Chapter Eighteen
I looked from the runways—all two of them—as we passed by on our way to the main building to my daughter. She smiled at me and then returned to regale us with facts of ?stermon.
Her thirteenth birthday was starting off with a bang, to say the least. Nowhere on my—or her—bingo card had there been a “visit a foreign land with a handsome prince on your birthday” square, but somehow the fates had stamped it just the same.
She’d been given a slim silver bracelet from said handsome prince with a small charm of the drama masks while I’d given her the blue fish sweater amidst the madness of packing. She was wearing both.
Anders nodded from time to time, his attention on the scenery as well.
I had to imagine that he was rife with mixed emotions.
Lord knows I sure was. My sight moved back to the highway as we rolled along two hours behind schedule.
Getting the camper ready for cold weather seemed to take longer than Anders had thought.
As had packing, finding passports, and touching base with my clients.
Most had been fine with me taking time off. I rarely did. Rarely meaning never.
Snow drifted downward, erratic little flakes, as if the sky wasn’t sure if it wanted to bother making snow or not.
The sky was blue behind a fat gray cloud lazily moving past. Shiftless darn clouds.
That was one word that was hopefully never applied to me.
I’d gone out of my way to contact all my clients in the mad rush of digging out, packing, and handing suitcases to Arne and Alfred to load into the dark blue executive SUV they’d seemingly pulled out of thin air.
All three of us fit comfortably in the back while the two big men sat up front.
I assumed they were trying to afford us some privacy.
“Oh wow, is that our plane?” Gilda asked after we had driven into the airport parking lot to creep toward the main gate.
“Yes, that’s ours,” Anders answered, sitting up a bit straighter as his eyes touched on the sleek white jet with what I had to guess was the seal of ?stermon on the side.
“It’s a Dassault Falcon 7-X in case anyone was wondering, and my brothers and I share use of it.
Father and Mother have a larger aircraft as befitting their stations.
This one is quite comfortable, though. It seats fourteen and will have food, drink, and entertainment.
The flight is a long one, roughly eight hours or so, but should be enjoyable. ”
“Can Della ride with us?” Gilda asked about the tiny dog in matching pink sweater and booties—mittens Gilda had made that had somehow managed to survive so far. “I don’t think she would like to be in the hold.”
“No, no, she flies with me, usually on a blanket in one of the seats,” he replied, petting the sleepy hound on his lap.
“Good, and what if she has to pee?” I enquired as Arne pulled up to the departures door. Arrivals and departures used the same door, so it was an easy drop off or pick up.
“There are piddle pads in the back that she has been trained to use. The flight attendant will take care of her needs,” he said just as the car slowed and came to a stop.
“We will be required to go through passport checks and security but will use the expedited lines. After we have all cleared, we will be escorted to the jet.”
I threw Gilda a look of nervous enjoyment.
She had ever flown before, so this was all new to her.
It took literally five minutes to have our identities checked, get our bags scanned, and be cleared to board our plane.
A line of other passengers gave us sour looks as we were hustled through.
Once we were on the other side of things, a slim man with dark skin and coal black hair stood waiting for us.
He was incredibly handsome. A dead ringer for Tan France from Queer Eye, although his hair was ebony and not that alluring silver.
He smiled widely, teeth white and straight, brown eyes filled with joy.
I’d guess he was perhaps thirty, no older than thirty-five.
“Your Highness, it is so good to see you again,” he said with the same accent that Anders had, only lighter. “Merry Christmas.”
“Rani, it’s good to see you. Merry Christmas.” Anders grinned, clasping the hand of the well-dressed man and shaking it soundly. “You look just as chic as the last time I saw you.”
“Ralph Lauren never goes out of fashion,” Rani replied and turned to us, giving us a short bow of his head.
“And this must be Miss Gilda Baxter and Mr. Mitchell Baxter, our esteemed guests while in ?stermon. I’m Prince Anders’ equerry, Rani Adhikari.
” He smiled widely at us as he politely shook our hands.
“His Highness, Crown Prince Frode, has asked me to ensure your flight to ?stermon is as comfortable as possible. This way please.”
