Andrew: Holy shit. You’re in love with her. This isn’t just a sex thing.
Jeffrey: It’s not a sex thing at all. Not that I would tell you if it were, but it isn’t.
Andrew: But it’s a love thing? What the hell is going on up there in the mountains, Jeffrey? You’re not the type of person who falls in love at first sight.
Jeffrey: Maybe I’m not the person you think I am. Maybe you don’t know me any better than you know Elizabeth. For your information, I knew Sabrina wasn’t Elizabeth that first night at dinner. I hadn’t seen Lizzy since the anniversary party when we were kids, and I still knew.
Andrew: You think I’m an idiot, too, then?
Jeffrey: I didn’t say that.
Andrew: Yes, you did. And maybe you’re right. I’m not just sunning myself on the beach down here. I’m doing a lot of hard thinking. Maybe the kingdom would be better off in someone else’s hands. If I decide to step down, I assume you’re ready to take my place?
Jeffrey: Don’t be ridiculous.
Andrew: I’m not. I’m serious. I don’t want to be an embarrassment to my people, but I can’t imagine a life without Sabrina. I won’t. If ending things with her is the only way to regain the respect of the nation—well, that’s not an option.
Jeffrey: You haven’t lost the nation’s respect. Our people love you. This is just an unexpected turn of events, and unexpected things frighten people. Once they see that you’re still the same person, still committed to putting their needs first, this will all blow over.
Andrew: Maybe you’re right.
Jeffrey: I am. And I don’t want the throne. I don’t have the patience for politics.
Andrew: You are a grouchy bastard sometimes. What’s Elizabeth think about that? No offense, but imagining the two of you together…
Jeffrey: Go ahead. Say it.
Andrew: You’re like Jabba the Hut and Princess Leia. Except it’s your personality that’s big, not your physical body. But still, I imagine Elizabeth getting crushed by your size. Lost in your fat folds.
Jeffrey: Thanks.
Andrew: I don’t’ mean that in a bad way! There’s nothing wrong with being Jabba the Hut—as long as you don’t kill people, obviously—or a dainty, human princess. They just don’t fit very well together.
Jeffrey: Elizabeth is one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. You’ll see that if you get the chance to know her.
Andrew: Why wouldn’t I get the chance to know her?
Jeffrey: Can you get the genealogy data this weekend or not? I’m headed to the mountains on Monday, into a region where cell service is likely to be spotty, so I’d appreciate access as soon as possible. If you reach Jarod, you have my email address.
Andrew: I do, and I’ll call him as soon as we’re done, but we’re not done yet. What’s really going on up there, Jeffrey? Why the sudden interest in the Rochat family tree? Is there something wrong with Elizabeth? Is she sick? Is that why she isn’t responding to Sabrina? Because she’s trying to shield her in some way?
Jeffrey: No, it’s nothing like that. I can’t tell you what’s happening. I don’t fully understand it yet myself. But it’s serious, and I intend to stay with Lizzy until we’ve sorted it out. Hopefully it won’t take long, but if I’m out of pocket for a few days, don’t worry. Like I said, we might not have cell service starting Monday.
Andrew: All right. You’ll both be in my thoughts. Sabrina’s, too. Elizabeth’s lucky to have you on her side. I know we don’t always see eye to eye on everything, Jeffrey, but I respect you and I trust you. Love you, too. I hope you know that.
Jeffrey: I do. Thanks. Same here. And Andrew?
Andrew: Yes?
Jeffrey: I’m happy for you and Sabrina. I hope it lasts for a long time.
Andrew: Me, too, brother. Me, too.
20
Elizabeth
Sometimes I lie.
I guess we all do, sometimes.
It’s part of being human. No matter how much value you personally place on the truth, there’s something out there—a situation, a person, some combination of the two, that will turn you into a liar.
I’ll swear to anyone brave enough to ask that I never wear the lingerie I design, but there are times when I need to see how a piece holds up to the weight of actual flesh pressing against the fabric, instead of the plastic lumps on my dress form. Back when Sabrina lived at home, I could convince her to slip into a corset or teddy and let me poke her with pins while I made adjustments, but with the more scandalous stuff, I’ve always tried it on myself.
I’m the size of the models who wear my pieces for the company’s private runway show. What looks sexy, but elegant, on a skinny woman with small breasts can turn scandalous on a more well-endowed woman like my sister.