Every Last Mother's Child
Page 173
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“Mylea what are you doing here?” Lisa looked up from her dressing table a couple of days later as she got ready for the interview.
“I thought I’d drop by and help settle your nerves before tonight’s event.” Mylea replied. “I also brought you this?”
Mylea had brought small flask of Thonian brandy with her. Something that her friend knew she liked.
“Thank you; but after,” Lisa replied.
“What are you going to wear?” Mylea asked.
“Something simple,” Lisa said going to her closet, “You wouldn’t believe the grief I got from the Queen and Maggie about what I was going to wear. They wanted me to dress to the nines, like I was going to court.”
Mylea had heard. There wasn’t much she didn’t hear about through the grape vine. Mylea simply asked, “What would make you feel comfortable?”
“The dress I wore when the three of us, me you and Mike went to dinner at Meckler’s when you first arrived at Trena.” Lisa said.
Mylea remembered that night. She was still in a bit of daze over losing Garth. But she remembered the dress. It wasn’t all that great. Just a simple dress, that one might be worn to a daughter’s graduation. It was not a flashy dress. It was conservative. “Then wear it. It’s simple, and conservative. But guess what my very pregnant friend it won’t fit!”
“Yea I know,” Lisa said, “But one can only hope.”
“Lady Wilson,” Georgia came into the room, “This was just sent over by Archie’s.”
“Archie’s,” Lisa asked, “that’s that place where we were the other day wasn’t it Georgia?”
“Yes ma’am,” the protective agent said, “they got wind of your interview tonight and thought you might be able to use an outfit.”
“Let’s see what they sent,” Mylea said, taking the box from the woman’s hands. She took it out of the box and showed it to Lisa. It was a short sleeved knit dress. The color had been chosen to compliment Lisa’s blue eyes. A jacket of the same material came with it.
“Nice,” Lisa said, “what about shoes?”
“They sent this also!” The agent presented a shoe box. She presented Lisa with a pair of flat shoes that had been custom made for the noble woman. Lisa put them on and said, “Some one knows how my feet hurt all the time! I ain't taking these off.”
“How we doing on time Georgia?” Lisa asked stepping out of her dressing gown.
“We’re okay with time My Lady,” Georgia said, “Do you want your maid?”
“No.” Lisa said, “I’ve dressed myself for nearly forty five years I am not any less capable of doing that because I a lord’s wife, or pregnant.”
Mylea chuckled. She knew her friend too well, Lisa was putting up with the attention, but Mylea knew that Lisa just wanted to go back to her little home on McKay Avenue where she could continue being a wife, and mother. Lisa wasn’t letting all the attention spoil her. She refused to have a personal lady in waiting. Her maid, Maggie, (who sometimes complained that Lisa should let others help her more; more so since she was pregnant), defended Lisa’s desire to not be fussed over or pampered too much.
Lisa dressed quickly and was escorted to the family room by her friend and protective agent. As she did she heard a wolf’s whistle. Which did her soul a world of good, Wilson never let her think of herself fat or ugly because she was pregnant. “Alright who are you and what did you do with my wife?”
“Huh?” Lisa asked.
“Well my wife is the most beautiful woman in the entire universe,” Wilson said “but this lady, she’s well she’s beautiful oh it is Lisa.”
Lisa blushed as she handed him a medallion he given her nearly thirty years before asking him as she handed it to her husband. “Michael, would you put this on please?
The medallion was the first thing he had ever given her. It was a simple heart shape gold piece cut in half. It was inscribed, “I’ll love you forever, Michael.” Michael had one exactly like it instead his said “I’ll love you forever, Lisa.” When the medallions were side by side they completed the heart. The medallion was one of the few things she had managed to keep a hold over the years. He placed the medallion around her neck. Georgia took several discrete photos. Mac had cautioned her about being distracted, but he also knew that the young lady was a hell of a good photographer, and she didn’t let the photography get in the way of her work.
Wilson escorted his wife to a small courtyard, in the Queen’s private garden where they had set up for the interview.
“Marshal Wilson,” Don Least held out his hand. Wilson took it. “When will you let us interview you?”
“We’ll see,” Wilson said, “be nice to my lady Mr. Least.”
Before the man could reply there was a clatter of things falling over and Wilson turned to see Sergeant Jones tripping over a camera mount.
“Excuse me a minute,” Wilson said and walked to where Alice was straightening up the camera mount. Wilson almost missed it, but he saw Alice palm two small fittings off the camera mount. “Is there a problem here, Sergeant Jones?”
“Not anymore Marshall,” the humbot replied. She wanted to send him an implant message but Wilson didn’t have one.
“Alright sergeant,” Wilson asked, “Keep an eye on my lady for a while will you?”
“With pleasure Marshal,” Alice replied, “No harm will come to her.”
Wilson turned to his wife and the interviewer and said, “I’ll be back to pick you up when it is over.”
“Okay,” She kissed him. She turned towards the interviewer she gave him a predatory smile, “Shall we begin?”
In all the years he had been the dean of interviewers in the media on Trena, he had never done an interview so fraught with danger to his career. It was well known that the royal family put him in the same class as rat offal. It was rumored that the Marshal had authorized the cops to arrest him on sight if he so much as jay walked. Now to be allowed to interview one of the most loved and respected members of the evacuation leadership team’s spouses and family members it was almost too much. He had heard through the grapevine that the palace protective detail drew straws to be on her team when one of the permanent team had to take a day off or called in sick. He had heard about the very closed and personal barbecue that she held for all members of the protective detail and how she would tell one of the single parents to bring their kid with them if she was going to be around the palace when they had to stand a post with Lady Wilson. She was even a story reader in the palace day care center. She was well liked by the palace staff, and by the people of Trena. More so when she got shot at and thought more of her agent’s care than her own!
“Lady Wilson,” a makeup specialist came up. “Let me take a quick look at you.”
She started to get brushes and such out and simply shook her head, “I think not. You look like you just stepped out of a high fashion magazine. Do you want me to say something to the director no long shots.” She was familiar with how many women felt about being photographed during pregnancy.
“No,” Lady Wilson said, “I’m pregnant and there isn’t much that can be done to hide the fact that I am carrying twins. Besides the Boss says being six almost seven months pregnant makes me more beautiful than ever.”
They sat her down in a chair that had been brought from the residence. One that Maggie had custom made for her so she could get comfortable at her desk. The lights moved on their own as an expert lighting system moved the lighting on their stands around to get the best lighting they could for her. What the producer didn’t know was that Alice had taken over the lighting controls. She had detected a malevolent program designed to make Lisa look evil by adjusting the light to make her shadowy and frightening. Alice was tempted to make this interviewer look bad; but then thought better of it as he could do it all on his own. Alice watched from the shadows. Ready to correct anything one of the Hostile AIs might try to do.
A floor director came into the small
garden stood before both of them and said “live in five, four, three, two and” she pointed a finger at the two of them and Don Least began speaking.