Hello again! Welcome back friends, and hello new readers! For those of you who didn't catch my first little exposition block, let me explain a few things...2 years ago, my school performed the play You Can't Take It With You, and it was a spectacular show. I myself was in it...and I wrote these stories not long after the show ended, out of nostalgia for the cast, the chemistry, and the show itself. Each of these stories are one-shots, providing a bit of backstory on the characters involved, and giving a bit of an epilogue; or rather, what I imagine what might have happened after the curtains closed, but at the same time, they do poke fun at the characters a bit; the play itself is so funny, sometimes it's hard to take something like this seriously. Also, it is based on specific people - cast I worked with- but I also feel that it's generally vague enough that you can read it and the details aren't too overbearing. For example, in this chapter I took some liberties with the known history of the last "royal" family of Russia, and while they aren't specifically stated in the script or even historically accurate, I did try my best to keep it as realistic as possible, and just plain fun; I hope it's alright that I took that liberty. Thanks for reading this little bit, and enjoy the story!
She wouldn't lie: He had repulsed her . In her eyes, he was pathetic, following her around like a puppy, drooling over her. The second she walked in the door!
But he'd grown on her, the silly Italian.
God knew her family had been through enough. She remembered her girlhood: wearing gowns trimmed with white pearls; Sapphires hanging from her ears; Maids waiting to fulfill her every girlish whim. She had never had to do anything before; Before her cousin had been forced to abdicate his position as Tsar, that is. Everything had collapsed for her family then. It had especially been an emotional strain on the Tsarina, Anastasia. Olga wasn't even sure whether she was dead or alive, anymore. Anastasia, she knew for sure, had lingered on long enough to help her brother, the prince, the Tsarovitch, escape to America, but she herself had disappeared. Alexis, the prince, had turned into a selfish, self-preserving...well...prince. He had even stopped speaking to Olga because she had "degraded herself to common work".
Well, what a nice change it had been to go to the Sycamore family's house for dinner that night, where everyone treated her like the royalty she was. She hadn't expected to go to the house to make a meal, but seeing the sad faces all around her when she arrived reminded her of her own hardships, and she felt the overwhelming desire to help in any way she could.
The dancing one, Essie, had nearly caused several accidents in the kitchen trying to pirouette, or some such nonsense, but major incidents had been avoided. And all the shouting coming from the living room was distracting, but had eventually been drowned out by the bubbly sound of the water boiling on the stove.
Olga was snapped out of her reverie by a sharp tapping on the glass door from outside. Ah, her shift was over! She slipped out of the slightly faded purple apron that was her uniform, and hung it up over the hook with her name. There he was: DePinna, her escort to lunch, and then to the Sycamore family home for the rest of the day.
As he opened the door for her, she linked her arm with him, and laid her head on his shoulder. And somehow, she felt as if things were more alright than they had ever been in Russia, even without all the maids and jewelry.
Thanks again for joining us! Reviews are always appreciated! This chapter was kind of a flipside companion to the first chapter, so maybe it's a bit redundant, but meh...^^ Next chapter: The Vanderhof Family