Page 62 of The Christmas Mittens
“It’s lovely, really. I’m just a little overwhelmed is all, Your Majesty. Gilda and I have never been to the opera before.”
She smiled at me and looked over at Gilda, who was enraptured with the show. I thought she might be bored. This wasn’t anything like her beloved BSX2 pop music, but sheseemed totally engrossed. And lovely. The dress the queen had gifted her with was a soft rose tone that matched the flush in her cheeks. Tiny earrings of pearl sat on her lobes. Her hair had been brushed back into a fancy swirl by the queen’s stylist.
“She’s adapting to life here in Östermon quite well,” the queen commented, tapping me with her opera glasses. “Perhaps you and Anders should consider staying here for her sake. Just imagine the life we could give her if you stayed. The educational advantage alone would be—”
Anders leaned up on my left to look around me. “Mother, stop trying to manipulate Mitchell via Gilda,” he whispered. Gilda looked our way questioningly. “We are discussing how pretty you look this afternoon.”
Gilda blushed hotly, her gaze returning to the stage. The queen sighed dramatically before pursing her lips. I smiled at Anders. I doubted she was done trying to lure us to stay. And I found that endearing. Gilda had captured her heart as well as Harold’s, Rani’s, and Della’s, obviously. That was my girl. I was one proud papa.
***
After the performance, we all gathered outside the elegant edifice of the opera house, bundled up in thick coats over our formal wear, to allow the press to snap pictures. Being a shy sort of personal man, this crush to get closer, yell questions, and take hundreds of images was unsettling to me. I smiled and replied to the stray query someone might ask of me, but overall, I tended to cling to Gilda while allowing Anders to handle the public relations. He and the rest of the royals were very good at giving the press what they wanted the world to see and nothing more. And then there was Harold. He cared nothing about keepingup appearances, even more so than Anders, and raced off after tossing about bon mots in a bright red Maserati.
When we arrived at the summer house in limos, the first thing we all did was change from our formal wear into casual clothes. We gathered in the game room, where a small but festive tree still sat in the corner, the white lights and gold bows matching the white and gold candles on the stone hearth. A fire was lit, food was laid out on the far wall, a wall of thick glass that overlooked the southern woods and sloping hills that led to the shore. Fresh snow covered the landscape, the trees that thinned out as you neared the North Sea bowing under the heavy snow that fell overnight.
“You look comfortable,” Anders said, greeting me at the door with a kiss on the cheek. “Mistletoe,” he whispered as he jerked his chin skyward. I looked up and, sure enough, someone had hung a clump over the doorway. My sight returned to Anders’ merry brown eyes.
“You just kissed me. In front of your family,” I nervously stammered.
“So I did. They need to get used to it,” he announced with some volume. “Come, the baby is awake, has eaten, and been changed. Now is the perfect time for you to hold him.”
Madsen, the youngest prince, was gurgling with glee as Anders gently lifted him from his mother’s arms. The older boys were sitting on big puffy pillows watching an animated movie about a blue parrot on a big TV bolted to the wall above the fireplace. They’d seemingly run themselves out with their nanny while we’d been at the opera, so they were pretty quiet for three rambunctious boys.
It took ten minutes for Anders to relinquish the baby to me. Cupping his tiny head, warmed by a tiny green cap I had knitted for him just yesterday, I felt a wave of memories wash over me. Cradling Gilda when she was a newborn at the fore. Madsen hadmore hair than Gilda had, and his cheeks weren’t as pudgy, but he would fill out quickly as most babies did.
“Where is your baby?” Queen Linnea asked, sitting beside me on a dark brown sofa, her thick pearl white sweater and neatly pressed gray wool slacks elegant as always.
“She’ll be down in a bit. She’s talking to Timmy,” I explained as Anders sat on my left, two cups of punch in hand. Frode and Harold were engaged in a game of pool with King Magnus while Ivar and Lady Alva sat on a loveseat, sipping hot cider while holding hands. Anders placed our punch on a sturdy wood cocktail table.
“Oh yes, Tim. I’ve heard a great deal about him,” the queen replied with a knowing smile. “First crush?”
“Well, first real crush as far as I know. She’s been pretty wild over the boys in BSX2 as well as a singer for a girl K-pop band, but Timmy is an actual boy who goes to her school.” I made horsey lips at the baby and got a spit bubble as a reply. The bubble popped. Drool ran down his chin. Anders took the burp rag from my shoulder to dab at Madsen’s pink bow lips. “She’s quite anxious to return home and see him and all her friends.”
“She’s very popular,” Queen Linnea said as Anders gave her a look. “Now do not give me that look, Anders, I’m only making a statement. She’s a pretty girl and is popular. If you decided to stay here in Östermon, she could attend a private school, the same one Anders and his brothers attended. She’s incredibly bright. I wonder if American public schools will—”
“Mother, please, we are not staying. Mitchell has a business to return to, and Gilda to her friends and studies.”
“I’m sure with a little effort, Mitchell could set up a shop in the capital. People in Östermon have lawnmowers and snowblowers as well that need expert attention. Gilda would flourish here and move on to a college of her choice. And you could stop running, Anders.”
“I’m not running,” he said quickly but softly so as not to wake Madsen, whose eyes were growing heavy. I lifted him to rest on my chest, the wonderful aroma of warm baby and powder filling my nostrils for the first time in many years. “I was randomly adventuring my way across America.”
“Call it what you will then. I understand why you left. But he’s trying, Anders.” She peeked at her husband eyeing up a shot down the length of his cue. “How can you repair things with him when you are thousands of miles away?”
“I know he is, and it’s a start, but there are so many laws that need changing and he’s still so grounded in the past…” Anders sighed heavily.
“Then stay and help Frode, Ivar, and Harold fight for those laws to be passed,” she argued gently.
“Harold?” Anders asked, pausing as he lifted his punch cup from the table.
“He may someday find his civic duty hidden under his desire to be a toad,” the queen tossed out. I snickered. “Also, what will Rani do with himself if you’re not here for another long stretch?”
“He could come work with me,” Lady Alva spoke up. “My current personal assistant is pregnant and not planning to return for a few years, if ever. I’d love to have Rani with me!”
Queen Linnea’s lips flattened into a paper cut.
“There, that is settled, if he accepts of course,” Anders said, looking from Alva to his mother. “I’m not saying that I will never return, but right now, I feel life for me is in Grouse Falls with Mitchell and Gilda. I want to step away from the life of a royal and just be with the man I love.”
“Will you at least live in Mitchell’s house and not that rolling gypsy wagon?” the queen asked and got wide eyes.
