This is the next story. This is how I write stories; I don't do parts or chapters, but short stories that may be linked. I will tell you if they are and the order they would best be read in. In this case, it should be:
Devotion
The Accident
Thank you all for your encouragement. It's been years since I've written or posted, so give me time to get back into the groove.
The gray overcast skies withheld their rain. It was fitting this day, as the royal honor guard on horseback led the procession from the cathedral to the graveyard, where countless generations of kings, queens and royals lay buried beneath the cold March dirt. A single usher followed the horses on foot, dressed completely in black from top hat to shinny boots. He walked before four white horses, all sporting tall black plumes as they pulled the open hearse. The coffin of Prince Edward Christoff Philippe Renaldi, draped with the Genovian flag rolled quietly along. The crowd silent as the horses, hearse, and endless line of limousines passed, men doffing hats and saluting, old women crying openly for the family of the young ruler. It had been only four months since Pierre and Philippe walked behind this same hearse, escorting their father to his final resting spot among the Renaldi kings. Now Pierre, in simple black cleric garb with its stark white collar, walked alone. He had declined to conduct any part of the service, staying beside his mother.
Queen Clarise sat alone in the back of the limousine following slowly behind Prince Pierre, glad for the smoked glass. She would give anything for a few moments to vanish and soon gave into temptation, raising the privacy screen separating her from the driver and her bodyguard, Joseph. Joseph glanced back at the Genovian crest, shared a look with the driver, and stared foreword again. Without a word, the procession continued.
Five days earlier.
Sleet. Sleet was the best word to describe the weather that evening, at least that's what the newspapers said the next day. SLEET BLAMED IN FATAL ACCIDENT OF PRINCE.
That red phone in the control room was ringing. It never rang, at least as far as any of the three men in the room could remember. They stared at the phone in stunned shock. Shades recovered first, jumped to the wall and grabbed the receiver, "Palace Security," he squeaked.
"This is Captain Cole of Genovian National Security. We've been informed by a police officer that a vehicle accident was reported and responded to. The officer on scene claims one of the two fatalities is Prince Philippe. We need to confirm the whereabouts of the prince before proceeding with the vehicle recovery and investigation."
Shades turned to the other two men, now standing and staring at him, not sure of what they should be doing in case that phone rang. They were watching at him, awaiting orders, "Get Joseph. Get Joseph, now," Shades returned to the phone, "We don't know the location of the prince, but our head of security, Joseph will know. He's being summoned now. If you hold on, he'll be here shortly."
"I'll wait, we need instructions."
Shades put his hand over the receiver and hissed, "What's taking so long. You morons find Joe."
The men, unused to such seriousness fumbled on how to find Joseph. One headed towards the door only to remember he didn't have a clue as to where Joe was, and stopped, looking back at his counterpart. The other reached for a phone to dial his cell phone, and drew a blank on the number.
"The number's on the phone list on the wall, now hurry," Shades felt like dropping the red handle and doing it him self.
Tuesday night, nine pm, the palace had its own movie theater. If Queen Clarise was going to sit down to a movie, it was usually Monday through Thursday, leaving the weekends free for her staff to enjoy with their families. She had found her presence tended to disrupt the movie. If she was available, she usually found Tuesdays best for movie going. Most of the employees were either working or home with their families and few invaded the theater, leaving her to enjoy her selection. The small room seated two hundred people. One row, never used, was reserved for royalty. Just last week, Philippe and an Austrian countess, along with Queen Clarise and her bodyguard, Joseph, had enjoyed an action movie from the United States. Tonight, it was just her and Joseph, and a romantically comedy featuring Steve Martin. In the dim theater, Joseph held her hand. He could count about a dozen employees scattered around the room, all engrossed in the movie and leaving him to his queen.
His phone rang. He could see and feel people start and stare in his direction. Some minor problem, he would quickly resolve it and get back to the movie.
"Joseph," he growled low.
"Sir, the red phone rang."
A chill went down Clarise's spine. He was there, holding her hand in the dark, then, he was gone.
Joseph ran like never before, down the corridors, up the stairs, he burst through the control room door, looked at the men, and grabbed the phone from Shades, "Speak," He ordered.
"Where?"
"Don't touch a thing until I get there." Joseph replaced the receiver.
