Worse
Flicka von Hannover
Out of the frying pan . . .
Flicka paced in the suite-slash-prison cell for twenty minutes under the watchful eyes of the Russian guards. Alina trotted beside her, her little feet patting on the thick rug underfoot, thinking this was a cool game.
Raphael was asking his parents to borrow the plane to fly to Gibraltar so they could be marriedthat afternoon.
It felt like they were silly teenagers asking to use the car for a date.
Not that Flicka had ever done that, but she’d heard about it.
She paced.
The door slammed open, and Raphael strode into the room. “Bad news.”
“They won’t let us go?” Flicka asked, trying to figure out what to do now. Commercial flights? But the Russian guards would not let them leave the house.
“Worse,”Raphael said, scowling.
His mother, Sophie, bustled in behind him, wearing a long, quilted housecoat of pale camel satin. As always, her dark rose lipstick was applied to her plumped lips, and gold earrings swung from her ears as she trotted in. “I’ve already called everyone I can think of to get you a proper dress, but no one is picking up because it’s so early. Do you know of anyone in Genevawho could outfit you and Alina?”
“I have contacts in most of the designers’ houses,” Flicka said. “I think all of them have stores here, but I can’t call them. I don’t have a phone.”
“Can you get their numbers?”
“Yes, if I had a phone.”
Sophie tossed her cell phone to Flicka. “I need to dress. Make the arrangements. We need proper dresses for yourself and Alina. I already have my attire. Whenyou arrived, I made sure that I would be ready for a surprise wedding,” she glowered at Raphael, “because Raphael shirks on wedding invitations. I’ll send Kyllikki in to help with Alina. The plane leaves for Gibraltar at noon.”
She stormed out of the room, her satin housecoat flying behind her like a cape.
Raphael sighed. “As I said, the very worst of news. My mother has taken over the wedding.”
Flicka stared at the cell phone in her hand.“Raphael.”
“Yes, I know.” He held up a matching phone. “Some things are more important than keeping us hostage, and evidently, fashion is one of them. I have suit fittings in an hour with my father’s tailor.”
Flicka dialed the phone with her thumbs, calling her contact at Elie Saab Couture. She always wore Elie Saab at weddings, even her own. “I cancall Armani if you like.”
“That’s who you got to do Wulfram’s, right?”
“Yes, Wulfie always wears Armani, and that’s who did all the groomsmen for him, including you. They’re good for you tall, athletic types. Or Dior Hommes is good, too. They’re very up-and-coming. Those suits you’ve been wearing are so conservative, suitable only for middlebrow bankers and politicians.” She made a face.
Raphaelsaid, “If one of them can set up something, that would be great. It’s okay if you can’t, though. My father’s tailor does a good job.”
In her hand, the phone clicked through and began ringing. Flicka held it up to her ear but kept talking to Raphael. “Darling, think about who you’re talking to, here. Of course, they’ll take you.”
A woman answered the phone, speaking French into Flicka’s ear.“Bonjour, Your Highness. How can I help you?”
Flicka turned away from Raphael and looked out of the tall windows over Lake Geneva. “Maja, you’re not going to believe this, but I am in Geneva, and I need a wedding dress for myself and a flower girl dress for a two-year-old for a casual afternoon affair,thisafternoon.”
Maja’s voice held notes of confusion and hysteria. “But you were just marriedlast summer.”
“Yes, there have been some developments about that. I promise I’ll fill you in as soon as I can, but I need someone to meet me at the boutique in Geneva on theQuai de General Guisanin an hour or less to view and fit them. I need to be out of the boutique in less than two hours with the dresses. This is an emergency, and I appreciate your help.”
Maja’s soprano lilt was all business.“I’ll have someone there to open the shop for browsing in half an hour. Consultants and dress makers will arrive soon after that. You have my word. Luckily, we just had a couture show at the Four Seasons Geneva a few weeks ago, including bridal, and the dresses are still at the boutique. You should have a nice selection to pick from. Do please call with questions, or video-chat for anotheropinion. I wish I could be there to help you with this one, too.”
Half an hour later, Flicka and all the Mirabauds were in cars, whisking them to the center of Geneva. Sophie, Flicka, and Alina were deposited at the Elie Saab boutique along with four of the ubiquitous prison guards, while the car carrying the men drove on to the Armani shop a short distance away.
Flicka hurried through the cold,clear winter morning into the building, carrying Alina on her hip for speed. The toddler hung onto her neck and giggled in her ear as they trotted into the glass-fronted building.
Shop attendants and managers descended on them. Sophie wore an expression of smug approval at Flicka’s management of the situation. Coffee, champagne, and cookies were already on the tables, waiting for them.
Two hourslater, they were back in the cars with overstuffed garment bags taking up half of the rear seat. Alina was overstimulated from trying on the pretty dresses and sneaking yet more cookies when Flicka or Sophie weren’t watching. She kept repeating, “Flower girl! Flower girl!” in three different languages while flipping around within the car seat.
Though Flicka had been vigilant the whole morning,watching for an opening, the Russian guards had never turned their gaze away from her and Alina.
