BABY ROYAL

by Bella Grant

  “But that’s not all you are. Furthermore,” she said as she rested on the floor and twirled a lock of her golden hair, “what if he doesn’t know she isn’t rich until he is madly in love with her?” She had a strange gleam in her eye, and she hopped to her feet and pulled me behind her.

  “Where are we going?” I asked her, but she didn’t answer.

  In her bedroom, she scurried to the computer and plopped down in her chair. “One of my friends was telling me about this site where men go to meet women they want to marry.”

  I arched my brow in disbelief. “What? You’re serious?”

  “I am,” she said excitedly. “One of my mother’s friends got married this way. She just added her profile, someone messaged her, and they got married.”

  “It can’t be as simple as that,” I protested, though she had piqued my interest. I moved closer so I could see the monitor.

  “Well, you might have to tweak the details, but I’m sure this could work.” She beamed like her prospects were brightening rather than mine.

  “What details?” I asked and leaned in closer. I squinted at the screen at the image of a man who looked like he could pass for a decent husband. I read his requirements for a bride—none of which matched me. “Henrietta, how am I supposed to pull this off?”

  “Leave that to me,” she said sneakily.

  “What are you doing?”

  “First, we need a picture,” she said like I wasn’t there. She grabbed my hair and twisted my face about. “Maybe some make-up, a nice dress—”

  “Henrietta!” I shouted. “Stop. I can’t do this. What do you think he’ll say when he sees me? One look and he’ll know I’m nothing like this person you’re trying to make me into.”

  “Shush!” she insisted, and I knew from experience it was a waste of time to argue with her. She was headstrong, stubborn, and very determined. And right now, I was her pet project.

  In minutes, she had me in one of her favorite white summer dresses. My face was made up, my lips a bold shade of red, and my hair boasted tresses and curls coiled at the top of my head. I hardly recognized the woman in the mirror, but I was impressed by her work.

  She clapped her hands to her mouth as she swelled with pride. “He’d be a fool not to choose you.”

  “He’d be a fool if he did,” I replied, even though my heart raced.

  “Come, sit here,” she told me and pulled me to the easy chair close to her bedroom window. “Hold still.”

  I felt paralyzed with fear and anxiety. My heart thumped so hard against my chest I got dizzy. “I don’t know about this,” I said eventually and rubbed my hands down the dress.

  “Smile!” Henrietta commanded chirpily, and my mouth was forced open, almost involuntarily.

  But one picture was not enough for her. No, we had to be convincing, so she grabbed my hand and dragged me into the garden, the sun room, and the pool side where she took one picture after another. I felt like I was in a dream, in her dream, a welcomed visitor with no control over this world. When she finished, we went back inside, where the other half of her work continued.

  I sat on the stool next to the desk as she entered information and uploaded photos on to the fake profile. My curiosity got the better of me, and I went over to look at the woman I’d become. I couldn’t help swelling with pride when I saw my image on the background. I looked like a wealthy young woman who had recently come into my inheritance. I was a business owner and on the market for a man I could marry to maintain my fortune. It was like reading a novel, and I tried to wrap my head around the new me.

  “I can’t believe we just did that,” I whispered over Henrietta’s shoulder.

  “I know, right?” she grinned and cocked her head to the side. “Now, all we do is wait.”

  I knitted my brows. “And that’s it?”

  “That’s it,” she confirmed happily. “You will be married in no time.”

  “But what about the name? Why Bolton?” I didn’t understand what her thought process was in changing my name. Surely he would figure out it was wrong, and then everything would come tumbling down.

  “There are a lot of Boltons on this island and everywhere, so you could easily pass for one when he tries to check you out,” she said, like this was something she did every day.

  “Oh. But how do you know he will check?”

  She looked at me over her shoulder in wonderment. “He is a billionaire. Of course he’s going to check. He might even do a pre-nup, but that’s okay. As long as you get to spend his money while you’re married.”

  Henrietta had it all figured out, and as she spoke I realized how little I knew about these things. I’m screwed!

  She must have seen the panic on my face. She stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she advised. “It’ll be fine.” And then she was off.

  I was mute for minutes after she was gone, staring at the woman on the other side of the screen. Slowly I began scrolling through the profiles of some of the men who were already there, and I was instantly intimidated. It became even worse when I looked at some of the women who were now the competition. This wasn’t going to work. Just another pipe dream.

  I stared at the screen for a long time, fully expecting something to happen. I was almost disappointed when the computer remained silent and the notification bell read zero messages. Depressed and spent from a long, emotional day, I got up and went to change and get ready for bed. Sleep was waiting for me, and instantly embraced me into a long and dreamless sleep.

  Henrietta’s voice woke me the following morning as she flew into the room, her eyes wild with excitement as I tried to make mine catch up.

  “Get up. You got a message!”

  I was dazed and still half asleep – I didn’t get her meaning. “Uh? What?”

  “The site. Someone messaged you.”

  “The site? What…” The fog cleared in my brain and she began to make sense. “The site!” And my eyes evenly matched hers as all the possibilities immediately swirled before my mind’s eye. I flung the covers from me and dashed after her to her bedroom.

