The Arrival of Richard III

by Kari August

  Caroline interrupted his warning. “Dickie, my dad just walked in from work. Let me talk to my parents and I’ll call you right back.”

  The next week Caroline walked into her deluxe recreational vehicle parked next to the cabin, unpacked her belongings, and started her training under Ned’s tutelage. It turned out that Caroline’s father was also a lawyer who knew Ned well enough to trust him to take good care of his daughter. What he didn’t know was that Ned had tried to convince Dickie to rent the cheapest RV, but Dickie would hear none of it. As far as Dickie was concerned, they had made a nice chunk of money from TBN. Ned had told him it was in the thousands, for God’s sake! They could splurge a little. So Dickie had insisted they rent the RV, which slept three comfortably, with cushy leather upholstery, a modern kitchen, and a marble-tiled bathroom.

  Caroline proceeded to make a mess of it by the end of the week—no wonder her mother wanted her to clean her room all the time—but proved to be an excellent employee. Dickie couldn’t have been happier. No longer did he need to feel guilty that Ned didn’t have time for his ranger classes. Yet even after Ned started going to his classes again, he still didn’t have his usual spark about him. Dickie had his suspicions why.

  A few nights later, he got his answer. Dickie was watching TBN again, but this time he was viewing Liiizette’s clothing show. Liiizette was another one of TBN’s brilliant salespeople—elegant, but always friendly. Dickie suspected she had a really ordinary name, but had changed it to something exotic for added effect. Tonight she was selling a dress that looked like an ugly sack with gaudy flowers all over it. Dickie had recognized its poor attributes as soon as he had looked at it, but Liiizette being Liiizette, after five minutes Dickie was thinking of buying one for Caroline as a present. Luckily, Caroline had dropped in for a cup of sugar just in time—she wanted to try baking herself—and dismissed the dress out of hand before departing back to her RV.

  Ned finished scooping ice cream into his bowl in the kitchen, sat down next to Dickie on the couch, and sighed. “Do we really have to watch this show tonight? Let’s see what’s on the animal channel.”

  Dickie looked over at Ned. “I can understand your not wanting to watch Dougie, but how can you resist Liiizette? She’s gorgeous.”

  Ned smirked. “How can you tell under all that makeup? I like women who are natural-looking, like—” He caught himself and didn’t finish the sentence. He sighed again and dug into his ice cream.

  But Dickie knew whom he was referring to. Lindsey was as fresh-faced as a woman could get. And Ned still was not over her. As he thought about it, nothing came to Dickie initially as to how he could get Ned and Lindsey together. She was thousands of miles away. And she thought Ned was nuts—which, of course, he wasn’t.

  Dickie received his second official phone call very early in the morning a few days later. Ned was on another brief camping trip and had forgotten his phone again. Dickie answered with a jaunty hello.

  “I’d like to speak with Mr. Richard York.”

  Snorkels! “This is he. How are you, Ms. Snorkels?” Dickie held his breath. He hoped the news was good.

  “I have an exciting offer from TBN. Your shortbread cookies received the highest rating ever for an introductory product, and you are being invited to our Holidays in August show.”

  Dickie grinned. “What’s that?”

  “Our customers like to be super prepared for the end-of-the-year celebrations and always shop early.”

  “Five months early?”

  “Absolutely. It’s really a coveted selling spot. Only the best products are offered during this time period. Most sell out within minutes.”

  “But won’t the cookies go bad after five months?”

  Snorkels chuckled. “Very funny, Mr. York. You obviously realize that customers place orders five months ahead, but don’t have to receive shipment until closer to the holidays.”

  “Uh, yes . . . of course. But I have a feeling my customers will want my highly regarded cookies well before then.” Dickie thought for a moment. An idea came to him in a flash. If his cookies were so superiorly rated, he must be a top celebrity! Perhaps he could turn this into a better offer, one that might help Ned.

  “Ms. Snorkels, I’d like to be honest with you. Other home selling networks have approached me about my product.” Dickie winced. It was against his nature to outright lie, but this was important.

