Princess for Hire

by Lindsey Leavitt

  “I know. But we’re friends.” I picked up the shreds of paper so I could save it for Elsa’s Karl book. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “You’re not going.”

  “Please? Please, you never let me do anything. And you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for something exciting like this! And Karl’s very…” I grasped for a word. Serious? Brooding? Awkward? “Polite. It’s not like I’m asking to go to a gala. It’s just brunch. Please?”

  “We are not even discussing this.” Her face and hair meshed together into one mad flame. “Go to your room.”

  I stormed upstairs and slammed the door behind me. This was so unfair to Elsa. Plus, I’d been waiting for a sub adventure like this since I’d signed on the magical line. I couldn’t impact while sitting in this stupid bedroom in this tiny house.

  No crotchety grandma was going to stop me.

  I raked through Elsa’s wardrobe. Let’s see, I could wear a blue shirt with khakis. Or a gray shirt with khakis. Or a grayish blue shirt…with khakis. There was that white dress suit, but no way would that work. Unless…

  I yanked it out of the closet and held it up to Elsa in the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t as old as I thought. The jacket, shoulder pads and all, had to go, but the sheath dress was decent. I slid it over my head. Whoa, I/she/we actually looked pretty hot. All I needed to do was hem it, and it’d be the perfect white summer dress. Easy enough. I paired it with some simple sandals and Nana’s antique yellow shawl that was straight vintage glamour. It matched Elsa’s blond hair, which I could let out of its braids and…Ooh! Elsa had those gorgeous sapphire earrings and locket.…

  I beamed at Elsa in the mirror. I could do this. Forget the evil Nana; Elsarella was totally going to the ball.

  Five minutes before eleven, I stepped into the kitchen. Nana Helga’s head was bent over a large pot of cabbage soup. Closing her eyes, she took a taste from the cracked wooden spoon and nodded.

  I tiptoed past her toward the door.

  “Elsa. Don’t.”

  I spun around slowly. “I have to go.”

  “I thought you were smarter than this.”

  “I’m going to brunch with a prince, Nana Helga. It’s a total no-brainer.”

  Finally, Helga turned around. Her face softened when she saw me. “Is that the dress you wore to the symphony with your mother and me? Vivaldi. She loved Vivaldi.” She swallowed. “And those earrings…I thought you’d stopped wearing those to spite me.”

  I tugged at my earlobe. “I love these earrings.”

  “They’re one of the only things I kept from my grandmother. I always thought they matched your eyes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, they never did much for me.” She went back to stirring her soup. “If you leave this house, you’ll regret it. Truly.”

  “I’ll regret it more if I don’t.” I walked purposefully out the front door before Nana Helga could say anything else. Surprised she didn’t follow me, I clicked the door shut. Well, she hadn’t locked me in a tower. That had to be progress.

  Karl said he’d send a “car or something,” but he’d obviously used that term very loosely because there was actually a limo parked just outside the house. No “something” about it. One of his bodyguards stepped out and opened my door for me.

  “My lady,” he said.

  I dipped into an awkward curtsy before sliding into the car.

  Which had a flat screen.

  And a bar.

  And room for twenty.

  I folded my hands in my lap, determined not to explore the interior wonders. That’s what a common girl would do. Actually, they’d probably open the sunroof to behold the Alps while lounging on the leather (massaging!) seats.

  I wasn’t going to be the OH-MY-GOSH-I’VENEVER-BEEN-IN-A-LIMO girl.

  Oh, and surround-sound speakers.

  It was the longest car ride of my life.

  I should have known, of course, that “summer house” really translated to Pride and Prejudice–style MANOR complete with a mile-long front lawn and a stone nymph fountain. I was so focused on looking like I belonged that I didn’t get intimidated until we walked into the front entryway.

  The driver led me in and introduced me to a butler, who took my shawl and hung it in a closet underneath the left staircase. (Yeah, left. Meaning there was a right staircase, both with slide-worthy banisters.) Life-size portraits of Karl and his family—father, mother, and older brother—hung where the staircases split. Karl looked like he was posing for an outdated JCPenney catalog. Seriously, I bet if you turned to the school uniform section, he’d be there, hair combed to the side and every crease annoyingly pressed.

