§ § § -- October 30, 2004
Leslie and Louisa departed the house and climbed into a jeep parked out front, and Louisa began to play with the hem of her skirt in a way that told Leslie it was an ingrained habit. "Where'll we go?" Louisa asked.
"I think the first thing we should do is a little clothes shopping," Leslie said. "Then we can take you into the beauty salon and get you a makeover." She saw the look of mingled interest and apprehension flash across Louisa's features and grinned. "Don't worry, it's painless, and you'll be in charge—they won't do anything you don't want them to."
"Oh," said Louisa. "Okay…well, maybe we could start with that, if it's okay with you. I gotta admit, I don't know the first thing about makeup. Kristen tried to teach me, but it was so complicated, and it was more than I really wanted to bother with every day. I don't want to take half an hour just painting my face."
"Understandable," Leslie said. "I know exactly where to take you. My friend's sister owns a salon in the pedestrian quarter. She cuts my hair when it needs it, and she also taught me how to use the minimum amount of makeup for the maximum effect. She can do the same for you. Her name's Deborah, and she's very friendly."
Deborah McCormick, thirty-five-year-old younger sister of Lauren Knight, was alone in the small storefront when Leslie came in with Louisa, and she looked around in surprise when the bell on her door jangled merrily. "Oh, hi, Miss Leslie! Your hair doesn't already need cutting, does it?"
"No, it's not me this time," Leslie said and chuckled. "This is a guest of ours, Louisa Karlsen, and she's interested in a makeover. But I told her she calls the shots."
Deborah approached and shook hands with Louisa. "Hi, nice to meet you. Do you have anything special in mind regarding this makeover?"
Louisa considered the question for a moment or so, then murmured, "Well, I guess I need to think about what I want to do with my hair, but I'd like to know how I can look good in just a few minutes. I don't wear makeup because I don't like all the time it takes, but Leslie here said you taught her how to use just a little to look really good."
Deborah giggled and said, "Well, thanks for the word of mouth, Miss Leslie. I can do that, Miss Karlsen, no problem, but if you want to keep your new look through the day, we'll have to do your hair first. Do me a favor and take it down, would you?"
Louisa reached up and pulled a series of bobby pins out of the bun, then tugged out the cloth ponytail holder, letting her straight dark-blonde hair spill free. Deborah studied it and whistled low. "Wow. It's been a long time since I saw hair as long as yours."
"I can sit on it," Louisa said. "But it's a pain to wash, you know, and I can't do much with it when it's this long. Either I let it hang or I stuff it into a bun, and letting it hang isn't the most professional thing in the world."
"I get ya," Deborah said, nodding, studying Louisa's hair. "So how much do you want cut, then? You don't have to be drastic. It's possible to have a professional-looking hairstyle without going ultra-short. You do have a really high forehead, and I think a few bangs would frame your face a lot better. Not big thick ones, just nice wisps."
"I thought bangs were for little girls," Louisa said, glancing skittishly at Leslie, who grinned. "Well, I mean, my sister was always saying that…"
"Is this the weather forecaster?" Leslie asked, and Louisa nodded. "Well, not to say anything against her, but it sounds to me like she's sort of bossing you around, if you know what I mean."
"Me too, if you don't mind my saying so," Deborah put in. "You should be the one who decides what kind of look you want, not your sister. And frankly, weather forecasters know less about hair than they do about what the weather's gonna do next week."
Louisa burst out laughing. "Hey, you're cool," she remarked to Deborah. "Okay, I'm going out on a limb. Do you think I'd look good with a side part?"
Deborah took Louisa over and proceeded to wash her thigh-length hair, continuing the discussion of ideas; then Leslie took a chair beside the one in which Deborah ensconced Louisa, watching with interest as Deborah gathered Louisa's hair, pinned most of it atop her head and set about cutting it. In about half an hour Louisa Karlsen was gawking open-mouthed at her reflection; Deborah had cut Louisa's hair to about an inch below her shoulder blades, and had parted it on Louisa's left, brushing a few long wispy bangs across her forehead to the right side and securing it with a little styling gel. "You don't need much," Deborah told her, "since there's not much hair there to hold. What do you think?"
