

  “Hello, Mama.” Carrie fiddled with the fringe of the patterned afghan. It took a moment to get the next words past her throat. “I met someone else in Winter Haven. Someone who knows you.”

  “You did? How nice.” Her mother’s voice had gone flat. Tension winnowed the thousands of miles between them to mere inches.

  “He said he knew you. Knew you quite well. Do you remember a man named Richard Parker?”

  “Richard.” Bianca expelled the name in one long breath. “He contacted you?”

  “Yes. And he told me that…” Carrie closed her eyes and she was back there by the lake, seeing a familiar gaze that was so like her own, hearing again the words that changed everything. “That he’s my father.” A sob caught in her throat. “Is it true?”

  Her mother didn’t say anything for a long time. The phone line hissed between them. “Yes.”

  One word, and it changed everything Carrie thought she knew about herself. She didn’t realize it until that moment, but she’d been hoping her mother would refute the claim. That Richard was crazy or that Carrie had imagined the whole thing. The phone trembled against her ear, and tears slid down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I never thought he’d know. I left so fast, and I…I never talked to him again. And it was easier to go back to my life and forget it ever happened.”

  “He said he knew all along. And he was sure that was why you left America so quickly. But when you chose to go back to Uccelli, to Papa, he knew the best thing he could do was stay away.” At first, when Richard Parker had come to her with his story, she’d wanted to think he was lying. That he was some gold digger just looking to blackmail the royal family.

  But as they’d talked, and one hour of conversation stretched into two, she’d realized this was a man who deeply loved her mother and always had. He had only told Carrie who he was because he’d thought she was old enough to know the truth. And because he wanted to know his daughter.

  “He never contacted me again,” Bianca said softly. “I always wondered how he was.”

  She could hear her mother’s love in her voice. The affair may have ended two decades ago, but clearly, the affection had never completely died. That tempered Carrie’s anger about not being told the truth. Some. “He eventually married. Had two kids of his own. He’s still living in the area, still working in law. But he’s older now, of course, and thinking about retiring.”

  “That’s good,” her mother said. A note of melancholy sounded in her words. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I never intended to say anything.”

  “I had a right to know, Mama.”

  “I’m sorry, cara. I truly am.”

  “Does Papa know?”

  “Yes.” Her mother let out a long breath. “I almost left, you know. Almost abdicated, gave up everything.”

  “You would have left Mariabella and Allegra?”

  “No, never. But I wanted more. I wanted…what I didn’t have. Ironically, Richard was the one who made me see what the right choice was.”

  “And so you stayed.” Carrie didn’t know if that made her angry or made her sympathize.

  “My place is here, cara. With the man I truly love, and the country I love. I didn’t realize how much I loved your father and Uccelli until I almost lost it all.”

  Carrie had liked Richard Parker. He had an easy way about him that was the complete opposite of her stubborn, passionate and loving father. She could see why her mother had liked him, too. Richard was the placid lake she looked out over, the quiet in the middle of the ocean that was the royal life. “I wish you had told me. All these years, and I never had a chance to get to know him.”

  “I’m sorry. For so many reasons.” Bianca’s voice held true contriteness and massive regret.

  A lump formed in Carrie’s throat. “I have to go, Mama. I just…need some time to think about this.”

  “I love you, Carlita. I was only doing what I thought was best.”

  “And so was I,” she said quietly, thinking of what had happened in the studio today, how she had left instead of standing up to the claim. “But I’m not sure I did that.”

  After they finished talking, Carrie stayed curled up in that window seat for a long, long time, watching the moon sparkle on the lake and listening to the night birds call to each other.

  Annabelle refused to talk to him. She’d curled up in her bed and turned toward the wall, away from him, and pretended to go to sleep. When he’d invited his mother and Annabelle down to the studio to see the taping of the princess test, he’d thought it would be something Annabelle would enjoy. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Matt would drop the bombshell about Carrie’s real identity and leave his daughter confused—and angry with him for letting her down.

  Again.

  It was his own fault for leaving that paper in the file. He should have found a way to head that off, to stop the bomb before it exploded. And ruined Carrie’s life. This was worse than the internet-publicized moment, because this time, the aftershocks of his actions had affected the people he cared about.

  “Want me to read a story?” he said, trying again with Annabelle.

  A muffled, “no.”

  “Uh…how about a game of Candy Land?”

  “No.”

  He racked his brain for something else. Came up nearly empty. “Do you want me to get your blankie?”

  She rolled back to look at him. “Daddy, I don’t have a blankie anymore. That was when I was a baby.” She sighed with a gust of air, and then turned back to the wall.

  He was tempted to walk out of the room. Always, it had been easier to do that than to tear down the walls between himself and his daughter. Because opening those walls meant opening old wounds, some that were still healing.

  He took a half step toward the door, then turned back.

  Just start by listening.

  Was that what he’d been doing wrong when it came to his daughter, too? He’d been so busy working and trying to keep their heads above water that he’d stopped listening? He looked at her delicate, precious face, pressed against the pillow, eyes closed but eyelashes fluttering as she peeked to see if he’d left.

