by Banks, Evie
Roberts came up behind them. “Oh excellent, are you going to try that on? I’d been meaning to have a word with you about your attire,” said the always immaculate Roberts. Chase, seeing that he was outnumbered, gave in and went, grumbling, to the dressing room with the salesman who held a measuring tape. A few moments later he came out and the transformation was remarkable.
This time it was Renee’s turn to fall silent and for Chase to turn slightly reddish though he covered it up by turning towards the mirror and brushing off his sleeves.
“You have to get that,” said Renee when she found her voice. Cassandra nodded in agreement.
“It does you wonders, you know,” said Roberts.
“I can’t justify this,” said Chase.
“You can’t, but I can,” said Renee. “I can’t have my assistants walking around looking like homeless people—it’s an embarrassment to England.” She was beginning to enjoy this royalty stuff. “Oh, and why don’t you try that blazer and jeans combination? Here, take these button down shirts with you.” She stuffed things into his arms, ignoring his protests.
Twenty minutes later, their items had been purchased and they were back out on the street. “Next on the agenda is a visit to the hair salon,” said Roberts. “Come on, it’s just this way.” Cassandra walked with Roberts up ahead, which left Renee and Chase paired off.
“This must be very boring for you, shopping all day,” said Renee.
“It’s all part of the job. Trust me, I’ve had worse assignments.”
“So you were in the Special Forces?” she asked.
“Yes, eight years.”
“What did you do?”
He looked at her and cocked his head without saying anything.
“Well, when I’m queen I can have you tortured to find out anything,” said Renee, casually.
“You don’t have to go through all that trouble. You’ll have access to my personnel file.”
Renee noticed that the closer that they got to England, the quieter he became.
“Until then, I get bupkis?”
“You got it,” he replied.
The silence between them had to be endured only a few minutes before they were hustled into a salon with blaring music and panels of flat screen televisions in front of every hair station and hanging from the ceilings like in a gym. Renee was steered into a seat and watched helplessly as her strawberry blonde locks fell to the floor. There was a wash, some snipping, a blow dry, some more snipping and finally a daub of mousse run through her hair. When she looked in the mirror she hardly recognized herself. She had always been used to pulling back her hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her way at work, but this new hairstyle was too short for that. It fell perfectly across her forehead and tucked behind her ear. She couldn’t help smiling. She was next directed to a manicurist. Cassandra joined her there and they squealed when they saw each other because Cassandra’s unkempt straight hair had been layered and given bangs which brushed her eyebrows. When their nails were filed and polished, a makeup lady came to Renee’s seat and quickly lined her eyes and swept some gloss across her lips.
“There, how do you like that?” asked the lady.
Renee looked in the mirror and bit her lip to keep from crying. She had never looked this pretty and wanted to ask who the woman in the mirror was because she looked half a decade younger. “Don’t bite your lip, you’ll ruin the makeup,” admonished the beautician. Renee complied.
She got up to find Roberts and Chase. Roberts was in the lobby, but Chase was nowhere to be seen.
“He’s getting his hair cut also. He can’t keep walking around with that mop top. Really, I thought the government paid better than that. Ah, here he is now, looking fresh and shaved for once.”
“I can’t believe you made me get a trim,” said Chase, rubbing his hand over his chin and around the back of his head. He smelled nice. Some kind of aftershave. “You’re worse than my mother, Roberts.”
“Really? I was under the impression you were raised by wolves. Now, I want both of you to change into some of your new clothes. No arguing. You do a disservice to these expensive haircuts by walking around in wrinkled clothes and Rodeo Daze jumpers.” His lip curled as he read Renee’s sweatshirt.
Chase angrily snatched his single bag of clothes and marched into the men’s room. Renee picked at random one of the shopping bags and went into the ladies room. Roberts sure was bossy. She wished Cassandra would have come with her because she was having a hard time figuring out how to match things. Finally, she settled on a black fitted blazer, white blouse and black capri slacks with flats. Keep it simple, she said to herself. She added earrings and a bracelet. Despite her discomfort with the fancy clothes, she had to admit that she looked like a better version of herself than she ever could have imagined. She rolled her jeans and sweatshirt into a bundle and stuffed them into the boutique shopping bag.
When she left the restroom she could see through the glass that Cassandra and Roberts were people-watching outside on the sidewalk. They had obviously needed to escape the blaring noise inside the salon. She didn’t see Chase anywhere. She stepped down the two steps onto the sidewalk and gave a little cough. Roberts and Cassandra whirled around.
“Your Highness, you look remarkable,” said Roberts, tearing up a little as he came forward to clasp her hands. “So elegant. A true lady and queen.”
Her usually verbose pre-teen was speechless, uttering only a dazzled, “Wow, Mom.”
Renee was pleased by their reactions, but wished Roberts would quiet down with the “your highness, the queen” stuff because there were people around. There was a guy on a phone just a few feet away who might overhear them.
“Where’s Chase?”