"I don't even recognize myself," Louisa said faintly.
Deborah and Leslie grinned at each other. "You'll make a heck of an impression," said Leslie cheerfully. "And wait till you have the makeup lesson."
Another half hour later, Louisa followed Leslie out of Deborah's salon, her face transformed by expert makeup application in the most basic possible procedure. Deborah had done a wonderful job in bringing out Louisa's latent beauty. "People are probably going to start recognizing you as Toni Karlsen's sister," Leslie observed. "Now that you've had this little morphing act, it's easy to see you're related to her."
"Maybe," Louisa mumbled, compressing her lips.
"What's wrong?" Leslie asked, pausing on the sidewalk.
Louisa gave her a pleading look. "I don't want to be mistaken for Toni. I want to be me. That's my fantasy—to be my own special self, not some extension of my sisters."
Leslie smiled. "Believe me, Louisa," she said, "nobody's going to think you're Toni. They'll know you're her sister, but they won't get the idea you're her. I said you look related; I didn't say you look like identical twins. You're a very pretty young lady, you know, and Deborah helped you bring that out. Now let's get you some new clothes."
By lunchtime Louisa was the new owner of five different outfits, everything from casual to business to formal. She had two new pairs of jeans, a smart skirt-and-jacket ensemble suitable for her job, an understated evening dress with a knee-length skirt, and two stylish, colorful shirts. Leslie had to laugh when Louisa spied a pretty T-shirt in the gift-shop window and insisted on going in and buying one in her size. When she came out, she also had a pair of the straw sandals that were woven by women in the fishing village; and she was wearing one of her new pairs of jeans, the T-shirt and a brand-new pair of sneakers. "I feel like someone different already," Louisa exclaimed, swinging her bags and lifting her face to the tropical sun, beaming at the bright blue sky.
"Good," Leslie said, grinning at her expression. "You look different too, and I don't mean the hairstyle and the new clothes." She led Louisa back down toward the town square and around the corner where the café was located, and noticed that the door of Christian's storefront was propped open—unusual for him. "Listen, Louisa, I'm going to drop in on my husband for a minute or two…come with me." Louisa looked surprised, but she agreed, trailing Leslie down the walk.
They discovered that Christian's shop was decidedly crowded, between him, his employees and the rest of the royal family. Louisa hung back just inside the doorway while Leslie scanned the shop and managed to pick out Christian, showing Anna-Laura, Amalia and Carl Johan the new print he had received. "…I ordered the thing easily three months ago, and it finally came just this morning," he was saying, sounding slightly exasperated. "I think I'll probably—" He looked up and cut himself off when he spied Leslie. "Well, look who's here." He grinned when she came up to him, leaning aside to kiss her; her in-laws greeted her warmly. "What brings you over here?" Christian asked.
"I hadn't planned on coming in, but I saw the door open," Leslie said, "and you never do that. Something about wasting the air-conditioning."
Christian laughed. "Yes, normally that's true, but today seemed like a perfect day to let in the breeze. Look here, I was just showing Carl Johan, Amalia and Anna-Laura—that print I ordered back at the beginning of August finally arrived."
"So it did," Leslie said, peering down at the print showing the skyline of Sundborg at night in winter. "That's really pretty. Where do you plan to hang it?"
"We were just asking him that ourselves," Anna-Laura noted. "Speaking of asking questions—do you know someone who can work miracles, Leslie? I desperately need a new cut and style for the wedding, and I need someone who can do suitable makeup."
"My friend Lauren's sister Deborah always does my hair when it needs cutting," said Leslie. "Let me know when you're ready and I'll take you over." She glanced around the shop and noticed Rudolf speaking with Anton—in German, she shortly realized—and Roald sitting in between Julianne and Jonathan, holding a lively conversation with both of them. "Looks like the gang's all here; where's Gabriella?"
"She'd been talking to Beth and needed to take a short break for necessities," Christian replied. "Should be out shortly." He caught sight of an uncertain Louisa hovering in the doorway. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"
"Oh…no…that's okay," Louisa said, shaking her head vigorously and looking alarmed when everyone's attention went to her at the sound of Christian's raised voice.