He motioned to a departure gate with a smiling attendant awaiting us. The young woman was blonde, slim, and dressed in a demure white blouse, brown skirt, and tasteful brown flats. Her hair was piled atop her head, and her makeup was understated.
“Merry Christmas. Welcome aboard, Your Highness,” she said, bowing slightly.
“Thank you, Leja. It’s good to see you again. How is your father faring?” Anders enquired, a hand on my lower back to steer me from the gate so Arne and Alfred could wrangle our luggage ahead of us.
“Much better, Your Highness, thank you for asking.” She beamed at him as if he hung the moon, and I couldn’t fault her for that. He was a real prince as Franny had once said. She turned bright blue eyes to us. “I’m your flight attendant for the journey. My name is Leja.”
After we introduced ourselves, Leja led us outside, and the wind was brutal of a sudden.
I snuggled into my coat as I tried to get my scarf under control.
People scurried about, two men loading our large bags in the underbelly of the jet while we carried on some smaller bags with our personal items like Gilda’s old laptop and my beat to hell eReader.
“Will it be this cold in ?stermon when we get there?” Gilda asked as we were led to a set of rolling stairs by the unflappable Leja.
Even with no coat, she seemed perfectly happy to answer questions about the weather.
Rani climbed up first, cradling Della, entering the jet before us with his shoulders tucked up to his ears.
Anders had fallen into conversation with one of the men loading our bags into the cargo hold.
He seemed to enjoy chatting with common folk.
And there I went thinking of him in terms that he would not want me to, but it was hard not to, as he was an honest-to-gosh prince and we were plain old people.
“Oh yes, it will be very cold for the most part. Along the coasts, it may be slightly milder, but do make sure you have mittens and scarves,” Leja said as she herded us along.
Stepping out of the wind was nice. Rani met us at the cockpit doors as did a man and a woman wearing crisp white shirts with wings on the lapels, dark brown slacks with matching berets, and practical dress shoes.
The man was as pale as curd while the young woman had dark skin the same shade as Rani’s. Both were standing at attention.
“This is our pilot, Captain Carlson Backe,” we shook hands with the tall White man, “and our copilot, Cosima Engman,” Rani said as we moved to greet the dark-skinned woman.
“And you have met Leja, so if you would like to pick out your seats, we will get you settled in and will then take off, once His Highness is done discussing Rosenberg BK with the baggage handler.”
Gilda and I took a moment just to gawk. The interior of the jet was decorated in tones of soft white, gold, and pale blue, the same colors in the ?stermon coat of arms that adorned the outside of the jet.
There were fourteen seats, as we’d been told, with four tables that held orchids as well as desktops, phones, and cup holders.
“Please feel free to sit wherever you wish. I’m going to take the dog out for one last potty run and then will be back.” Rani exited with a grumpy-looking Della, leaving us to decide where to plant our backsides. Alfred and Arne took seats in the back, close but not so close as to be intrusive.
“This is unreal,” Gilda whispered, not to be overheard by the flight crew as they welcomed Anders into the jet. “Can I sit by a window?”
“I’m sure you can,” I replied, walking down the aisle. Every chair seemed to be positioned by a round window, and when pushed, it swiveled to move in any direction.
“Please pick a seat that pleases you but know you are free to move to any other seat after we’re in the air if the seat belt light is not lit.
Would you like something to drink before we take off?
Maybe a snack?” Anders followed us deeper into the jet, showing us where the bathroom suite, complete with a shower, was found.
“This plane is nicer than our house,” Gilda said, flopping into a plush white seat that nearly swallowed her up. I sat down across from her, Anders at my side, and placed my knitting bag and my tiny carry-on with some antacids, a comb, a jar of ibuprofen, and some gum at my feet.
“Your house has warmth and love in it, while this just has trappings of wealth,” Anders replied as he settled in and crossed his long legs.
I took note of how he seemed less the Anders that I had known for such a short but amazing time.
His vibe was tighter, more restrictive, as if he had to be this new man, this prince of a realm, whereas back in Grouse Falls he was just Anders Becken, the camper with the funny bike with big tires.