The Christmas Princess (16 page)

April was around him and crouching down to the girl’s level in a breath. “It’s okay, it’s okay. He didn’t mean to. I’m sure he’s very sorry.”

“I’m sorry all right,” he said, standing. How could April stand being that close to the origin of that godawful caterwauling?

“Hunter, tell this poor girl you’re sorry, and that you’ll get her a new candy cane.”

Their eyes met for an instant.

“I’m more sorry than I can say that you lost your candy cane. And I’ll get you a new one, as long as you don’t open it in my presence,” he said grimly. The girl’s eyes opened wide and her mouth closed, thank heavens. He added in a mutter, “But if her name is Nell, all bets are off.”

April settled in the car with a satisfied sigh. “Didn’t you enjoy that?”

“My ears hurt from that stupid song over and over, my hand’s permanently sticky, my foot hurts — yes, you can laugh all you want, it does hurt — my pants have a red and white striped stain that makes me smell like cinnamon, and I was accused of trying to steal candy from a baby whose voice can shatter glass. Yeah, I had a ball.”

She grinned at him.

And damned if he didn’t grin back.

“The king asked to see you when you came in,” Derek said before Hunter had his coat off.

He’d made sure Derek was on hand, then went to the office before the rest of the household was up. When Sharon arrived, he’d told her a few details not in his official report.

“So things are going great,” she’d said.

He frowned. “He treats April as if she might really be his granddaughter, yet I don’t see any sign he’s checking her out.”

“Maybe he’s checking her out so discreetly you don’t see it.” He gave her a look and she chuckled. “It’s possible.”

“He’s up to something.”

But what? Why would King Jozef have her staying at the embassy, spending all this time with her if he didn’t think she might be his granddaughter? But if he thought she was truly his granddaughter, wouldn’t he be taking some steps to acknowledge her. That’s what kept chewing at him.

Sharon’s only response had been a shrug. “Does it matter?”

“It will to April,” he said grimly.

“Let’s see what the next couple weeks bring,” Sharon had said.

Now he knocked on the door of the king’s office, was told to enter, and did.

“Ah, Hunter. Good morning.”

He nodded.

“You and April procured a lovely tree yesterday.”

So the king had said last night after they’d put the tree in its stand in the library. April had said it needed to “rest” overnight before being decorated.

They’d then watched an old black and white movie called
Miracle on 34th Street
. At the beginning, the character who believed he was Kris Kringle stopped at a store and corrected the lineup of reindeer in the display.

April turned and looked at him with significance.

He kept his face neutral. But he knew what she was saying with the look. That she was certain he knew about the moment she’d stopped in front of the jewelry store with a similar display the first day he’d talked to her.

Because she was certain she knew he’d been tailing her then.

She couldn’t have.

The king’s voice brought him back to the present.

“April said at breakfast that she intends to decorate the tree today, before we must depart for the lighting of this country’s National Christmas Tree.” That was one of the optional events April selected. “I would help her if my duties did not preclude that. Though, surely she would benefit from assistance by someone more adept with a ladder than I am.”

“You want me to help her decorate a Christmas tree.”

Although it wasn’t a question, the king said, “Yes.”

Hunter lowered his head in acknowledgment of the order. He was at the door when the king added, “I suggest you change into appropriate clothing first, however. I understand the suit you wore yesterday was, ah, somewhat abused.”

He looked back at the king and saw a twinkle in his eyes and a curve of his lips.

April did that.

He didn’t know where the though came from. Or why he gave a quick smile back as he said, “It was. Good idea about changing.”

The library door opened, and April turned to see Hunter entering, dressed in a faded pale blue shirt and jeans a slightly richer color.

She’d grouped the boxes — those she’d brought and those they’d bought yesterday — but hadn’t gotten any farther.

She’d never decorated a tree alone. With Melly, there’d been no tree, unless they were in a hotel with one in the lobby. With Leslie and Grady or Great-Grandma Beatrice, it was a family activity.

“You’re in time to help,” she said. “Or…Will you help?”

