Once Upon A Tiara: Once Upon A Tiara / Henry Ever After. Carrie Alexander

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ glance over her shoulder. At the hot dogs, alas, and not him.

      Simon shrugged. There must be hot dogs in Grunberg. The country was a stone’s throw from Germany, home of the bratwurst. In the days of the World Wide Web and supersonic air travel, even a sheltered, pampered princess couldn’t be that naive. Going by the diamonds in her elfin ears, the pale pink designer suit wrapped around her luscious curves and, particularly, her easy charm—well-schooled, perhaps—she had to be more sophisticated than her bubbly personality would have him believe.

      It’s because she’s only twenty-two, practically a child, he thought, with all the wisdom and maturity of his twenty-nine years. A bright, enthusiastic child. You can’t have a crush on a child.

      Even one packaged in a hoochie-mama body.

      “IT LOOKS LIKE a picture postcard,” Lili said as they drove past the rolling green-and-gold fields, quilted by white fences and mounds of trees that grew medievally thick. She was enjoying herself again, after being momentarily distracted by disappointment when only the mayor and a bald, beady-eyed man named Spotsky had accompanied her, Grundy and Rodger in the limousine from the airport. The oddball museum guy with the flashy tie and the quiet chuckle had been left at the curb along with the rest of the greeters.

      She’d been subjected to Nell’s running discourse on the history of the town ever since. If the oddball had come along, he would have smirked, devilishly. His eyes would have twinkled and one brow would have arched high on his even higher forehead, and Lili might have gotten the little hitch in her throat again. He wasn’t knock-your-socks-off handsome, not in that awful tie and the terribly wrinkled suit, but there were his intelligent eyes to consider, and the cowlick that distracted from his receding hairline, and the adorable way the two sides of his face didn’t quite match up…

      Simon Tremayne, she thought. Not a solid All-American name like Chip or Hank or Dave, but it suited him. She liked him instinctively, even if he wasn’t what she’d expected. Or hoped for.

      Lili tuned in to the mayor, who was saying, “My esteemed grandfather, Horace P. Applewhite, founded the Society of Concerned Citizens, putting into action the preservation of the…”

      She tuned her out again, careful to maintain a wide-eyed look of interest. It was a talent she’d developed when stuffy state dinners became de rigeur, quickly followed by de trop. Mrs. Grundy would fill her in on the highlights later. If there were any.

      Lili let her gaze stray to the window. Despite her longing to emulate her sisters and quit trying to conform to her father’s expectations, it seemed to her that she was always looking at the world out of windows, from a distance. Was it so wrong of her to want to experience her life instead of only observing it in a dull and stately manner? She wasn’t blunt like Annie, nor gutsy like Natalia. All she wanted was a bit of fun now and then.

      The limo was entering the town. Lili was delighted by what she saw, even if it was through a pane of glass. Blue Cloud appeared to be the quintessential small American town. There was a spare white church with a steeple on one corner, a stone post office with an American flag on the other. The car passed through a bustling downtown—with parking meters!—populated by gift shops and tourists, who pointed and took photos of the limo. She glimpsed something called a Freezee Treat, a redoubtable bank with pillars and stone lions and an old-fashioned brick schoolhouse—with a crossing guard!—and then they were cruising through tree-lined streets of quaint bungalows and wood-frame houses as upright as Puritans.

      Lili pressed the toggle to roll down the window. “Prin-cess,” cautioned Mrs. Grundy, but Lili went ahead anyway and thrust her face into the wind, not caring a whit that she would probably be mistaken for a Pomeranian with its head hanging out the car window. Her hair fluttered against her cheeks and forehead, just like the little flags at the front of the car. Wonderful!

      Bright sun, the rush of wind, the smell of blacktop and hot brick and—

      Rodger tugged her back inside. The occupants of the car stared at her, smiles wavering. Nell had actually stopped talking. So it hadn’t been the wind in Lili’s ears drowning her out. Good, she thought. Good. I don’t want to be a jewel, refined and polished to perfection. There was nothing more boring than perfection.

      An immense sea of cars shining in the sun caught Lili’s eye. “Oh,” she cried, “I want to shop there.” The limo had passed through town and was cruising along a busy boulevard. Cars surrounded a building that looked like a cement bunker. A plasticky sign in primary colors—so American—read: Salemart.

      “But that’s the Salemart,” the mayor said, aghast. “It’s cheap and tacky.”

      Lili beamed. “Perfect.” She wanted a pair of flip-flops, a T-shirt with a silly slogan and one of those fluorescent-colored beverage concoctions that was so giant, it looked as if you’d stuck your straw in a bucket.

      The limo was slowing to turn into a glade of green so emerald it made Lili squint and miss what the discreet signpost read. A mass of trees shimmered against the blue and white of the sky. The razor-edged curve of lawn was as plush as carpeting. She would dance on it in her bare feet, given the chance….

      Suddenly there were people everywhere, scattered across the tarmac road, parting to make way for the limo, then moving in to surround them as they cruised to a stop. A red-and-white striped tent was set up on the lawn, against the backdrop of shade trees. There was also the museum building, but Lili didn’t have time to look at it. She was smoothing and rebuttoning, preparing herself for display.

      Showtime.

      “This is it! The Princess Adelaide and Horace P. Applewhite Memorial Museum,” the mayor announced proudly, before Rodger extended an arm and pulled her out of the car, along with the town’s car repair-shop owner, Rockford Spotsky, who hadn’t said a word the entire trip, only stared bug-eyed at Lili until she’d wanted to hand him a magnifying glass.

      Mrs. Grundy pulled a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of her woolen traveling suit and dabbed at a spot on Lili’s cheek. “Now, remember, my girl. You are representing not only the royal family, but your country, as well.”

      Suddenly Lili was nervous. “Are there reporters? Cameras?” What if she tripped or stammered or peed in her fancy silk drawers the way she had when she was six and invited to take part in the Assumption Day pageant?

      “There are always cameras.”

      Not always, thought Lili. She’d escaped on occasion, sometimes tagging along after Annie and Natalia and sometimes completely on her own. Brief, memorable occasions.

      With a murmur of reassurance, Mrs. Grundy left the car.

      Lili looked out her window. So many smiling faces, soon to be focused exclusively on her. You’d think she’d be accustomed to the attention, but it seemed there was benefit in being the youngest of three sisters after all. Or demurring to the powerful presence of her father.

      You wanted this, Princess, she said silently.

      Rodger opened her door.

      No, I wanted peanut butter.

      Mayor Cornelia Applewhite stood nearby, ready and waiting. “Ladies and gentleman, I present to you…”

      The polite applause began as soon as Lili emerged from the limo. “…Her Serene Highness, Princess Liliane of Grunberg.”

      Lili stood. Shutters clicked. Flashbulbs popped. The applause СКАЧАТЬ