“You do realize that you run the risk of insulting literally every national leader and royal in the world with this policy?”
He has a point. Hmm.
Vincent takes my silence as an opportunity to go on. “If I may make a suggestion, perhaps you and Ollie could have a talk about how to keep the baby safe. I assume this is about the baby.”
“Good thinking. I’ll be sure to do that. It’s never too early to start planning, is it?”
Vincent nods, even though I can tell by his expression that he thinks it can most definitely be too early to plan ways to insult the world’s most powerful people.
“Of course, sir. Although it may prove more effective to keep a good security team surrounding the child than try to run checks on every person he or she will meet.”
“You may have a point. I’ll check with Ollie.”
“Very good, Prince Arthur. Will that be all?”
“Yes, thank you. Can you send Ollie in and send for some coffee? I had a horrible sleep again last night.”
“Of course.” Vincent stands. “May I suggest a nice, calming Chamomile tea instead?”
“I’m nothing if not calm, Vinnie,” I say with a little wink.
What the hell was that? I’m winking now? Is this the beginning of cheesy dad jokes?
Oh, Christ. Is the dad bod next? When was the last time I worked out? “On second thought, tell Ollie I’ll meet him in the gym so we can get in our workout at the same time.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
***
I'M JUST SHUTTING DOWNmy laptop for the evening when there's a knock at my office door. Gran walks in, dressed in a sequined evening gown and heavily applied makeup. For a woman her age, she manages to move with a grace and dexterity one would attribute to a much younger woman. Since her heart attack, she’s made great strides in watching her health, cutting back on both salt and booze, which has had a twofold effect. First, she's a little surlier than I've ever known her to be. Second, she's lost about fifteen pounds, which is a considerable amount for someone who's barely five feet tall.
"Arthur, I'm glad I caught you before I head out."
I stand and walk over to her to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Where are you off to, looking so lovely?"
She waves off my compliment with the roll of her eyes. "I've agreed to go with Arabella to a benefit for homeless rats or some such. I don't know."
"Cats. I'm pretty sure it's a benefit for cats," I say, smiling at her.
"Rats, cats, same thing if you ask me. Give me a good hunting dog any day. Anyway, it's come to my attention there is a great deal of hullabaloo brewing over your new ridiculous security protocols."
Oh crap. I was hoping to avoid this conversation. “I’m merely trying to update our rather antiquated system. It’s long overdue, really.”
“Yes, but I’ve heard you’re wanting to have geese stationed around the perimeter of the palace grounds.”
“An excellent solution. Unlike dogs and people, geese cannot be bribed.”
“They also can’t be house-trained. The entire place will be covered in goose shit.”
Walking over to my desk, I pick up my mobile and tuck it in my pocket. “Where there’s a problem, there’s always a solution. We’ll find some way to deal with the poop.”
“I hate geese, and I don’t want them roaming about everywhere. You can get them after I’m dead.”
She does this since her surgery—goes with the death threats when she thinks she’s not getting her way...well, not actual death threats, really, but reminders of the fact that she’s very old and has a bad heart.
She looks up at the ceiling for a second. “In fact, scratch that. I don’t want some horribly loud bird shitting all over my grave. No geese ever,” she says, glaring at me. “And enough with these ridiculous pedo checks on our guests. It’s highly insulting, and when your father hears about it, he’s going to be quite cross with you.”
“Any new system has its naysayers; this one’s no different. But in the end, it will tighten up security, which is good for everyone.”