"Lock down the palace until you hear from me, assemble alpha team to follow me to the seaside road. If they have problems with the location, the police will know where I'm going," Joseph turned to the men, still trying to understand the situation, but they moved to obey his orders.
Joseph ran back to the theater and up to the projector room, "Shut the movie off and turn up the lights." By the time the young man performed his simple tasks, Joseph was once again at the side of his queen, "Majesty, we must leave now."
Oh God, the flashback, 'Don't hesitate to protect your children.' Only once had Joseph ever used that tone with her.
They walked in silence to her apartments, his hand never leaving the small of her back. Once the door closed, Clarise whirled, "Pierre or Philippe?"
Joseph bowed his head, "Philippe, madam. I'm going to the crash site now. I'll inform you when I know more," Joseph turned and left. He couldn't tell her what was said to him, it was too awful. He had to know beyond doubt before he informed the mother.
It took him almost an hour to get to the crash site. Flares in the road slowed him down, narrowing the two lanes down to one. A young police officer was directing traffic. He pulled up and stopped.
"Keep it moving, mister," the young officer waived him through.
Joseph pulled out a piece of identification and handed it to him.
"Yes Sir, I've been told someone from the palace would come. Park over there," the young man waived to a pull off not far away.
Joseph pulled off the road and was met by Captain Cole, "Joseph, sorry to drag you out on such a night."
Joseph shook his hand, "You wouldn't have called if you weren't sure."
"Everything points to the prince, the car and his physical appearance. I take it his highness wasn't at home?" They talked as Captain Cole led Joseph to the edge of a cliff. Part of the guardrail was gone.
"No, he was returning home from visiting his brother in Italy," Joseph stepped close to the edge and peered down. He could see lights from flashlights and pulleys being attached to hoist the car back up the cliff.
"Do you want to go down before it's moved?"
Joseph nodded yes and reached to strap on the safety harness before repelling off the rock face.
Once down to the sand, he shed the safety ropes, reached into his jacket and pulled out his own flashlight and pointed it in the direction of the Ferrari. No doubt, it was the prince's car. With dread he approached the vehicle, two forms still buckled in the front. A quick shine of the light confirmed what he already knew. The prince was behind the wheel and Robards, his bodyguard in the passenger seat.
He quickly examined both bodies for oblivious bullet holes. He found none and told the police investigator to continue. Soon both bodies were removed, placed in stokes and lifted to the road some two hundred feet above the mangled wreckage.
Joseph caught a ride up with the body of the prince, standing one foot on each side of the body and grabbing the cable. It was his job now to protect the body and not let it out of his site until turned over to the coroner. As soon as his feet touched the hard packed ground, he placed a call back to the palace and requested the queen be taken to St. Luke's Hospital, but no one was to tell her the bad news. That was his job.
He instructed one of the alpha team, now on site, to take his car back to the palace and climbed into the back of the ambulance. By now a couple dozen palace guards, and national security officers were covering the scene, securing until the break of day when they could really see what had happened.
Joseph looked at the body still strapped to the litter in his white body bag. He placed his hand on the forehead outside the bag, "Philippe, what have you done!!!" The medic sitting at Philippe's head looked at Joseph, but said nothing. He was quite in shock at transporting the body of his dead sovereign. The lights and siren were not needed but, used anyway and soon they were at the emergency entrance to St. Luke's, where the palace physician was waiting along with the best doctor's in the country in hopes the prince was still alive. The body bag and Joseph's countenance extinguished their hopes and they led the way to an examining room, where Genovian's leading coroner and two forensic examiners were waiting. He may be a prince, but an autopsy would still be performed, probably that night.
Joseph stood back near the door, ready to grab the queen should she burst in. He made another call, speaking in Italian, he requested, "Please bring Father Pierre to the telephone, it's an emergency." Joseph waited, watching the body stripped, seeing the broken bones, some protruding through the skin, "Pierre, Joseph. I'm sorry to inform you that your brother didn't make it home tonight. There was an accident." A pause, "No, he's dead. I'm with him now. Your mother should be here soon." Another break, "A car will be waiting for you at the airport. We'll see you soon."
Joseph turned back to the broken body. He had seen many men in this condition and worse, but never knew any of them as boys, watched them grow, ask his advise as young men, loved their mother. A knock at the door shook him out of his silent stare. He opened it to find Shades waiting.
