“Don’t worry about me, miss. I’ll be fine.”
Damn! Get the hint!
Outwardly, Juliette smiled sweetly. “Well, good night, then.”
“Good night, miss,” the guardsman bowed.
Frustrated, Juliette headed upstairs and went to bed.
* * *
The next day was a blur of lessons: Latin, posture, table etiquette, and royal history. She didn’t see Guillermo or Armand at all. And every time she sent a discreet glance in the gem room’s direction, there was always a royal guardsman standing there.
At dinner, she pulled up the Channel 6 News website on her smartphone. (True to his word, the prince had returned her cell phone to her just as he said he would.)
She played the embedded video on the homepage. There she was again — that same awful picture — with the headline, “The Prince’s Bride: Confirmed!” plastered on the screen. The news anchor promised fresh footage from the Children’s Hospital Charity Picnic during tomorrow’s lunchtime hour.
Looks like Guillermo got that press release out.
She paused, startled by herself. “Guillermo,” she whispered. Why did that word feel so strange — and yet, so exciting at the same time?
Chapter 7
Juliette stood at the entrance to the purple tent that served as the royal dressing room and peered outside. From her vantage point, she could see the long stage where the pie eating contest would take place. A continuous row of folding tables and chairs were positioned side-by-side; she counted 20 seats. At the very back of center stage sat two red makeshift thrones, one for her, one for Guillermo. Juliette’s eyes focused on the crowd of reporters standing just in front of the stage, eagerly waiting.
“Are you ready?” Guillermo asked from behind her.
Juliette patted her dress and adjusted her tiara one last time. “Yes, I think so.”
“Relax,” he squeezed her arm. “You’ll do fine. Just remember to let me do most of the talking. If you don’t want to answer a question, just pretend you didn’t hear it. And smile.”
Before she had a chance to respond, Guillermo grabbed her hand and tugged her outside. Flashbulbs went off immediately; reporters began narrating as the couple climbed the four steps to the main stage. Juliette smiled nervously and squeezed Guillermo’s hand.
“You’re doing fine,” he assured her under his breath.
Guillermo led her to center stage and paused in front of the red thrones. The couple stood there, waving to the small crowd made up of about 10 picnic attendees and 30 reporters, producers, and cameramen.
The reporters began shouting questions:
“Where did you meet?”
“Who are you wearing?”
“How are you finding castle life?”
Following Guillermo’s advice, Juliette answered only the questions that she had rehearsed. “I love Palais d’Or. Everyone has been so good to me.”
More questions, more cherry-picked answers. After only three minutes of rapid-fire questions, she felt utterly drained; it was a chore to maintain her smile. Mercifully, the emcee stepped to the center of the stage and spoke into the microphone with a booming voice, “All right, all right, everyone, gather round, young and old, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen! It’s time for the Children’s Hospital Charity Picnic opening event: the pie eating contest!”
Cheers arose from the sparse crowd. Off to her left, Juliette could see excited children running towards the stage, their parents calling after them. “We’ll begin the contest in 10 minutes. The sign-up sheet is available at the front of the stage.” The reporters reluctantly peeled back to make way for the participants.
“How are you holding up?” Guillermo whispered.
“Fine. I just… I wasn’t expecting this. Is it like this all the time?”
Guillermo chuckled. “No, they’re particularly intense today. They want to know everything about you. You did well. You told them just enough.”
“I hope so.”
“Well, you can relax for now. There shouldn’t be any more questions until after the contest has ended.”
Juliette sat back in her throne and surveyed the fairgrounds. La Maçana Park was four acres of lush green grass set in a valley south of Mount Serrera. She was seated at the far west side of the park. Tall trees lined the far east side. Two hundred feet in front of her, in the center of the park, a small roller coaster had been constructed, suitable for children from ages 6 to 9. The maximum height of the track was only about 10 feet off the ground; still, she could hear children screaming with delight as their cars made their way around the curves.
