it is true. My father—Lazhar’s grandfather—thought Lazhar should have a chance to experience life out from under the watchful eye of palace protocol. So he took my son to many places that in retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t have, and taught him things that might have been better learned when he was older.”
“But Lazhar loved him very much and treasures those memories of his grandfather,” Emily said with a soft smile.
“Yes, he does.” The king eyed her consideringly. “Did Lazhar tell you that?”
“He told me that he gave his winnings to St. Catherine’s because his grandfather thought he should and he loved his grandfather,” Emily said. “I gathered from Lazhar’s words and his tone that he treasured the time he spent with his grandfather.”
“Yes, we all did.” He sighed heavily, his expression sad.
“I assume that Lazhar’s grandfather is no longer with you?” Emily asked tentatively.
“He passed away just before Lazhar’s eighteenth birthday.” King Abbar was silent for a long moment, apparently lost in memories. Then he roused himself, visibly shaking off the brief melancholy. “What did you do with your winnings from last night? Are you thinking of visiting the Jewel Market to search for the perfect diamond or ruby later on this morning?”
Emily laughed. “No, not at all.” She glanced around, saw that they were completely alone as the servants had disappeared into the king’s suite. “I did what Lazhar and his grandfather did.”
He eyed her. “And what was that?”
“I stuffed the money into an envelope and dropped it into the poorbox at St. Catherine’s.”
His thick white eyebrows lifted in surprise. Then he chuckled, the deep sound of amusement startling birds from the tree in the corner of the garden. “How much was it?”
“About ten thousand.” Emily frowned. “I think. I won seven thousand at roulette, but then I lost at the dice table and won several hands of blackjack, so I can’t be sure of the exact sum, but I think it must have been around ten thousand dollars.”
“That’s a tidy sum,” he commented. “I’m sure the sisters at St. Catherine’s will put it to good use.”
Their breakfast arrived and the conversation turned to more general subjects. King Abbar answered her questions about his beloved Daniz and in turn, Emily willingly shared details about her life in San Francisco. When breakfast was finished, a last cup of coffee shared, and he reluctantly left her for his doctor-ordered morning rest, she gladly agreed to return for a game of chess before dinner that evening.
The same servant who had escorted her from her bedroom suite to the king’s rooms, guided her to a sun-filled morning room where the queen and Jenna were sharing morning coffee and croissants.
“Good morning, Emily,” Caroline greeted her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you.” Emily took the chair drawn out by a house servant, murmuring her thanks as she sat.
“I understand that you’ve already had breakfast with Abbar this morning,” Caroline said. “But perhaps you’d like another cup of coffee?”
“Coffee would be lovely.” Emily waited until the servant poured the mix of rich coffee and milk into her cup. “I confess, I’m hoping to take the recipe home with me.”
Jenna laughed and her mother chuckled.
“We love it, too. I used to steal sips from Papa’s cup when I was tiny,” Jenna said. “I think I was fifteen before he gave in and agreed to let me have coffee with breakfast.”
“I didn’t want you drinking coffee at all before you were sixteen and I strongly suspect that your father purposely pretended not to see you stealing sips from his cup when you were a little girl.” Caroline’s gaze rested fondly on her daughter and they exchanged a look of warm understanding.
Emily caught an underlying current of sadness from the two women. Beneath the queen’s graciousness and Jenna’s impish humor there was a thread of pathos when they talked about the king. She suspected that the emotion was due to his ill health and her heart went out to them.
“What are your plans for the day, Emily?” Caroline asked.
“I need to check in with my office staff back home, and then I’m hoping to begin preliminary work on the plans for Lazhar’s wedding.”
“Ooh, fun.” Jenna’s face lit with enthusiasm. “What will you do first?”
“I’d like to look at the venue for the event—I assume the ceremony will be held in a church in the city and the reception here at the palace?”
“Yes, that’s the traditional method,” Caroline confirmed. “The church is St. Catherine’s and the largest ballroom would be best for the reception.” A soft smile curved her mouth. “That’s where Abbar and I were married.” She sighed before visibly collecting herself. “The palace chef will cater the reception, which is always preceded by a sit-down luncheon for four to five hundred people.”
Emily made mental notes while fervently wishing she’d brought her Palm Pilot or at least a pencil and notepad with her.
“Mother, Emily should jot this down,” Jenna said firmly, holding up a hand. “Otherwise, we’ll have to schedule a meeting to go over this again in your office and it’s much more pleasant doing it here over coffee and croissants. Right, Emily?” She paused, looking expectantly at Emily.
“Yes, much more comfortable,” Emily agreed. “If that’s acceptable to you, Your Highness?”
“Please, call me Caroline. We’ll be spending many hours together planning this wedding and we may as well be comfortable together. And that’s an excellent idea, Jenna.” She lifted a tiny silver bell from its place beside her crystal water glass and shook it. The tinkling sound was immediately followed by the appearance of a young girl wearing the palace uniform. “Ah, there you are, Sofia. Please bring a pen and pad of paper for Miss Parks.”
Emily barely had time to say thank you to the queen before the girl was back, handing her a goldcapped fountain pen and a leather-bound notebook.
“Thank you, Sofia. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the ceremony is held at St. Catherine’s, the reception here at the palace, and there will be four to five hundred people at a sit-down luncheon. There will probably be a thousand or so invited to the reception,” Caroline continued. “You’ll want to discuss menus and timing with our chef, of course. And the protocol of invitations, seating, etc., will need to be coordinated by the palace diplomatic office. The most difficult seating arrangements will be those for our relatives. Our family is related through a tangle of marriages and descendants to most of the royal families in Europe, all of whom will think they should have a front-row seat.” Caroline sighed. “And I never can keep track of who’s not talking to who at any given moment.”
“Which is why you have Maria, Mother,” Jenna said. “That’s Mother’s secretary,” she explained to Emily as she spread jam on an airy croissant. “The woman is amazing—she never forgets a thing.”
“True,” Caroline agreed. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. Now,” she said briskly.
