Fit for a Queen

by Nicole Burnham

  Royce waited for the women to finish their perusal of the walls. When they didn’t appear to care about his presence, he approached, then set his bucket at the base of the ladder.

  “May I help you?”

  The women looked at each other, their eyes appearing to convey entire sentences in a flash, then one stepped forward. Though the top of her head barely reached the center of Royce’s chest, she angled her chin to glare down her nose at him. Her voice held enough grit to take the rust off iron. “I am Tetyana Roscha. This is my sister, Olena. What is your name? And where is your security badge?”

  Chapter 12

  Tetyana didn’t wait for Royce to respond. Her lips thinned as she inspected him. “A badge must be worn on the lapel at all times. Anyone fortunate enough to work in the palace is smart enough to know this. You could be reported.”

  He flipped open the button pocket on his coveralls and lifted his pass enough for Tetyana to see it, but tucked it away before she could read it. “Unless one’s work is the type to cause damage to the badge, in which case the smart thing is to keep it accessible, but protected. And the name is Roy.”

  “Roy.” The singular word carried the weight of a jury foreman uttering the word guilty to a silent courtroom. “It is our duty to keep King Eduardo’s residence in order. We are here to inspect the progress of your work and view the condition of the room.”

  Given the tone with which she’d told him, ‘you could be reported,’ she was a woman used to having others cower in the face of her threats. Much as she expected him to move aside, she wouldn’t respect him unless he pushed back. He stared at her for a moment, letting her stew, then swept a hand to encompass the four walls. “You’re seeing it. The furniture and floors are well protected.”

  Tetyana huffed. At the same time, Olena’s gaze slid to Aletta’s doorway. He didn’t miss the quick pinch of her brows before her focus snapped back. Nor did he miss the expensive watch that circled her wrist. It seemed out of place, given her uniform and what he assumed was her salary.

  “Wallpaper removal requires the application of steam or hot water to the surface.” Tetyana indicated the wispy haze emanating from his bucket. “This leads to spills. Drips. We wish to check the floors to ensure nothing has seeped through your tarps or been missed at the edges.”

  He bent, grabbed the bucket by the handle, then ascended the ladder, making it clear his task was more important than kowtowing to her. “I was told that no one is to enter the residence. Prince Federico specifically said that you would not interrupt while I performed my work. Given that the king is not expecting your services in these rooms, I took extra precautions. Each time I move a tarp, I check the floors for evidence of moisture. You can be assured that the hardwood is in immaculate condition.” He reached the top of the ladder, secured the bucket, then looked down at the women, meeting Tetyana’s shocked expression. “You can make a full inspection of the floors when I finish. I estimate two more weeks, but it depends on the condition of the walls and trim. If you’d like, I’d be happy to have Miroslav update you after I strip the remainder of the wallpaper and the wood. He checks in frequently.”

  With that, Royce donned his gloves, which he’d left on the flip-down shelf at the top of the ladder, dipped his sponge into the hot water, then pressed it to the wall with exaggerated care, hoping the mention of Miroslav would make the women think twice about their presence.

  Olena finally spoke up. “We will make only a cursory inspection today. When you finalize your refurbishment schedule, inform us immediately so that we may perform our duties.” She paused a beat before adding, “As King Eduardo expects of us.”

  With that, Olena turned and walked to the area where he’d stacked his ladders and toolboxes and began poking around as if his well-organized gear equated to the dumping of garbage in her personal flowerbed.

  Tetyana’s chin jutted forward in a manner that said, You see? We do as we wish. She joined her sister, but stood an arm’s length behind her, which afforded her a view into Aletta’s suite.

  Royce groaned inwardly. Because he’d challenged them, they’d linger until they’d made a show of inspecting every floorboard in the massive room. At least they knew he wasn’t a pushover.

  Good thing he’d filled the bucket with the hottest water possible. He could work a long time before needing a refill, and he refused to give them the satisfaction of time alone.

  Ten minutes later, Daniela breezed through the room, donning a pair of sunglasses as she approached his work area. “I’ll try to get back before Miroslav makes his appearance. Twenty minutes, max. Need anything from the pharmacy?”

  He shook his head, then checked to see if she’d closed the double doors to Aletta’s suite. Though they appeared closed from where he stood, a narrow slit of light hit the floor near his toolbox, indicating she’d left one ajar. He started to ask Daniela if she’d close it, but she’d already reached the vestibule. He doubted she’d noticed the Roscha sisters, who were crouched near the covered sofas and running their hands over the hardwood floor, ostensibly to check for scrape marks left when he’d moved the furniture.

  With any luck, they’d heard Daniela’s comment that Miroslav was due.

  He dipped his sponge into the bucket, then squeezed out the excess water, keeping his head ducked so it appeared he was looking into the bucket as he watched the sisters. Olena rose, moved a few steps away from Tetyana, then knelt again, lifting one of his tarps to scrutinize the floor beneath it. Her gaze sliced to the queen’s door as she dropped the fabric.

  Great. He itched to close the door, but didn’t want the sisters to wonder at his protectiveness.

