Royally Lost (17 page)

28

“Here
goes nothing,” Dylan said as they exited the gate area at the Madison airport.

“Do you think Dad will be here or just Vicky?” Becca gripped the straps of the two backpacks like lifelines. She’d never done anything as bad as when she skipped her original flight home from Nuremberg to stay with Nikolai.

“Probably just Vicky, which is good. She won’t be nearly as scary. I can’t imagine Dad taking time away from his precious work to welcome home his delinquent kids.”

They rode the escalator down to the baggage area. Becca scanned the crowd. No familiar faces popped out. Maybe Dad and Vicky were leaving her and Dylan to fend for themselves.

But then she spotted a tall figure speaking into his phone. He had graying hair, and wore a charcoal-colored business suit.

Her stomach dropped. “Dad’s here.”

Dylan followed her gaze. “Well, that sucks.”

Her dad noticed them as they stepped off the escalator. His calm, emotionless stare said it all. Becca had never had to deal with angering her dad before. She wasn’t equipped for the outcome.

As Becca and Dylan approached, her father covered the phone with his hand. “Do you have any checked luggage?”

“No,” she answered.

He resumed his phone conversation, and turned to exit the airport. She and Dylan followed without a word. When they reached her father’s SUV, he popped the lock on the back as he passed to the driver’s side.

After placing her two backpacks in the vehicle and closing the door, she found Dylan had taken up the entire rear seat with his carry-on bags. Becca gave him a dirty look and climbed into the front seat.

“All right, Chuck. Bring the report to the meeting in the morning.” Her father hung up and slipped his phone into his suit pocket.

Becca held her breath, afraid of what he’d say. He paid the parking attendant and exited the ramp. Dylan hid safely behind their dad, out of his line of sight.

They rode in silence, but the mood in the vehicle was anything but peaceful. After a mile, she noticed her father white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Which one of you wants to explain why you blatantly lied to me?” he asked in a quiet, restrained voice.

At first, neither of them answered, but then Dylan spoke up. “It’s my fault, Dad. Don’t blame Becca.”

Becca let out a breath of relief. Thank God Dylan took the hit for her.

“I’m perfectly aware that you were behind this asinine escapade.” He shot Dylan an angry glare in the rearview mirror. “Sadly, this is the norm for you. What I want to know is why Becca went along with it. She knows better than to do something so stupid, yet there she was, right alongside you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Becca said, hoping her apology would be accepted, and they could pretend everything was fine.

“Sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself? Do you have any idea how much your little escapade cost? Airline tickets don’t grow on trees. We had just changed your tickets to come home, which is what I thought you wanted all along, and then I learned the tickets were changed again!”

What could she say? She didn’t want to explain that she’d really been with Nikolai instead of her brother all that time. Lord only knew what her dad would say then.

“You moped through the entire trip, and the second I gave you what you wanted, you defied me. I’m used to that type of behavior from your brother, but not you!” He swerved sharply to change lanes.

“I wasn’t moping through the entire trip.”

“And now isn’t the time to talk back to me either. I was trying to complete a very important negotiation when I received Dylan’s message that you two . . . brats decided to stay behind. Have you any idea how much you upset Vicky? She worked very hard to put that trip together.”

He fixed her with a stubborn look. “Becca, you disappoint me.”

That was it. She couldn’t take it anymore. “I disappoint you? Seriously? Oh my God, Dad. I can’t believe you even noticed I was gone!”

He looked taken aback.

“You never pay any attention to me. Other than a couple of times on the trip, you spent the entire time schmoozing with your new rich friends. Face it. I’m no more than an afterthought. You don’t notice me unless I do something less than perfect.”

“That’s enough!” he barked, pulling up to a stoplight.

“Hell it is! You ever think that half the reason Dylan is always causing trouble is so you have to notice him?”

Her father shot her a warning look.

“It’s true! You totally use your job as an excuse to avoid us.”

“My job, as you so casually put it, is what provides you with the beautiful home we live in, all your nice things, and your out-of-state college tuition.”