  “None of them have the consumer base that we have.”

  “Perhaps not. However, I’m interested in expanding my product line.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m sure you noticed how my fans appreciated my authentic attire. Well, I’d like to offer a line of women’s clothing with a touch of medieval style to them.”

  There was a long pause. “TBN wouldn’t even consider it without some sample items sent to us first. Would these be your own creations, Mr. York?”

  “Not mine, but I’ve already hired a clothing designer with a sharp regard for fashion.” Another untruth, but what the hell, he was on a roll.

  “I see. Well, if TBN were to sell your clothing line—and I’m not saying that they will—would you agree to exclusive lifetime selling rights to TBN for your cookies?”

  Dickie smiled. He had her. “Yes, but only with some restrictions.”

  “Such as?”

  “I get to pick who sells my items. For example, I would want Dougie still for my cookies and Liiizette for my clothing line in August.”

  “That could be arranged. Who would manufacture your clothing?”

  “It’s being worked out as we speak.” Hmmm. He was good at lying.

  “Why don’t you fly out here when you have the specifics, along with sample items, and we’ll see if we can hammer out a deal.”

  “Tremendous, Ms. Snorkels. I’ll get back to you soon.”

  Dickie disconnected the call and looked around Ned’s papers for the phone number to the Clear Richard III’s Name Society. He glanced at the time. Perfect. He might be able to catch Lindsey before she left work for the day.

  Lindsey wasn’t in a good mood. Still working at the society, she had yet to hear from any more design firms about potential positions. This afternoon had been particularly annoying—another board of directors meeting where nothing significant had been accomplished and funds were still in short supply. A larger group of such self-righteous, yet ineffectual people could not be found on the planet. But she knew it wasn’t just her work getting her down.

  Everything seemed to bother her these days. She started counting all the issues for the last eleven hours alone. She left her milk in her cereal too long this morning, making for a gooey mess. Her trendy pair of hose had run as soon as she had sat down at her desk. She smeared mustard on her new blouse at lunch. She was tired of hearing about her friend’s new boyfriend. Oh, and there were no decent men left out there in the world for her. She slumped her head on her chin. Just everything.

  The phone rang at her desk and Lindsey debated a moment whether to answer it. She could pretend she had already left for the day. Guiltily she picked it up. “The Clear Richard III’s Name Society.”

  “I’d like to speak with Lindsey.”

  “This is she. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, Lindsey. This is Dickie York.”

  “Who?”

  “Ned York’s cousin.” Just hearing Ned’s name again caused Lindsey’s world to halt a second. God, how pathetic. Ned was as crazy as his cousin Dickie.

  “Uh . . . the society’s closed for the day. Call back another time.” She hung up on him.

  The phone rang a minute later. She reluctantly picked it up.

  “Lindsey, wait. I need to talk to you personally.”

  “Perhaps another time.” When the moon stops orbiting the Earth.

  “I want to hire you as a dress designer for my clothing line.”

  She sat up straighter. Now, that got her attention. But wait, wait, this was Insane-o Man she was talking to.

 
He wasn’t finished. “Have you ever heard of the Television Buying Network?”

  She gave a tentative, “Yeees.” She actually did know the network. Several years ago her parents had taken her on a trip to the States to visit her relatives there, and she had watched some man in a kitchen dancing. It was American bizarreness at its best.

  “Well, I sold top-rated shortbread cookies on it and now I’m going to sell a woman’s medieval clothing line.”

  When pigs fly. “Uh-huh.”

  “Look me up on the computer. I’m under ‘food’ at the TBN site. They have a picture of me next to Dougie.”

  “Give me a sec. I’ll do just that, Dickie.” She tapped her computer. Oh, my God! It was true. Of course, he was wearing an outfit the real Richard III would have worn, but apparently the network had actually hired him. Perhaps he really was going to sell a clothing line. And she had had absolutely no luck finding a design job thus far. Lord, if she never had to sit through a board of directors meeting again in her life, she would be ecstatic just for that.