"She's one of our guests this weekend," Leslie explained. "This is Louisa Karlsen. Louisa, my husband, Prince Christian; his brother Prince Carl Johan and sister-in-law Princess Amalia; and his sister Princess Anna-Laura. This is Prince Roald, sitting here, and back there is Prince Rudolf." Just then Gabriella emerged from the small lavatory and she added quickly, "And there's Queen Gabriella."
"Oh my God," Louisa mumbled audibly and managed a clumsy curtsy, her face red and her eyes very wide. The royal family nodded smilingly in acknowledgement, and Rudolf excused himself from his conversation with Anton and came to join the older members as Christian assured Louisa that she didn't need to worry about formalities.
"It might be nice to be something close to ordinary for a weekend," Gabriella said thoughtfully, pausing beside Beth's desk and peering at Louisa. "Now I wonder why you look so familiar to me?"
"Our guest, Louisa Karlsen," said Leslie. "Her sister is the actress, Toni Karlsen."
"Oh, I see," Gabriella said and smiled. "You do look something like her. I really enjoy her films, and she's a talented actress."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Louisa murmured, looking downcast.
Leslie caught Christian's curious look and knew she'd have plenty of talking to do over lunch at the main house. "When are you free for lunch, my love?"
"Right now, actually," Christian said. He turned to his relatives and went on, "Mariki always puts out a rather impressive spread for the midday meal, if anyone is interested."
"Oh, I am," Jonathan spoke up with a huge grin. "I'll take any chance to eat something Mr. Roarke's cook whips up." Everyone laughed.
"I wouldn't doubt that," Christian retorted lightly. "Perhaps one day if you can keep that forked tongue under a muzzle, I'll reward you with a dessert she's made. Well, so who's going to accompany Leslie and me, then?"
Most of the family decided to come, but Rudolf declined. "Perhaps I'll be there for the evening meal," he said. "I was just speaking to Anton about something, giving my German a much-needed workout. I'll order lunch from room service." He, Roald, Gabriella and Anna-Laura were sharing the Presidential Bungalow, which Leslie had privately joked to Roarke would probably have to be renamed the Royal Bungalow now; Carl Johan and Amalia had made good on their word and were staying at Christian and Leslie's house.
"Then you'll miss out on some excellent food," Roald told his cousin, rising. To Julianne and Jonathan he said, "Call our bungalow when you're off work for the evening. Mother and Gregory are supposed to be honored at a luau tonight, and you're both invited if you'd like to come."
"Sounds great," Jonathan said, "as long as Mariki's making the food for it."
Amid the laughter Leslie teased him, "You brat. Just for that I'll tell Mariki she has the afternoon off from any more cooking." They began to file out; Louisa ducked aside and shyly watched them go. Leslie paused beside her. "Do you need anything else?"
"I guess not," Louisa said slowly. "I might go back to my bungalow and see if Emmy's there, and we can have lunch together. Thanks for helping me, Leslie."
She didn't sound overly enthusiastic, and Leslie wondered why. "Tell you what," she said. "I'll come around after lunch and we'll talk some more, okay? For right now, just take it easy and relax a little. Show Emmy your new clothes." She grinned and was somewhat relieved to get a halfhearted smile in reply. "See you later on." With that she hurried out after Christian and the others.
Louisa, left behind in the computer shop, peered after them for a moment, her mood beginning to sink again. Leslie had been right: people were going to recognize her as Toni's little sister now. She'd been here only half a day, and already her fantasy looked to be a failure. Dejected, she adjusted her grip on her bags and started out the door.
"Wait," said a male voice behind her. "Please."
The proximity of the voice made her stop automatically, and she looked up curiously at the speaker. Her breath left her instantly, for it was Prince Rudolf. "Are you due somewhere else?" he asked.