“That’s why I’m here.” He didn’t sound entirely happy. He approached her array of decorations.

“I promise, no half-eaten candy canes. Though I can’t promise there won’t be any sap.”

“I’m prepared this time.” He took a work glove from his back pocket and tapped it against his other hand. He frowned. “Do you have a heavy duty extension cord?”

“I’m sure they have extension cords.”

“Heavy duty?”

She shrugged. “The branches have come down well overnight and I refilled the water reservoir, so it’s ready for the lights.”

“No it’s not. Do you have timers?” She shook her head. “Alarms?”

“Alarms? That seems excessive.”

“Worth being excessive to avoid an international incident because you burned down Bariavak’s embassy. Don’t start on the tree. Don’t leave the embassy. I’ll be back soon.”

From the library doorway, he saw the strings of lights were out of their packages and tumbled into messy piles.

“What happened here?”

“Testing the lights. See if all the bulbs are good like Grady does.”

He could see only her back, but from her voice, either she’d caught a cold while he’d made the quick shopping trip or something had happened.

Advancing into the library, he placed the hardware store bag on the floor. With her head away from him, she scrubbed the sleeve of her sweater across her eyes.

“Tangling lights is making you … unhappy”

She might have intended a chuckle, but it emerged as a snuffle.

“Not the lights.” She gestured to a Campbell’s Soup box labeled “Family Ornaments” that he remembered transporting from her storage space to the suite, then the suite to here. “Just remembering.”

He sat on the couch. “It won’t take long to take the tree down and put the boxes back.”

She twisted from her waist to look over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were red and puffy. So was the tip of her nose. “Take it down? It’s not up yet.”

“That makes it easier.”

“Why do you dislike Christmas?” She snapped that, then immediately softened. “Oh. I should have thought — is it against your religion or—?”

“It’s not against my religion. I have no feelings about it one way or the other.”

Lifting her knees she pivoted to face him completely. “But you must have … I know some people don’t like the holidays. And there are all those articles about the stress and everything. But … I mean, your family must have had traditions, if not Christmas, then another holiday. That’s one of the things I like so much, with Kwanza and Ramadan and Hanukah and Winter Solstice, it’s like everybody’s observing a special time.”

He shook his head.

Her eyes on him were clearly searching, yet he wondered if she knew how much they revealed. He saw sympathy and questions. But she didn’t press her sympathy on him. Nor did she ask the questions.

“I think my very first memory is of Christmas lights,” she said. “I remember the colors. But mostly I didn’t like Christmas as a kid. I used to hate it, in fact. Everyone else celebrating … But now, it’s my favorite time of the year. Leslie and Grady did that for me. Great-Grandma Beatrice, too, but mostly Leslie and Grady, their kids, Sandy and Jake, and all the others. Paul and Bette have two girls and a boy, Michael and Tris had a boy first then twins – a boy and a girl. Paul’s sister Judi has a step-daughter, then she and Thomas had a boy and she’s expecting again. It’s a madhouse when we’re all together.”

She offered her memories, as if the telling of them would give him some right to share them.

He heard about baking and decorating, movies and songs, presents and surprises. And a lot of laughter.

But her laughter had faded. She looked up, either examining the top of the tree or trying to hold back tears.

She was regretting not being with all those people she loved.

He picked up a strand of lights. It brought two other strands with it. He pushed aside one overlapping string and slid the one in his right hand through an unrelated loop. The result was nearly two feet of unencumbered light string. He neatly folded it back on itself, leaving the lights bunched on either side of his fist.

He disentangled first one, then the next string, winding them into loops. He placed two of them on the coffee table. The third one he held, extending the loose end toward her.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

She looked at him, but he kept his focus on the light he held. Finally, she rose from her cross-legged seat, took the offered end of the light string and headed for the tree.

“It’s one of the greatest debates in the history of Christmas trees. Top or bottom? I say start at the top.”

The actual lighting of the national Christmas tree took a fraction of a second.

If only security issues were limited to that moment.

Hunter had coordinated with other agencies as usual, and had the king’s detail on their toes.