"The queen's in an exam room next door. She's asking to see the prince." Shades gasp at the sight of the mangled body as Joseph pulled him into the room and shut the door.
"I hope no one told her Philippe is dead," Joseph would be very angry if someone callously told her.
"I was the next person to be with her after you left. No one has said a word," Shades knew better than to cross Joseph in certain areas.
"Then I'll go tell her. Stay and guard the prince. At no time is he to be left unattended. I will return when I can and take over. Dr. Simonall," Joseph addressed the palace doctor, "The queen is here."
The doctor looked up from his exam and nodded, "Hold on, when I heard the news, I grabbed these pills from the medicine cabinet in my office. She's not had these before. They'll literally knock her out, and I recommend she take one a night for as long as she needs to." Joseph took the pills and started to leave again. "Oh, one more thing, if the queen starts to lose control, she keeps a valium in her handbag. I made her start carrying them during the king's final days. I'm sure they're still there, if not, I've got more."
Joseph nodded and left before the doctor pushed another pill at him. He made his way through the throng of people. Someone was yelling for the media to get out. He heard someone else say the people who saw the accident had been rounded up and were waiting in the hall for the authorities to interview. Joseph made a mental note to speak with them before the night was through. The noise faded into a distant din as he opened the door that was guarded by two of his most trusted men, and slipped inside before anyone could get a glimpse of the queen. Clarise jumped up and rushed to him, grabbing his hands. He held hers firmly and looked into her panicked countenance and watery eyes.
He licked his lips, "Clarise, I'm sorry." He felt tears well up in his own eyes.
"Oh God, not my baby."
He took her in his arms as the moment overwhelmed her and she cried uncontrollably into his shirt. Joseph didn't make comforting sounds. He just laid his head on top of hers and let a few tears run down his cheeks, the only grief he would have the luxury of showing for several days.
Clarise started to compose her self and Joseph handed her a clean handkerchief. He searched his pockets for another to clean himself up with as well. Her voice still shook a little, "Has Pierre been told?"
"I spoke with him while you were in route. He's on his way."
Clarise searched Joseph's face, "What happened, Joseph?"
Joseph met her eyes, "He slid into a guard rail and it didn't hold. He went off a cliff along with Robards."
"Robards didn't make it either?"
Joseph shook his head, "No."
"I want to see him now," Clarise headed for the door.
"Majesty," Joseph caught her arm, "They are cleaning him up so you can say goodbye. I don't want you in the hall until our people have it secured. I have things to do so we can wrap this up here. Can I assign Shades to you for the night?" Joseph really wanted speak with the witnesses and secure the cathedral.
Clarise didn't was Shades at a time like this, she wanted Joseph, but knew his job just became impossibly hard and she would see very little of him the following week. "I know I'm being selfish right now, but I really need to be held by you for a little bit."
"Of course, darling." He held out his arms and she pressed herself to his length, arms around his torso. She wore fairly low shoes that night and was able to lay her head on his shoulder. He pulled her as tightly to him as he could. Eyes closed, for a few minutes they shut out the world, rejuvenating in each other's arms. Clarise felt cold, so cold. She strained for Joseph's heat, but couldn't feel it. Joseph heard her moan softly and kissed her temple.
"Joseph, I don't know if I'm alive or dead. I can't feel a thing," she clung to him.
He knew shock was settling in and did the best he could to keep her with him and not fainting; he started placing soft kisses all over her face, murmuring, "Clarise, stay with me, darling, I'm here."
She started responding and soon they were locked in a deep kiss, and lost themselves in it as their grief found a home. The kiss was grief, comfort, love, and they didn't want to stop.
Without warning the door opened, and the archbishop strode through, "Joseph, I expect to hear your confession on Sunday."
They slowly broke apart and Joseph leaned in for one more quick peck.
"Thank you, Joseph," now, you may go. Clarise had recovered enough to function without him.
He bowed and left.
"There's only two people in all of Genovia my guards would allow through that door without knocking, and if you harass Joseph, there will only be one." Clarise straightened her black skirt and blouse, smoothing her suit jacket of the same color into its proper place.
"Clarise, your secrets safe with me," he changed his tone, "I know your hopes and those of the late king, bless his memory, were tied up in your son, but God has other plans. His ways are not our ways. I was informed on the way in that Philippe's body is ready for the last rites and blessing. Are you ready to go?"