  Listening to Annabelle meant entering her world. Something he had waited far too long to do. Clearly, because he was missing the details about what was important to her. He’d already lost his wife—he couldn’t lose his daughter, too. And maybe, if he could fix this part of his life, he could find a way to fix things with Carrie, too. One person at a time.

  He crossed to the corner of her room and lowered himself into one of the tiny chairs that ringed Annabelle’s play table. He sure hoped this thing could hold his weight.

  Then he reached for two of the stuffed animals she kept in a bin nearby, plopped them into two other chairs, and began to talk. “Welcome to my tea party, Boo-Boo and uh…Rabbit.” Shoot. He still didn’t remember that one’s name. “Who wants tea?”

  He heard Annabelle roll over. But she didn’t speak or get out of bed. He forged forward, feeling silly, but knowing more was at stake here than his embarrassment level. “Okay, Boo-Boo, here you go.” He picked up the plastic pot and pretended to fill the matching cup. “Oh, and a cookie, too? Just one, though, or you won’t have room for breakfast.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Annabelle sit up. Swing her legs over the side of the bed. Hope leaped in his chest.

  “Now, Rabbit, you have to wait your turn.” He pre tended to fill another cup, raising his voice to
an even more exaggerated level. “Nope, no carrots today. Sorry, buddy.” Then he turned the pot toward a third cup. “What do you guys say we pour Annabelle a cup? In case she decides to join us.” The stuffed animals stared back at him, mute. Like they thought he was an idiot.

  Part of him felt like one, but the other part, the side that hadn’t known about Belle’s blankie, and had been staring at the back of her head tonight, told him to keep going. Miracles didn’t happen overnight.

  He pushed the third cup in front of the empty seat, then made a hissing sound as he “filled” his own. He smacked his forehead, then leaned toward Boo-Boo. “Guess what I forgot? To get dressed up for the tea party. You can’t go to a tea party in your regular clothes. Annabelle told me that and I forgot. How silly am I?” He got to his feet and turned toward Annabelle’s bin of dress-up clothes. “Wow, guys, what should I wear?”

  “Wear this, Daddy.” Annabelle thrust a pink feathered boa into his hands. It was silly and garish and exactly what his daughter wanted, and that, Daniel realized, was what he wanted, too.

  “Perfect.” He took the boa, flipped it around his neck, then sat back down. It fluttered against his chest, all girly, and exactly what his daughter wanted. He allowed that hope in his chest to take flight, to dare to believe this could all be fixed. Maybe not with one tea party, but it was a start. “Are you going to join us, Princess Annabelle?”

  She nodded, then slipped on her tiara and her plastic shoes and climbed into her chair. “Yup. I love tea parties, Daddy.”

  He smiled, and captured her chin in his hand. “And I love you, baby.”

  A smile winged its way across Annabelle’s face. Her eyes glimmered. “Daddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you. Lots.” Then she sprang out of her chair and into his arms. And filled Daniel’s heart.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE next day, the shop was her saving grace. Carrie poured herself into work, and it helped keep her mind off what was to come later that day when the TV program aired. After that, there’d be no peace, not for her. The rest of the world’s media would descend, and there would be nothing but negative headlines for months to come.

  And caught in the crossfire would be her beloved vineyard.

  “You’re pretty quiet today,” Faith said, coming up beside Carrie.

  “Just thinking about what’s going to happen when that segment airs today.” When she arrived at work Friday morning, she’d told Faith about the debacle in the studio. Faith had been understanding and compassionate—a true friend.

  “It may not be as bad as you think.” Faith clasped Carrie’s hand. “Okay, maybe it will. But you’re a strong person. You’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so.”

  Faith gave Carrie’s hand a squeeze. “You know, if you’re going to run a vineyard, you need to be more sure about things.”

  “The vineyard and the wines we produce are perfect. I’m sure about those.”

  “I meant sure about you.” Her green eyes met Carrie’s. “You’re amazing at this, and you’re going to be amazing running the vineyard or the American operations or whatever part of the business you take on.”

  “Sales are high because people are impressed by the princess being here.” She pursed her lips. “Though now that people will find out that the princess isn’t really a princess after all, I’m sure sales will drop.”

  “Yes, some people bought the wines just because they were affiliated with royalty. But most of our sales—and our repeat customers—have been here because the wines were amazing, and you are an amazing salesperson. I’ve learned a lot just by watching you.”

  “You have?”

  “You listen to people. You engage them. And you give them advice, not try to make the hard sale. I can tell the customers really appreciate that. So it’s not because you’re a princess, it’s because you’re a person first.”

  All her life, Carrie had floundered around, trying to find where she fit in the world as someone other than the third princess of Uccelli. And now, here in this little shop, she had found her place. She was just Carrie, a woman passionate about her job.

  And she had been successful at being herself. The feeling was a new one, and made her heart swell. If only there was a way to preserve that and her family’s reputation at the same time.