The broad-shouldered man a few feet away who’d had his back turned to the group while speaking on a mobile phone was the one she had been thinking of when she’d wished Roberts would quiet down. The man ended his phone conversation and began to turn. Renee desperately hoped he hadn’t heard Roberts. She gasped when she saw his face. In front of her was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Sandy blonde hair was gelled into perfection. She couldn’t believe it was Chase in front of her. He also seemed surprised by her appearance. The city was moving around them, but she didn’t hear any of it. They seemed to be in their own bubble.
“Mrs. Krebs, you look very…um…Cassandra picked a good outfit,” Chase said finally. His voice was tight as he spoke.
“Thank you,” said Renee, feeling self-conscious.
Somebody tapped Renee on the elbow and Chase moved swiftly to intercept. He grabbed the wrist of an overweight woman wearing an “I Love NYC” t-shirt and Ogden Raptors baseball cap. A tourist.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said, clearly shocked by Chase’s reaction. “I just wanted to know if I could get a picture of you two.”
“Of us?” said Renee. “Why?”
“You’re famous, aren’t you? Normal people don’t look as good as you.” She held up a camera.
“Umm, I guess it’s ok?” She looked at Chase. He nodded curtly and stepped away a few feet.
“I meant both of you!”
Chase sighed and stepped back into the picture range. He put his arm around Renee’s back and rested his hand on the small of her back. She was intensely aware of it. She leaned into his shoulder a bit. She was also aware of the admiring stares of passing women, their eyes directed at Chase. She managed to smile for the picture, but knew the woman behind the camera would wonder if her lens filter was faulty since Renee’s face would appear stunningly red. As soon as the picture was taken, Chase dropped his hand and the lady went away happy, believing she had just snapped two celebrities.
“That was strange,” said Renee, mostly to hide her embarrassment.
“Get used to it, Ma’am. In a few weeks everyone will want to take your picture. This woman at least asked for your permission. The hordes of paparazzi will not be so considerate and they will hound you on the street, in your home, a
nd on your vacations,” said Roberts.
“Golly, you really make me want to go through with this,” said Renee.
The rest of the day was spent in getting some clothes for Cassandra. These came from a department store. Renee and Roberts tried to steer her away from combat boots and long woolen socks that reached to her knees, but Cassandra was adamant. They did manage to persuade her to choose a few skirts and blouses. She picked a different patterned scarf out for each.
People kept turning to stare at her and Chase as they walked down the street. She wondered what they must look like. She got her answer at dinner when the waiter who served them earlier failed to recognize them and fell over himself to serve such obviously important people. Cassandra couldn’t stop laughing behind her napkin.
They were scheduled to fly out the next evening. As they walked around the city doing a little sightseeing, Renee realized just how little she had seen of America. And now she was leaving it forever. She felt like a traitor. Could she ever be a properly British queen when she was so thoroughly American? Texan, she corrected herself.
Cassandra flew down the streets to look at everything, but Renee had a hard time holding it together and insisted on eating a hamburger and fries at the greasiest joint she could find for lunch. “We have hamburgers in England, you know,” said Chase.
“But it’s not the same,” she sniffled into her milkshake. “It will never be the same ever again.”
The evening was spent packing away her new clothes and making lists of everything she was going to miss about America. Her moroseness expressed itself as panic. She undid all of her packing and threw everything out of her purse in search of her passport. Had she remembered to bring it? Everybody interrupted their own preparations to help search for it. Finally, Chase located it stuffed between the pages of a photo album. He flipped the passport open. “There’s no stamps in it.”
“That’s because I’ve never been anywhere,” Renee said irritably and snatched it back.
“Then why do you have it?”
“It’s good to have a passport handy. Just in case I need to make a quick getaway.”
The look of alarm on Chase’s face made her laugh. “I’m just kidding,” she said. “I’m not a criminal. I just always dreamed of travelling somewhere.”
She wished she hadn’t quite dreamed so hard as they walked up the ramp to the British Airways flight. They were able to bypass security when Chase quietly flashed some sort of badge.
“Why not American Airlines?” she asked.
“Because you are British now, Ma’am. You would do well to remember that,” said Roberts.
Chase stayed close to her side, practically at her elbow, as if afraid she might change her mind at the last minute and bolt down the runway to catch the next luggage truck back to Texas. She paused when she reached the door and the stewardess held out her hand to check her ticket. The hostess’s smile faltered when Renee failed to hand it over. Chase took it from her hand and gave it to the woman who immediately pointed out their seats in business class.
“You can do this,” Chase whispered.
Renee took a deep breath and made her way to her seat and busied herself with buckling herself in, making sure Cassandra was buckled in and had access to the magazines they had purchased right before boarding. Roberts ordered himself a glass of champagne as soon as he sat down. “To Britannia,” he said and held his glass aloft before taking a drink. “Finally a few hours to unwind.”
When all the passengers were aboard and the crew sealed the door, Renee felt as if all avenues of escape were sealed off too. There was no turning back now. As the jumbo jet lifted into the air and headed out over the city, she caught a last look at the Statue of Liberty and waved goodbye.