To her left, she could see two rows of colorful carnival booths: games, food, and entertainment. At the end of the path between the booths was a petting zoo. “Touch the giant llama!” a sign at the entrance promised. To the left of the petting zoo was the red-and-white striped First Aid Tent.
Directly behind her throne were 2 more tents: the purple Royal Tent and a giant yellow tent for the picnic volunteers.
Juliette focused on the other large stage diagonally across from her at the south end of the park about 300 feet away. She could barely make out stagehands moving equipment around when suddenly she whispered, “Oh my God. Don’t tell me-”
“What?” Guillermo leaned over.
The stagehands on the south stage unfurled a banner: “François the Magician!”
“You cannot be serious,” she said. “Who invited Uncle François?”
“I did,” Guillermo grinned.
“But-”
“Oh, come on. I’m not an idiot. Your uncle wasn’t buying a word I said the other day. I know he doesn’t trust me.”
Juliette shot him a look but said nothing.
Guillermo continued, “Look at it from his perspective: I’m blackmailing his beloved niece. He probably despises me for it. So, if this is going to work, he’s got to be on board with everything. Having him here today will give him a chance to see us together, to see that you’re not being mistreated.”
“I can’t believe you’d just spring this on me like this,” she fumed.
“We have 19 signatures,” the emcee announced into the microphone. “Is there anyone else who wants to participate in the pie eating contest?”
“Yes!” Juliette raised her hand. “The prince said he would like to participate!”
Guillermo glared at her for just a moment, then chuckled. “You got me.”
The crowd applauded. “How about that!” the emcee said.
Guillermo stood, smiled, and waved at the crowd. The emcee directed the prince to his seat. “And that makes 20!” the emcee announced. “Let the pie eating contest begin! Ladies, please bring out the pies.”
One by one, 10 teenage girls filed out of the yellow tent, each carrying 2 miniature blueberry pies. They set the pies in front of the contestants as the emcee reviewed the rules. The reporters perked up and trained their cameras at the stage again, seeing that the prince was now joining in.
“When I say go, begin eating your pies as fast as you can using only your mouth. No hands allowed! The first person to clean their plate wins! Is everybody ready?”
A collective “yes” came back from the enthusiastic children.
“Ready. Set. Go!”
The children dove in face first. Flashbulbs went off as proud parents shouted encouragement.
Juliette noticed Guillermo was being extra cautious, taking tiny bites from the top of the pie. She stood, looked at the crowd, held her index finger up to her mouth to shush them, and crept up silently behind Guillermo. The next time he bent down to take a bite, she grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face into the pie.
“Don’t be shy, honey!” she grinned from ear to ear.
The crowd roared with laughter. She released her grip. When the prince came up for air, his face was completely covered in blueberry filling, even his eyelids. He chuckled as the filling dripped off of his chin and onto his shirt and tie. Juliette grabbed a nearby napk
in and wiped away the pie from his eyes and nose. He looked up at her, smiled and said, “You got me again!”
Juliette giggled.
The pie contest continued. After nearly two minutes, a young boy raised his hand and shouted, “Done!” The emcee walked over, surveyed the pie tin, and announced, “We have a winner!”
The cheers from the crowd (and some disappointed groans) dissolved into polite clapping. The emcee produced a gold-colored trophy and handed it to the proud boy. Juliette stood by Guillermo’s side, clapping.
Juliette backed into the Royal Tent carrying a glass bowl. “I managed to find some warm water and a clean rag in the workers’ area— Oh!”
As she turned around, she saw Guillermo standing there with his shirt off: muscular arms, well-defined pecs, with just the right amount of thick black hair on his chest and abdomen. “I didn’t realize-” she stammered, blushing bright red.
“Don’t worry about it,” Guillermo smiled easily. “We are engaged, remember?” He took the bowl and towel from her hands and placed them on a folding table. She stood behind him, watching his broad shoulders flex as he splashed water on his face several times, then dried off with the rag.