  She tried to tamp down her excitement and reminded herself he was crazy. “Uh, Dickie, have you told the network yet that you think you’re actually Richard III?”

  She could hear Dickie clearing his throat. “Ned doesn’t think it’s a good idea to tell anyone else about my true identity. So, uh, no. And I would need you to never mention it to anyone either. Do you think you could keep that a secret for now?”

  “That would be no problem, Dickie. So the network is interested in a medieval clothing line from you?” Was she actually considering this?

  “Well, I need to give them the specifics of manufacturing and samples of clothing at a meeting soon before they will definitely agree. Have you made any items yet from your designs?”

  A thought occurred to her. “How did you even know I was interested in medieval clothing?”

  He cleared his throat again. “Ned told me.”

  “Oh. How is Ned?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  “He’s fine. He’s helping me with my enterprises while taking ranger classes.”

  So she would be working with Ned, too. She actually did have a whole line of clothing already made. She had dreamed of one day participating in a famous fashion show. Not very likely, considering she couldn’t even find a job. But her line was color-coordinated and included everything from formal attire to casual wear. So she responded, “And, yes, I do have sample items.”

  “Wonderful! How soon could I see them?”

  “Hold on a minute, King. If I were to work for you—and I’m not saying that I am—I would need to have total creative responsibility and decision-making power.”

  “You mean I couldn’t even make suggestions about fabrics? Modern materials can be so cheap-looking.” He sounded disappointed.

  “You could give me advice, but I wouldn’t have to take it.” Such as adding sparkles to a Martian outfit she was sure he would want her to design.

  “Very well. Can you start work for me immediately?”

  “How much would I be paid? And where would I live?”

  “We have free luxurious housing for you right next to our office headquarters. You would need to share it with Caroline.”

  “Who’s Caroline?”

  “Our executive in charge of business administration.”

  “The pay?”

  “Ned could figure that out. Why don’t you at least fly out here for a meeting and we can work out all the details later, once we have the contract with TBN.”

  “You would reimburse me for the flight?”

  “Sure.”

  “Another important question: Who would manufacture the clothing?”

  “That will be my next phone call. I have a friend who has a daddy with all sorts of companies. I don’t think finding a manufacturer will be a problem.”

  “I won’t allow kids in China to slave all day sewing.”

  “China makes clothing? Besides excellent weapons? I didn’t know.”

  “I’m serious, Dickie. Keep that in mind.”

  “So you’re coming to Colorado?”

  Lindsey hesitated. Continue working her boring desk job at the society or take the chance to design clothing for crazy Dickie, who worked for a major American network—with Ned. “Yes, I’m coming. I have your address from the application Ned filled out for the society membership. I’ll take the next flight out.”

  God, she was really going to do this. But what could it hurt? If their initial meeting didn’t work out or the contract from TBN fell through, she could always return to the society. For now, she would just tell them that she needed an extended vacation.

  Dickie disconnected with Lindsey and immediately dialed Charlena. He had her personal phone number.

  Her sweet voice responded after the first ring. “Dickie! I was just going to call you. Daddy heard how well you did on TBN.”

  Dickie beamed. “My shortbread cookies were top-rated for an introductory product.”

  “Daddy told me. He wants to know if you’re going to sell any other food items. He thinks you have a real future.”

  “I’m expanding into a clothing line. . . .”

  An hour later Charlena called back. “Dickie! Good news. Daddy found a manufacturer for your clothing line. It’s with a friend of a friend.”

  “Oh. I forgot to tell you that our designer has something against clothes made in China.”

  “No problem. The factory is in the States.”

  Dickie pleated his brows. “England would be better. Does he have one there?”

  “Americans want to buy clothing that’s American made.”

  “Oh. Makes sense. Now, Charlena, I have a question to ask you. Would you model my clothing on the show?”

