“That’s not how I see it,” Wilson said. “If he’d left her alone, she’d be alive right now.”
“You can’t know that.”
He raised his cups to his lip with trembling hands, and Marisol saw there was something not right about him.
“What wrong with you?” she said.
He barked a short laugh that was full of bitterness. “I’m sick.”
Marisol’s heart sunk to her stomach.
“I’m sorry to hear.”
“No, not that kind of sick. It’s the kind of sick that can be fixed with money. How about it, Princess? Can you spot your uncle some money?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have any money.”
“Goddamn selfish bitch,” he spat, rising from the booth. “You were always coldhearted, Alonda, even when you were in New York. Couldn’t be bothered to spot your family money even when you were making it big on Broadway. It’s your fault our parents are dead. You wouldn’t give me the money to make it right for them. Addicts. That what you called them. Said you wouldn’t feed their addiction even when they needed to get well. And they died. So, go back to the big time, Alonda. You couldn’t be bothered with your family then, so don’t bother with us now.”
Marisol stared at him, beyond shocked as the man swayed when he pushed away from the booth.
“Don’t bother me again,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
Marisol stared after him in total dismay. Plan A was a total disaster.
CHAPTER NINE
Aftermath
Marisol sat in the booth with her head buried in her arms, trying to make sense of what happened. She had no strength left in her body. The dream of meeting with her New York family was now shattered. The one person with a tie to her mother hated her, though she doubted he made very much sense of his world. It frightened Marisol how easy it was for him to confuse her with her mother.
She had no hope of refuge with her uncle, and she couldn’t stay with Ryan anymore. Her choices were narrowing from slim to none rapidly. And to top it all off, the police were looking for her. If she was recognized, she’d be returned to her father.
“Miss,” said a voice.
Marisol raised her head to see the barista standing over her.
“Sorry. It’s the rules. If you don’t buy something, you can’t stay.”
“Of course. I’ll go.”
With a heavy heart, she stood and left the coffeehouse. Jerry stood against the Town Car waiting for her.
“Where to now?” asked Jerry looking at her with concern.
“Take me back to the apartment,” she said with a heavy heart. On the ride to Ryan’s apartment she went over again the sum and substance of her life. She had nothing on her own, nothing that didn’t come with being Princess of Dalayasia. Her father asked her to do one thing to secure the future of her country, but she couldn’t do it. Wilson was right. She was selfish. At that moment she changed her mind.
“Take me to the Grand Wedgewood Hotel.”
“Okay, Miss Marisol,” said Jerry though there was doubt in his voice.
“It is better this way,” she thought. “Better I should do what I was born to do than to be a burden on other people.”
***
A mob of people waited at the hotel. Reporters lined the sidewalks, and police stood guard at the entrance.
“This is because of that runaway princess,” said Jerry derisively.
“Runaway Princess?” asked Marisol.
“Yeah, the princess of Dalay-what-ever-it-is. She took off and didn’t tell people anything.”
“That was selfish of her,” said Marisol.
Jerry shrugged. “Who knows why she did it? She might have had a good reason.”
“To worry that many people, I don’t think so.” Marisol opened the door as they were still in the street because of a clog in traffic.
“I’ll wait for you,” said Jerry.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. It’s my job.”
“Bye, Jerry,” she said. “It was nice to meet you.” Without a backward glance, she pushed past the people on the sidewalk to the entrance of the hotel. Here, she was stopped by a police officer. The beefy cop easily stood a head taller to her, and he held out his hand to barring entrance to the hotel.
“This is a crime scene, Miss. You can’t enter.”
“But I’m Marisol, the Princess of Dalyasia.”
The cop laughed. “And I’m King Vattakov. Move along, princess. No one is getting in this hotel without authorization.”
“Look!” she said indignantly. “Check it out. I am Princess Marisol. Call my father. He’ll identify me.”
“And I said move along,” said the cop roughly. “Or I’ll be forced to put you in jail with the rest of the Princess Marisols that showed up here today.”
Marisol stood there stunned. Never for a minute did anyone doubt who she was.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Jerry’s concerned face.
“Let’s go,” he said. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“But—” protested Marisol.
He shook his head. “You don’t want to get in bad with these cops. If they arrest you, it might be days before anyone can find you to get you out. Come on. I’ll take you back to the apartment.”
She brooded all the way back to Ryan’s apartment, and even Danny’s cheerful face could bring her out of her funk. He gave her the key to the elevator and showed her how to use it. Marisol thanked him, but half-heartedly.
On the ride up to Ryan’s apartment, she continued worrying about the situation. She’d already done it several times, and each replay only made things worse. She had nothing on her own, nothing that didn’t come with being Princess of Dalayasia. Her father had asked her to do one thing to s
ecure the future of her country, but she couldn’t do it. Wilson was right. She was selfish.
When she’d tried to make things right, she was turned away. Add to that she couldn’t do the simple job of housekeeper, and her one remaining family member in the world didn’t want her around.
Could this day get any worse?
Marisol felt it couldn’t. What was she going to do now? Hang around in the house of a millionaire who had prior commitments? Moon over a man while he walked around near naked in a bath towel.
How did her life get so messed up?
The door to the elevator opened, and she stepped into Ryan’s apartment. As she opened the service entrance, she almost collided with an older blonde woman holding a broom.
Oh great. Ryan couldn’t trust her with the housework, so he’d brought in the cleaning service.
“Hello, you must be Marisol,” said the woman. “I’m Cheryl Kelley, Ryan’s mom.”
“Ryan’s mom?”
“Yes. My son called me this morning and said you could use some help settling in.”
“He did?”
“Yes. And, no offense, but from the looks of things, you can definitely use some help.”
At that moment the day, the morning with Ryan, searching for her uncle, and the rejection at hotel, overwhelmed her and she started crying.
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Kelley. “I didn’t mean to sound harsh.”
“You..you didn’t,” stammered Marisol. “It’s true. I’m completely useless.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. My son has a good eye for good people, and if he has you in his house, you’re one.”
“You don’t know,” said Marisol in full distress. “I’ve messed everything up.”
“Let’s have a cup of tea, and talk about it,” said Mrs. Kelley.
“There isn’t anything to talk about. I have no job skills. I can’t use a broom to save my life, and I have no idea how to use that thing.” She pointed dramatically to the washer-dryer set. “And if it weren’t for Danny the doorman, Ryan wouldn’t have had his breakfast this morning or the suit he wanted.”