If Maxence was art, Wulfram von Hannover was a crown, as strong as metal and as cold.
Only, because his kingdom was deposed, Wulfram von Hannover wasn’t actually going to becrowned.
Maxence’s enthronement was next month.
Just sayin’.
An older gentleman appeared from the kitchen and distributed menus, which earned him some sort of a sly comment from Wulfram in German and a giggle from Rae, though Dree didn’t get the joke. There were four items on the menu to choose from, so Dree chose the chicken, the same as Maxence.
Rae and Wulf also chose the chicken, so Dree supposed it wasn’t a wrong choice. She asked, “Do you guys have menus every night?”
And then Dree regretted that comment because she certainly didn’t want that to be taken as criticizing people who’d saved their butts just hours before. She hadn’t meant it that way. Menus for supper in ahousewas just over the top.
Wulfram chuckled. “My staff believes I do not entertain nearly enough, so when we have guests, they show off their skills. I have no idea what they’re going to do next.”
Ice sculptures.The answer to his question wasice sculptures,which held the hors d’oeuvres.
Wulfram was sitting at the head of the table with his wife sitting on his right and Maxence on his left. Dree was sitting beside Maxence, so she was the tail of the conversation.
They kept her involved, though. She barely had time to stuff bites in her mouth between questions, making sure that she wasn’t feeling neglected.
Finally, just so she could dodge a little bit of the interrogation, Dree asked Rae what she was doing, other than being a mama to a two-month-old baby, not that that wasn’t plenty.
Rae smiled. She was a beautiful woman with dark auburn hair and sweet brown eyes. The warmth she exuded more than made up for Wulfram’s cool, poised demeanor. “I’m on maternity leave from school, which means I’m sort of taking the semester off. I’m enrolled for some reading credits though. I have enough hours to graduate with my bachelor’s degree in psychology in May, but I’ve already been accepted to, and sort of pre-started, a master’s program because I like to learn things. And Wulf is so good with Victoria, so I’m writing some grant proposals.”
Dree grinned. “That sounds great. I’m a nurse practitioner. What are you studying?”
Rae immediately warmed up to Dree even more, her eyes lighting up. She leaned across her plate a little bit. “I’m doing an interdisciplinary degree in counseling and neuroscience. I’m interested in autism, somewhat in the causes, but mostly in that it seems to be a constellation of syndromes. While I’m doing my research, I want to try to identify several major types of autism, mainly based on behavioral phenotypes but not by severity.”
Dree nodded along, each headshake getting more excited than the last. “I worked in the ER for the most part. That was my specialty in nursing school. But in the ER, we see a cross-section of the world. It seemsso obviousthat theremustbe several different major types, not justeasilyslapped into verbal and nonverbal, or inattentive and fixated, or ‘Oh that’s just how it presents in girls.’”
Rae sat up straight, her fork clenched in her hand like she would raise it above her head in triumph.“Yes!Of course,right?Say, are you sure you want to marry that guy? My ultimate goal is to open all-in-one autism therapy clinics, so people can bring their kids or their adults into one place and go from a nutritionist to a behavioral therapist to something else that they might need. While they’re there, their parents can either take respite care, or they can learn how to help their kid more at home, or they can get counseling for the stress.”
Dree set down her silverware and braced her elbows on the table with her chin in her hands. “What kinds of things are you gonna do there?”
“A lot.Everything.But once I get a handle on these various major types of autism, I want to investigate different types of therapies, some of which have been dismissed by the medical community because they didn’t work inallthe subtypes, but maybe they do forcertainsubtypes. I mean, peer-reviewed research is the gold standard, and we’ll get to that. Still, nutritional interventions and supplements, off-label medications, as well as behavioral therapies like FloorTime and Son-Rise haven’t been examined enough. These kids are growing up every day, and their cognitive neuroplasticity window is getting smaller every day. While we are doing the research, I think we need to offer any intervention we can and see what works with each kid.”
Dree restrained herself from leaping across the table, scattering crystal wine glasses that were probably worth more than her best blue-ribbon Four-H sheep, and hugging Rae Stone-von Hannover. “Exactly! My nephew who lives in Tucson is nonverbal, and something like that would be a godsend. My sister works with him so much, and she takes him to the University of Arizona medical clinics, trying to findsomething, anythingthat would help him. But one of her pet peeves is that every doctor seems to have their ownparticularthing that they think works with everybody. They don’t have a decision matrix that might lead her to the right path. And even when the therapy isn’t working, they don’t want to stop. At one point, Victor was taking thirty-eight pills every day that she ground up in a smoothie for him because he can’t swallow pills. He was also doing six hours’ worth of different stretches and cross-body crawling and treadmill therapies, none of which had been evaluatedfor him.”
Rae picked up her plate and wineglass, into which she had been pouring water from a decanter while the rest of them guzzled a different wine with every new course, and walked around the table, placing her dishes in the empty spot next to Dree. “Tell me more about Victor.”
Dree explained, complained, and ended up admitting that she had been sending Mandi money for years for Victor’s therapy because it was so expensive. “We were going to go to Tucson tomorrow to see them, but we really should go home to Monaco where it’s safer. I’ll get out here when I can to see them.”
Rae said, “Wulf and I have been talking about opening a pilot center, which we’re callingA Ray of Lightbecause that was the name that I came up with when I was seventeen, and we’re thinking about doing it this summer. Do you think Mandi and Victor might want to move up to Phoenix?”
“I don’t think she has the money to move. Moving’s expensive, what with putting down a deposit on a new apartment and the boxes.”
Maxence leaned so that his lips were near Dree’s ear. “You can send your sister as much money as you think you should, forever.”
Dree turned to look at him. “I can? But it’s notmymoney. It’syourmoney.”
Maxence’s dark eyebrows drew together in confusion, and he looked like he was going to say something but then stopped, reconsidering. Then he lifted one finger and inhaled like he might say something else, but it evidently didn’t pass muster either, because he put his hands farther down like he was holding an invisible ball between them. He finally asked, “I beg your pardon?”
Rae patted Dree’s hand. “It’s a thing, this ‘infinite money.’ You’ll get used to it. The main thing you’re going to want to do isnotto make people dependent on you, but being able to help people is such a relief compared to standing by helplessly.”
Dree asked Maxence, “So, it’s okay to lend Mandi a couple of hundred dollars?”
Maxence took Dree’s hand between both of his own. “Giveyour sister the money that she needs to move up here and obtain better therapy for her child.”
