by Lara Hunter
Barb stood and walked over to the cupboard. She rummaged through it, produced a mug and another teabag, then poured a second cup. When she brought it back to the table, she set it down in front of me.
“Sit down,” she ordered, though her eyes were kind.
I glanced back at the door. “I really need to get moving, Barb. I didn’t mean to stay for long…”
She sat back in her spot and tapped the table in front of me. “Sit. Down.”
I did as I was told. Old habits die hard.
When I was settled on the wooden chair, Barb took a sip of her tea, watching me. “Now, here’s the thing,” she said. “I won’t pretend to understand what’s going on between you and the Prince. Whatever it is, that’s your business.”
“So then it’s fine if I leave?”
She raised one of her eyebrows. The message was clear.
“I would like to tell you a story, though,” Barb said, taking another sip of her tea. “When I first started working for Prince van Dijk, I had just finished working for an English duke who owns an estate a few miles from here. On my first day, I was at a loss—I’d completely forgotten to ask where the staff should park.”
“Barb, I really appreciate what you’re doing here…” I didn’t. I had no idea where she could possibly be heading with this. “…But I just need to get this over with so I can start over. I can’t be talked out of it.”
Not by Barb, at least. And I wasn’t sure how Kasper could possibly talk me out of it, either.
“You are so impatient,” Barb said, rolling her eyes. “Listen to the damn story, Laurie.”
I shut my mouth.
“Where was I?” Barb took another sip of her tea. “Yes. Parking. So I asked the Prince where the staff lot was. And do you know what he told me?”
“That there was no staff lot, and that everybody just parked out front?”
“Well, yes. But he also told me that I should always park wherever was most convenient for me. He appreciated the work I did, and didn’t want me to go out of my way not to inconvenience him.”
I raised a quizzical brow. “That’s touching,” I said flatly.
Barb smiled. “It was one of the nicest things an employer has ever said to me,” she said, apparently not noticing my sarcasm. “And I’ll always remember it. He’s the best employer I’ve ever had, and because of that I’ve always endeavored to do my absolute best for him.”
I pushed back my chair, intending to rise. “Thanks for the tea, Barb.”
“Young lady!” she snapped. “I told you I had a story to tell you.”
I was beginning to get annoyed. “Yes, I know. He let you park out front—he’s a good guy.”
“That was just backstory.” She pointed angrily to the mug in front of me. “Now drink your tea and, for once in your life, listen.”
With wide eyes, I slid back toward the table and grabbed my mug. Barb muttered something about ungrateful youths, which I was used to. I could never tell whether she was talking about me or one of her daughters. Or all of us.
“Now, as I was saying—I’ve always wanted the best for Prince van Dijk. I work my butt off for him—quite happily, I might add—and I’ve always hired the best staff to assist me.”
I smiled, feeling my heart warm a little. I was starting to appreciate this story. It wouldn’t make me stay, but it was nice, nonetheless.
“That’s really sweet of you, Barb,” I said. “I never knew you thought that about me.”
She scoffed. “Not you, silly. You were the exception to the rule.”
My smile dropped into a frown. I took a sip of my tea, hoping the faster I drank it, the faster I could escape this bizarre conversation.
“I’m confused,” I admitted.
Barb shook her head, smiling. “So was I, when Prince van Dijk insisted I hire you. I didn’t want to take the chance. You had no experience, besides the fact that you—and I quote—"liked cleaning.” You were wanting a stop-gap measure of a job, and I knew you’d go back to medicine one day. And, to be honest, darling, I just didn’t think you had it in you.”
I gaped at Barb. “That’s not very nice!”
“Life isn’t very nice, darling,” she retorted. “And I told you, I wanted the best for that man. I had dozens of other applicants. Some had cleaned for movie stars, others for royalty. Most all of them had at least worked in a hotel or office building.”
I’d never questioned why I got the job at the mansion. I suppose I’d thought there were few applicants, and I was simply the one who had made the best impression. I hadn’t realized just how many people Barb had had to turn away.
“But Kasper asked you to hire me?” I questioned. “Why?”
“He didn’t ask, Laurie,” she corrected. “He insisted.” She sighed. “At first I thought it was because you were pretty. I wasn’t ignorant to the Prince’s reputation, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to hire you, because I’d probably get to replace you when things inevitably went sour. But the Prince barely looked at you,” she continued. “The two of you would chat, but the axe never fell.”
“I can’t believe you were waiting for me to sleep with the boss,” I remarked.
Barb shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do? The Prince wanted you around, so I kept you around.”
“Did you ever find out why he “insisted” that you hire me?”