“That’s bull. It’s not a home. It hasn’t been since Mom died. It’s a showpiece you use to impress your colleagues. And I never asked to go to an out-of-state college. Northwestern was your decision, not mine. I wanted to stay in Madison.”

“Becca, what has gotten into you?” He turned the car onto their street.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe a backbone. I’m sick and tired of being the obedient child.”

He pushed the garage door opener and pulled into the garage. “I’ll tell you what it’s getting you. Grounded. You can forget about any plans you had for the rest of the summer. You can sit home in that showpiece, as you put it, and think of a damn good apology. That goes for both of you!”

Becca got out of the car and slammed the door.

“Great, Dad, and how are you going to enforce it? You’re never home long enough to know if we’re even there.”

She stormed into the house, leaving a furious father and an impressed Dylan in her wake.

Becca stared out the window at the backyard pool. She’d been home for a couple of days and still couldn’t shake the blanket of depression. Her heart ached for Nikolai. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind of him being dragged away.

Now that she was home, she didn’t care about anything here. She didn’t care that her friend, Kelly, stole her boyfriend; she didn’t care about getting together with her other friends; and she couldn’t care less about starting college in a few weeks.

She heard the door from the garage open. Vicky was home from work. Was it that late already?

Vicky leafed through the mail on the kitchen counter, then hung her suit jacket over a chair, and kicked off her heels. She glanced over at Becca in the living room. “I didn’t see you there. How was your day?”

Becca didn’t feel like talking, but she didn’t really feel like getting up either. “It was fine,” she answered.

“Did you get to the store and pick out bedding for your dorm room?” Vicky expertly twisted a corkscrew into a wine bottle and then smoothly pulled out the cork.

“Nah.”

“I’m surprised not to see Kelly here. Haven’t you called her yet?”

Becca shook her head and focused on a seam in the leather couch. Didn’t Vicky remember what Kelly did? She broke the cardinal rule of friendship, stealing your best friend’s guy. Then again, Vicky started dating Becca’s dad less than a year after Becca’s mom had died.

Vicky joined Becca, sitting in an adjacent chair and sipping her chardonnay. “You’ve been so unhappy since the trip. I’ve asked Dylan about it.”

Becca’s head snapped up.

“But he wouldn’t tell me a word.”

They sat in silence.

“Becca, I know you aren’t a big fan of mine. I understand that I must seem like an outsider to you.”

“No . . .” Becca started.

Vicky held up her hand. “You don’t have to pretend. I understand. Your mom was a wonderful woman, and losing her was a terrible tragedy. Accepting a new person in your life must feel like a betrayal to her memory.”

Becca didn’t say a word, but Vicky had nailed it.

“I would never try to replace her. Ever. But I see you hurting, and it hurts me not to be able to reach out. I think your mom would have wanted you to have someone you could lean on when things are tough.”

Becca looked up at her stepmother, but couldn’t find the words to express herself.

Vicky took her silence as a sign to continue. “Do you want to tell me what happened in Europe?”

Becca surprised herself that she actually itched to confide in her stepmother, but knew she would only look like a lovesick teenager.

“I already know you weren’t with Dylan and that you went to Prague.”

They locked eyes. Becca found compassion, not judgment. “You do?”

Vicky swirled her wine and took another sip.

“After receiving a call from the credit card company, when they suspected your card was stolen, I checked all the charges on the cards for both you and Dylan. I know that neither of you were in Nuremberg. Dylan went to Amsterdam, while you went to Prague. You charged lodging at a hostel before the suspicious charges occurred.”

“When I called you to check in, you texted back that you were fine. It was clear to me that you didn’t want any help. But if you did, I would have been there for you.”

Becca dropped her eyes and chewed on her thumbnail. “I’m sorry. I should have told you my bag was stolen, but I was afraid you’d be mad.”

“The responsible thing to do would have been to call home and let us know what was going on, but then again, we expected you to be in Nuremberg, not Prague. Do you want to tell me who you were with?”

She sighed. What would Vicky think if she told her? Would she even believe her crazy story? But she wanted to share it with someone. Kelly sure wasn’t the right person, and Dylan had already heard it more times than he cared to.

“Remember the guy in Regensburg who took me back to the boat after that biker ran into me?”