For the lighting of the national Christmas tree, the King and April had seats in the VIP section of President’s Park, just south of the White House. That meant they had to be there well ahead of time. And Washington traffic meant they had to leave the embassy even earlier.

Before the ceremony, Hunter stood behind them as fellow VIPs, especially those from the diplomatic corps, came by to pay their respects to King Jozef. Most cloaked their curiosity about his companion, but several didn’t cloak their appreciation of her.

Hunter rehearsed a few comments for Maurice about the coat he’d provided, which following her curves too damned faithfully. But he knew he’d never speak them. Maurice would enjoy it too much.

The king presented April to only those with whom he exchanged more than a few brief words. “May I introduce April Gareaux,” he would say, sliding right past her identity to add, “April, meet Stegan Longrabaghi, who will be joining us for dinner tomorrow night” or some other phrase.

Finally, organizers shooed them away to have everyone in place before the televised show began. Hunter retreated to steps behind the platform. Out of sight, but within reach.

After the first musical number, the President and the first family came out briefly for the actual lighting.

Musicians came and went on stage. Most made April smile. Which made more of the men in the VIP section focus on her. Some of the younger men downright goggled.

The first family and president returned for the finale, then left the stage almost immediately afterward.
Almost
because the President detoured to shake hands and say hello to King Jozef, leaving the Secret Service, TV cameras, and Hunter to adjust on the fly.

With that over, more VIPs came up to King Jozef.

But at last, the king stood. Without turning around, he said, “Hunter.”

He stepped forward, never taking his eyes off the crowd beyond the platform.

“April has expressed a desire to tour the individual trees. I find myself too tired to desire anything more than a chair by the fire.”

“I’ll come with you,” April said to the king. “I can see the trees another time. They’ll be here for weeks. We’ll go back to the embassy, and Madame can make you a hot drink and—”

“Nonsense, my dear. You are here now and there is no reason for you to postpone your pleasure in seeing these trees. I will not have you adjusting your outings to accommodate my old bones. I am certain Hunter won’t mind escorting you and returning you safely to the embassy.”

He waited a beat too long to respond.

“No, no there’s no need for that, sir,” April said. “I’ll take a quick tour, then catch a cab and I’ll be back at the embassy before you know it.”

Hunter met the king’s look. “I will escort Ms. Gareaux, who will
not
catch a cab.”

King Jozef’s mouth eased toward a smile as he nodded acknowledgment, possibly thanks.

The king’s security detail encircled him and started off with such efficiency that April hadn’t even finished her protest before they were out of earshot.

“Ms. Gareaux,” He gestured for her to descend the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” she said over her shoulder.

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“I know you didn’t want to do this.” She spread her long fingers in a gesture that seemed to include her, the trees, the night, and possibly the universe. “It’s not really your job.”

A stream of people coming the opposite direction buffeted her. He stepped up beside her, slipping his right shoulder slightly in front.

“My job covers a lot of things.”

“Fine. It’s your job.” She sounded a bit sharp, then it eased. “But I know it’s not your idea of fun. You hate Christmas.”

“I don’t hate Christmas. I have no feeling about it one way or the other.” She was watching him, so she didn’t see the child-laden stroller a woman in a blue parka seemed to be incapable of steering straight.

He hooked his hand around her upper arm and tugged her toward him, Unbalanced, she stumbled, and he put both arms around her.

She looked up.

His arms tightened.

He forced them to relax. “Stroller,” he said.

She blinked, then looked around as the woman behind her yelped in pain from contact with that rolling weapon.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Thank you.” April straightened, smoothing down the front of her coat. He watched the motion.

“You’re welcome.”

A few yards more and they reached the backlog of people trying to funnel into a narrow opening to a circular walkway. Everyone seemed in the best of spirits, with children’s voices breaking into a piece of a Christmas song. But the physics of more bodies than there was space meant the jostling intensified. He blocked April from it the best he could, then took her arm to be sure they weren’t separated. She seemed to understand the necessity, because she didn’t protest.