by Rachel Hauck
“Yes, all that government stuff.”
“But this life is over, Tanner.” Her voice quavered. “Al’s closing the shop. Rafe is probably moving. Wally is retiring.” She sighed. “Al said there’s no way I can give up being a princess to dink around in an old car garage.”
“Did I ever tell you how brilliant I found Al when we met?”
“Hush. You’re just glad he’s on your side.”
“I won’t lie. I am. But this is your decision.”
“We’re having a barbecue at Daddy and Sadie’s tonight.”
“And?”
“I’m going to say good-bye to everyone.”
Tanner grinned, his heart fluttering. Wasn’t this his lucky, er, blessed night?
“I’m coming home, Tanner. Tomorrow, I’m coming home.”
Home. Such a sweet word.
“I’m glad, Regina. So very, very glad.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
A bonfire crackled and blazed, the flames high and hot, on the back acre of Daddy’s property. Reggie sat in a folding chair between Sadie and Carrie, listening to Jeb Cartwright’s bluegrass band, watching the gathering crowd.
“Thanks for doing this, Sadie.”
“Reg, please. We can’t let you go without some sort of send-off. I wish we had time to do more.” Sadie reached through the darkness and squeezed her hand. “Going to miss you around here, girl.”
“I’m going to miss being here.”
“But we’ll come over for Christmas,” Sadie said, popping her hands together. “Won’t it be beautiful?”
Clarence made his way toward her, looking casual in jeans and a sweater, not like a royal security officer. Every so often he made a sweep of the party, making sure everyone was safe.
“Clarence, sit down,” Sadie said. “You’re in the South. Reg is more than safe. I guarantee you every man here and most of the women have a gun tucked up in their car or truck.” She stood, scanning the crowd. “There are no less than three police officers here.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but it’s my job to keep watch over her. Those officers won’t be the one answering to the king or the people of Hessenberg.” Clarence pulled his folding chair around behind Reggie.
As odd as it sounded to hear a man say it was his job to “watch over her,” Reggie felt cocooned in Clarence’s attentiveness.
“Well, please tell me you got something to eat,” Sadie the banker-baker said.
“Yes, ma’am. I never had barbecue before, and it was quite lovely.”
“Land sakes, I’ll send you home with a good recipe. Reg can help you make it. Then you can invite a lady friend over and . . .” Sadie looked back at him. “Are you married?”
“No, ma’am.” Clarence’s broad cheeks flushed pink.
“All right, well, this stuff will do the trick. See those two over there?” Sadie pointed to Richard and Kathy Fox. “Fell in love over a plate of my sweet barbecue chicken.”
“Sadie,”—Reggie reached out and lowered Sadie’s hand—“just give him the recipe.” She smiled back at the big man. “But let him find his wife his own way.”
“Just saying, a good dinner never hurt.”
“If Rafe gets the job in Pensacola, I think he’s going to propose,” Carrie said out of the blue, more to herself than Reggie or Sadie. Or Clarence.
Reggie swerved to face her. “And what will you say to this proposal?”
“Big honking yes. Are you crazy? Though I can’t imagine you not being around for all the planning, Reg.” Carrie stretched her arms toward her friend, drawing her into a soft hug. “Are you sure you need to leave and be a princess?”
“Yes.” Sadie cut the air with a side swipe of her hand, her tone flat and unwavering. “She does. So don’t start, Carrie.”
Yes, yes, she did. Reggie squeezed Sadie’s hand, blinking away a sting of tears. Sadie sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Oh, there’s LeeAnn Burnett . . .” She shot out of her chair. “LeeAnn, I need to talk to you about this year’s Christmas gift drive . . .”
“She’s a good mom,” Carrie said.
“The best.” Reggie sat back in her chair, but then saw Mark crossing the yard. “Clarence,” she said, getting up. “I’ll be right over there.”
She met Mark at the soda cooler.
