Chapter 10
Seeing that Mishka had done an adequate job straightening the playroom, Meredith asked if he’d seen his sister.
“She was just looking for you. I told her you said to meet outside at three o’clock.” He picked up the soccer ball, tossing it in the air but missing it on the way down. He frowned. “But I, uh, I didn’t tell Kat you said I can come too.”
Meredith knew why he hadn’t mentioned it. His sister would throw a fit. She thanked him for completing his slightly haphazard playroom cleanup. “I’m sure you were hurrying to put things away, but at least you got it done. That must feel good.”
“I shouldn’t have messed it up, but I was angry at Kat for ruining my spaceship. I wanted her to be blamed.”
“I suspected as much.” As they walked outside, Meredith braced herself for the reaction Kat would give to see Mishka in tow. “Have you ever played football?” she asked him after spotting Kat kicking a ball across the wide-open grassy area.
“Not a real match. Everybody says I’m too little. But I’ve seen boys like me playing at school during exercise breaks.”
“Back in the States we have teams with boys much younger than you that play. Not very well, but I think they have fun.”
“I want to get really, really good at it…before my school year starts. That way, the boys can’t make fun of me.”
“Well, we will do our best to coach you along.” She paused as Kat dribbled the ball toward them, stopping right in front of them while planting her foot on the ball and her hands on hips. A dark scowl crossed her face.
“What did you bring him for?” she demanded of Meredith.
“Mishka wants to work on his skills too,” Meredith said lightly. “The field is big enough. And if he gets in your way, it’ll be good practice for you to get around him.”
Eye roll. “But he’s hopeless at athletics.”
“He’s young,” Meredith pointed out. “Don’t you remember what that’s like? When you needed help to learn?”
“No.”
“Well, Mishka may surprise you. When he gets bigger, he may be able to beat you.”
Kat laughed in a mean way. “Well, if he gets hurt, don’t blame me. I may not see him and accidentally run him down.”
“Then you’ll pull a yellow card for fouling.” Meredith locked eyes with her. “And trust me, the penalty won’t be worth it.” She turned to Mishka. “I can give you private lessons tomorrow morning…if you’d prefer.”
He murmured what sounded like a reluctant “okay,” but still clutching his soccer ball, he didn’t budge.
“Or you can stick around,” Meredith said quietly. “And we’ll see how it goes.”
Kat rolled her eyes again. “Whatever.” She pointed to where two small stacks of several large stones were piled a fair distance apart.
“I put those stones over there to pretend they’re goal posts.
That was so I could practice my aim on my own goal shots.
Not that I ever get the chance to shoot one.
” She gave the ball a solid kick toward her makeshift goal area.
“I hope that someday I’ll play positions besides goalie.
I know I was only picked because I was the biggest girl in the class. ”
Mishka snickered, and Kat punched his arm. “Go fetch that ball, brat baby. Or is that too hard for you?”
“Kat,” Meredith put a strong warning in her tone as Mishka took off for the ball. “You really want a yellow card?”
“Sorry, Georgie-porgy!” Kat called out in a snarky tone.
Meredith decided to ignore her bad behavior.
For now, anyway. Before long, they were in place in the goal area.
Kat stood back there while Meredith did her best to slam them through—and succeeded time and again.
Sensing that Kat was getting discouraged from missing most of the balls, Meredith called for a break.
“Okay, Kat, I’m not sure this is helping you. After all, I’m bigger and older and more experienced. It’s not fair to take advantage of you.” She locked eyes with her, hoping she’d take the hint about the way Kat had been treating Mishka.
Kat shrugged then wiped her damp brow with the back of her hand. “I’m fine.”
“You were absolutely brilliant, Meri,” Mishka gushed, causing Kat’s eyes to turn murderous.
“Thanks, Mishka, but that’s not why we’re here.” She looked into his adoring eyes. “But if I were making a point, I would say that the person with the advantage—the one with more experience or skill or age or size—should be more gracious and helpful to the other. Don’t you think?”
He gave her a puzzled nod.
“Otherwise, they’re just being a bully and a showoff.” Meredith picked up the ball, tossing it up and catching it. “Maybe that’s what I was doing.”
