Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ANDI
A little knot forms in my chest. Reece is moving back to Texas? But we just met!
Chill, Andi. You barely know the man. He’s not exactly planning his life around you.
Reece shrugs one shoulder and gives Teo his patented grumpy stare. “Don’t know yet.”
The music starts again, and it’s a polka. The biergarten empties as couples head for the dance floor, leaving their beverages to save their seats. Hans scoots down the bench to chat with some friends at the next table, drawing Teo into the conversation after a few minutes.
Reece and I drink our beers in awkward silence. At least it feels awkward to me. He doesn’t appear bothered at all. Maybe he will ask me to dance.
He doesn’t.
A little wisp of disappointment drifts through me, but I brush it aside. Perhaps he doesn’t like to dance. Besides, getting involved with a client would be a poor business choice, wouldn’t it? Conflict of interest and all that. Not that I have any real standing in the company. Kellie runs Western Harmony with an iron fist. My only responsibilities are to pick up the stuff she leaves behind, bring her coffee, and hold the end of the tape measure in the difficult to reach places, like under stairs or behind cabinets. I have no ability to influence any client decisions.
I turn my gaze on Reece again. Maybe dancing with him would be okay. If he asked.
He stares off into the distance, silent. Teo and Hans have wandered a little farther away to speak with some other friends, although Teo is keeping me and Reece in view. After my disclosure of how we met, he’s switched into protective big brother mode. I huff out a sigh that ruffles my brown bangs. If I wanted to be watched, I could have stayed with Celeste.
Or whoever was going to replace her. I regret making her feel she couldn’t stay with me. Celeste has been my shadow for almost as long as I can remember, and I’ve made her life difficult most of that time. New, more mature Andi vows to do better.
“You didn’t tell your brother how we met.” Reece’s deep voice growls in my ear. He’s not any closer, and still not looking at me, but it feels intimate since we’re sitting together on one side of the table with no one nearby.
“He gets a little… overprotective. Me wandering around London without my—without Celeste makes him uncomfortable.”
He grunts in acknowledgement. “Sorry.”
“Teo’s overbearing brotherly tendencies aren’t your fault.”
“No.”
I shrug. “I shouldn’t have mentioned London. Or I could have made something up—well, not lied, but I could have phrased it differently. We met at Southbank. That’s true—if I don’t provide any details.”
“Technically it was the Embankment.”
“You aren’t helping.”
“Who says I want to help?” He gazes at the dancers as if he’s bored with the conversation.
I finish my drink and stand. “You want another one?” I lift the mug. I’m counting on him to say no. I can barely afford to buy one beer, let alone two, but he doesn’t need to know that. If he accepts, I’ll have to borrow money from Teo.
He slides off the end of the bench and plucks my plastic stein from my grip, heading for the beverage stall without a word. I swivel around to watch. He seemed so bored with my company—maybe he’s using this opportunity to return our mugs and sneak away. With my deposit!
Well, Teo’s deposit.
I drop to the bench with a sigh. Teo can chase him down for the two bucks if he feels the need. Although an extra two dollars would be welcome in my bank account. Being an independent adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. My rent, utilities, and expenses eat most of my meager income. I might have to get another job. I’ve heard the local coffee shop is hiring, but that would give me zero time to pursue my art—which is what I really want to make a living at. Plus, I don’t know how to make espresso.
I could move in with my parents, but I’m trying to prove my independence, so I cross that off the “possible solutions” list immediately.
Playing with a discarded cardboard coaster, I consider my future. I need to create more art so I can sell it, but I don’t have time to draw or paint because I’m too busy trying to pay the bills. Is this how all commoners live? Paycheck to paycheck with no hope for a brighter future? I knew being a princess was a cushy job, but until the Grand Duchess took away my trust fund, I didn’t realize how easy I had it.
I spin the coaster, the Lonely Goatherd’s logo turning to a blur. Then I slap a hand on the disk, stopping it flat. The Goatherd’s logo is terrible. A big G in the Comic Sans font is imposed on a pint glass. At least I think it’s supposed to be a pint glass.
I could make a better one. Maybe I should. Would they pay me for that? I make a mental note to do some research on logo design.
A full plastic mug thuds down, obscuring the offending logo. I look up to meet Reece’s eyes. Our gazes lock for a long moment, then he looks away. “They were out of Pilsner. I hope you like Hefeweizen.”