Clarise nodded, "Joseph said he wanted to clear the hall before I went out."
"Let me check." The archbishop strode to the door and peered out, "All I see is your security," he turned to take her arm, "Has Pierre been notified?"
"Joseph spoke with him, he's on his way. I want Joseph with us for the rites. He was quite close to both boys, and I know this is hard for him."
They entered the hallway and the archbishop asked the sun glassed man to find Joseph and they entered the room where Philippe lay. He was covered with a blanket to his neck, his face, surprisingly devoid of injury. Clarise didn't know what to expect as she moved to his side and kissed his forehead, "You're with God now, my son," she reached under the blanket for his hand.
Joseph quietly entered, not wanting to break in on a mother saying goodbye to her son. Finally the last rites and prayers spoken, Joseph moved up to Clarise and led her away from the body, "They're ready for the autopsy, Clarise, and we need to get you home. I've arranged for round the clock vigilance until he's lying with his father. He won't be alone."
"I'll have the clergy from around Genovia also stand in on the vigilance, praying," the archbishop took Clarise's free hand, "Trying times have come upon Genovia, and we must have you rested. Go with Joseph."
The palace was still crowded with far flung relatives from all over Europe. They started arriving the next morning with platitudes, some sincere, some fake. Clarise threw herself into being the perfect queen, anything but her shattered world. Now, five days later, duty performed, son buried, her facade was slipping into noticeable grief. Baron Von Troken, after expressing insincere sympathies stayed in the background, watching and planning.
Five days of constant waiting upon these royals and providing security left the palace employees exhausted from Joseph to the bellboy.
"Joseph," Pierre gently shook him on the shoulder, rousing the older man from his slumber on the settee in the queen's outer chamber. "Do you wish me to take tonight and let you sleep in your own bed?" Every night for five nights, Joseph stayed within earshot of Clarise. So far silence from the bedroom, it worried both of them. Her short burst of tears had not been repeated.
Joseph opened his tired eyes, but didn't move, "I'm fine, Pierre. Besides, I don't think I'd make it to my bed tonight." It was the night, the funeral being earlier that day. The worse was over and Joseph's three hours of sleep a night were catching up to him.
Pierre perched on the edge of a straight back chair near Joseph's head leaving Joseph in his reclining position.
"Can we talk for a minute, Joe? I know you've been swamped what with arranging security, gathering information on the accident and watching over mother. It's times like these that we'd all be lost without you. You consistently go way above and beyond the duties of head of security, and I want to thank you. I can't think of anyone I trust more to watch over Mother. I know she's a strong person, but she is going to need someone sooner or later."
"Does that mean you're returning to the church and not taking the throne?" Joseph didn't move, but rolled his eyes for a better look at Pierre's face.
"Mother and I talked about it after Von Troken left this afternoon. It wouldn't be fair to Genovia to have an unwilling ruler, and I fear God would curse our house if I gave up my true calling." They spoke in hushed tones hoping Clarise was resting. "But, Von Token didn't wait until a decent time to hit Mother with the announcement he's going to make in Parliament on Monday."
Joseph chuckled, "It was good to see some of the old Pierre in you as the Baron scurried away this afternoon." Joseph was in his position outside the door to the queen's private chamber. He had wanted to be present and would have been if Pierre hadn't been there to protect his mother. He had never liked or trusted the Von Troken's. Von Troken had stated when they reached the queen's sitting room, "Leave the servant outside," pointing to Joseph, "What I have to say is for your ears alone."
Joseph had replied, "If it weren't for the prince, my duty to protect my queen would come before your request, and I would stay." With that he exited and closed the door behind him, taking up a position across the hall where he could take action if needed.
A few moments later the door was flung open and Von Troken hurried out with a very angry Prince on his heels, "Von Troken, the people will never accept you, you swine," Pierre's angry voice bellowed down the hall, thankfully empty of servants except for Joseph. Pierre stopped just outside the door and Joseph moved to stand beside him, both watching the Baron reach the stairs and descend.
"Trouble, Sir?"
"I'll tell you later, Joseph. Right now Mother's upset and I need to talk with her," Pierre shut Joseph out in the hallway. One last look at the closed door and Joseph moved off in the direction of the control room. He would personally monitor the Von Troken's until they left.