  Barrett, on the other hand, somehow managed to look cool and gorgeous in his military uniform. And I was maybe going to meet him!

  Stay focused, Desi. You’re here to impact, which means being as charming as possible so Karl will be smitten once again and Elsa can come home to her lost love.

  My escort led me down the wide hallway, portraits of dead royals following us as we walked. “His Highness is in the entertainment room.” He motioned toward a closed door. “Brunch will be served shortly.”

  I gingerly placed my fingers on the doorknob. Wait, wasn’t I supposed to be announced?

  I didn’t have to press my ear against the door to hear the voices. There had to be five people behind there, and they were all shouting. Violently.

  Was the family fighting over my invite? Maybe Nana Helga was right. I was way out of my league and I should just…

  Stop it.

  It’s brunch.

  Brunch with a high-school-aged prince who thought I was an older and wiser sort-of princess.

  I shook the handle as a warning before turning it slowly. When the door opened, the sound was amplified by a few thousand decibels. Rock music.

  The room was not filled with a mass of royals shouting at each other. Actually, it wasn’t filled with anything. One mile-long couch wrapped around the room. Some skateboarding video game lit up a screen worthy of a small movie theater. Karl swerved along with his controller.

  “Get it! No! Come on. Get in there!” he yelled.

  I stood there, unnoticed, and took in Karl’s appearance. His usually perfectly parted hair looked slightly tousled. Half of his oxford shirt was untucked. And he was smiling, smiling wide, like playing this game was the most fun he’d ever had. I inched farther into the room until I was standing next to him.

  “Elsa.” Karl dropped his remote. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Don’t stop,” I said, pointing. “You’re about to”—the screen filled with red—“crash.”

  Karl meandered around the couch and flipped on a light switch. “I didn’t realize it was time for brunch already. I’m so sorry.” He frantically smoothed his hair, but missed one giant cowlick.

  “It’s fine. So…?”

  “Right, brunch! Come on.” Karl stiffly offered his elbow and led me to a small, cozy garden room. He pulled out my chair for me before easing into his own seat. He cleared his throat and said, “You look very comely, Elsa.”

  Comely? Gosh, he was such a dork, even if he looked a little better all ruffled and untucked. But it was still a compliment—one point for Elsa. I flashed a smile. “Thank you, Karl. You look handsome. You always do.”

  “Oh, thanks. You should have seen me this morning, though. Hives. And I’m pretty concerned about this skin fungus I seem to have developed.”

  “Uh, skin fungus?”

  Karl stuck his foot on his chair and started to roll up his pant leg. “You want me to show you? It doesn’t flare up so much in this climate, but it’s still rather disgus—”

  “That’s okay. Why don’t you…tell me about school instead?”

  “School? Oh.” Karl knit his eyebrows together. “Well, I studied quite a bit in school. Fascinating things, like…Greek philosophy. Yeah. Philosophy.”

  Philosophy? I kept my face taut, swallowing a mammoth yawn.r />
  “Would you like to hear about Aristotle’s theory of universals?” Karl added. “I could talk for hours—”

  “Actually, I’d much rather talk about, um, your life. What have you been up to?”

  Karl squirmed. “Well. Hey, do you like hunting?”

  “Hunting?” What was up with this guy? “Not really.”

  “Oh, well, I do. Every day, I…hunt. Shoot loads of animals. Loads.”

  Don’t get weirded out, Desi. This is for Elsa. Stick to your mission—reminding him how wonderful Elsa is. I flipped her beautiful blond hair and batted her long eyelashes. “I hope I dressed all right for brunch,” I said coyly.

  “Sure.” Karl scratched his leg. “Hey, am I bothering you at all?”

  Yes. “No. Not at all! I’m having a lovely time.”

  “Oh.” He slumped back in his chair. “Splendid.”

  Wait, did he want to bother me? Holy hunting. He was being lame on purpose so she wouldn’t be interested! Well sorry, buddy. I read that little poem you wrote. This is for your benefit too. I’m not giving up yet.