Louisa stared at him; he looked as if he really wanted to know. Something in her sluggish brain compelled her to curtsy again, which made him grin broadly, causing her stomach to do back flips. Finally she remembered that he'd asked her a question and opened her mouth. "No, I…" It came out as a croak and she felt her face go hot almost instantly. Mortified, she cleared her throat and was relieved to hear her voice return to normal. "I was just going back to have lunch at my bungalow…"
"I see," Prince Rudolf said, his hazel eyes still twinkling with amusement. "I had planned to do the same myself, but now that I think about it, that sounds quite lonely. If you'd like, you and I might have lunch together."
The suggestion sent Louisa into pure shock, and she gaped stupidly at the prince for some ten seconds before blinking and casting a cautious glance around the office; maybe one of her sisters was lurking in the woodwork somewhere, and he'd meant to ask them instead. But only the two women were watching; the Asian girl gave her a quick thumbs-up and a go for it! look. She swallowed, but her throat had gone so dusty dry that it hurt, and her voice came out croaky again. "Are you sure it's me you want to have lunch with?" she asked.
Prince Rudolf chuckled, neatly erasing a little more of Louisa's mind. "Yes, I'm sure," he said with amused patience. "Possibly at the café next door, if that's all right with you."
"Um…oh," Louisa mumbled and closed her eyes briefly at her own idiocy. More of this, Karlsen, and he'll take back the invitation. And wouldn't that be something for Kristen to laugh at? The idea of her older sister's reaction was enough to jar some sense back into her head. Hurriedly she opened her eyes and nodded. "If you're really sure it's me you want to eat with…well, yes, I'd like that, a lot."
Prince Rudolf laughed and said, "Good, I'm glad to hear that—and yes, believe me, it's you I want to share lunch with! Just one moment, please." He turned to say something in German to the stocky blond man sitting near the far wall, and the other man replied with a smile and a nod. Louisa blinked.
"You're working on a business deal?" she asked without thinking.
Rudolf's attention snapped back to her; now he was the one who looked surprised. "Yes, as a matter of fact, we had been talking business," he said. "So you speak German?"
"Some," said Louisa. "I can make conversation, but I'm not as fluent as I probably should be. Maybe I need to brush up on it." Here was a subject she felt comfortable with. "If it's not rude to ask, what sort of business is it?"
"It's a charity my mother promotes," Rudolf said, ushering her out the door and down the walkway toward the café entrance. "I thought perhaps herr Lauterhoff might be acquainted with someone in Germany who needs a job, as the charity has an opening. But that's another subject, and quite boring at that. What I find fascinating is the idea of an American who can speak something besides English." He grinned.
"Well, not all of us are ignorant provincials," Louisa said, affronted.
Rudolf quirked one eyebrow. "Now, don't take offense," he said. "I was merely teasing, though I do find it unusual. Where did you learn German?"
"In college," Louisa said, her face flaming again. She'd suffered so much taunting and ostracism in high school that she could no longer tell the difference between friendly teasing and malignant teasing. "I studied a lot of other stuff too—went to St. Olaf College in Minnesota. I learned not only German, but Swedish and Spanish and Latin and—"
"Swedish?" Rudolf broke in. "Then you and I could communicate in something other than English. My own language, jordiska, is very close to Swedish, although we've had some influx from Norwegian, and most of our verbs evolved directly from Old Norse. I expect we could understand each other very easily."
"I'm not that fluent," Louisa said uneasily, chancing a quick look at him over her shoulder as they walked into the café. "I use it once in a while at work, but…"
Rudolf scanned the café, spotted a table he liked and led her to it, waiting till she had sat down before he took his own seat. Then he gave her an expectant look. "But what?"
Louisa was torn. Part of her wanted to flee, just to avoid having to try out her Swedish on a native speaker in close, prolonged contact; the other part of her wanted to stay and savor her time with this prince who had actually taken notice of her. He had such pretty eyes, and his smile seemed to turn her stomach into something alive. "You'd laugh at me if I tried," she finally said straight out.
Rudolf regarded her thoughtfully for a few seconds, then smiled faintly. "You believe so? How do you know until you try?"
"W-well, I…I…" she stuttered, her composure disintegrating like salt in water.
