“With all of our construction finished, I’m inclined to agree with you, but I can’t seem to break away.”
John inquired of the revenue—not specifics—the number of employees and the company’s charitable work. Trent answered with open ease and handed John a pamphlet of the shirts they manufactured for the homeless and men in recovery programs.
“We have a Fresh Shirt Foundation, and a Back to Work program provides training and clothing for men ready to reenter the marketplace. We’ve actually hired quite a few of our graduates to work for O’Shay’s.”
“Nothing for the ladies?” By the look of Scottie, he’d have thought she would’ve championed a women’s division long ago.
“We’ve researched a possible women’s market but it’s vibrant with companies doing a stellar job. Though we do partner with charities that help women return to the workplace. In the end, we decided to stick with what we know, our expertise, and uniqueness. But you didn’t come to talk about O’Shay’s Shirts, did you?”
“No, I suppose not.” Taking a seat opposite Trent, John noticed a large backpack in the corner. The kind he’d used the year he trekked across Europe then North America. “Is she—”
A feminine voice echoed in the hall. A door clicked. “Okay, Dad, I’m going home and—”
John stood as Scottie walked in. She was the image of Mum. Piercing blue eyes peering out from a regal, sculpted face, the embodiment of the glass-and-steel structure surrounding them.
Her brunette hair was dyed a white blonde, worn short and neat. Dressed in hiking trousers and boots, she appeared to be on her way somewhere. Or perhaps returning.
“What’s going on?” She glanced from John to her father.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Trent motioned for Scottie to join him on the sofa.
“What for?” That was intended for John, he knew. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m hungry and desperate for a long, hot bath.” She reached for the corner backpack.
“Alena can bring you something from the cafeteria, Scottie, and you can wait ten minutes to clean up.” Trent turned to John. “Scottie has been in Guatemala for six weeks.” He ordered a sandwich lunch box with fruit, chips, and milk via the smart device on the center table. Then one more time admonished Scottie to sit down.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Dad, but today is not the day.” She hoisted her gear onto her shoulders. “Sorry, Prince John, I know you’ve come a long way but I hope your purpose was for something more than meeting me.”
“Scottie, sit down.” Trent didn’t bother to disguise his exasperation.
“Why? So I can hear the queen’s excuses along with yours? Even more from her son. Yet none from her own lips. I’m not in the mood.” She turned to John. “I suppose they lied to you too.”
“We didn’t know you existed.”
“Better than being told a bald-faced lie. For thirty-four years I think my mother died but turns out she’s not only alive but a queen. A queen!”
“Scottie, I know you’re tired,” Trent said, “but please act like we raised you right.” He angled forward, arms on his legs, fingers loosely laced. “Her grandmother, my mother, Shug, and my father, Fritz, wanted to shelter her. So we told her, well, thebig lie. Plus, I think Mom secretly wanted a daughter and this was her chance to mold someone into her mini-me.”
“Don’t blame them, Dad.” With a sigh, Scottie unloaded her backpack and dropped into the nearest chair. “You could’ve told me the truth at any time.”
“I’m afraid the queen didn’t want him to, Scottie.” John wasn’t defending his mother or Scottie’s father, just interjecting the facts, the complications. “Even in nineteen eighty-five, a pregnant crown princess without a husband was scandalous.”
“She knows,” Trent said. “I’ve told her everything.”
“So everyone looked out for themselves with no regard for me.” Scottie stood and squared off in front of John. “Why are you here?” She was way more steel than glass.
“Well…” He’d prepared a speech but with her staring him down, he couldn’t recall a single word. “First, it’s nice to meet you.”
Her tense posture broke with a smile. “Yes, of course, it’s nice to meet you too. It’s weird, I guess, to have a brother.”
“Two brothers. And it’s weird for Gus and me as well. We’ve a big sister.”
“Watch her, Prince John, she’s bossy.”
“Please, call me John. Both of you.” Ah, he remembered his speech. “Scottie, on behalf of the queen and the royal House of Blue, I welcome you to the family.”
That was ghastly. Sounded like he was offering her a palace job.
“Thank you, but can I be clear? You can tell your mother and the Blues I am not a member of your family.” She stated her truth without guile or resentment. “I’m an O’Shay. Princess of a different kingdom. One that makes and sells one of the best men’s clothing lines. I’m happy my mother is alive, and it’s interesting, if not awkward, to know I have blood siblings, but let’s not try to mend fences or create some sort of happily blended family. We’re from very different worlds, John. I have no interest in yours and you certainly have no interest in mine.”
