Princess Ever After (Royal Wedding Series) (27 page)

“Reggie.”

“Or Regina,” Tanner tagged on.

“R–Regina,” Melinda began, slow and deliberate, “women around the world will write blogs about what you wear and how you wear it,
when
you wear it. The copycat designers will scurry to knock off our originals. Don’t you want to make a bold, brilliant statement with your first royal coat, as it were?”

“I appreciate your insight, Melinda. I do. All of these coats look . . . lovely. But let’s face it, I may not be the princess of anything for very long, so for now, let’s keep it simple. How about a car coat or something? My mom used to have one.” A sudden missing-mama splashed Reggie’s heart and seeped into her voice. “In fact, if she were alive, she’d be the one standing here with you now instead of me.”

Melinda regarded her for a moment, her lips forming a question she did not verbalize, her fashion designer demeanor giving way to one of a woman talking to another about the loss of her mom.

“Then a car coat it is. Navy blue? You won’t look like a match or a human rose.” She allowed herself a soft laugh. “Lost me own mum a year back. I still miss her.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Were you close?”

“Talked by phone every morning and every night.” Melinda
offered up a simple but beautiful coat. “Were you close to your mum?”

“She was killed in a car crash when I was twelve. So yes and no. I didn’t get to know her as an adult because some guy ran a light and took her from us.”

“Oh, that’s rubbish. Pure rubbish. I’m so sorry, Princess. Rotten thing for a girl to lose her mum at twelve, just when she needs her most.”

“I had Gram for a while, but she was ninety-nine and not always keen on what was going on. My dad, though, he was . . .” Her heart yearned for her daddy. “Amazing.”

Her voice mail to him had yet to be answered. But that was his way. Reggie pictured him sitting up to the table with Sadie . . .

“Reg called. Says she’s doing all right. Ah, dinner looks good, Sadie. Don’t you know that crew on the south side had me straightening out their mess all day? I never did get to lunch.”

Then sometime in the next day or two, he’d remember and call her back.

“Me own dad was a louse, but I’m glad for you girls with good ones. There.” Melinda patted Reggie’s shoulders and stood back. “What do you think?”

Reggie examined her reflection front and back, then checked with Tanner. He had the same look on his face as when he showed her the bay. Heat burst beneath her skin and sank into her soul, lighting the dark, cold regions where love had not yet shone its light.

“Perfect,” he said, shifting his gaze, resituating his sweater over his leg.

“I’ll take it. How much?” Reggie fixed her thoughts on the coat, on Melinda. Not on the way Tanner made her feel. She’d best get ahold of herself. Falling for Tanner in any way, shape, or form would taint her decision-making process.
“No charge. It’s our gift to you. Welcome to Hessenberg, Princess Regina.” Melinda clapped her hands together, then held them at her waist.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Reggie worked the buttons to remove the coat.

“Wh–why not, miss? It’s our gift . . . to you.”

“One thing Daddy taught me a long time ago. There’s no such thing as free. If I take this coat now, I’ll be obliged to you. Then sometime down the road, an issue of some kind will crop up and I’ll find myself compromised because I accepted a free coat. I don’t know squat about politics, being a princess, or being a fashion designer, but in the CPA and the car business, the ‘I’ll-scratch-your-back-if-you-scratch-mine’ thing usually leaves some poor knucklehead bleeding and in trouble.”

“I see.” Melinda. Stiff and solemn. Insulted.

“Melinda, it’s not you. Please hear me. I don’t think you’d hold a car coat over my head, but if I take this from you, then I have to take gifts from other designers and on and on. Besides, my daddy also taught me, ‘A laborer is worthy of her hire.’ ”

“Melinda,” Tanner said, standing behind Reggie, “send the bill to my office.”

“Hey, no, wait.” Reggie pressed her hand to Tanner’s chest. “I don’t want to owe you either. I can pay.” How much could a car coat cost? Couple hundred?

“This particular coat is two thousand pounds, miss.”

Reggie spun toward Melinda. “For a car coat?” She itched to remove the thing and make do with Tanner’s sweater, but the look on Melinda’s face said,
“Don’t do it.”