“Yes.”

“His name is Nikolai, and he’s the one I went to Prague with.”

“I see. I know I was the one supporting the whole travel-on-your-own idea, but do you think it was a good idea to go off with a total stranger like that?”

“He wasn’t a stranger to me. I’d been seeing him throughout the whole cruise while you and Dad were off . . . doing stuff. Plus, he’s pretty well known over there.”

“Oh?”

Becca bit her lip. Here goes nothing. “He’s the Prince of Mondovia.”

Vicky arched a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re trying to tell me that you went to Prague with the Prince of Mondovia? Becca, you know I saw the magazine in your cabin. I find it a bit difficult to believe you not only met the young man, but took off with him. Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

“I know it sounds impossible, but it’s not.” Becca rifled through the stack of magazines next to her laptop and pulled out the bottom three. She handed Vicky the one that pictured Becca with Nikolai at the lake. “See.”

Vicky examined it closely, then surprise appeared on her face. “Oh my gosh, that’s him, and you! In your underwear!”

Becca nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know his true identity at first, and after that, I tried to help him hide from the press and his family. I didn’t really think you’d have let me go off with him.”

“No. Probably not.”

“And then in Prague, his father’s men caught up with us, and they took Nikolai back to Mondovia. He doesn’t have my info, so it’s not like he can even contact me. Plus, he’s supposed to be entering the military. It’s like the most amazing thing that ever happened to me, and it ended in the most awful way.”

“Have you tried to contact him?” Vicky stared at the photo of Nikolai.

“I have, but none of the info on the Mondovian Royal Family website includes an email or phone number. It’s like they live in the Dark Ages or something. All I could find was an address. I sent a letter the day after I got back.”

“I hate to be a downer, but you do know that most summer romances end at the end of summer? Remember when you went to summer camp? Did you ever stay in touch with your new friends?”

“No. I always said I would, but I didn’t.” Becca’s heart twisted to think that Vicky summed up her time with Nikolai as a summer fling.

“I’m sorry. I think you should hope for the best, but prepare yourself for the worst.”

“You don’t think he’ll write back?”

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Becca nodded, feeling even more miserable.

29

The
photographers were waiting for Nikolai to screw up. His parents had kept him hidden for the past few days, but had now decided on a new approach on how to handle all the bad publicity he’d created.

The only way to put the gossip to rest was to show Nikolai acting the dignified, obedient prince and son.

He exited the car and walked a half step behind his father. No one upstaged the king. The heads of parliament watched their approach and nodded as they passed. Photographers captured every moment. Nikolai would have loved to crack a sarcastic joke to lighten the mood, but didn’t dare.

They entered the parliament building where he spent the entire day being ignored. When he wasn’t thinking about Becca and missing her till it hurt, he observed the people, listened to the speeches, and read between the political lines of everything around him.

Bottom line. His country had financial problems.

At the end of the day, he was escorted out of the building. He offered the requisite handshakes and nods to the elected officials, but knew they thought him a young fool who needed to be disciplined.

If his father expected Nikolai’s presence to prove there was a strong future for the royal family, he had failed. Nikolai felt like another example of how the royal family was a drain on resources and served as no more than figureheads.

“How did your day with parliament go?” his mother asked, looking up from her afternoon tea, when he returned to the palace.

“Honestly, it was a colossal waste of time,” Nikolai said, and sank into a wingback chair.

His father shook his head. “I should have known this wouldn’t help.”

“How can you possibly say that?” she asked.

“First off, we sat there watching the proceedings as if our presence even mattered. There are elected officials, voted in by the people, to make the decisions for our country,” Nikolai said.

“And as king, I hold an important advisory position to parliament. They look to me for guidance and direction,” his father said, joining his wife on the sofa.

“Do they? Or are they just being courteous to your title?” Nikolai loosened his tie.

“Nikolai, your disrespect knows no bounds. I swear we should ship you off to the military so you can learn some discipline,” his father said.

“Or is it that you want to squash my individuality and mold me into your image?” Nikolai snapped back, then stared at the ornate fireplace, not even wanting to look at his parents.