  The shop door opened and Daniel stepped inside. For a second, Carrie’s pulse raced, then she reminded herself that he was part of the television show that was about to ruin her life in a few short hours. He’d been the one to unearth those facts; he’d been the one to use them against her. She turned away and headed into the back room. “I can’t deal with him,” she said to Faith.

  If she hoped that Daniel would take that as a hint and leave her be, he didn’t. Instead, he followed behind her seconds later. “You got your story, Daniel. Just leave me alone.”

  “That wasn’t the story I wanted. I had no intentions of using that information on the air.”

  “Really? Didn’t you tell me the whole idea was to prove whether I was a fake princess? And when you came across the information about my real father, why didn’t you come to me?”

  “I…” He sighed. “Okay, yes, for a while I did consider using it. But then I thought about what such a revelation would do to you, to this business, and I chose not to tell anyone.”

  “Then how did Matt find out?” She put up her hand before he could answer. “You know, it doesn’t even matter. I hope you make millions blasting that scandal all over the world.”

  He let out a low curse and shook his head. “I had no idea things would turn out that way.”

  “Maybe not. But how convenient that it’s all on tape. Story first, people second. Right?”

  “Digging up the truth is my job, Carrie.”

  She refused to feel bad. To let him soften her. “You can get another. One that lets you sleep with your conscience intact.” She turned away, busying herself with a stack of paperwork on the desk.

  “Carrie—”

  “You have your scoop.” She waved at the door. “Go blast it to the world, Daniel.”

  “Is that the kind of man you think I am?” When she didn’t answer, he took her arm and gently turned her toward him. “Do you really think that’s what I wanted?”

  “What reporter doesn’t want the big scoop?” She shook her head, refusing to shed the tears brimming in her eyes.

  “I used to,” he said. “I used to live for the adrenaline rush of landing that elusive interview, chasing after the facts, hunting down the truth. But where did that get me? Widowed and raising a daughter who can’t trust me. And losing the one woman who truly understood me.” His voice broke on the last few words, and Carrie’s resolve stumbled.

  Which Daniel was he? The one who wanted the story, no matter the personal cost? Or this fractured man who was merely trying to do the right thing?

  There was a soft knock on the door and Faith popped her head in. “Carrie, I hate to interrupt, but there’s someone here asking for you. It’s a repeat customer with some questions about wines.”

  “I have to go,” she said. “You can let yourself out the back.” She gestured behind her, then left the room before her weakened resolve finally shattered.

  It took about thirty seconds for Daniel to decide what to do. He stood in the alleyway behind By the Glass, half tempted to go back in there and camp in the display case until Carrie believed him. But even after only a couple of weeks, he knew her, and knew words wouldn’t be enough. A woman like Carrie who had grown up to see the media as the enemy would need tangible proof of his words.

  If he was going to produce that, he was going to have to hurry.

  He hopped in his car and hurried down to the studio, almost breaking the land-speed record. When he got to the building, he hesitated outside the locked studio entrance. He punched in the entrance code, then breathed a sigh of relief. Matt hadn’t had time to change the number yet.

  He glanced at his watch. Two hours until
airtime. He needed to find a way to get in there and accomplish a miracle.

  His code worked for the production booth, too, and he exhaled another bit of relief to find only one person inside the equipment-filled room. “Hey, Ted. How’s it going?”

  Ted Lynch, a twentysomething self-professed geek who had worked at the studio for a year, spun around in his chair. “Daniel? I thought Matt fired you.”

  He could play this one of two ways. Lie or tell the truth. He tried to assess Ted, but he’d only known the guy a few weeks. Not nearly long enough to know if he was going to call security or let Daniel at the controls. “You know Matt,” Daniel said, testing the waters. “Tough guy to work with.”

  Ted snorted. “Definitely.”

  “What do you think of this princess test thing?”

  “Honestly?” Ted looked around the room even though they were the only ones there. “I think it’s stupid. I spent all those years in college to get out in the world and make a difference. Make a statement, you know? And what does this say?”

  “Nothing good,” Daniel said. He dropped into another swivel chair and spun it toward Ted. “I have a way to make a statement, if you’re game.”

  “How?”

  “Well, it’s a little risky.” A little? his mind screamed. Try a lot. “And it might get you in trouble. Or in the best-case scenario, win you an Emmy.”

  Excitement rose in Ted’s eyes, flushed in his face. Relief flooded Daniel. He hadn’t been sure until just then that Ted wouldn’t call security. “What kind of trouble?” Ted asked.

  “The best kind.” Daniel pulled his seat up, cued up the segment they’d taped yesterday and got to work.

  Fifteen minutes before the episode of Inside Scoop was due to air, Faith convinced Carrie to close up shop and go home. “And after you watch it, come on over to my cookout. You’ll be glad you got out of the house.”

  “Thanks. I will.” She gave Faith a quick hug, then headed out the door and back to the quiet lake cottage. She opened the door and stepped inside, but this time, the cozy little house didn’t fill her with the same sense of peace it usually did. The empty space felt…lonely.