She bit her lip.
Keep it together, girl! Remember what you’re here for!
He wiped his face, tossed the towel on the table, then grabbed a clean shirt from the portable rack. “I always bring at least two shirts to these kinds of events,” he explained. “Any time there are children around, things are bound to happen.”
He shrugged into the white collared shirt, buttoned up the front, then rolled up the sleeves on his toned arms. He hastily tucked the shirt in his pants and asked, “How do I look?”
Like a dream! she almost squealed. His collar was open, revealing the slightest bit of his chest hair; his Adam’s apple, his neck.
“Here,” she reached up. “You still have a little crust in your hair.” She brushed the crumbs away, trying desperately not to look up into his eyes. “There.” She stepped back. “That should do it.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at his watch. “We should go. We promised the reporters another hour of footage.” He held out his arm and smiled. “Shall we?”
Juliette and Guillermo headed south towards the row of carnival booths, the reporters and their cameramen following at a respectable distance.
All around her, Juliette saw joyful children running and playing. Some attendees had spread out blankets on the grass; children sat eating from their picnic baskets while the mothers gossiped with each other. She couldn’t help but smile.
The first booth they arrived at did face painting; a young blond girl sat perfectly still as an artist painted a monarch butterfly on her cheek. Her two friends stood nearby, one with a teddy bear, the other with a rainbow on their cheeks.
To her right, a clown wearing a top hat and big floppy shoes was tying balloon animals, surrounded by children staring up at him in rapt attention.
The second booth she came to sold huge, colorful lollipops and cotton candy. An excited child tugged at his mother’s arm and pointed.
“Oh, look, Guillermo,” she nodded, “a ring toss game. I love those!”
Guillermo reached in his pocket and handed the carny a bill. “One turn, please.”
The carny handed an eager Juliette five smooth wooden rings. She stood at the front of the booth and gently tossed the rings towards the bottles. One, two, three, four — all of the rings bounced off and clattered to the ground. She held her breath and tossed the final ring. It landed on a bottle!
The carny rang a bell. “Another winner!” he announced cheerfully. He handed Juliette a tiny red toy car. She showed it to Guillermo and then laughed.
She turned and scanned the crowd. A group of four girls walked by chatting, all with helium balloons tied around their wrists. An excited boy ran up to his mother, begged for more money, then rushed off to buy something new.
Ah! There’s one.
Juliette walked over to a young boy of about 7 looking downtrodden, holding his mother’s hand. She squatted down and smiled, “Hi there.”
“Hello,” the boy said back.
“Would you like a toy car?”
The boy nodded.
“OK. Here you go.” Juliette held out her hand and the boy took the car from her outstretched palm.
“Thank you,” the boy’s face lit up. “Mommy, look!” He held the car up for his mother to see.
Juliette and the boy’s mother exchanged pleasantries while Guillermo looked on.
Eventually, the couple continued their stroll down the line of brightly colored booths, pausing here and there. It felt so natural to be with Guillermo like this that Juliette almost forgot about the reporters’ cameras that were trained on them.
Finally reaching the end of the row, the pair stopped in front of a booth. “I’ll challenge you,” Juliette pointed and grinned. The booth had five squirt guns mounted in a row. Opposite each squirt gun was a wooden clown’s face with his mouth wide open and a balloon tied to the top of his head. Whenever water was squirted into the clown’s mouth, the balloon on top of its head would fill with air. The goal of the game was to shoot so much water into the clown’s mouth that the balloon would pop.
“You’re on,” the prince said.
Juliette and Guillermo took their positions side by side and gripped the handle of their guns. The carny flipped the switch. “Go!”
The pair squeezed the triggers and water came shooting out. Juliette trained her stream at the clown’s mouth and popped her balloon before Guillermo’s was even halfway filled. “I win!” she cheered triumphantly.