  He pressed the sponge to the wall, working at a loose edge while striving to listen to the sisters’ movements. Every so often, he stole a look in their direction.

  He’d have installed a temporary camera in the room if he’d known there’d be so much traffic. And if he could’ve done so without tipping off Miroslav or others on the security staff. Federico hadn’t wanted to revoke access to those who had it, believing it would raise questions, but he’d been mistaken to believe people like Helena Masciaretti and the Roscha sisters would stay away during the renovation. If they didn’t have business in the residence, they’d invent it.

  Even Miroslav entered more often than was necessary.

  They couldn’t all be thieves. Maybe none of them were. Maybe it was as Daniela said, and those closest to the monarch and his late wife simply wanted a glimpse inside Aletta’s rooms after so many years.

  Royce’s water eventually cooled to the point of uselessness, so he faked progress, waiting for the sisters to leave. When they finally did—wearing expressions of superiority as they passed his ladder—he waited a solid minute before leaving to refill his bucket.

  He stretched his fingers as he waited for the water to heat. Afternoons were better than mornings for coaxing hot water from the ancient pipes, but the task still took longer than he’d like. Finally, he shut off the tap and wiped the sink. Midway across the king’s bedroom, he took a misstep and smacked his knee into the bucket, sloshing water onto the floor. He set down the bucket and retrieved a few shop towels from the bathroom for a quick cleanup.

  The Roschas would have had a conniption.

  Once the floor was dry, he returned to the great room. Noticing the door to Aletta’s suite stood all the way open, he slowed his walk to ensure Daniela had returned. She sat at the desk, her back to him, bent forward with her elbows splayed as she worked.

  An offer to help her untangle the necklaces rested on the tip of his tongue, but he knew better.

  The scuff of a shoe ripped his gaze from the queen’s suite. He swiveled his head to see Tetyana kneeling to one side of the sofa.

  “What are you doing?”

  The question came out rougher than he’d have liked. A contractor wouldn’t have been so forceful. But his inner alarms tripped as if the system had taken a hammer strike. What was she doing back here?

&
nbsp; “I lost a button from my uniform,” she said, her tone as forceful as his had been.

  “Here?”

  Her nostrils flared, then she returned to her task, her hands skimming the floor. “If I knew that, it would not be lost. I crawled near the sofa while inspecting your tarps, so this is the most likely place.”

  “I hope you find it, then.” There. Maybe she’d dismiss his harsh tone as the natural result of being surprised to see her in the room again.

  “As do I. This is an older uniform and I am not certain I could match the button.”

  He set the bucket at the base of the ladder and looked around the room to ensure Olena wasn’t lurking. “Your sister didn’t offer to help?”

  “It does not take two. The radiators outside the palace kitchen are filthy. She went to discuss the situation with the responsible staff.” Tetyana rose to her knees, a triumphant look on her face and a tiny white button pinched between her thumb and index finger. He noticed she wore the same—or a similar—watch to her sister’s. One that looked far too expensive for a member of the housekeeping staff, no matter how highly placed. “You see? Here it is. You do not need to look so suspicious.”

  He wanted to argue with her, but knew that was what she craved. “I hope it’s easy to repair.”

  Using the arm of the covered sofa, she pushed to her feet. “The king’s tailor and I barter services. It will not be a problem.”

  He took two steps up the ladder, then said, “I assume you didn’t find any water damage during your inspection.”

  She pocketed the button as she passed him. “We did not. But the armchair was not adequately covered. I adjusted the sheet.” She said something under her breath that sounded like, “You’re welcome,” then exited the residence, pulling the door closed behind her so the lock engaged.

  Royce waited in silence, listening. When he was confident she’d gone for good, he stepped off the ladder and strode to the door of Aletta’s suite. For the first time since he started on the walls, he knocked and took two steps inside. “Daniela?”

  “Yes?” Focused on her task, she didn’t raise her head or turn around.

  “How long have you been back?”

  “A couple minutes. Why?”

  “Was anyone in the great room when you arrived?”

  She paused, then turned to look at him over her shoulder. She sported a pair of glasses he hadn’t seen before. “No. I heard your voice and assumed Miroslav came in right behind me. Why?”

  Royce shook his head. “Not Miroslav. One of the women who regularly cleans the residence entered to look for something while I was refilling my bucket. I wanted to be sure she hadn’t disturbed you.”

  Her brow pleated. “I didn’t see or hear her when I returned, and the door to the queen’s suite was exactly as I left it. She must’ve arrived after I did. I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed if she’d been in the great room.”

  “All right. Making sure.” He waved toward the tangled pile of necklaces. “Carry on.”

  Royce swore under his breath as he climbed the ladder. It was reassuring that he and Daniela had built trust. She knew what he was worried about when he asked about her being disturbed and provided exactly the information he needed. Unfortunately, that information indicated that Tetyana had time to enter the queen’s suite while he was dealing with the hot water.

  When he met with Prince Federico, he’d ask about installing a camera.

  High magnification glasses had been a stroke of brilliance.