“So, you’re leaving. Off to be a princess.” He dug a soda from the ice and popped the top. “I thought Al was joking when he said you were a real princess. Then your dad confirmed it.”
“I’m sorry I left without talking to you. It all happened so fast.”
A couple of Sadie’s friends came up, asking for a photo, but Clarence appeared out of nowhere and blocked the shot.
“No posts on Twitter or Facebook.” He stepped up on the picnic table bench, shedding his stoic reserve. “Do not post pictures of Her Majesty. Do not tweet or Facebook about her. It is a matter of security. If you have posted photographs, kindly take them down.”
When Clarence hopped off the table, Mark scoffed. “Your own security detail?”
“Comes with the job.” Reggie stooped to retrieve a soda from the ice. “One of the perks.” She laughed. “Lighten up. Clarence is just being super cautious.”
“I’ll say.”
“Mark, hey, we’re friends, right? We’ll always be friends.” She popped the tab of her root beer as the cold dew from the can dripped to her flip-flopped foot.
“You know, Reg, when I said we’d be a great power couple, I didn’t mean for you to run off and inherit a kingdom. Being a partner in a CPA firm suited me just fine.”
She laughed and bumped him with her shoulder. “Come see me in Hessenberg?”
“Yeah, maybe. I got a lot of irons in the fire here.”
“Some things never change.” She bent forward to see his downcast eyes. “Can we be power friends?”
He tipped up his can for a long swig. “Not the same. Not the same.”
“Mark, even if I wasn’t a princess—”
“I know.” He stared straight ahead, toward the fire. “What do you say? Care to go for a drive for old times’ sake?”
“I–I think I’d better stay here.” Reggie tipped her head toward the party. “Lots of people to talk with yet. Besides, Clarence would never let me go alone. Old times’ sake never included personal security.”
“All right, then how about a two-step around the dance floor?”
Reggie gave Mark her hand and he led her to the dance floor—a plywood board Daddy stored in the attic above the garage.
They moved around the board with the other dancers, the familiar steps stirring her melancholy. She was going to miss home.
But she yearned to see what lay ahead. Ached to begin the journey of her heart. With Hessenberg. With Tanner.
The melody changed and Daddy tapped Mark on the shoulder. “Pardon me, but I need to step around with my daughter.”
As Daddy began scooting with her around the floor, Reggie pressed her cheek against her rock, her daddy, and her tears flowed.
“Going to miss you, Reg.”
“I’m going to miss you, Daddy.” She dried her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “Do you think I can do it?”
Daddy stepped back to see her face. “I’ve no doubt. I just know your mama and gram are up in heaven cheering you on. Mama would want you to fly and, princess sweet pea, so do I.” He laughed. “Me, a master plumber, father of a princess.”
“Ah, but Daddy, I’ll always be your sweet pea, the proud daughter of a master plumber.”
Arriving at his flat with just enough time to change before his four thirty meeting with his daughters, Tanner changed into jeans and a jumper, going for the hip dad appearance.
In the kitchen, he arranged Mum’s cake so it could be seen, even fanned his hand over it trying to fill the house with the scent of cinnamon.
The doorbell chimed, and he wiped the dew from his palms as he opened the door.
Dressed in their school uniforms, the girls stood to Trude’s shoulders, th
eir silky blonde hair falling over their shoulders in soft, wide curls. Their perfectly matched blue eyes studied him, and as he had at their birthday party, he caught a hint of his mum in their smiles and stubborn chins.
“Come in, please. Welcome.” He stood aside, exchanging a glance with Trude, hoping for a clue as to the girls’ moods. She made a face, rolling her eyes.
What did that mean?
“Tanner, you remember Bella,”—she put her hand on the girl’s head to her right—“and Britta”—then on the daughter on her left.
“I–I remember. We spoke at your party.” He did remember them. When they were little he could tell them apart by their . . . aura? Was that the right word? Bella had a fiery spark in her eye that had started when she was a baby. Britta, the serious one, emanated a certain embracing sensitivity.