“Fine.” Kat’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve had enough anyway.” Leaving her soccer ball on the field, she turned and stormed off toward the house.
“Oh, dear.” Meredith felt guilty now. “I hope I didn’t push her too hard.”
“That’s impossible.” Mishka took her free hand, tugging her back toward the faux goalposts. “Now can you please teach me some football skills?”
She patted his head. “You bet. And just think, if you get good enough, you may be able to hold your own with your sister someday.”
For the rest of the afternoon, she and Mishka ran the ball up and down the green grass. She taught him to dribble and pass, and they were working on how to steal without pulling a foul when she heard a bell ringing from the house.
“That’s Mrs. Warner for dinner,” Mishka said. “She gives us thirty minutes warning to clean up, but we could probably play a while longer.”
“Time to quit.” Meredith paused to catch her breath.
“I, for one, am tired, and I asked Mrs. Warner to give me a full hour so I can clean up a bit.” She smiled at him.
“And you, Prince George, have the prospects of being quite a good player. You’re fast on your feet and smart.
I have no doubt there is an athlete hiding in there somewhere.
” She tapped him on the chest, making him giggle.
“But what you have up here”—she tapped his forehead—“is of much more value. No matter what anyone tells you, don’t ever forget that. ”
He shook his head with a serious expression. “I won’t.”
As they went upstairs, Meredith suggested Mishka could probably do with a shower too. “Since you’re supposed to be helping me to learn how royalty prepares for dinner.” When he balked, she reminded him that his grandmother would probably insist upon it. He nodded.
Relieved he was giving no flack, she went into her room, once again relishing the luxury and comfort of such a lovely suite.
She suspected that whatever wages she was earning—and she actually didn’t know what they were—her daily pay probably wouldn’t be enough to cover a room like this in a beautiful Austrian villa like this.
Even if she had to put up with a surly preteen, it was still worth it.
Besides, she liked Kat. Something about the girl’s feisty spirit touched her.
Maybe it reminded her of herself as a child, saddled with responsibilities of keeping their household running when she should’ve been outside playing.
Well, she supposed she could relate on some levels.
But Kat’s situation was perhaps even more stressful.
She was expected to grow up into a queen. What would that feel like?
Meredith opened the wardrobe doors and was shocked to see it was full of clothes and shoes.
Really nice clothes! She pulled out a hanger to look at a white shirt and examined the label.
Expensive clothes! The styles were classic and basic—the sort of things she would’ve liked to wear if she could afford them.
She opened bureau drawers to discover they’d been filled too.
Sweaters and polo shirts and casual pants, even blue jeans and khaki shorts.
One drawer had real silk pajamas and a pale blue summer nightie.
There were even socks and underwear that looked brand new.
Mrs. Warner, the good fairy, must have been here.
And although Meredith was determined to leave every item behind when it was time for her to leave, she thought she might put some of them to good use during her stay.
To that end, she selected a conservative navy blue dress of soft rayon that seemed appropriate for a governess and a good choice for dinner with the prince and princess.
Spying a pair of barely worn navy pumps on the shoe shelf, she knew they’d go with the dress.
But what was the likelihood they would fit?
Mrs. Warner had mentioned that Princess Katerina had been shorter and that could mean the princess had had smaller feet.
They looked close, and the European sizing confirmed they were thirty-eight, just like her favorite Dansko clogs.
Feeling like Cinderella, she kicked off a tennis shoe and slipped one on to see it was just right.
Strangely encouraged by this, she ran bath water.
Okay, it was weird to think she would be wearing the clothes of the children’s dead mother.
In fact, it was downright creepy, and she wasn’t even sure she could, or would, do it.
But after a relaxing soak in fragrant bath salts, she decided to give it a whirl.
She’d been wearing secondhand clothes from a thrift store, and there was no telling where those threads had come from.
But what if the children figured it out?
Mishka probably wouldn’t since he’d been only three when his mother passed away, but Kat had been eight.
Still, as she fastened the metallic buttons on the loosely cut navy dress, she had to admit it was nondescript, and she doubted Kat would remember it.
The girl didn’t seem particularly fashion conscious.