Twelve
Prologue
Twenty-five years ago
“Easy now, climb down slowly. Slowly.” Panic surged in Sister Gladys’s chest as she tried to persuade the small blond toddler down from the top of the jungle gym.
The child, Lily, was always getting into things. She was fearless. Ever since she and her sisters had been left in the church adjacent to the Barrie Home for Children, it had been evident to everyone that this child was the leader of her little pack.
Sister Gladys knew that when she brought Lily and her sisters, as well as a handful of other children from the Barrie Home for Children, outside to play. But it was such a beautiful day and they’d all been stuck inside because of rain for weeks now.
It was an impulsive decision she regretted now. Virginia Porter, the director of the home, had a rule about no more than five children per adult outdoors. Maria was out shopping and would have been back soon enough to help Sister Gladys, if only she’d waited.
But they were so eager to play. Sister Gladys had thought there would be no harm in just taking them out for a few minutes…that is, until little Dudley fell and hurt his ankle. Gladys had spent no more than one minute with her back turned to the girls and in that time mischievous Lily had climbed to the very top of the metal contraption while her sisters looked on.
“One step at a time,” Sister Gladys said, taking one step up onto the jungle gym. She was terrified of heights, even low ones, so she was about the worst person for this job. But she was the only adult here. She couldn’t leave, even to ask for help. It was up to her.
Lily, meanwhile, giggled, showing no signs of concern at all. Her pale golden hair glowed almost like a halo, though this child was not always an angel.
“Come on, dear.” Gladys held a shaking hand out toward the child. Fortunately, Lily began climbing down. “Good girl. That’s a good girl.”
“Lil,” a little voice called. It was Lily’s more cautious sister, Rose. She frowned up at Lily, the sun bouncing off her copper hair. “Come down, Lil.”
“I coming.” Lily climbed confidently down the metal rungs.
“Careful,” her other sister, Laurel, said. Then she became distracted by a butterfly. “Flutterby!”
Good, Sister Gladys thought, as Lily took the last step down onto the safety of the ground. The fewer witnesses, the better. If Virginia found out about this, she’d—she’d—
“Let this be a lesson to you,” a voice said sharply from behind her.
Sister Gladys turned to see an angry Virginia scowling at her. “This is exactly why we have the rule requiring adult supervision for all the children when we go outdoors.”
“I know. It was just such a beautiful day.”
“It could have turned into a terrible day.” Virginia picked up the blond child and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Especially with this one around. You know she’s always up to something.” She smiled at the girl. “You have too much energy, little one.” She sighed. “And way too much determination.” Lily ran off as soon as Virginia put her down.
“But she’s a good girl,” Sister Gladys objected. “She’s such a sweet little thing.”
Virginia raised an eyebrow. “True, but she is as headstrong as they come. Once she decides she wants something, she won’t let anything stand in her way.” She shook her head and looked at the child. “It’s almost uncanny how she always gets her way.”
“Like when she got the cookies off the top shelf in the kitchen?”
“Exactly.” Virginia smiled. “We kept telling her no, but the minute she got her chance she went for the cookies and got them. To tell you the truth, I almost admire her for it. I just hope it doesn’t get her into trouble some day.”
Chapter One
“The Belvedere Suite is for Prince Conrad of Beloria. His stepmother and stepsister, Princess Drucille and Lady Ann, will be in the Wyndham Suite.” Gerard Von Mises ran his fingertip down the ink-stained register of the Montclair Hotel, listing the guests that concierge Lily Tilden would be in charge of. It was old-fashioned, but that’s the way Gerard, the owner of the hotel, preferred it. Computers, he said, were too impersonal.
Lily didn’t tell him that she kept the records on her laptop in the office as well, just in case there was a conflict that they didn’t notice on paper. Tradition was great, but a girl had to be practical as well.
“The prince and his entourage will be here tomorrow,” Gerard said. “And I’ve arranged to have the full staff here to greet him, as his stepmother is quite…exacting about such things.”
Lily nodded. She had already taken several calls on behalf of Princess Drucille. Requests were for pink towels and verbena-scented soap, and a particular brand of French spring water that Lily had paid hefty customs taxes to acquire.
“Mrs. Hillcrest leaves the Astor Suite tomorrow,” Gerard continued, looking over the book. “Which leaves us with just Prince Conrad, Princess Drucille, Lady Ann, Samuel Eden and, of course, Mrs. Dorbrook for you on the executive level. The rest of their party will be on the lower floors.” He sighed and turned to Lily. “It is good clientele, but business could still be better.”
“Things have been tough all over the city as far as tourism goes,” she assured him, though she knew the situation was serious. “It’ll pick up. Especially with Prince Conrad coming. The Post gossip column has been positively filled with stuff about him.”
Gerard gave a smile. “He’s popular with young ladies, that much is true.”
“Well, popular playboys tend to get a lot of photo ops. So you see? We’ll probably get lots of business from that alone,” Lily said, but she wasn’t so sure. They had hosted popular celebrities before, but it usually resulted in more autograph-seekers and paparazzi hanging around outside rather than clients checking in. Still, the fact that Prince Conrad was coming would undoubtedly raise the profile of the hotel and she knew the Montclair needed that pretty desperately.
“All right.” Gerard closed the book. “You’ve almost convinced me.” He smiled. “You’ve worked a long day. Go home.”
“You’ve got it.” Lily had been on her feet for nearly ten hours, and it wasn’t the first time this week. Since Gerard had cut the staff back, she’d had to sleep at the hotel more often than any of the guests, except for Bernice Dorbrook, who had been a resident since her oil-rich husband had died in 1983.
Now all Lily wanted to do was go home and soak in a nice hot bath, maybe with some Epsom salts thrown in. Lately there had been more long days