Rudolf seemed to take pity on her; his expression softened. "Why don't we start with something easy," he offered. "I'll simply speak formal jordiska and you can use Swedish, and we'll have a very basic conversation. After all," and here he grinned again, making Louisa's stomach dance, "we do have to get to know each other."
Louisa grinned sheepishly back. "Yeah, we do, I guess. You mean…you mean we'll talk like they do in a beginner's class? With stuff like 'hello, how are you, what's your name' and all that sort of thing?"
"Exactly so," Rudolf said, his grin widening. "Surely you can handle that."
"I suppose I could," Louisa murmured, relaxing. She couldn't read any malice in his eyes, and he seemed genuine and honest, somehow. It might even be fun, speaking in his language. She drew in a deep breath and used her college Swedish to say, "Hello, Your Highness, my name is Louisa Karlsen, and I come from St. Paul, Minnesota. I am very happy to meet you."
Rudolf's eyes widened. "That's excellent—you have a good accent, too!" he exclaimed in English. Embarrassed but pleased, Louisa grinned shyly. "All right, I suppose it's my turn then." In jordiska he told her, "I am Crown Prince Rudolf of Lilla Jordsö, and I am also very happy to meet you, Louisa Karlsen. How old are you, and what of your family, and what do you like to do when you aren't working?"
So far, so good. Louisa cleared her throat and continued speaking in Swedish, going slowly to keep from stumbling. "I'll be 25 next month," she said, "and I have three older sisters, and I like languages and cats. I have two cats named Chocolate and Cinnamon."
Rudolf blinked at that and started to laugh. "Chocolate and Cinnamon!" he echoed. "What imaginative names for cats! What kind of cat are they, then?"
"Siamese," Louisa said. "I had to move out of my apartment because of them, but it was worth it. They're great company." It astonished her to find that speaking in Swedish came easier to her the more she did it; maybe she was just out of practice.
"You should meet my cousin Anna-Kristina," Rudolf remarked. "She loves cats so much, back home she's known as the Princess of Cats. Uncle Christian tells us she has three of them even now, alongside her husband and little daughter."
Louisa grinned at that. "She sounds really nice. Tell me more about your family. I don't really know much about them. What're you doing on this island?"
"We're here for my aunt's wedding," Rudolf explained. "Most of us were able to come for that, except for my cousin Margareta and my older brother Gerhard and his family."
"Oh," said Louisa. "Which ones are your parents?"
Rudolf chuckled. "I suppose I'd better explain the family structure to you. Gabriella, the current queen, is my cousin; she is the middle daughter of my late uncle, King Arnulf II. Arnulf was the oldest of four. My father, Prince Carl Johan, is the secondborn; then my aunt, Anna-Laura; and finally my uncle Christian. Aunt Anna-Laura is the mother of Roald, whom you met in Uncle Christian's office; and Uncle Christian himself is married to Leslie, Mr. Roarke's daughter. They have a set of triplets."
"Oh, that's right…I got to meet the triplets at Mr. Roarke's house," Louisa said and giggled. "They're adorable. Actually, the little boy was chewing on my friend Emmy's thumb the whole time she was talking to Mr. Roarke. Leslie said she thinks he's teething."
"My cousin the cannibal," Rudolf said with a quick laugh. "Hmm…speaking of eating, let's see what we want." They opened their menus and perused the selections, but Louisa could hardly concentrate on the words. For the first time, she was talking to someone, and not stammering and stuttering, or boring the guy to death—and doing it in another language to boot! And not just that, but he was a prince, and he was interested in her! Kristen would turn utterly green if she could see, Louisa knew. Even Toni and Jackie would be impressed. Who'd ever think the mouse of the Karlsen family would be noticed by a prince?
The waitress came by, and Rudolf and Louisa gave their orders, then handed her the menus and settled back. This time, when Rudolf spoke, he used English. "Your Swedish is quite good," he remarked. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit."
Louisa shrugged. "Aw, well…not too many other people give me much credit either, for that matter."
"Why is that?" Rudolf wanted to know.
