“Come, both of you. Show me theKing Titus.” Mum turned for the Grand Stairs and the Queen’s Library.
Daffy clasped her hand to his, lowering her voice to an insistent whisper. “What are we going to do?” Then, “Ma’am—begging your pardon, but I’ll stay here to remove the dress, as you requested.”
“Agree. Mum, I can show you the chair.” If at all possible, he wanted to leave Daffy out of the mess with the chair. At least to the queen. He motioned to her.I’ve got this.
“You can do that directly after. Daffy, you represent the Royal Trust, do you not? Now where is theKing Titus?”
* * *
Daffy
A job sorting rubbish at a recycling center wouldn’t besobad, would it? After all, she appreciatedoldthings. Although old, used,grossthings would present a challenge.
Still, a job was a job.
To her surprise and relief, the queen asked no questions as Gus led her down to the garage and helped her into the cart’s passenger seat.
“This ought to be interesting,” she said as the prince steered out of the garage.
Jostling along in the folding rear seat of the cart, she plotted how she could “bounce off” at the next rut—Gus, hit them all—and pretend to be hurt while urging them, “Leave me to die. Go on without me.”
But the path to the workshop became smooth as the old white clapboard structure came into view.
When he pulled up to the workshop’s open door, Daffy leaned to see if the carpenter was inside. If there was a God, Emmanuel would appear to help smooth the waters. And bonus, explain about the blue dress. Finally, a silver lining on this thunderous day of wild emotions.
The queen stepped out with a pressed, firm expression, her blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Gus, once again, explain to me why we’ve taken a joyride in this dreary, cold, wet rain?”
“Mum, funny story,” he said, taking the queen’s hand as she maneuvered around a small puddle.
Daffy stepped up behind him and raised to whisper in his ear. “If I get sacked, you better get me a job with your friend in Florida. At that pub on the beach.”
“You won’t get sacked.” He spoke low, out of the side of his mouth. “Besides, what happened to corporate curating?”
“This. Right here. What’s about to go down will end my career.”
“What are you two going on about?” The queen ducked into the workshop, her shoulders shivering, shaking raindrops from her coat.
Gus joined her with a backward glance at the door’s dangling lock. Daffy trailed in with slow steps.
“I’m not sure how to begin.” He seemed to search his memory. “You see, Daffy was in the library and—”
“Don’t start with me.” Sorry, but she’d not be the anchor to this tale of disaster. By her expression, the queen was already blaming her. But this time she was not a gullible, assuming ten-year-old. “I was merely checking to see where Cranston had placed the chair.”
“Right.” Gus wagged his finger at her. “Daffy was doing her job but I, however, was just back from the pub. Drunk.”
“Go on.” The queen’s gaze fired a thousand cannons. Daffy moved next to Gus and patted his back. Might as well face the firing squad together. After all, they were in love.
“I might have had a few pints. Ernst was very chatty that night—”
“Ernst?” The queen huffed. “The expert on the Dalholm shorthand speech chatty? He could’ve told you his life story in ten minutes.”
“I had more pints than I realized. Anyway, as I headed to my apartment, I saw the light on in the library. I went in. Long story short, I sat in the chair—”
The queen gasped. “You broke theTitus?” Sharp cookie, the queen, seeing the picture before it was completed. But then again, this was a paint-by-numbers sort of tale.
“It was an accident. I heard a crack, so I moved the chair about, thinking I could locate the weakness.”