* * *
The cabin was quiet and all the shades had been pulled down. Only a few people had on reading lights or talked quietly. Cassandra had leaned her seat back as far as it would go, tucked a pillow under her head and curled up to sleep. Roberts wore a black sleeping mask and he made quiet snoring sounds as he inhaled. Renee couldn’t sleep. With every slight dip or bump, she was reminded that she was rocketing away from America and towards a life she didn’t understand. She also discovered that she didn’t much like flying. Her mind kept focusing on the fact that only a thin sheet of metal separated her from the abyss and she didn’t dare close her eyes. She wanted to be awake when they crashed.
“Hey, you can’t sleep either?” Chase leaned against the empty seat next to Renee. She shook her head. “Mind if I sit?”
“Please. I need someone to pinch me and remind me that this is really happening.”
He smiled and slipped into the seat. The stewardess immediately came over and asked if he needed anything.
“Perhaps a scotch for myself and my companion.”
The stewardess glanced at Renee and frowned. She left to get their drinks.
Chase stretched his legs in front of him. “God, I love flying business class. You would not believe some of the flights Old Fussbucket and I had to endure while we were on our search. Roberts is accustomed to travelling with royalty so economy class was a revelation to him.”
The stewardess returned with two glasses clinking with ice and amber scotch. “Thanks.” He flashed a smile and Renee could see her forgive him for having a companion. “If you need anything else, just push the button. My name is Brigid.” Chase assured her he would and she went away smiling.
“But you’re not used to travelling with royalty,” said Renee and took a sip.
“No.” He smiled into his drink. “This is a first for me.”
“What did you used to do before you started escorting royalty?” Renee asked.
“A little bit of this and a little bit of that.” Seeing Renee’s disappointment he added, “I went from university into the military looking for adventure—which I found in spades. Eight years was more than enough to keep me well stocked in stories for years. After I tired of that, I joined the Yard, which is how I came to be charged with finding the next monarch, no small task, let me tell you.”
“I feel like an imposter.”
Chase leaned his head in close. “I’ll tell you a little secret. Most people feel like imposters. We’re all going through life hoping nobody catches on to what desperate wannabes we all are. You’re experience a more extreme version of what we all secretly feel. Just be yourself. The country wants you to do well and will back you. We love our monarchs, even the useless ones.”
“I don’t want to be useless.”
“Mrs. Krebs, you will be fine.”
“Why do you keep calling me Mrs. Krebs?”
“Because you haven’t been crowned yet.”
“What will you call me then?” she asked.
“I will call you Your Majesty or Ma’am, like Roberts.”
“Why don’t you just call me Renee? No one has ever called me Mrs. Krebs except Cassandra’s school teachers.”
He paused before speaking. “I think I’ll stick to Mrs. Krebs.”
“But why?”
His breathing turned hoarse.
“To remind myself that you are a married woman.”
Renee looked up, shocked. She felt an electric charge and in the dim light his eyes appeared to smolder. She realized he must have experienced the same charged moment in New York that she had. He was only inches away. She leaned in. No one would know.
Cassandra coughed and turned over to sleep on her other side. Renee straightened up and Chase leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. He looked angry with himself.
“Yes, perhaps it would be better if you called me that,” said Renee.
Chase threw back the rest of his drink and got up. “Yes, Ma’am.” He went back to sit in his original seat a couple of rows behind. She could just see a narrow view of him through the gaps in the seat headrests. The back of his fist was pressed to his mouth. She would have to be careful in the future. Very, very careful. She had almost made a mistake with Bretton
and now she had almost compromised one of her protectors and public employees. It wasn’t just about her now. She had to not only consider Cassandra, but the opinions of unknown nameless millions, the government, and a bureaucratic apparatus that served her. Her nation was distraught. They didn’t know her. She couldn’t do anything to ruin her reputation or the reputation of the monarchy. Her desires didn’t matter anymore and she couldn’t allow her actions to harm anyone or the institution which she now represented.
Somewhere over the dark waters of the Atlantic, Renee Krebs became the heiress presumptive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HER FIRST VIEW of England wasn’t promising. It was raining, despite it being early September, but she had expected that. What she hadn’t expected was the grayness that predominated. Everything seemed suffused with the color and lines blurred into each other. She felt a stab of homesickness for the unforgiving Texas sun, which would beat down until mid December.
Chase was very brisk and professional as he took down her bags from the overhead bins. In the crush of people and noise she tried to whisper an apology, to explain why she had backed off so suddenly.
“Mrs. Krebs, let’s get you sorted and to the hotel in one piece,” was all he said in reply. When they got to Customs, he spoke quietly to the manager on duty and flashed his identification card like he had at Newark Airport. They breezed right through and were led to a waiting black sedan.
“Are we going to Buckingham Palace?” asked Cassandra. She peered out the window, but it was difficult to see past the streaks of water running down the window panes.
“No, you won’t live in any official royal residences until after you’ve been announced as the heirs presumptive and likely not until after the coronation,” said Roberts. “For now we’ve got a beautiful boutique hotel lined up for you. First rate, you know. Lots of celebrities stay there when they are in town and the staff know to be discreet, which in your case will be easy since no one knows who you are. We’re trying to remain anonymous for now.”