“Send the bill to my office.” Tanner.

Reggie sighed. “Yes, send the bill to his office.” She wagged her finger at the Minister of Culture. “But I’m paying you back.”

He made a wry face, making her laugh. “I’m sure you will. One way or another.”

Their banter was smooth. Light. Flirty. Reggie already liked the coat ten times more because it would forever remind her of today. Of Tanner.

Melinda suggested trying on a few dresses, but Reggie was done with shopping.

“Maybe next week?” She checked with Tanner. “Do I need a dress?”

“You didn’t bring one?”

“No . . . I packed so fast . . . I didn’t think . . . just grabbed my usual jeans and T-shirts.”

“Melinda,” Tanner said, “select a few of your favorites with Her Majesty in mind and send them to the palace. Her lady’s maid can help her choose a dress.”

“What of accessories? Shoes? Handbags?”

“Send those as well.”

Reggie shot him a look. “What kind of budget does your office have?”

“Never mind.” He tried to sound stern, but his twitching lips gave him away. “Melinda, thank you. We appreciate your kindness and discretion.”

Tanner backed toward the stairs, motioning for Reggie to follow.

“Thank you, Melinda.” Reggie offered Melinda her hand, but when the designer reached for her, Reggie drew her into a hug. “Sorry I’m not a good shopper. And . . . sorry about your mum. It does get easier.”

Melinda’s stiff posture relaxed and she returned Reggie’s hug. “You don’t know how much that means to me, Your Majesty.”

With glistening eyes, Melinda escorted them to the door, asking about the rest of their day, agreeing that showing Reggie the city and taking tea at the Fence & Anchor, a favorite pub of the locals, was a splendid way to get a feel for Hessenberg. Reggie was about to start down the stairs when Melinda snapped her fingers, her eyes bright with an idea.

“Want to have some real fun, Mr. Burkhardt? Walk about the city unhindered?”

He narrowed his gaze. “What do you have in mind?”

Melinda turned to Reggie. “Your Majesty, are you game?”

She liked the woman’s enthusiasm. “Sure, I’m game. Tanner?”

He hesitated. Then, “Y–yeah, I–I guess.”

“Oh, this is marvelous. I’ll be right back.” And Melinda ran off.

Tanner emerged from the loft’s side door with Regina’s laughter ringing in his ears. She’d laughed when Melinda came out of her storage room. Laughed while the designer presented her idea. And while wholeheartedly agreeing to the entire scheme, completely ignoring his protests.

“Regina, I can’t do this.” Tanner peered down the sidewalk, praying no one saw him.

“Yes you can. This is hilarious.”

Clarence and Todd exited the SUV, smirks on their broad faces.

“Excuse me, but we were waiting for the Minister of Culture and the Princess of Hessenberg,” Clarence said, walking around the back of the vehicle and stepping up on the curb. “We’re going to need to see some ID.”

“But it’s obvious, Clarence.” Todd crossed his arms, his feet in a wide stance. “It’s Sonny and Cher.”

Regina started to sing “I Got You, Babe,” but lost the melody in her laughter.

Next to her, Tanner growled and frowned, his straight, bad-bangs wig twisting in the soft breeze. “We are going to look more conspicuous than if we didn’t have on this getup.” He shook the fringe of his suede vest.

“Don’t be a rotten egg.” Reggie flipped the long, silky black ends of her Cher wig. “What do you think? Do I make a good brunette?”

“No, your red hair is marvelous.” Tanner turned back to the door, holding up the bags with their real clothes. “I’m going to change.”

“No you’re not.” Reggie motioned to Clarence with a flip of her hand. “Grab him and let’s go.”

So
now
she steps into her authority. Fine. But this was a foul way to do it. Mumbling to himself, Tanner walked around to his side of the SUV. How could Melinda do this to him? Just last month he’d given her first go at organizing Hessenberg’s first fashion show in decades.

“So,” Reggie said, continuing to explain to Clarence and Todd, “Melinda had this ’60s thing in the spring and kept the costumes, thinking she’d need them again. So here we are, Sonny and Cher.”