I wrap my fingers around the handle. “I actually prefer it. But I can’t believe they ran out of Pils so early.”
“You think I made that up because I enjoy foisting Hefes on unsuspecting females?”
Is that supposed to be a joke? He has a very dry delivery. Or maybe he’s actually offended.
“No, of course not. I meant I’m surprised they don’t have another keg. And thank you for bringing my favorite.”
He sits across from me, his expression blank now. “They were tapping a new one, but I didn’t want to wait. And I like this better, too.” He clinks his mug against mine with a tacky, unsatisfying thunk and drinks.
I bite my lip. I don’t know what this man wants. He seems bored when he’s with me, but he could have wandered away instead of bringing me a new drink. Falling back on my years of social training, I ask him about himself. “How did you end up in Rotheberg? It’s a crazy coincidence that we both live here.”
He stares off into the distance, as if making eye contact is painful. “It is odd. London is a big place. But I came here for the job.”
“How does a Texas cowboy get hired to flip an Oregon ranch? And how does that work? Is the rent part of the pay package?”
His gaze darts to me and away again. “You looking for a new gig?”
“No. Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to something different. Kellie’s—” I break off, not wanting to say anything negative about the woman he hired. “I had hoped to be involved in the design aspect, but I’m mostly an errand girl. Say, any chance your ranch needs a logo?” I pick up my beer again and show him the coaster. “I’m thinking about branching out into logo design.”
He takes the cardboard circle, carefully avoiding my fingers. “Is this an example of your work?”
“Heavens, no!” I lean across the table so I can lower my voice. “It’s what got me thinking about the field. That design is… well, it’s hardly a design at all. I’m sure I could do better.”
A troop of older women wearing purple sweatshirts and ugly red hats swarm around our table. Gloria Mead, the unofficial queen of Rotheberg, stops beside me, outrageous feathers bobbing over her head as she moves. “Andi Feltz, how are you dear? Are these seats available?”
I wave a gracious hand. “Be my guest.”
The women settle onto the benches like a flock of chickens roosting. Or at least what I imagine a flock of chickens would look like. They fluff their hats and straighten their matching shirts, chattering constantly. Gloria takes the seat beside me. “How have you been, Andi?”
“I’m well, thank you, Mrs. Mead. Have you met my friend Reece Turner?” I gesture across the table at him. “Reece, this is Mrs. Mead.”
“We haven’t met, but I believe you’re sleeping in my bedroom.”
Reece’s mug hits the table hard enough to splash beer on the weathered wood. “I’m what, now, ma’am?”
Gloria laughs and stretches a hand out to him. “I raised my family in that house you’re renovating.” She clasps his fingers warmly.
“Ah, ‘the Mead place.’ That’s what Hans said. Delighted to meet you, ma’am.” Reece shakes her hand and releases it, frowning. “How’d you know we’re renovating?”
“Call me Gloria.” She jerks her head at her purple-clad flock. “The gossip flies fast and thick in the Red Hat society.”
“Isn’t that for old ladies?” I ask, then clasp a hand over my mouth, my face flushing. “Sorry, I?—”
Gloria laughs. “It is for old ladies—if you consider fifty old. We don’t, do we, girls?” The last part is directed at her followers who all chime in with boos and disclaimers.
“Evening, Mrs. Mead.” Teo drops onto the bench beside Reece. “Not dancing today, Andi?”
I shrug and carefully look away from Reece. “No one has asked me.”
Hans appears behind Reece and punches his shoulder with a laugh. “That sounded like a hint to me! Take her out there, dude.”
Both Reece and Teo snap around so fast they nearly tip over the bench. Their displeasure rolls off them, obvious in the tense set of their shoulders and backs. Neither of them wants Reece to ask me to dance. Gloria’s bright blue eyes take in the interplay.
I rise, leaving my barely tasted beer on the table. “I don’t need to dance. In fact, I’m going to find the ladies’ room.” As Teo opens his mouth and Hans turns to point out the little building, I roll my eyes. “It’s just an expression. I know where it is. I’m not the newbie.”
As I make my way back into the biergarten a few minutes later, I glance at our table. Hans has wandered away again, and the red hat ladies have flocked to another corner. Teo and Reece lean close together, as if discussing something private. Their shoulders are still tight, and the conversation looks almost hostile. I consider sneaking up to listen, but the band chooses that moment to finish a song, and the crowd rushes toward their beer like a wave toward a sandcastle. I scurry out of the way, dropping into my place before it can be usurped.