“I don’t understand where all of this is coming from. You’ve been perfectly fine and then suddenly you sneak off to chase some girl. Is that what this is all about? A girl?” his mother asked.

“You should know me better than that. I didn’t meet her until well into my trip.”

“Perhaps you need a dose of true reality. Tomorrow I meet with the joint finance director. I want you there.”

“Fine. I’m here to do my duty.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

The next day, true to his word, Nikolai met in his father’s office with the king and the finance director. Rolph Brietenburg, a middle-aged senator with a bald patch, had held his position for more than a decade.

“As you see, Your Highness, the budget for the royal family, palace, and properties is again in the red. We’ve dipped into the reserves for the past eight years and there is nothing left. We are cutting into important social services in order to provide for the crown.”

This was news to Nikolai. He knew they were a drain on the country, but he had no idea things were this bad. His parents never let on that there was a financial problem, and they certainly didn’t curtail their spending. It seemed they hosted a lavish state dinner every other month.

“I understand, Rolph, but we must find a way to designate more funds. We can’t turn our back on the fiscal needs of the crown. We are the core of Mondovia.”

“Yes, sir, but I need to impress upon you that the ongoing operating budget for Mersch Palace, the household and family needs alone, have escalated dramatically each year. At this rate, we’re going to push the country into a recession.”

“The financial situation can’t be that serious.” The king bristled.

“I assure you, Your Majesty, it is,” said Mr. Brietenburg.

How could his father have let the situation get so out of hand? One thing Nikolai learned on his travels was how to budget his money. When things got tough after Becca’s bag was stolen, he spent only the bare minimum.

“And what is it you’re recommending?” the king asked, tapping his fountain pen on the table.

“Closure of the outer properties, the castles of Noraloska and Rakburg, the Turkford Estate, as well as Beaucar House and Miren Gardens.” He sighed. “And that’s just the beginning.”

“You can’t be serious,” the king exclaimed.

The tension in the room doubled. Nikolai didn’t see this ending well. His father did not like being told what to do. The idea of closing even one of the dozens of properties of the crown would be unconscionable in his father’s eyes.

“I wish I had better news, but the revenue streams have suffered from the strained economy. In addition, we need additional social services and resources for the homeless, and the Sklos orphanage needs complete renovation due to safety issues.”

“Rolph, we must support the integrity of the crown. I can accept reducing staff at a couple of properties, but even that will tarnish our image. It’s a double-edged sword,” the king said.

Seriously? All his father was concerned about was the crown’s image?

The king turned to him. “You see, Nikolai. Running the monarchy is much more complicated than you imagined. There are difficult decisions to be made.”

“Yes, I see that, but with all due respect, Father, I don’t think the correct decisions are being made.”

Rolph raised an eyebrow.

The king leaned back in his chair. “And what would you suggest? Please enlighten us.”

Nikolai sat straighter and cleared his throat. “Well, to start off, I agree that there are too many royal estates and properties.”

His father harrumphed.

“But rather than close them down, why don’t we revitalize them? Put them to other uses.”

Rolph seemed intrigued.

“Yesterday at parliament, there was a lot of discussion about the need for updating our schools; and the Habsburg Museum has fallen into disrepair. The cost of renovation for these properties is high. We have the Beaucar House. It could serve as a new museum, and Turkford Estate would be perfect as a school or a senior residence.”

“Go on,” Rolph said.

“Rather than pour more money into the properties of the crown, or shut them down, let’s turn them into something useful. Something needed now. I’m sure there is an estate that could serve as a new orphanage much better than the current one.”

“Is that everything?” his father asked, probably hoping to stop him from sacrificing the crown’s sacred assets.

“No, it’s not. Let’s become the people’s crown by inviting the people to know our history better. Let’s end the class system and create equality. We shouldn’t boast such elitism and hit our population with more taxes.”

His father remained quiet, so Nikolai continued. He might never get this opportunity again. He recalled some of what he saw while on his trip.

“The royal estates have beautiful gardens and an enormous amount of resources go into their maintenance. Let’s open the properties and gardens to the public. Make them available for special events and weddings. Let the local gardening clubs study the gardens and assist with the upkeep. We could allow the symphony to put on free summer concerts.”