  We both looked around the room, at everything but each other. I’d underestimated Karl and the situation. I racked my brain for…anything. A connection. Something he cared about. I drew in a long breath. “So. Tell me about the work you’ve done in Africa lately.”

  “Oh! Well, we’re trying to provide goats for families right now. Goats can transform a village—there’s the milk, not to mention the fertilizer from manure….” Karl looked down. “You probably don’t want to hear about all this.”

  “No, I think it’s fascinating,” I said. Manure for charities was still better than discussing a royal fungus. “If Nana Helga would actually let me out of the house, I’d love to be out there, raising awareness.”

  “At a fancy event, right? So you could wear a dress.”

  “It’s not about that! I mean, sure, I’d love to go to an event. Go anywhere outside of Nana Helga’s, but I don’t know. Helping people who have nothing makes me realize I have more than I thought. You know?”

  Karl didn’t say anything, but I definitely had his attention.

  “This goat idea,” I continued, “it reminds me of that saying—something about, you give a man a fish and it feeds him for a day—”

  “But teach him to fish and it feeds him for life. Yes! That’s like farming, you know. Teach farmers how to minimize soil erosion and rotate crops, and—”

  “And you’ve solved a continuing problem—”

  “Exactly! Education and resources is the key.” Karl shook his head and stared at me. “Huh…This isn’t what I expected.”

  What had he expected? That he’d just ride his horse into town, kick Elsa away, and polish off his boot when he was done?

  I was hanging on with just my instincts here. He flipped moods so much my MP couldn’t keep up with him. My insides buzzed in confusion.

  “We should eat.” Karl motioned to a servant, who brought out a spread that was more German smorgasbord than light brunch. Bloated pastries, hearty meats, cheeses, coffee, tea.

  I poked at a black, thick sausage. “This looks…great.”

  Karl eyed the sausage. “Yes. Delicacy, there.”

  “Really? What kind?”

  “Oh, you know what this is.”

  “Of course I do.” I tried not to make a face. “I eat this…all the time.”

  “So…we should…dig in.”

  We stared at the flecks of fat inside. Karl’s fungus seemed more appetizing.

  A servant added another platter of cheese to the table. “Does His Highness approve of the blutwurst? It was made with alpine pig’s blood.” He slid a slice onto our plates. “Very delicious!”

  The sausage reeked. Here I was trying to look beautiful and irresistible, when I’d much rather throw up. But this food wouldn’t be foreign to Elsa. I knew I had to be Method. I stabbed a piece and held it up to my mouth, closed my eyes, and took a bite. It was worse than it looked—metallic and salty. Seriously, it took every ounce of strength I had not to spit it out. I swallowed.

  When I opened my eyes, Karl was staring in amazement. But then he cut himself a thick bite and looked up at me with tragic regret, like he was about to eat poison. “If she can stand it, I can. Play it!” he said.

  Wait, what? That’s a line from Casablanca. Did he know that? I watched him chew the disgusting sausage and couldn’t stop a strange feeling rising up in my throat. Not the sausage (gross!), but uncontrollable laughter.

  He swallowed the bite and, in a perfect Humphrey Bogart impersonation, added, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

  I was laughing so hard now, I felt faint. Giddy. “I love that movie! I used to pretend my Ken doll was Humphrey Bogart.”

  He cracked a smile. “Sorry, doll. I don’t think Ken could do Bogie justice. Nobody can. Hollywood stars now just don’t have that same…you know.”

  “I know!” I leaned in. “And Ingrid Bergman! Did you know Ann Sheridan was also considered for the part?”

  “Oh, no. Ingrid Bergman was born to—” Karl froze. “I mean, I only watch movies like that when nothing else is on, of course. Because I’m too busy…hunting.”

  Good thing he stopped! I used to pretend my Ken doll was Humphrey Bogart? Describing my OWN memory—man, that was so amateur. Seriously, Desi.

  Still, how cool that he knew Casablanca? The only movies guys in Idaho knew involved either lots of explosions or burping. Or both. And Elsa was right: when he spoke about AFRICA IS HUNGRY, he was just so passionate.

  “Oh yeah, I’m not some movie buff or anything. I just watch when they have subtitles,” I said. “I’m usually helping Nana Helga in the garden anyway.”