“That looked intense. What’s going on?” I’m too tired to play games, and sometimes the direct approach is best when dealing with an overly protective big brother.
They turn to face me. Surprise and dismay cross Teo’s face so fast I wonder if I really read those emotions.
Reece’s excellent poker face tells me nothing. “Just talking business. Teo recommended some local craftsmen.” He finishes his beer, stands, and turns to me. “Would you like to dance?”
Yes! Infatuated-Andi cries. Not smart , reasonable Andi replies. The man has been hot and cold all evening. Then I catch Teo’s forbidding expression, and I can’t help myself. “Yes, thank you.” I put my hand in his and let him pull me away from the table.
When we reach the dance floor, it’s empty. The memory of the crowd sweeping into the biergarten clicks in my apparently hormone-addled brain. “The band is on a break.”
Reece stares up at the little stage for a moment, then swings around toward me. “Good point. Maybe a rain check.”
I start back toward the tables, but his fingers tighten, pulling me to a halt. When I turn, he drops my hand as if it burns him. “I’ll have to take it another time. I need to head out. Nice to see you again, Andi.” And he walks away.
Who asks a girl to dance, then dumps her at the dance floor? He could have at least escorted me back to my brother! I stare after him, speechless, but he doesn’t look back. With a huff, I swing around and stomp back to the biergarten to finish my Hefeweizen. At least I got a free drink. Not really a consolation, but better than nothing.
“What happened to Reece?” Teo asks as I take my seat.
“Urgent phone call,” I lie, crossing my fingers under the table. “Plus, the band isn’t playing.”
“Yeah, I thought that was weird. I wondered if he asked you to dance just to mess with me.”
“Mess with you ?” I pin a glare on my brother. “Is that what you two were discussing so intently when I came back? How he should stay away from your sister?”
Teo gives me a pitying headshake. “Not everything in this world is about you, Andi. But I did recommend he not start anything, since you’ll be leaving Rotheberg soon.”
“What do you mean? I’m here to stay. And by the way, I left Freiberg to get away from micromanaging relatives. Don’t try to start.” I drink some more beer.
“I’m not trying to micromanage you. But you’ve been here two months. Your tourist visa will run out in a few weeks. Has Kellie applied for an immigrant visa?”
I set the mug down. “Kellie has to get me a visa?” My boss pays me under the table—or “as a contractor” as she claims. I think it’s a way to avoid taxes and probably not legal. Still, I was desperate for income, so I took the job. The chance that she’ll apply for a visa for me is less than zero.
He nods. “And honestly, I’m not sure your job would qualify. Usually, it’s for specialty occupations in high-demand fields. If you were still a student, it might be easier.”
“Do you have a visa?”
He shakes his head. “I have a green card. Dad helped me get started when I graduated from college. I’m sure he would have helped you, too, but you seemed happy to do the royal thing.”
“A green card? Does that mean you’re going to become a citizen? Can you even do that?” Would the Grand Duchess allow?—”
He lifts a hand. “Not a citizen. I’m a permanent non-resident. The palace could have blocked it, but we worked out a compromise after the whole Freiberg Gala incident. And Aunt Karolina may still choose to officially remove me from the succession.” He gives me a commiserating smile. “But I don’t want to be Grand Duke, and chances that Eduard—not to mention our other cousins—won’t have children are pretty slim.”
I’m intimately familiar with the Freiberg rules on succession, having been officially removed myself. It irks me that Teo seems to have figured out a way to escape the worst of the royalty requirements without cutting himself off completely. “Do you still get an allowance?”
Teo’s brow comes down. “No. I gave that up as part of the deal. But I still have access to the trust.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Lucky you. Auntie Karolina has managed to block mine.”
He frowns, then reaches across the table to pat my hand. “These things work out better if you’re… let’s say, ‘less impetuous’ about them. Good finances usually require a good plan.”
I pull my hand away in anger. “If I’d known my big brother had already figured out the kinks in the system, I could have followed your virtuous example. Instead of taking a bullet for you.” I chug the remains of my beer and slam the mug onto the table. The hollow, plastic thok leaves me even more angry. “Thanks for nothing.” I shove the bench back, but too many other people—all of them now staring down the table at us—keep it from moving.
“Andi, wait!”
Ignoring my brother’s half-apologetic tone, I flash a sour smile at my bench mates, slide sideways off the seat, and stalk away.