Joseph sat up so he was more eye level to Pierre, "May I ask what trouble the Baron is causing the queen?" He kept his voice low.
"He told Mother, he was going to have Parliament research the archives, but if she didn't produce an heir within three months, the Renaldi family would have to forfeit the throne."
And I suppose the Von Troken's are next in line?" Joseph wasn't so sleepy now.
"As far as we know, yes," Pierre and Joseph turned at the sound of a door opening.
"What are you two still doing here, you should be resting," Clarise stood framed in her bedroom door wearing a white flowing nightgown embroidered with small pink roses.
"We could say the same for you, Mother," both rose out of respect, "Did you take a sleeping pill?"
"I'm not taking them any more. They've left me groggy and strange feeling, and its time I get back to feeling like myself." The palace doctor had prescribed a new sleep aid the night Philippe died. Clarise, normally stoic about such crutches, gratefully accepted anything that would numb her and make the world go away. "After the Baron left, I came to realize, I don't have the luxury of wallowing in self grief. Tomorrow will be six days without your brother. The pain of losing a son will never lessen, ever, but, I am queen, and I have a country to hold together until we can sort this out." Clarise moved into the room and up to the two men.
"My Mother, the queen," Pierre murmured as he took her hands, "We are worried about you. I should have expected you to be like this, it's who you are. We've been waiting for a weak woman to cry and wring her hands."
Clarise smiled up at her son, "I loved your brother very much. If I appear cold on the outside, remember, I am crying on the in. Now, go to bed, it's after one."
"Goodnight, Mother. Coming Joseph." Pierre headed for the door expecting Joseph to follow.
Pierre heard Clarise's voice behind him, "I know you're exhausted, Joseph, but could you give me two minutes, please." Pierre glanced back as he shut the door; Joseph bowed his head in response to his mother's wish.
Clarise took Joseph's hand and pulled him to the bedroom, "I could feel you beside me for part of the night, but could never wake up enough to acknowledge you."
"I wanted to be near you, to help with your pain if you needed me." Joseph allowed her to un- knot his tie and pull it off. "I put out the word that no one was to disturb you on threat of facing my wrath. Everything goes through Charlotte and she has a pretty good idea of where I disappear to.
Joseph stripped to his shorts and pulled Clarise into the bed with him. Clarise reached for the light before snuggling into his strong arms. He thought about complaining as to her wearing such a long gown, but fell asleep instantly. In moments Clarise joined him, head on his shoulder and hand on his hip. Her last thought, 'I should have asked him to remove his shorts.'
"Joseph, Charlotte, Please meet me for afternoon tea in my office. Bring all the information on the accident and Philippe's address book." They had just returned from another meeting with Parliament, the eighth in three weeks since the funeral. Not looking back she could hear their "Yes Ma'am's" as she ascended the stairs.
A short time later, Joseph entered the servant's lunchroom, a large open area with small round tables filling the interior, making for a pleasant dining break. Here, the employees were equal. All got to mingle and visit as they took their breaks. He selected a roast beef sandwich and small salad, and looked around for the group he was wishing information from.
"Can you ladies squeeze me into your table?" Joseph purposely selected this group of young women. They giggled and blushed as the head of security and most important employee in the palace wanted to sit with them. The four women hurriedly scooted together and Joseph grabbed a chair from the next table over. He knew who all these ladies were, even if they had never met him face to face. There was a newly employed housekeeper in her twenties who blushed whenever he looked in her direction, an accountant from the clerical department, Charlotte's temporary assistant, and another housemaid, again a new hire, who looked at him like a love struck teenager.
"You all looked like you were having a fine visit, don't let me stop you," Joseph took a bite from his sandwich. The women all of the sudden seemed flustered and Charlotte's assistant stated, "Sir, you wouldn't be interested in our girls talk."
Joseph leaned over the table in her direction, "Try me, Gretchen. It is Gretchen is it not?" He knew her name.
She nodded, pleased that this good looking man actually knew her name, maybe he was interested in her, maybe the rumors of him and the queen were just that, rumors, after all they had been together for so many years and she was soooo old. "Yes, Sir."
"Call me Joe," she blushed and gave him a big smile.
Joe grinned back at her, encouraging her to continue.