Rolph took copious notes.

“I was up on the fifth floor of the palace the other day. Do you realize hundreds and hundreds of antiquities are stored up there?”

“Of course, they are there for safekeeping. There are pieces from the beginning of Mondovian history.”

“Let’s put them on display and charge admittance. Or better yet, let’s display the best and put other items up for auction. There are so many things we could do. The options are endless.” Nikolai leaned back and took a sip of water. He’d said his piece.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” Rolph said cautiously, watching for the king’s reaction.

The king tapped his fountain pen on his papers. “Nikolai, I didn’t think you were paying attention yesterday.”

“Father, I am always paying attention, but you’ve never bothered to notice.”

His father leveled him with a warning look.

“I’m used to it. No one ever listens to me when I speak either,” Nikolai said.

Despite his father’s calm exterior, Nikolai recognized the irritation in his eyes.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m listening, and I like what I hear. Nikolai, you have a brilliant head on your young shoulders, along with a fresh perspective that is perfect for problem solving. What do you think, Your Highness?” Rolph asked.

“Perhaps I’ve underestimated you, Nikolai. You have made some excellent points and while the answers aren’t as simple as what you propose, I see potential.”

Nikolai was astonished. That was the closest thing to a compliment that he’d received from his father in years.

“Now if you’ll excuse us. I’d like to speak candidly with Rolph.”

“Of course.” Nikolai was dismissed again. Not a big surprise. He thanked Mr. Brietenburg for his support and left.

That night, Nikolai was summoned to the garden. He met Alexi, with her bright pink hair, in the corridor and smiled. He was starting to like the look on her.

“You too?” she asked.

“Doesn’t bode well for either one of us, does it.”

“They had to break eventually. I guess the pink hair did it.”

“At least we can face them together.”

Nikolai held the door to the patio. They stepped into the warm August air, and found their parents seated in front of the Baroque fountain. A large cupid looked down from a pedestal. Nikolai wasn’t sure if it smiled at him or sneered.

“Hello, Mother. Father.” He nodded.

“Please sit down.” His mother indicated the wrought-iron chairs adjacent to them. “It has been a very noteworthy month. Much has taken place.”

So, this was going to be all about Nikolai and the trouble he’d caused.

“You have both made us aware, in your own way”—she looked at Alexi’s hair and nose—“of your unhappiness. Tradition is the cornerstone of this family and of Mondovia. It is never to be dismissed or taken lightly.”

Nikolai sighed, trying to stay calm.

His father stood. “That said, there are times and situations where perhaps change is necessary. Sometimes it is forced upon us during times of upheaval, war, or strife, and sometimes we can open our minds to it.”

“Your father and I have been discussing this topic at length. While we are reluctant to make changes that could be detrimental to the crown, we realize that the role of the monarchy is evolving and that the world around us is changing fast.”

“What are you saying?” Nikolai asked. He’d never heard his parents talk with such open-mindedness, and he didn’t know what to think.

“What your mother is saying is that we’ve decided to rethink our stance and certain priorities.”

Nikolai didn’t dare hope this was something positive. “And that means?”

“It means that we want to give you and Alexandra the opportunity to make more decisions about your futures,” his mother said.

His father looked out over the palace gardens and then turned to him. “What fit for the royal family in the past no longer seems appropriate. Nikolai, it has become painfully clear that you are adverse to joining our military forces.”

He nodded. That life would be torture to him.

His father continued. “It has been a difficult pill to swallow, but we want to respect the man, and eventually the king, you wish to become.”

“I don’t have to go into the military?”

“Correct,” his father said, jaw clenched.

“Thank you!” Nikolai resisted the urge to whoop with joy as he understood how difficult it was for his father to come to this conclusion.

“Alexandra, we see that you desire more freedom to be the individual you are. We will work to make that happen,” her mother said.

“Thank you,” Alexi said with a pert grin, as if she always knew things would turn out this way.

Nikolai wasn’t sure what exactly his parent’s plans entailed, but things were looking up. Now all he needed was to figure out how to find Becca. Where did she say she was going to college?