  “Look!” she said, as she pointed at the man on the screen. “Not bad, huh?”

  I was blown away by his handsome features, and my mouth instantly went dry. “What do I do now?” I felt like an idiot for asking. Of course, I was going to answer, but I was afraid of what would happen next.

  I could feel my hands shaking and my palms getting damp with perspiration.

  Henrietta handed me the PC and stood. “I think you’d better answer the man.”

  She left the room. I sat for a good couple of minutes, wondering what I would say. My hands started moving seconds before I completely lost my nerve.

  Raymond

  Hello Anna, I came across your profile and thought you would make a great companion for me…

  I sounded like an idiot, and I made her seem like a dog – double whammy if you ask me. My fingers stopped moving as I stared at the picture in front of me, laughing at my stupidity as I erased the message. She entranced me with her bright red lips and complementary red hair. The white dress she wore was a perfect match for her skin tone, and I found myself burning a hole with my eyes in the middle of my computer screen. A smile crossed my face as I imagined her on the cover of a magazine, the place where she seemed to rightfully belong.

  “Let’s try this again,” I muttered under my breath.

  Hello Anna. You look lovely. I would love to meet you!

  I stared at the message for what felt like too long and finally hit send. I continued searching the site, but I also watched the notifications for a response. I knew her profile was new, and not because the status said online meant she was sitting in front of the computer. It was early so maybe she was getting ready for work, and she just left the machine running. Or maybe she was using her phone? There were too many possibilities, but I might as well get on with my day while I waited.

  I don’t even know how I got here. One minute I was up a
nd checking pictures, and the next I was thinking about giving up. By the time I had gone to bed, she was out of sight, out of mind. Until I woke up, and she returned, her image more potent in my mind than when I first saw it. I wandered to the office, and as soon as I turned on the machine, there she was. In my hurry, I had let the computer go to sleep, so she greeted me first thing that morning. I tried to ignore her, but I sat and sent a simple ‘hello’ before I changed my mind yet again.

  Hi Raymond. How are you? Are you for real?

  I fell into the chair. That wasn’t the response I’d hoped to get. I read her profile again and saw what she professed to be before I answered.

  Yes, I am serious. There are a few other women I hope to meet as well. I’d like you to be one of them if you aren’t too busy with business.

  I waited again. Her response came back almost immediately.

  No, I’m not too busy.

  And that was all. She didn’t say much, so I thought to do the most natural thing: look her up online. She called herself Anna Bolton, but when I checked the other Anna Boltons that filled the screen, none of the images resembled her. There was nothing about her anywhere. My only other option was to ask.

  So, tell me, what sort of business are you into?

  There was a moment’s pause before I saw that she was typing her response:

  Fashion and real estate.

  Based on the few words, she didn’t come off as someone from the fashion industry. The women I’d met were vain, condescending, and self-righteous. This Anna seemed different, and she intrigued me even further. I was about to ask another question when the thought occurred to me that it would be better if I did pre-interviews over the phone. I was skeptical of the woman who would share so much of my life, and I didn’t want to be under further scrutiny by my all-seeing, ever-judging mother. I wouldn’t include her in the process right away but after I had already chosen.

  Would it be okay if I called you?

  In a few moments, she sent her phone number, and like all the other times when I’d prepared for a business meeting, I slipped into my business mode.

  Her voice was low and timid when she responded. This was new to me too, but luckily for me, there were no emotions involved.

  “I’m sorry for calling you this early, but I didn’t expect you to reply yet. I imagine you are busy getting ready for work.”

  “Yes, yes!” she replied hastily. “But that’s okay. I was surprised when I saw the message.”

  “I hope you don’t think I’m rushing this by asking for your number, but I always prefer direct conversations.”

  “Oh, no, that’s fine. If I had a problem, I could have said no, right?”

  I rubbed the back of my head. “I guess you could.”

  What took me off my guard was that her voice was nothing like the image I was staring at. I had expected her to be stiff, formal, and business-like. Instead, she had an air of playfulness about her and a kind of childlike innocence. She pulled me in the longer she spoke, although she revealed nothing further than what I’d read.

  “So, how does this work?” she asked eventually. “I’m not familiar with this process. It’s my first time.”

  “I don’t know either. I recently came across the site and thought I’d take a stab at it,” I told her and rocked back in the chair as I grew comfortable. “I didn’t think much would come of it.” Silence. “But I had nothing to lose, right?”

  I was tripping over my words and frustrating myself. Why was I behaving like a schoolboy? This is just business, I reminded myself.

  “Right. So, tell me a little more about you,” she said faintly.

  “I will, but not yet. Like I said, I will be interviewing other women as well. As a matter of fact, I think I should arrange a ‘viewing’ of sorts, so I can meet the women face to face. Then, I’ll make my choice, so whatever you want to know, you can find out when we meet.”

  “Okay.”

  I wanted to know what she was thinking. “Are you uncomfortable with this process?” I probed.

  “If I was, I wouldn’t be here,” she replied, sounding sultry suddenly. Or was that my mind playing tricks on me?