“Not really, we just look like a couple of ill-dressed hippies with bad hair.” Tanner peered down at Reggie, who was doing no wrong in that bodysuit and striped, multicolored hip-huggers.

“You don’t have to wear the wig if you don’t want to, Tanner.” She curled her lip at him. “You’re such a fusspot.”

“Drive on, Clarence.” Tanner was sure the big man was snickering, but he didn’t care.

He wanted to move, get into motion, and leave his creeping, yearning thoughts behind. Every molecule in his formerly rugby-trained body wanted to grab that Cher imposter and kiss her until one of them couldn’t breathe.

No mistake, she could be as annoying as a rain drip on a steel pipe. And she made it very hard to play by his own rules. To
not
get his heart involved.

“Where to, sir?”

“City center. Wisteria Park.”

Regina peered out her window as Clarence steered the motorcar through the midday traffic. Tanner exhaled, easing the grip on his heart.

His king sent him on a precarious mission and he’d found . . . her. And maybe a little piece of himself.

“What’s that building?” Regina tapped her window. “It’s gorgeous.”

“St. John’s Chapel.” Tanner knocked on the back of the driver’s seat. “Clarence, can we park, walk a bit?”

It took a few passes for Clarence to choose a parking situation, but once he did, Tanner stepped with Regina out of the dark SUV and into the blue, crisp day.

Clarence took point while Todd watched the rear. Tanner walked beside Regina, negotiating the bustling sidewalk. Their strides hit the same rhythm, and everything he hated about his costume evaporated because he was walking with her.

“What’s the population of Hessenberg?” Regina sidestepped a hustling lass in a yellow coat.

“Five hundred thousand in Strauberg. Four million on the duchy.”

“What’s the GDP?”

“GDP?” Impressive.

“You can take the girl out of accounting but you can’t always take the accounting out of the girl.”

“Last report of our gross domestic product was around three hundred billion.”

She stopped. “And the country has financial woes?”

“Ah, clever, you understand what so few do.”

“Well, I paid attention in a few of my finance and econ classes.”

“Our financial relationship with Brighton has not been handled wisely. We’re like codependent sisters, taking each other down. We’ve lived beyond our means, as well. Much like America.”

“Touché. That is a problem.” And she walked on.

Around the corner, St. John’s Chapel came into view again. Regina pressed toward the gothic-styled columns, jumping into the street nearly ahead of Clarence.

“Can we go inside?”

“I believe we can.” Tanner started down another narrow side street.

“What’s the story of this place?” Regina skipped along beside him.

“St. John’s?” Tanner knew the history from the time his father served here. “It was founded by a Dutch missionary who came to the island in 1682. He had a vision of Jesus telling him to start a church that prays.” They stopped at the short, thin chapel steps leading to the narthex. “He built a thatched dwelling where we now stand, and three hundred some odd years later here we are, with this grand structure built late in the nineteenth century.”

“The real question is, do they still hold prayer meetings? Let’s go inside and see.” Regina dashed up the steps, and her excitement charged him to see his city, his country, his life with fresh eyes.

The narthex was a simple, pure area with a red marble floor and white walls. No paintings or religious symbols.

Tanner tiptoed toward the sanctuary doors. But Regina held back.

“Can you feel it?” She breathed deep, eyes closed.

“Feel what?”

“The millions of prayers. The peace. The presence.”

Tanner closed his eyes, trying to
feel
what she described. But nothing. All he got was a blast of hot air from the overhead vent for his trouble.

“This was the official church of the royal family,” he said, reaching for the sanctuary doors.

Regina stepped in with a “Wow” and awe, her white go-go boots a stark contrast to the deep-red carpet. “Tanner, this is incredible.”

As he followed her, his shoes, which were his own because he refused the horrid ankle boots Melinda offered him, sank into the plush floor covering.

Hands tucked in her coat pockets, Regina walked the red-carpeted aisle, gazing up at the ribbed trumpet beams of the nave’s arching ceiling.

“Look at that.” She pointed overhead. “It’s like the architect had in mind that they’d blast a sound to the heavens.” She slipped her hand over the top of the pews. “Stained glass. How old do you reckon these windows are?”