  Daniela reached for the work lamp she’d placed on the corner of Queen Aletta’s desk and repositioned the neck to better illuminate the delicate gold necklace spread before her. She pushed the drugstore reading glasses higher on her nose, then used a pair of tweezers to lift a single link from the side of the tight golden knot near the necklace’s clasp. Once she’d grasped the link, she picked up a second pair of tweezers and began to tease the knot apart.

  It was a painstaking process, but it gave her a focus that wasn’t Roy. He mystified her. She’d place him eventually, but it would likely come to her like a forgotten song lyric, when her mind was occupied with another task.

  Stuck, she set down the necklace, turned it over, then used the tweezers to separate the links on the back of the knot. The charm, a gold disc the size of Daniela’s pinky nail, clicked against the desktop as she worked.

  This was her fifth necklace. The first two had untangled easily. The third and fourth were both knotted and hooked to each other, but once she’d separated them, she’d been confident that, with patience, she’d unravel each chain. She’d feared this necklace would be her undoing. While she had good vision, the links were impossibly small and delicate. Then she’d remembered the pharmacy she’d passed at lunch and wondered if it carried reading glasses. Sure enough, she found an inexpensive pair that did the trick.

  Moments later, the necklace was untangled.

  She grinned at the minor victory and carried it to a tray she’d placed on the queen’s ottoman, stretching it lengthwise alongside the others.

  Members of the public likely believed that a queen’s jewels were cared for with reverence, stored in lovely velvet cases and buffed to perfection between wears. While that was true of the crown jewels, everyday pieces and costume jewelry often received the same treatment as in any middle-class household. When a woman was exhausted after a long day and removed a necklace in a rush, or dropped one too many in a drawer, they ended up tangled or broken. Bracelet hinges snapped, a prong was bent here or there, and the undersides of rings showed dings from accidental strikes against a sink or dining table.

  Because these pieces belonged to Aletta, however, Daniela felt the time necessary to repair them was worthwhile. Such personal items would be in high demand at the auction, even if they weren’t laden with precious gemstones.

  Daniela moved to the sofa. She’d pulled the jewelry drawer from the closet’s built-in dresser and carried it to the sitting room so she could work at the desk. As she perused the pile of chains, rings, and bracelets, she decided to tackle two or three more pieces, then spend the rest of the afternoon on the first rack of the queen’s suits before calling it a night. She’d attack the jewelry drawer again tomorrow, with fresh eyes.

  She’d just selected a chandelier earring with a necklace twisted amongst its drops when a distinctive ring tone echoed from her handbag.

  Her heart kicked at the sound. She glanced toward the door as she moved to the desk and bent to retrieve her handbag. About twenty minutes earlier, Roy had grabbed a tool from his box. Otherwise, from what Daniela could discern, he’d been working the wall closest to the entry. Not an easy spot from which to overhear.

  “Mamma?” She paused. Waited. “Mamma? It’s Daniela. Did you mean to call? Are you all right?”

  “Sì, Daniela.” There was a moment of scuffling. “No, no. I am so sorry.”

  Daniela turned so her back was to the door. Her mother knew not to call during work hours. When she did, it was always the same. Daniela took a long, calming breath, knowing she’d need to keep the judgment out of her voice, then asked what happened. She’d been through this dozens of times. The best way to resolve the situation was with a soothing tone and as much restraint as she could summon. If she showed even a hint of frustration or anger, her mother would either explode, hang up, or both, and the situation at the house would deteriorate further.

  “Gaetana Carrini came over this morning. She pounded at the front door until I thought she’d crack the wood with her bare hands. Like a madwoman searching for her husband in a lover’s bed.”

  Daniela shoved that thought aside. There’d been no lover in her mother’s bed in years, not since Daniela’s father left. No lover could get to the woman’s bed.

  “I assume you answered.”

  “I talked to her through the door. I refused to risk my safety by opening it.”

  Or risk the neighbor’s safety, Daniela thought. Gaetana Carrini had no idea what lurked behind that wo
oden door or she’d have stayed home and called the authorities.

  “And?” Daniela prompted, infusing her voice with gentle concern she didn’t feel. “What happened, Mamma?”

  Her mother ranted about the neighbor’s attitude for a full minute before arriving at the crux of the matter. “Gaetana says that there are rats on my property and insists that I hire an exterminator before they end up at her house. She claims that her cats are killing them and leaving them on her doorstep and she is tired of it.”

  Daniela waited. When all she got from her mother was a huff of indignation, Daniela asked, “Are there?”

  “Are there what?”

  Daniela’s jaw clenched. She forced herself to soften, then said, “Rats. Are there rats?”

  “It’s the countryside, Daniela. Of course there are rats. Everyone has rats. If she doesn’t like her cats bringing them to her doorstep, she needs to move to the city or get rid of her cats. It’s in a cat’s nature to hunt them! I told her that when a cat leaves a dead animal for a human to find, it’s an expression of love. That a cat considers a dead rat to be a hard-won trophy.”

  “What did she say to that?”

  “Her words are not fit for your ears.” Her mother gave an irate grunt. “I paid her a compliment by saying her cats must love her. Gaetana was much nicer when you were little. Now she’s the worst neighbor. Atrocious. Some people change as they age, you know? She has changed and it isn’t for the better. She’s surly.”