  “Right. So, I’ll be at the Colonial Regent Hotel next Tuesday until five.” I hadn’t arranged it beforehand, but I could get an opening there. My family had made so many sizable donations I was almost a part owner.

  “Where do I find that?” she asked timidly.

  Again, I was caught off-guard. How could she be a fashion designer and not know where the Colonial Regent was? Many shows were held there in any given year. “You don’t know where it is?”

  “Where—what…oh, sorry, I lost my train of thought. Yes, I do know,” she quipped and cleared her throat. “I’ll be there.”

  “Okay, good. I look forward to meeting you.”

  “Me too.”

  We hung up, but she had left her mark on me. The process I had started of initiating messages that led to phone calls took me well into the morning, and before I knew it, it was almost ten. Some women asked for my number first; those were the ones I didn’t give any information about the screening at the hotel. A few proposed. But of all the women I spoke with that morning, Anna was the only one I thought about.

  And she stayed with me throughout the day, plaguing my mind and drumming up fantastic images of a life I could only imagine at the moment. When I returned home that evening, I navigated to the site and favorited a handful of other women. At the end of the day I had about twenty prospective brides but felt a tinge of excitement for only one.

  Anna

  I paced the floor on the back patio the following evening, grinding my fingers into submission because they wouldn’t stop shaking. I had done something stupid, and although it had seemed like a good idea at first, it was easy to see how this could blow up in my face. I had no idea why I let Henrietta talk me into it, and now, I felt like I couldn’t back out. I had seen his picture, spoken with him, and would meet him in a few days. What would I do if he called me again?

  “You really need to relax.” Henrietta sighed as she sauntered outside, sucking a lemon wedge.

  “How can I? I don’t know what to do,” I wailed.

  She pulled up a wicker chair and sank into it. “Just be yourself. He’ll love you.”

  I rushed over to her and gripped her arm as I knelt next to the chair. “But that’s the problem. I can’t be myself. I have to be the woman he saw on that website.” I sank to the floor when the weight of my decision fell heavily on my shoulders. “Who could love anyone like me? I don’t have money, or fame, or a nice house, or…” I sighed, feeling the weight crush me as my list of things-I-didn’t-have grew.

  “He doesn’t need to know any of that,” she said and waved me off.

  Despite my anxiety, I couldn’t help but feel excited, except for one thing: I didn’t know how to act rich. I couldn’t go to the Colonial Regent Hotel as Anna Ramsey from the poor house, the Sampson estate housekeeper I couldn’t talk about my mom or sister without giving myself away. And I definitely didn’t know how to dress up and play nice. I’d seen many movies and read plenty of books, but nothing I’d read made me feel even a little prepared for the following Tuesday.

  “Henrietta, you gotta help me. I don’t have anything to wear. And what if I have to eat? I don’t know a dinner fork from a salad fork. Or a serving spoon from a teaspoon. I can’t even walk in heels.” I was near to having a nervous breakdown. My legs felt numb underneath me, and I struggled to stand.

  “I see your point,” Henrietta said as she looked me up and down. “Well, I can teach you.”

  “You’d better. You got me into this mess.” I laughed nervously. My voice sounded strange, and I felt my chest tightening the deeper into this mess I got.

  “We’d better get started,” Henrietta said as she flew out of the chair. “There’s lots to do.”

  I had a strange feeling Henrietta loved making a doll out of me. She was only eighteen—barely past her pre-teen
s, freckle-faced, prom-dating period. Rehearsing with me for a potential wedding was as close to one as she would get in a while, and her excitement and enthusiasm slowly rubbed off on me.

  The first thing she did was take me to the dining hall, where the table was laid with utensils and cutlery. I had been there before, but my job didn’t allow me to meddle with the silver. Now that I was staring at them, I felt overwhelmed. One place setting had three plates, two glasses, knives, and several spoons and forks on either side of the plate, all arranged in order of size.

  “Why does anyone need this many forks? Or spoons?” I quizzed. I rubbed one of my feet against the other as I stood uncomfortably beside the table.

  “That is something you need to know,” Henrietta began. She picked up one of the forks from the end and continued. “You begin on this side and work your way in.”

  “There’s an actual order?” I asked and folded my arms. “Why couldn’t one be enough?”

  “It’s the proper thing to do,” Henrietta explained patiently. “It’s always been like this, and if you want to appear like one of us, then you have to learn these things. He may not ask you out on Tuesday, but what if he chooses you?”

  Her words hit home. What if he really did choose me? I decided to pay closer attention to her as she pointed out salad forks, soup spoons, butter knives, steak knives, and other information I didn’t think was possible to remember in one sitting. It was too much to absorb in one go.

  “You simply need to remember to work your way in,” she said when she witnessed my boredom with her teaching. “You won’t be served everything at once, and if you aren’t sure, watch someone close to you.”

  “That’s true,” I admitted, although the thought had not yet occurred to me. “Or I can decline dinner,” I joked.

  “For how long, though?”

  I groaned and followed her from the dining hall to her bedroom. She walked directly to her closet and returned with a few pairs of stilettos.