Royally Wed: The Cock-Up by Pamela DuMond

Author:Pamela DuMond [DuMond, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pamela DuMond Media

An hour and a half had passed since we toasted to our maiden voyage on the Good Ship Fredonia. We wound our way around yet another church on our processional toward Messina’s harbor. Thick, gray clouds filled the sky, the winds picked up, and I shivered. I pulled the blue Pashmina tighter around my shoulders. “What kind of information do you think Knottingwood is looking for?”

“Inside information. I’ll know it when I see it,” Esmeralda said. “Which is why it’s crucial that while you’re waving to the fans and we’re throwing goat cheese samples wrapped in decorative foil in Fredonia’s colors, that we keep our eagle eyes peeled for him, or anybody you might suspect is his connection.”

Joan placed a hand over her eyes and peered out at the crowd. “I don’t see him.”

“Neither do I,” Zola said. “But I hope if I do, he’s wearing that medallion. I’m itching to get a closer look at it.”

“Nine o’clock,” I said. “The tall, skinny woman wearing the black and white uniform and the black headgear. She looks surprisingly like Knottingwood. Similar beak nose. Same lazy eye. I bet it’s him disguised as a woman.”

All eyes turned.

“There are twelve women dressed like that in a huddle,” Joan said. “Which one?”

“They’re Carmelite nuns,” Mr. Philips said.

“He could totally be disguised as a Carmelite nun,” I said.

“Not Knottingwood,” Esmeralda said.

“Does anyone have an energy drink?” I asked. “I think my blood sugar’s off.”

“Take a chocolate.” Zola slipped me a foil-covered candy.

“What’s that smell?” Joan pinched her nose.

“The camel pooped,” Mr. Philips said.

“Dear God what have they been feeding it?” Joan asked.

“Definitely not the frankincense and myrrh decorative soaps,” I said. “Hey, wait a minute. Grace Kelly. She’s standing next to the pizza cart staring at the Greece Has It All float.”

“Where’s the pizza cart?” Lola asked.

“Next to the acrobats doing flips and cartwheels.”

“The ones wearing gold lame?” Esmeralda asked.

“Of course the ones wearing gold lame. The Three Kings festival is all about the gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

“When did Cristoph get into town?” Zola asked, her hand flying to her chest. “He’s on the Greece Has It All float. In the background, behind the sign and the papier mache thing that looks like the Parthenon. But he’s there.”

“Get out!” I said.

“He flew in late this morning,” Esmeralda said. “He wanted to be here for L.S.A.’s inaugural mission.”

“He probably traveled here to see Lucy, the old ball and chain,” Mr. Philips said.

Zola looked away and sighed.

“That’s not funny, Mr. Philips,” I said, “Cristoph and I are not involved in that way, Zola. It’s just been a big cock-up.”

“It’s okay,” Zola said. “Everything was new. It’s not like…”

“You have my blessing,” I said. “I want you to know that. Go get him. I’m sure he’s already interested. Just make him work for you.”

“You should know he’s a notorious womanizer,” Joan said.

“Who isn’t a notorious womanizer around these parts?” Esmeralda asked.

“I’m not,” Mr. Philips said.

“Can we stop and go to the bathroom?” I asked.

“Me too,” Joan said.

“Ditto,” Zola said.

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