Guillermo leaned in close, cupped his hand by her ear, and whispered, “I should have known The Robin Hood Robber would have excellent aim.” He pulled back and grinned.
“Who?” she deadpanned. “Never heard of him.”
“Yeah, right!” he chuckled.
Just then, she felt the slightest tug. She turned around to see a young girl with tightly curled brown hair, no more than 6, wearing a pink dress, smiling up at her timidly. “Are you the princess?”
Juliette smiled at her. “Not yet. Did you want something, sweetie?”
“Can I touch your crown?”
Juliette squatted down to the little girl’s level. “It’s a tiara. Can you say that?”
“Tiara,” the little girl repeated, swinging her hips from side to side and looking down shyly.
“Is your hand clean?”
The girl shoved her hands out, palms first, for Juliette to inspect. “Uh huh!”
“Well, OK, then.”
The little girl ran her hand over the tiara and commented, “So pretty. Thank you, princess!” She promptly ran away before Juliette could say, “You’re welcome.”
Juliette stood and smiled contentedly for a moment, but as she surveyed the crowd slowly, her expression fell. Soon, she was frowning.
She turned to Guillermo. “You know what? I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” She stormed off towards the First Aid Tent leaving a dumbfounded prince behind her.
Juliette flipped open the tent flap and marched inside. She was alone. There were two cots on her left and a medicine cabinet at the back of the tent. As soon as she plopped down in one of the metal folding chairs, Guillermo burst in.
“What happened?” he demanded. “You were doing so well.”
“I can’t pretend any more, Guillermo. This is wrong.”
“If it’s the reporters, they’re packing up now-”
“No,” she shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s these children.” She glared at him in anger. “I can’t help but notice that none of the children at this children’s hospital charity event are actually in need of any charity or any hospital! Their clothes appear to be brand new and I haven’t heard so much as a single sniffle.”
Guillermo sighed, grabbed a nearly stool, and sat down facing her. “So, you noticed it, too.” His eyes were sad; he suddenly seemed very tired. �
��How do you think I feel? I’m a pediatrician for God’s sake!” He ran a hand through his black hair.
Juliette felt the blood drain from her face. She was expecting a fight, not this.
Oh, Juliette, you can be such an idiot sometimes!
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I accused you without thinking.”
She paused. No response.
“Guillermo, look at me.” She kept her eyes on him until he met her gaze. Once he did, she apologized again, “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you.”
He nodded.
“Look, I’m not blaming the kids,” she continued. “Every child deserves to have a good time regardless of their parents’ economic status. But why are we throwing a party for children who are well fed and in perfect health?”
Guillermo exhaled slowly. “The board of trustees claims that kids like this make for better photo ops; and better photo ops lead to higher donations.”
“Donations? From whom? Aren’t people supposed to sponsor a sick or underprivileged child to an event like this? How does this picnic raise money, exactly?”
Guillermo got a faraway look in his eyes. “You know, Juliette, that’s a really good question.”
“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice called from the entrance. “Is anyone in there?” The tent flap opened and a stout woman in her early 40s entered the tent holding her son’s hand. “My son isn’t feeling well. Oh!” she stopped when she saw Guillermo and Juliette. “I’m so sorry! I thought this was the first aid tent.”
“It is,” Guillermo immediately switched emotional gears and smiled, “please, come in. I’m a doctor.”
“Oh? Oh! Yes, well,” she pushed her child forward, “my little Miguel says he has an upset stomach.”
“Well, let’s have a look.” Guillermo hopped off of his stool.
The nervous mother continued, “The flu is going around his school. Do you think it’s the flu?”
“Hmm…” Guillermo felt Miguel’s forehead, then walked to the medicine cabinet and retrieved a flashlight and tongue depressor. “Say ahhhh.”
“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” Miguel said. Guillermo pressed down on Miguel’s tongue and peeked into his throat.
Princess Thief: Stealing Your Heart Page 6