"There's rumors that part of the staff might be going to America in search of a child that Prince Philippe had while he was in college. We were wondering who would be allowed to go. I would love to go to America with you," Gretchen brazened, aware of the smirks around her.
Joseph chuckled and looked around the table, "Can't say as I've heard for sure that we're going yet. Any other news?"
"Only that the palace ghost is misbehaving again," Mabel, the young housekeeper was assigned to cleaning the first floor, including dusting an old unused bedroom, said to be haunted as signs of the bed was used again and some items relocated since her last dusting. Her job was to dust all downstairs bedrooms once a week and every week for the past three weeks someone had been in that room. She had reported it to security and they checked the monitors and reported back that no one had been anywhere near that room. "Someone must have been murdered in that room and their ghost is still waiting for revenge."
"Want me to request the queen to look into it?" Joseph smiled amidst a fresh round of giggles.
The women started to relax more as they realized he wasn't all that bad. Darlene, the accountant had worked in accounting for ten years now. She shared many of these lunches with Joseph over the years, had seen many women get their hopes up that he would do more than a few polite gestures. She herself had many fantasies that Joseph would come into accounting and ask her out. She remembered a few years back when a beautiful assistant to the queen turned her sights on Joe. She pursued him openly, making it clear he was going to be hers and none of the other women had better interfere. Every year some half drunk maid would pull him under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. He would laugh, smooch a cheek or hand and get as far away from that little green twig as possible. That year he was making his rounds through the employee party, escorting the queen, when the queen's assistant grabbed him and flung herself into his arms under the mistletoe, and planted one on his lips. The men started hooting and cat calling, and the women were shocked, not one of them had ever dared to do more than offer and let him decide what to do. He had quickly disengaged himself, pulling her arms roughly from around his neck and stepped back. The queen didn't look at all pleased at being interrupted from her rounds. Joseph wiped his mouth and apologized to the queen, and they continued. When they reached the table where the doctor was sitting, Joseph leaned over and spoke in his ear. Darlene remembered hearing later through the grapevine that the doctor performed every test for disease he could think of on the queen's assistant, then she was released from duties at the palace and sent back to the attaché corps. Darlene thought, when Joseph left the table, she would fill the newer members in on that story and how Joseph politely sent out word after that that he was out of bounds to the employees. He claimed it was in his contract, but the older servants knew, his eyes followed only one person.
Clarise, Joseph and Charlotte had been going over every detail of the accident for two hours, looking at police video and reports. The secret service turned over the file they had on the prince, including possible enemies. Joseph was an honorary member of the Genovian Secret Service and as such had access to their records and resources if he needed them, to keep the crown safe.
"Clarise, this investigation is going to take months, and it's not going to change the outcome of Genovian rulers. You only have a little over two months to go to California and convince this girl to rule a country," Joseph was worried, not only for Clarise, but Genovia as well. He was the only employee allowed to address her by her first name, not even Charlotte had that privilege yet. If Genovia changed hands, he would of course, stay with Clarise.
Charlotte had wanted to serve the queen as an assistant since she was a teenager. She could think of no better career than traveling and helping her queen run a country. Her friends laughed at her, but she stayed on track through University, attaining a master's degree in diplomatic relations, and landed a job with the attaché corp., the only place the palace hired certain personal from. It was at the corp. that one learned the duties performed at the palace and how to please the royal family. She excelled and after a couple years her resume caught the eye of Joseph as he was searching for yet another assistant to the queen. They didn't train these people like they used to and he hoped this one would work out.
She'd never forget, her boss stopping at her desk shortly before five, and informing her to dress sharp the next day. He had gotten a call from the palace; she was being summoned by the head of security for an interview. She called her mother as soon as she got home, then, spent a sleepless night going over the thousand details that pertained to this particular position. It was a very high position and the queen had fired more than one incompetent aid for missing something important. She had interned last summer, but there was never the guarantee of a permanent position. In the intern position, she had little contact with the queen or head of security. The queen she saw only twice and it was rumored that she was running the country for her ailing husband. Joseph or Joe as most called him always wore black and you never wanted him looking in your direction. Charlotte spent four months interning and never once crossed his path. She remembered the first day she interned, Darlene from accounting stated, "Joe's off limits, so get any romantic thoughts of him out of your head."
