Page 59 of Royal Player
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. We’re in a state of emergency and, as far as I’m concerned, royal protocol no longer applies. I need your help, Marge, but not as a chaperone. I need you by my side to help assess the damage and coordinate relief efforts. I especially want you to look out for the children. You have enough love for an army of children.”
Her brows shoot up. “An army of children? God forbid!”
“Will you help?”
She nods, her eyes shiny, her lips pressed tightly together. “It would be an honor.”
“I knew I could count on you. Thank you!” I stand. “First order of business. We’re going to round up the people from the north side of the island and make sure they have shelter.”
“Where will you put them?”
“That depends on the number. I’ll ask the islanders to take in people where they can. I know the elementary school can shelter some people in their gym, and I’ll take in some here at the palace—”
“The palace!” she exclaims and then lowers her voice. “You can’t take in any riffraff off the street. They must be vetted. You must think of security.”
I square my shoulders. “This palace belongs to the people as much as it does to me. We have numerous guest rooms, a conservatory, and a ballroom. I’ll add cots.”
“Your parents will never allow it,” she whispers.
“Then they can turn away their loyal subjects at the door,” I proclaim. “Well, are you with me?”
She stares at me, eyes wide. And then she stands and takes my hands in hers, her brown eyes soft. “You have never seemed more like a queen than you do in this moment. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice chokes. “Lead the way, and I will do my best to support you in all things.”
I smile, my eyes stinging with unshed tears, and allow myself a moment to enjoy the sweet satisfaction of making her proud. My own mother has never said the same. “Thank you, Marge. That means a lot. Now let’s go.” I turn and stride toward the door. “I want Vaughn to help with the heavy lifting.”
She catches up to me. “Vaughn has brothers and cousins that could be of help. They’re all powerhouses like him.”
“Excellent,” I say, heading for the guards’ quarters. I know very little of Vaughn, only that he’s a native islander. He chose to keep a distance from me for my own protection. That time is over. I need every able-bodied man and woman in the kingdom to restore order.
~ ~ ~
By nightfall, I’ve accomplished a lot, but not nearly enough. It strikes me how ill-prepared Beaumont was for a natural disaster, and it will be one of the things I address once things are stabilized. Only the hospital has a backup generator, which is a blessing, I know, but there should’ve been more. And we’re an island with sun most of the year. We should’ve invested in solar electricity, solar hot water, maybe wind too. That kind of renewable distributed system of power could’ve been a real help. We should have had multiple water reservoirs, not just one centrally located. A satellite phone at the palace could’ve reached out to the world on day one. There was no emergency stock of bottled water, nonperishable food, blankets, diapers, and the like. And there’s no cots! How can there be no cots?
I’ve placed as many people in homes as I could. We’ve gathered nap mats from the nursery school for young children staying at the elementary school gym, and borrowed several unused mattresses and blankets from the hospital. I can’t raid too much from the hospital in case they need it for patients.
Vaughn’s people have been a great help, and several of them have pickup trucks to help move the bedding supplies to the elementary school gym. Tomorrow, Vaughn, his brothers, cousins, and several of the palace guards will go out at first light to assist with removal of debris from the roads, being careful to avoid areas with downed power lines.
I’ve commandeered numerous Bentleys and Mercedes from the royal fleet of cars to transport people to the palace, where I’m currently heading in a caravan of cars. And how did I get access to the royal fleet? Timing. I was notified that a large shipment of food and bottled water had arrived at the airport this afternoon, and I asked my parents to go there and accept it, remaining there to help with distribution. I immediately communicated the need for school busses at the airport to help with distribution, which kept my parents busy for the afternoon while I raided the royal garage for my own use. We’ve kept in touch by phone.
My parents are home now, unaware of the fifty people that will soon seek shelter at the palace. I’m presuming the role of leader and will apologize later for my presumptions. Though I will never truly be sorry for doing what is right.
As soon as we pull up to the large courtyard, Marge and I direct people inside the palace while the drivers return the cars to the large covered parking area around back. These fifty people, ranging from the elderly to toddler, are the employees (and their families) of Peter’s destroyed resorts on the north side. They have no jobs and no homes.
“Welcome!” I say once we’re all gathered in the two-story entrance hall. “Please give us a little time to set up sleeping places for you. In the meantime, I’ll see that food and drink are brought to you in the parlor.”
Only a few people murmur “thank you,” as they’re too busy gaping at the entrance hall. It is a relic. Stone walls with large open hearths. Centuries-old tapestries on the wall. There’s even a shining suit of armor in the corner. Not that we ever had an army of medieval knights here. It was a decoration from a former French resident back when Beaumont was a French colony. The large crystal chandelier overhead is relatively new.
I direct some servants to assist with assembling sleeping areas in the conservatory and ballroom with the supplies that should be coming in the servants’ entrance soon, carried by our drivers. I already called ahead to have the guest rooms prepared.
I pull Marge aside. “I’ll leave it to you to divvy up the guest rooms as you see fit.”
“Yes, of course.” She goes over to the couple with the toddler first, speaking in a low tone. Smart. We don’t want disgruntled guests over who gets the guest room and who gets a blanket on the floor of the conservatory. I know her priority will always be the children, and she’ll make sure they stick close with their families and are comfortable.
“Polly?” my mother’s voice calls with a note of alarm.
A servant must’ve alerted her to the goings-on.
I cross to her, and she stares in horror at my head, where I’m sporting a cap with a local dive shop logo. It’s no veil, that’s for sure. Not approved for a princess in public, but then neither is my entire outfit, which she’s now eyeing. The cap is from Vaughn’s brother, who gave it to me to shield my eyes from the sun. I take off the cap and smooth out my unruly curly hair. “These people have lost their homes in the storm. They’ll be staying at the palace for temporary shelter.”