  “Dickie, me? You can’t be serious.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Well, I guess I’m tall enough, but I’m not nearly as pretty as I should be. My hips are too big and my arms can look flabby at a certain angle and . . . and I’ve never liked my ankles. I’d probably need to lose a hundred pounds.”

  Dickie rolled his eyes and shook his head. Charlena was stunning. This wasn’t the first time he had heard a beautiful woman talk about her faults. Television was loaded with self-improvement shows for problems that didn’t exist. Women were critical back in his day also, but not to this degree. Where did women get this idea that men didn’t like a few curves?

  “Nonsense, Charlena. I saw a photo Ned took of you. I would insist that you don’t change a thing.”

  “Really? That’s so sweet.”

  “So you’ll model for me?”

  “Gosh, Dickie. Daddy would be so proud. I’ve never had a real job before.” She hesitated, then answered, “Yes! Yes, I’ll do it. When would you need me?”

  “I’ll give you a call soon. Our designer would require some fittings before the show, I’m sure.”

  Charlena giggled. “Can’t wait, Dickie!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ned returned from his camping trip and plunked himself down on the bench on the front porch of the cabin. Longs Peak rose spectacularly in the distance. It had been another great adventure. He had caught a trout native to the Rocky Mountains, seen an elusive bobcat darting off in the distance, and had managed to start his campfire using only a primitive bow drill.

  Dickie appeared at the screen door holding a beer. “Thought you might appreciate some ale. Cody’s at the kitchen and Caroline’s busy at work inside.” Ned reached for the bottle as Dickie took a seat next to him. “How was the trip?”

  “Exceptional, Dickie. What’s new here?” Ned took a sip of beer.

  Dickie looked around at the surrounding scenery innocently. “Oh, nothing much. Just some TBN business I need to talk to you about.”

  Ned was about to inquire further when he heard a car ascending the driveway. It turned out to be a van with Airport Shuttle written on its side. “Is Aunt Elle coming for another visit?”

  Dickie frowned slightly. “Not that
I know of.”

  The van door opened. Ned watched as an attractive young woman with long, loose hair catching in the breeze stepped out onto the driveway. Ned stood and smiled. “It’s Lindsey, Dickie! I can’t believe she’s here!”

  Dickie stood and grinned back. “Well, go greet her, Ned.”

  Ned hurried off the porch and watched Lindsey pay the driver and collect her bags. She turned to face Ned and smiled tentatively. Ned caught her up in a twirling hug. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  Lindsey laughed. “I’m needed that much, huh?”

  Ned released her and grinned. “You bet. Here, let me help you with your bags.” He picked up the luggage as the van backed down the driveway. He’d taken a few steps toward the cabin when he noticed Lindsey looking around the yard briefly, and then focusing on the RV. “Is that where I’m staying? Your luxurious accommodations?”

  Ned swallowed hard. He couldn’t help feeling a touch disappointed that she immediately assumed she wouldn’t be staying in the cabin . . . in his own room. Well, they had a few issues they needed to work out. She obviously was willing to give their relationship another try. That was all that mattered right now. So he answered. “Yes, if it will make you feel more comfortable.”

  She gave him a slightly puzzled look.

  Dickie walked off the porch, smiling and waving. “Hi, Lindsey. Didn’t expect you quite so soon. Good thing I asked Caroline to straighten up the RV for you yesterday.” Dickie headed toward the RV, opened the door, and looked around. “Good God. Is this what Caroline calls cleaned up?”

  Ned frowned. Huh? What was going on here? Lindsey walked into the RV. Ned heard her chuckling and saying, “Well, at least my bed is made.”

  Ned carried the luggage over to the RV and struggled his way into the vehicle. He dropped the bags in the doorway and looked around, astounded. Their deluxe rented RV—the one that they would need to return someday—looked like a major disaster area. There were dishes piled high in the sink, overflowing garbage bags, bits of clothing strewn everywhere, underwear drying from makeshift clotheslines, empty plastic soda bottles cluttering every available bit of counter space, and wet towels, hand mirrors, and opened makeup scattered on the leather cushions. He was speechless.