"You mean the head of security? I've never met him. I've seen him from a distance since I was a kid. He's got to be older than my father, why would I be interested in him, I'm only twenty seven." Charlotte couldn't believe someone would think they had to warn her off that old guy. Then Charlotte noticed the entire office staff, very quiet, looking at her.
Darlene spoke, "She's never met Joe before." This got reactions.
"She's in for a treat, I swear I had hot flashes when he took my hand to shake it"
"My bubble was so burst when I saw he had eyes only for the queen."
"I just love it when he comes in seeking information on what's really going on around here. He's so cute when he smiles."
Charlotte inquired Darlene, "Is this the reaction from all the women in the palace?"
"From the queen down to us lowly servants."
A security officer wearing sunglasses was escorting Charlotte to Joseph's office. She thought that odd, but was too nervous to comment. Within minutes the glassed man was knocking on a door.
"Enter." The guard escorted her in. "That'll be all Shades, thank you," the man Charlotte feared waived the younger man away. He was sitting behind his desk and motioned her to take a seat opposite him, "Please, sit."
"Thank you." Charlotte started trembling as four months of stories came rushing back to her.
He sat back in his chair and looked at her, frowning, "You're shaking."
"I…I'm not sure why I'm being interviewed by you. I know who you are, but why am I here?"
Joseph ran a hand across his mustache and goatee, "You come to us highly recommended, a masters from the Genovian University, work experience with diverse leaders since you were twenty. Your father is a carpenter, your mother a housewife. You have two brothers and one sister and three nephews. Charlotte," he said in his soft, sexy voice with a slight foreign accent, "There's not much I don't know about you. You are being interviewed for a position almost as powerful as my own, and as you have seen from past assistants, expectations are high, incompetence is not accepted. Anyone who has access to the queen is under my scrutiny, always."
Charlotte stopped shaking. He wasn't so bad; he had a job to do, just like the position she wanted, "Mr?"
"Joseph or Joe."
"Joe, I've dreamt about working with Queen Clarise since I was a girl. I thought she was so beautiful and glamorous, and she was smart. I would like a chance to work for her, or the king if I'm assigned to him."
"No. The kings duties are over, he's ailing."
"So that's why he hasn't made any appearances lately."
Joseph nodded.
They talked for the better part of an hour and finally Joseph stated he was convinced she should be given a try.
Charlotte smiled, "You're not like what the other women said you were."
Joseph smiled, "And how's that?"
Charlotte faltered, "I better not say."
"Please do."
"Well, the other ladies seem attracted to you, and seem the think all women want to ravish you on site." Charlotte was sure she was going to be thrown out of his office.
"And you don't?"
"No. Not that you're not good looking, but you're not my type."
Joseph got up, rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to her, "You don't want to make a pass at me?"
A weak, "No."
Joseph started to smile, "If I were to make a pass at you, what would you do, hmmm,"
"Hit you with something and run. Look, Joe, I am beginning to like you, but don't like where this conversation is going." Charlotte was thinking about shaking again.
"Charlotte, look at me. There's nothing special about me, but women throw themselves at me. It's not me. It's the position. You really don't want to make a pass at me?"
Charlotte gave a small laugh, "Am I disappointing you?"
"No. The last person who didn't show interest in me was the queen's assistant, Margerie, and she was in her seventies. She did try to hit me a time or two, though." Joseph laughed at the memory and rose, offering his arm to Charlotte, "Have you met the queen?"
At Charlotte's shake of the head, "Let's go meet the boss."
They entered the queen's office and Joseph stated, "This is your new assistant, Charlotte. She doesn't want to know the color of my underwear."
"I beg your pardon."
Charlotte turned crimson.
Charlotte was brought back to the present with the startling words, "It's settled, we're going to America."
Joseph nodded, "The ghost was getting tired, let's give him a break."
Charlotte watched the exchange in silence, Joseph's quip remark, and the queen's glare. In the eighteen months she worked for the queen, Charlotte knew these two were in love and made for each other. She had never seen true romance until these two. Joseph had a poet's heart and knew how to romance a woman. Once Charlotte recognized his pattern, she could follow their silent communication, touches, words, looks, all became apparent to her. She wondered how long they played this game. It must have been decades; they were perfectly choreographed in plain site of the world, yet hidden to the modern version of love.
The end until next time