The girls greeted him as they moved into the living room. And that’s about the time it took for all the love he had for them as babies and toddlers to spring to life and saturate his soul. He’d been tentative with them at the party, but now he realized eight years of silence had not dulled his heart at all.
“The place is kind of bare.”
“Bella”—Trude thumped her on the back of the head—“mind your manners.”
“You’re right, it is kind of bare,” Tanner said. “I–I’m not here very much.”
“Do you work a lot?” Britta asked in a soft voice.
“I do but I can work from home if you decided to live here.”
“We’re not children,” Bella said. “We don’t need supervision.”
“Tanner, we’ve a car that takes the girls to and from school. By the time they complete their after-school activities it’s well into teatime.”
“What kind of activities?”
“I play lacrosse.” Britta tapped her hand to her chest, then pointed her thumb at her sister. “She’s a choir bird.”
Tanner tried not to laugh. He’d have guessed the opposite activities based on personality. Back into parenting for less than a minute and he was already being schooled.
“They look alike, but that’s where the similarities end,” Trude said. “Britta loves the roller coasters, but Bella is afraid of heights.”
“I love the haunted house,” Bella said. “She’s afraid of her own shadow.”
“Mum, tell her to stop saying that.”
“Are you going to fight in front of Tanner? Ensure he won’t want to live with either one of you?”
“We didn’t say we wanted to live with him.” Bella moved to the windows and peeked out.
“You don’t have to live here,” Trude said. “We’ve discussed it. Evan and I are fine for you to come to America.”
“What about Scarborough?” Trude cauterized Tanner’s question with a single glance. Ah, seems she had a strategy and he was mussing it up.
“But I’m going to be captain of the team next year.” Britta turned to her mother.
“And I’m trying out for senior choir.” Bella looked at Tanner as if to garner his support.
“Girls, that’s a whole year away,” Trude said with a wink at Tanner.
“But if we move to America, we lose our spots.”
“Isn’t that why we are here, then? To see if you want to live with your father?”
Father. The word sounded so foreign. But so sweet.
Britta grabbed his arm. “Do you know the princess?”
“Yes, I do.” Very well, thank you.
“Can we meet her?”
“Oh please,” Bella joined her sister’s petition. “Please, can we?”
“I believe it can be arranged.”
“Is she nice? For an American?”
“She’s very nice.”
The girls squealed and huddled together. “Mary Margaret will just be green with envy when we tell her.”
“Girls, don’t go flaunting this to your friends. Be nice.” Trude looked at Tanner with a shrug and a grin. “I’d like to meet her myself.”
“I’ll arrange a tea for the family. Mum hasn’t met her yet.” Tanner lightly tapped the girls on the head. “But she’d like to meet you two the most.”
The dialog went supersonic, the girls talking so fast Tanner wasn’t sure they were actually speaking real words. Trude was right in there with them. Oh no, how was he ever going to navigate the life and times of ten-year-old twins?
At last they paused to breathe and he jumped into the verbal action break. “Would you like to see your room?”
And the rapid-fire dialog ignited again.
He’d enlisted the aid of his staffer, Marissa, to help with the beanbag chairs and throw pillows. And Tanner worked with Louis to print out his Pinterest finds—what a smashing site—all morning.
Tanner led the girls down the short hall and lit the floor lamp, giving the normally austere room a warm, inviting change. Lights just coming on from the city dotted the dark picture window and, even to Tanner, the scene felt magical.
“Wow, Mum, look. We can see the whole city.” The twins pressed their faces to the window.
“My, Tanner, this is extraordinary.”
“I thought you could decorate any way you want. I printed out some ideas.” Tanner motioned to the images on the wall, nervous if not a bit slaphappy. “Here’s one where the twins divided the room down the middle.”
“Look, Bella, isn’t it marvelous?” Britta leaned into the images, asking Tanner if they could do any one they wanted, squealing when he answered in the affirmative.
Trude went to the kitchen and returned with plates, forks, and the cinnamon cake.