  Karl analyzed me for a bit, like he was planning something out, then stood up and walked purposefully over to me. He held out his hand. “Hey, you want to go for a walk or something? Speaking of gardens, let me show you ours. Totally incredible.”

  Chapter

  19

  Iwas seriously getting paid for this? I hadn’t laughed so hard since Drake accidentally let a guinea pig loose in the mall. The gardens were, of course, phenomenal. Karl kept comparing all these plants to different royals and making me laugh. (See this shrub? Totally the Earl of Boden.) Actually, that’s all I really did for the next two hours. Crack up. Who’d have thought Karl could be so…fun? Of course, I knew he was nice, but on TV and in magazines he’d always seemed a little stiff for me, not to mention our interaction the day before. I guess now that he was home and comfortable he was finally being himself. If this was the Karl that Elsa knew, I could maybe see where her crush was coming from.

  Not enough to fill up a stalker notebook, but enough to start, like, a page.

  Maybe a page and a half.

  We wandered out of the formal gardens into an open field, our bare feet cushioned by the soft grass. The sun was out, the air smelled fresh, and I wouldn’t have traded all the jewels in the world for an impact moment like this.

  “So, video games, old movies, and a passion for goats.” I bumped into him. “What would the tabloids say about that?”

  “First off, I love the people I’m giving the goats to, not the goats themselves. No offense to goats. And the tabloids won’t say a thing if you don’t rat me out.”

  “‘Rat me out’? You’re starting to sound like a normal person. Are you trying to get on Nana Helga’s good side?”

  “Does she have one?”

  “Very funny.” I cleared my throat. “I do want to thank you for having me over for brunch.”

  “Who else would I have to hang out with here? Actually, I saw some goats in the village….”

  “No, I’m serious. Ever since my mom died, especially, and I’ve been all alone with Nana Helga, I’ve missed…this. Seeing you again means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. It’s like the good old days.”

  Karl fingered the leaf of a plant, avoiding my eyes.

  “Elsa, I.…Maybe I should tell you this later.” He ru
bbed the back of his neck and sighed.

  “No, tell me now!” I almost yelled. “Or…or I’ll hit you.”

  Karl closed my window of opportunity with a quick smile. “Hit me and I’ll show you my fungus again.”

  “If you take off your socks, I’ll strangle you with them.” I paused. So much for a heart-to-heart. “You don’t really have a fungus, do you?”

  He grinned wider. “It’s highly contagious. I touch you? You’re gone. Fungus infected for life.”

  “Then I better not let you touch me.” I bolted, laughing. On the hill was a solitary tree with a swing. I’d seen it before! Not the actual tree, but a drawing. In Elsa’s notebook. I ran to the top and sat on the weathered board. “Push me?”

  “Even with the fungus?”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  I eased on to the swing, and Karl gave me a gentle shove. Each time I floated back, Karl’s hands brushed lightly on my shoulders.

  “It’s so pretty out today,” I said.

  Karl stopped the swing, his gaze focused on the midafternoon sun. “It is, but we should probably go back in soon.”

  “Oh.” I stood up. “Sure. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s just…” He brushed his thumb along my jaw before he tugged on my hair. “You have a leaf in there.”

  I fingered the strand. “How embarrassing.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I like your hair. I like it when you do it in braids too. I like—Oh, great. Here comes my brother.”

  I turned to see Prince Barrett striding up the hill. Every nerve in my body went from a little tingle to hyper-alert. Oh man, I’d almost forgotten about Barrett. But he was even better looking in person. Karl, who on his own was decent, looked straight-up wimpy next to Barrett, the Prince of Hot.

  “What are you two crazy kids up to?” he asked.

  I couldn’t answer. I was staring. I couldn’t stop. He was, like, seventeen. And a celebrity. One of People magazine’s fifty most beautiful people two years in a row. You’d have to be completely Method to not be impressed by that.

  “Elsa, you remember my brother, Barrett?”

  Barrett nodded at me. “Of course she does. Now, Elsa, how is your nana doing?” he asked, emphasizing the word in an almost sarcastic way.