Shirley Jump - The Princess Test

“Nobody can blame you. You went through a terrible year—”

“Ratings don’t care about personal problems, Mom. And once your ratings tank, so does your career.” How many times had his father drummed that into his head? It’s all about ratings, son. Do what it takes to stay at the top.

His mother bit her lower lip, as if she was holding back what she truly wanted to say. “So, tell me, what stories are you working on now?”

“I’ve got a couple who’ve been married sixty-three years and still go dancing together every Friday night, a dog who took care of a litter of kittens when the mother cat died.” He ticked off the subjects on his fingers.

“Oh. Well, those are interesting.” But everything in her voice said otherwise.

“And—” he grinned, saving his best prospect for last “—a real-life princess. Or at least, that’s what she’s claiming she is.”

“A princess? Wait, you don’t mean that one in Boston, do you? I don’t remember her name, but I remember seeing her on the national news.”

“Not her. Her sister. She’s working at a wine shop downtown. She claims to be the youngest sister of the Uccelli princesses.”

“And you think she’s lying?”

“Well, it seems convenient that she’s saying that when the other princess is halfway across the country. Not to mention this Carrie woman is working in some little shop in a tiny town in the Midwest. During tourist season.” He thought of the woman he’d met today, how un-royal she seemed. Her long, dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, the simple T-shirt, the near-perfect English. The way she’d laughed, so unreserved, so free. And she could talk wine well—as if she’d worked in a vineyard or a wine shop for years. Definitely not a job he’d ever heard a princess holding. Dignitary, lawyer, humanitarian, yes. Grape picker? No.

“Maybe she likes a quiet life. You don’t get much quieter than this town.” His mother laughed.

Carrie had been beautiful, in an understated, natural way. The kind of woman who looked even prettier without makeup than with. She’d intrigued him, but he wasn’t sure if that was just professional curiosity or something more.

Either way, he had enough on his plate without adding something more.

“Uccelli … Uccelli.” Greta thought a second. “You know, there was a rumor around here years ago. Must be more than twenty years now. There was a woman—I don’t remember her name now—who came here and stayed in one of the lake cottages for the summer. After she left, someone saw her on TV and said she looked just like the queen of Uccelli. For a while, that was all the gossip buzz around here. That the queen had taken a secret vacation in Winter Haven.” Greta shrugged. “Could be a fairy tale. You know how people like to think they can see Mickey Mouse in their morning toast.”

Daniel chuckled. “I do.”

“If the queen story is true, then maybe her daughter is just following in her footsteps.”

“Maybe. I don’t know much about princesses,” he said, “but she seemed as far removed from being one as you could get.”

“Well, maybe it is a marketing gimmick. Or maybe—” his mother laid a hand on his shoulder “—you’re too jaded to see the truth.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Daniel said. Maybe yes, he was jaded. But it was easier to be that way than to let every emotion he saw into his heart. Much easier to be steel than putty. “Either way, I’m going to ferret out the truth. I have a feeling this story is the one that can launch my career at Inside Scoop, and one way or another, I’m running with it.”

Carrie rubbed her neck, then stretched her back and shoulders. The shop had been impossibly busy today, and every muscle in her body ached. But it was a good ache, the kind that came from a job well done. She could hardly wait to see the week’s end numbers. It all boded well for the future of Uccelli’s wines in America. And that, in turn, boded well for her future as a vineyard owner.

She flipped the sign to Closed and breathed a sigh of relief that the TV reporter from the other day hadn’t been back. She didn’t need that distraction interfering with her plans. She had a limited window of time and a lot to learn and accomplish during that period. She wanted to get more involved on the retail end, taking the time to study the bookkeeping, the ordering process, the sales trends. The last thing she needed was a member of the paparazzi looking for a scandal to exploit.

“I think we’re going to need to hire more help at this rate,” Faith said as she pulled the last outdoor display into the shop for the night. “I’ve never seen this place so busy.” She patted Carrie on the back. “Thanks to the princess here.”

“I’m just glad to help.”

“Whatever you’re doing, keep on doing it, because it’s working.” Faith shrugged on a light jacket, then grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday?”

“We’re closed Sundays. Which means you, my friend, get a day off.” Faith let out a long breath that said she was just as exhausted as Carrie. “And thank goodness, so do I.”

A few minutes later, Faith and Carrie had finished locking up the shop, and they headed their separate ways. The long night—and next day—stretched ahead of Carrie with no plans. She couldn’t think of the last time her time had truly been her own, something she could fill any way she liked with no worries that someone was expecting her to be somewhere else, no guilt that she was ducking an obligation. Castle life was busy, with events piled on top of more events, with at least one representative of the royal family expected to be in attendance at all times. When she hadn’t been working in the vineyard, she’d been forced into donning stiff suits or ruffled gowns and pasting a smile on her face for the few royal events she couldn’t wrangle a way out of. Even in the castle, there’d always been maids underfoot, and people in and out all day and night.

And now she had a whole blissful day and a half? Totally, utterly alone?

Carrie started to drive toward her lake house, then saw a sign for the Winter Haven Library. Soft golden light still glowed in the small brick building’s windows and drew her like a beacon.

How long had it been since she’d been able to sit down and read an entire book from start to finish? Enjoy the story without interruptions from staff, visitors, events? The thought of doing something as decadent as just reading filled her with a warm sense of anticipation. She parked, then stepped inside the building and inhaled the slightly musty, slightly dusty scent of lots and lots of books. She’d hated boarding school—hated the boring classes, the endless rules, but most of all, hated being away from the wild land that surrounded Uccelli’s castle—but she had loved the library at St. Mary’s. It had been massive, and filled with every book one could imagine, and had made the boarding school experience more tolerable for a girl who would have rather been home in her beloved vineyards than memorizing algebraic equations. She’d spent her free moments curled up in a comfortable chair, lost in worlds completely unlike her own.

That’s what she needed now. A good book, something she could take back to that little nook in the lake house and enjoy with a cup of hot tea while the soft breezes from the water whispered around her. The prospect hurried her steps, and she headed into the first book-filled room she saw.

Almost immediately she realized she’d entered the children’s section by mistake. She started to turn around when she heard a male voice, a familiar low baritone. “Just one more book, Belle. Then we need to get home.”

“Daddy, I wanna read a princess story.”