“Shall we dine in your new room? Bella, look, a purple beanbag. Your favorite color.”
Tanner listened as the girls talked, trying to enter their world. When he sat on the floor with his cake, wondering if indeed, after the excitement, this would ever really work, he looked up to see Britta moving her beanbag closer to him.
She smiled when their eyes met. His mouth went dry and his heart tapped out D-a-d-l-o-v-e.
“I think I’m going to like living here.”
“Me too,” Bella said.
“It won’t be easy, girls.” Trude exchanged a glance with Tanner. “Your dad’s been single a long time.” Your dad, your dad . . . no sweeter words except I love you. “And we’ll be apart. Think about this now . . .”
Britta stared at Tanner, then leaned toward him with a serene expression. “I remember you,” she whispered.
He choked on his cake, the crumbs sticking to his dry throat. “Y–you remember me? From the party?”
“No, from when I was little.” With a shy smile, she looked back at her plate, her golden hair falling against her cheek.
“If we’re here, Mum,” Bella said, “Tanner—Dad—won’t be a lonely bachelor. He needs us.”
“Now, girls, don’t go getting ideas in your head about—”
“She’s right, Trude.” Tanner reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I do need them.” And he hoped they needed him. “But it’s not going to be smooth sailing.”
“So?” Bella shrugged. “We can learn together.”
Tanner tried to finish his cake, but he’d lost all taste for its sweetness. Having his girls in his flat overwhelmed all of his senses. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he was really living his life. Really home.
He listened while the girls talked with Trude, interjecting where he could, but he loved the sound of their chatter. The old flat had suffered with his silence too long.
The girls were in the middle of discussing the Pinterest printouts when Tanner’s phone pinged. He retrieved it from his pocket. A message from King Nathaniel.
EU Court agreed to hear the petition. Arguments begin in the morning.
Tanner excused himself for a moment. Thank goodness Regina was returning. Hessenberg needed her.
As he left the room, intending to call Louis, he caught his reflection in the dark windowpane and paused, touching the top of his hair, the chatter
of the girls floating around him.
His life was changing. He was changing. And the need for his long, stubborn locks was finally over.
On a mid-October Friday evening, dusk settled over Strauberg as Reggie rode with Tanner toward the Fence & Anchor.
Slowing for a red light, he leaned toward her. “Regina, love, look this way. You’ve something in your eye.”
“I do?” Reggie swatted at her bangs, blowing a breath up, fluttering the ends. Tomorrow morning she had an appointment at a stylist Melinda recommended. Thank goodness.
“Yes, see, right here . . .” Tanner brushed her bangs aside and kissed her right eye, then her left, moving to the tip of her nose. At last—oh, at last—her tingling lips.
She slipped her hand around his neck, returning his affection. She’d been home four days and had yet to fill her kisses quotient. It seemed every time they were alone, for just a moment, someone came along. Louis. Jarvis. Serena. An aide. A photographer.
So they kissed at red lights like a couple of teens.
When he greeted her at the airport, she didn’t recognize him with his styled, short hair, but oh, now she saw every angle and contour of his fine face, the face of the man she wanted next to her in this life.
A green hue fell against the windshield, and a car horn blasted.
Tanner’s kisses softened into a laugh. “Some blokes have no romance.”
“The shame of it all.”
Tanner wove his fingers with Reggie’s and headed past the light. “Are you sure you want to go to the Fence & Anchor? We can go to a nicer place.”
“The Fence & Anchor, please, sir. The patrons are my kind of people. The ones who work hard all week, then get with friends on the weekend for fellowship, blow off a bit of steam.” She pulled her hand from his, sitting forward, peering out the front window, watching the storm clouds gather, screening the last tendrils of twilight. “I didn’t have one bite of my stew the last time, and I’ve been getting memory whiffs ever since.”
“The F & A will be thrilled to have you.”
“So, Tanner, the girls . . . ,” Reggie said. “Moving in the day after Christmas. Are you excited?”
