Page 63 of The Christmas Mittens
“Mother, that isnotan acceptable term anymore,” Anders and Ivar informed her quickly.
“Sorry, Romani wagon. See, we old farts need you young, socially aware people to keep us from saying things that will offend people.”
“You’ll have Ivar and Frode and Harold, but I wouldn’t rely on him to keep you out of the muck. If anything, he’ll lead you and Father into trouble just to sit back and watch you both squirm,” Anders said and eased his new nephew from me to cuddle him a bit more. I tucked the burp rag back over his broad shoulder and simply enjoyed watching him with the baby. He would make a great father. Not that Gilda was an infant and the teen years were turbulent, but he had great patience and a loving soul. “And as for where I live, that will be something Mitchell and I discuss and decide upon together.”
“Yes, yes, I see. Do promise me then that you will come for visits more often. Easter and over the summer. We can have Gilda here for months. We can travel! She would love Copenhagen and Monaco. Oh! And Florence. Mitchell, you would adore Berlin!” The queen started planning a summer itinerary for us that I suspected we’d not be wiggling out of.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to wriggle free. If Anders were in Östermon, then that is where I wanted to be. Hopefully, he could stay in my neck of the woods for a good long time. Maybe when we got home, a talk about the residency of a certain prince was in order.
I excused myself to go to the bathroom but instead sought out Rolph for a favor.
***
When nine rolled around that night, there were only five of us remaining in the game room. The king, his queen, Gilda, Anders, and me. Six if you counted Della, and we always should, so there were six of us in the game room. Magnus was regaling Gilda,who was seated on the floor in front of Linnea and getting a queenly brushout of her hair before bed, with tales of the daring Queen Ilsa the Archer.
I fought off a yawn that won in the end. Anders looked my way. “Perhaps we should call it a night. The jet is going to be ready at six, so we should finish packing and get to bed.”
“Agreed.” We rose, hand-in-hand. Magnus noted our clasped hands but said nothing other than a cool good night. Yep, work was started, but it was going to be a long, long project. “Gilda, don’t be up much longer,” I told my daughter. “We have an early flight.”
“I won’t. I just want to hear the story about Queen Ilsa and her ladies in waiting who held off Vikings at Dragons Perch for five days until the Danes gave up and sailed back home.”
Thatdidsound like an action-packed tale. With a short bow to the king and queen, Anders and I made our way to his suite. Somehow, as if by magic but more likely by Rani and Rolph, all of my clothing had migrated here days ago. I found sharing drawers with Anders to be rather nice, even if his socks were in much better shape than mine.
“Just between you and me, I do not recall ever hearing of Queen Ilsa and her ladies in waiting holding off Vikings. I think Father is making that up just for your daughter’s amusement,” Anders said as we closed the door behind us. The bed was turned down, the fire stoked for the night, and a tray of warm tea and cookies sat on a side table for the prince to enjoy before retiring. “I’m not saying a queen and four ladies of the court couldn’t stop a band of Vikings intent on pillaging, but…well, it seems a tall order.”
“I think it’s nice that he’s taking the time to tell her those tales of Östermon, even if they’re fictional.” I padded to the closet to tug my suitcase out as well as one of his much fancier ones. Ihefted them onto the bed with a huff. Della shot me a glower for disturbing her nap on her master’s pillow.
“I wager the deed to this place that Mother whispered in his ear to play Östermon up so Gilda will want to stay here,” he replied and chuckled. “Queen Ilsa is becoming more famous by the minute. Soon she’ll have her own Netflix miniseries.”
“All started by shooting her cheating husband in the ass with an arrow,” I said while unzipping my case. Anders laughed softly. “Come on, let’s get to it.”
“Ugh, I hate packing to go home. Packing to leave on a trip is always filled with excitement over the trip but packing to go home is just throwing dirty underwear into your suitcase while suffering with sunburn and a slight hangover.”
I threw him a raised brow. “You’ve been on holiday with Harold too often by the sounds.”
“More than once is too often, trust me.” He pulled the zip on his fancy blue case, flipped the cover of the clamshell case open, and stared down into the empty case in confusion. I moved closer to peer into the case over his shoulder. Lying flat on the bottom was a sign reading FOR SALE in Östermonian that poor, brave Rolph had ventured over hill and dale to find on New Year’s Day when all the shops were closed. “Uhm, are we selling my luggage to cover airfare home?”
“No, it’s a suggestion.” I reached down to pluck the plastic sign from the case. He looked utterly lost. “I’m being kind of pushy here so slap me down if you feel I’m out of line, but I thought you could put that in the window of your camper when we get home.”
Realization dawned in those gorgeous brown eyes of his. “I see. And where would Della and I sleep if I sold my camper?”
“With me, in my bed, in my house.” My belly twisted with nervous energy. “I would love to have you move in when we get back. I love you madly, and I think we can make a go of it.”
“You’re very clever. Who on the staff were you in cahoots with?” He lifted the sign from my fingers and tossed it back into his suitcase before linking his arms around my middle. He pulled me tight to him. My favorite place in the entire world.
“Rolph. Don’t scold him for doing it. I leaned on him pretty hard.” I lifted my hands to cup his face. “I’ve fallen so far and so deep so fast that it’s scary yet wildly exhilarating all at once.”
“Whatever will the Woolverines think when we start shacking it up?”
“Franny will ask why it took us so long,” I replied before capturing his lips in a searing kiss that left us both shaky. “You can do what you want. Write books, make eggs, bike, or take up a new hobby. Heck, you can come work with me if you want to. I’ll teach you which end of a spark plug to blow on.”
That made him laugh. “I’m pretty sure I know what end to blow on to cause sparks.”
Yeah, he sure did. “So, what do you think? Want to live like a commoner in a common town with a common guy?”
“I can think of nothing I would like to do more.” He drew me in for a heady kiss.
Love surely was more valuable than any golden scepter or ruby-encrusted crown.