And just like that, before she realized what she was doing, she was telling him all about her older sisters and their glamorous, exciting lives, and how she just didn't measure up to them. Rudolf listened quietly, his attractive features still and serious; now and then he nodded once or twice, but otherwise didn't react. "So that's why I'm on this island," she said with a sigh, winding up her narrative. "I thought I could find some way to finally be the equal of my sisters. I thought maybe my job would do it. I figured I could get in with some really sharp international organization because of my language studies, and I'd get to travel and so on, except that didn't happen. I'm still just plain old Louisa."
Rudolf regarded her in silence when she stopped speaking, and the longer he sat and studied her, the more uncomfortable she began to feel. Finally he said, "You don't seem so plain to me. Do your sisters speak anything other than English?"
"Well, no," Louisa said and shrugged. "But it's not considered much of an accomplishment to be bilingual."
"In a country where so few people are?" Rudolf asked, astonished. "Are you saying that your sisters think nothing of your ability to speak other languages?"
"It's just not worth that much to them," Louisa insisted, trying to make him see what she meant. "Kristen thinks I'm just dowdy, and she's right. Toni has such a busy life, I don't get to talk to her much, and I'm practically never in touch with Jackie because she's always a step or two behind Toni, making sure the fan club gets all the news on what she's doing."
"Wait, wait," Rudolf broke in, raising a hand to stop her. "What does 'dowdy' mean?"
Louisa struggled a moment. "Well…plain, boring, ordinary. Old-fashioned, I guess."
"Herregud," Rudolf muttered, shaking his head. "Forgive me, Louisa, but I think your sister Kristen is a fool. I see a very pretty young woman before me—not to mention a very intelligent one. Unfortunately, that woman doesn't believe in herself." He focused on her curiously. "What precisely would have to happen to you to make you feel that you are as 'glamorous', as you say, as you think your sisters are?"
Louisa's mouth fell open and she stared blankly at him. For the life of her, she could think of nothing to say. Rudolf watched her expectantly, and she searched frenetically for some answer to give him. What did she want? It was a question no one had ever come out and asked her directly, and it unnerved her. She blinked helplessly and felt her cheeks growing hot all over again. Rudolf noticed and smiled gently.
"Perhaps I've gone too far," he said, relenting. "Let's just drop it for the moment and enjoy our lunch. Maybe you'll tell me about your job."
"I…" Louisa began, trying not to bite her lip for fear of removing all the lipstick that Deborah had applied less than an hour before. She drew in a breath, saw the encouraging look on Rudolf's face, and ventured shyly, "I'd rather hear about you."
Rudolf smiled slowly, and Louisa's stomach leaped right off a cliff. A dimple formed in his left cheek, curiously and endearingly unmatched in the other one, and his eyes glinted at her. "So," he said, his words as slow as his smile, "you're interested in me?"
"Yeah," she said and hunched her shoulders like a little girl, smiling sheepishly at him. "I hope you don't mind."
Rudolf's slow smile grew into another grin, and then exploded into a laugh that made other patrons turn to look at him with smiles of their own. "To mind your interest in me would be the last thing I'd ever do—not to mention the most foolish," he assured her cheerfully. "Ask me whatever you like."
"Well, give me the basic stuff," Louisa urged hopefully. "Vital statistics and all that boring junk, because I just want to know. And anyway—" She hesitated, then added, "I'd kind of like to know what it's like to be a prince, especially a prince who isn't gonna be the king someday. Hey, by the way, who is the next ruler supposed to be?"
By the time she finished, Rudolf was plastered to the back of his seat, his hands over his stomach, guffawing helplessly. "Louisa Karlsen," he managed after a few minutes, "don't you ever again let anyone, especially your sisters, tell you you're plain or boring, because you most certainly are not! Before I begin—" He stopped, drew in a breath and chuckled again, watching her with sparkling eyes. "Tell me your birthdate, please. You said it's next month, and I find myself wanting to send you a birthday card when it arrives."
Louisa blushed again. Her face got very hot every time she turned red, and besides, Kristen never failed to let her know just how red she was when she heated up like that; so she knew she was blushing like an idiot. "It's November 26," she said.
"November 26," Rudolf repeated and nodded. "And you'll be twenty-five."
"Right," said Louisa, enchanted by his seemingly deliberate notation of the date and the age she would be. "What about you?"