Barb shook her head and took another sip of her tea. “Nope. I have my theories, but it remains an unsolved mystery.” She laughed. “Thank God you actually had some skill, otherwise I would’ve been stuck with you.”
I stared at her blankly. “Yes, thank God.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said, waving me off. “You know I adore you. I loved you after just a few hours working with you.”
I hid my grin behind my mug, taking a long sip of tea.
“I don’t know if this helps at all,” I said, “but Kasper and I chatted briefly after my interview. I ran into him on my way out.”
“That was one of my theories,” she said. “I know I introduced you during the interview, but I wasn’t sure if you spoke afterward or not.”
“You could have just asked, you know.”
Barb rolled her eyes. “And say what? Hey, what did you say to the Prince that made him tell me to hire you?” She laughed lowly. “I wasn’t sure if something else had happened during that time. Figured I was safer not asking.”
The realization of what she was implying dawned on me, and I gasped. “Barb!”
She chortled, tipping her head back as I eyed her grumpily from across the table.
“So tell me, then,” Barb said, once she had calmed her giggles. “What did you say to Prince Kasper van Dijk of the Netherlands that made him want to have you on his staff so badly?”
I thought back to that day, over a year ago. There had still been frost on the ground when I’d come in for my interview. I’d marveled at the grandiose building, wondering how anyone could have as much money as the man I hoped to work for.
I remembered meeting him for the first time, and being completely shaken by how handsome he was. When Barb had said that her employer was a prince, I’d been expecting a Prince Charles-esque character—aged, old-fashioned, and possibly inappropriate. But instead, I got Kasper.
I’d seen him again after Barb had left me at the front door. He was walking up the front steps as I went to descend them. Panicking, and not wanting to offend him, I’d dipped into an awkward, incorrect curtsey.
“I walked past him on my way out and curtseyed,” I told Barb. “He laughed at me.”
“Is that all?” Barb looked rather disappointed. “I was hoping there’d be a little more meat to the story.”
It wasn’t all.
“You don’t need to curtsey to me,” Kasper had said, smiling devilishly. “But if you ever do need to curtsey, dip down with your legs, not your back. Like this.”
“He corrected my technique,” I said. “And I smiled and blushed, because what el
se are you supposed to do when a prince curtseys in front of you?”
Barb sighed. “I suppose that is kind of cute. Though I’d hardly be calling up the press about it.” She pointed to my tea. “I’ll let you off without drinking the rest of it. And you can wear your normal clothes for work today. If anyone asks, we’ll say you got something on yours.”
I blanched. “Barb.” My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. “I’m still quitting.”
“Even after what I’ve just told you?” She frowned at me. “You were handpicked by the Prince. Don’t you want to know why?”
I was desperate to know why, but that didn’t mean I could stay. I could never show my face to him again.
“It’s just what I have to do,” I explained. “I’m sorry.”
Barb sighed heavily. “Very well.”
She picked up her mug and carried it over to the sink. When she turned back to face me, she opened her arms. “Come on, then. One hug before you hit the road.”
Barb and I had never hugged before. I hadn’t thought her to be the hugging type.
I strode forward and wrapped my arms around her, pressing close to her soapy scent.
“We’ll miss you around here,” Barb said.
“I’ll miss you too.”
Tears threatened to well in my eyes, but I blinked them back. The hardest part was yet to come.
SEVENTEEN
I slipped out of the laundry room and moved quietly down the hall, keeping a wary eye out as I did. Running into another member of staff would be regrettable; running into Kasper would be a downright disaster.
But the house was quiet on my way up to Kasper’s office. The only thing that remained to be seen was whether Kasper was in his study or not.
Shoot. Should’ve asked Barb.
With that realization, I had another—I should have asked Barb to slip my resignation letter on Kasper’s desk for me. Sure, it would’ve been taking the coward’s way out, but I wasn’t feeling very brave. I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
But how to find out if Kasper was in his study without running the risk of seeing him? The obvious solution, in my mind, was to knock on the door and make a run for it.
But there were two problems with this plan. One: It made me look like an idiot. Maybe I wouldn’t be seen doing it, but that didn’t make playing ding-dong-ditch on my boss’ study door any less childish. Two: What would I do if Kasper was in his office? Even if he didn’t come out to look, and even if he didn’t eventually discover it was me who had done it, what would I do with the resignation letter? It wasn’t like I could just wait around for him to leave. That would be ridiculous. So then, I’d only end up having to go back to his study to hand it to him personally—in which case, he would know I’d knocked and run away.
My remaining options were few. I did want to pass the letter to Kasper myself, and not have Barb do it; that seemed so impersonal, and I was far too mature up to contemplate such a thing. Sequestering myself in a hallway while I decided how best to pass a letter in person, on the other hand: much more my style.
In the end, I decided just to go up and knock. If Kasper was there, it wasn’t like I would drop dead upon seeing him. I could hold it together long enough to pass the stupid thing to him and walk away. Hopefully. If he wasn’t there, I’d stroll in, drop the letter, and stroll out like I’d never been there at all.
I mustered my confidence and walked toward the door, trying to stand tall and not panic. My heart thumped wildly in my chest, sending jabs of adrenaline down to the base of my spine. I just wanted it all to be over.
I raised my hand to the door, noticing that the wood gleamed in the dim morning light, probably still shiny from when I’d polished it last week. Before the ball. That felt like a lifetime ago.
I knocked. Once. Twice. Three times. Then I heard movement from the other side of the door, and my heart dropped like a stone into my stomach.
My feet stayed put, although my mind kept begging me to run. Each second I spent waiting felt like ten. Time dragged on lazily, as if mocking me.
Finally, the door opened.
“Ah,” Christopher snorted. “It’s you.”
I released a shuddering breath. “Christopher.”
“You’re lucky I haven’t sent the lawyers after you already, after the stunt you pulled.”
I lowered my eyes. But I wasn’t here to apologize—and certainly not to Christopher. He’d been awful to me since day one.
“I just came to pass a letter to Kasper,” I said. “Could you put it on his desk for me?” I held out the letter for Christopher’s inspection. He regarded it with a skeptical brow.
“Prince van Dijk isn’t here, and you must be joking if you’re asking me to pass on your petty love letters,” he said with disdain. “I’m not even sure why you came back.”
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. This was the last thing I needed.
“I came back to provide written notice of my resignation,” I said sternly. “But while I’m here, I might as well take the opportunity to tell you that you’re a complete ass, and I’ll be happy not to have you stepping all over me anymore.”
Christopher smiled. “Ah, there’s the fiery broad who took on the reporters. Make the face,” he goaded. “Go on. You know the one.”
Unfolding my arms, I jammed the piece of paper against his chest until he was forced to hold onto it. “You’re such an elitist. I don’t know why Kasper puts up with you.”
“Because I’m useful,” Christopher said. “At least the Prince doesn’t just keep me around because I’m pretty.”
My nostrils flared with rage, but I kept my temper in check. Christopher was trying to provoke me on purpose, the slimy eel. It wouldn’t surprise me if Kasper was due to walk around the corner any minute.
“Screw you, Christopher.” I turned on my heel, heading for the stairs. He slammed the study door behind me, and the sound echoed through the hall.
I wasn’t worried about Christopher not passing along my letter. He was spiteful and rude, certainly, but he did his job. He was too smart to get fired for doing something so dumb.
I walked toward the front door of the mansion for the last time. Happily, I didn’t run into anyone else. Kasper wasn’t there, so I didn’t worry about running into him, either. I thought about going to see Barb one last time, but she was probably already off cleaning somewhere.
I felt terribly lonely. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want it all to end. But it was already over, I reminded myself; this was just me tying up loose ends.
I opened the door, tucked my coat tighter around myself, and stepped out into a sea of glittering snowflakes. They drifted down from the heavens like thousands of glimmering crystals. I stared up in awe, reaching out to catch some in the palm of my hand. It hadn’t snowed since that night two weeks ago when I was here, enjoying Kasper’s company.
Was I meant to take this as some sort of sign? A new beginning?
I stepped out into the middle of the paved circle, tipping my face toward the sky. Maybe it was just snow and there wasn’t a message in it at all. It didn’t matter. The icy breeze licked at my cheeks and I closed my eyes, smiling. I loved the snow before Kasper and I spent that evening together, and I still did.
Maybe I would never understand what had happened between Kasper and me, or ever know if his feelings were ever more substantial than a passing fancy. But I knew one thing—I was going to be okay.
Sure, I was devastated. Sure, I was going to go home and cry about it, and I would probably go on crying for some time. But the knowledge that I was going to survive this helped me not to break down in the driveway. It helped me to enjoy the last, beautiful snowy morning on the Prince’s estate.
I smiled and took a deep breath, gulping down the fresh country air like a cold, refreshing drink.
I was pulled abruptly from my reverie by a slam and the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the direction of the house. Presuming it was Barb, coming
to tell me one last weird story, I opened my eyes, then gasped.
It wasn’t Barb.
EIGHTEEN
Kasper strode toward me with confident, measured strides, despite presumably feeling the chill in his thin dress shirt. His expression was utterly neutral. I tried to find some shred of anger, irritation, or even fondness in it, but I found nothing.
He stopped a few feet in front of me, flakes of snow collecting in the sandy mess of his hair.
“Kasper,” I murmured.