"Ah, well, I'm a little older," Rudolf said, grinning again. "Twenty-nine, to be exact; and my birthday is May 20. My full name, without the title, is Rudolf Harald Reinhold Enstad, and other than being a prince, I am also a landscape architect, after my father. These days Father does more of the planning than anything else, whereas I get out there and do a good bit of the actual planting alongside the three castle gardeners, and occasionally the atrium keeper. There's something very satisfying about setting a plant in the soil and watching it become a healthy and attractive part of the landscape. I've been involved in my share of tree-planting ventures around the country as well, and I'd like to think I'm contributing something worthwhile in the course of my admittedly useless royal existence."
"Useless!" Louisa repeated, stunned by the word.
Rudolf shrugged, but before he could respond the waitress appeared and set their meals before them. When she was gone, he inspected the halibut and stir-fried vegetables on his plate as if unsure they were edible, but continued to talk. "One certainly can't classify being royal as an occupation. Until quite recently it was unthinkable for royalty to hold down a job as commoners do, and even more so for jordiska royalty. It was Uncle Christian who broke that mold. He got interested in computers during the military service he had to do just after his first wife died, and they must have captivated him, because he wanted to make a living working with them. I was a small child at the time, but I can still remember how bewildered and annoyed my grandfather was. He never could understand why Uncle Christian wanted to work with his hands as a commoner. But it seemed to inspire many of the rest of us. My own father had taken a degree in landscape architecture before my grandfather even allowed Uncle Christian to attend university, but that was more acceptable to Grandfather, because Father remained in the castle and applied his talents to family property. Mother was similar; she became Uncle Christian's accountant, but she too stayed in the castle, and Gerhard and I were raised there. I still live there, in fact, and I must admit I have no plans to leave." At last he met her eyes. "Perhaps that's why I refer to my life as 'useless'. Royalty is supposed to be idle rich by definition. If we are not directly in line for the throne, we spend our lives attending social events, perhaps representing various charities, meeting the people…fluff of that sort."
"But…" Louisa floundered for a moment, watching Rudolf tickle loose a flake of meat from the fish. "If you want to, couldn't you go out and work at some landscape job?"
Rudolf raised an eyebrow at her. "Louisa, I'm happy doing what I do. I don't mean to leave you with an incorrect impression. I only meant to explain that a prince who isn't in line for the throne is essentially an appendage." He paused and seemed to consider his own thought for a moment, while Louisa stared at him. "I shouldn't say I'm not in line for the throne, to be honest. I am, but only seventh." He sighed gently and put his fork down. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I've reached an age where all those things satisfied me once, but no longer. I think I want more from life."
"Well, then, you could maybe start your own landscaping business…" Louisa began.
Rudolf's expression stopped her cold; his eyes frosted over and he frowned. "I've heard this of Americans…that they feel the only thing that can truly fulfill a person is his occupation. Is there no more to your life than that? Aren't you the one who felt dissatisfied with her job and wanted something more…'glamorous', I believe the word was?" The word glamorous came out with a faint but discernible sneer, and Louisa flinched.
They sat for several minutes in a charged silence. Rudolf's expression had closed over, and Louisa had lost her appetite. She stared miserably at her plate, wishing she had the courage to say something just so she could make an excuse to Rudolf and get out of here. She shifted her gaze up just barely enough to note that the prince had begun eating with some concentration, and instantly returned it to her own plate. Who was she to tell a prince what he ought to be doing? She was a nobody…the Karlsen family mouse…and he was a prince from a powerful ruling family. She really had some nerve; she'd deserved to be put in her place. And he did have a point about her wanting something glamorous. If her job didn't do it, then what the heck would?
Finally she could stand it no longer. "Excuse me," she mumbled, barely audible even to herself, and slid out of the booth, then fled. She didn't stop to think about her actions; all she wanted was to be alone, to get away from this horrible awkward scene. It occurred to her as she broke into a run across the town square that her fantasy for glamour might very well have been fulfilled right there, what with having met a prince—and that she, in her usual socially inept way, had blown it completely.
