The king is also smiling. “A tea party,” he exclaims, his big voice overloud in the room. “I’m just in time.”
“I’m going to... I think I’ll excuse myself,” Mrs. Theissen says in a manner that suggests she’s flustered. But this is Mrs. Theissen, who no one has ever seen flustered, not even when the princes fell off the roof of the greenhouse, or when Gunnar got us lost in the secret passageways.
So why now? Is it the appearance of the king? Or my father?
What’s going on?
“Thank you for the kind offer of tea, Sophie,” Mrs. Theissen is saying. “I had a lovely chat.” With a smile, she’s on her feet and heading for the door.
“Don’t… I need… Lorelei.” Dad turns to me, looking torn. “Sweetheart, do you mind… I’ll stop by later….” And my father hurries after Mrs. Theissen.
Leaving me with the king.
King Magnus is not like other monarchs. Laandia is a young country compared to the kingdoms in Europe, and Magnus only the third king. His grandfather led the small group of Canadians that defended the country against the Germans during the Second World War. The Prime Minister was so grateful, he allowed Leif Erickson to pick his reward, and Leif asked for his own country.
Laandiawas born.
If I remember the story correctly, Magnus did not plan to be king. He was busy living his life as a Olympian (gold medal for shotput) and as part of the band, Kräftig, and had no desire to return to Laandia to take over when his father passed.
But thanks to some gentle persuasion from my father, Magnus did come home, and I think the country is better off for it. My father, however, became the king’s chief advisor, and that didn’t make things easy for him and my mother.
Magus is more like the world’s favourite uncle, or maybe a cousin of Santa, especially with the beard that’s more white than red these days, and the way his belly strains his sweater.
Although the belly is a bit less after his health scare and Prince Kalle—a former athlete himself—took over the king’s workout regime.
He always tops the list of most popular monarchs, and keeps up his other interests, publishing a cookbook as well as setting up a micro brewery for mead.
King Magnus is one of my favourite people, and I know I’m not alone in thinking that.
“That’s where the big beastie got to,” King Magnus exclaims, running his hands along Ed’s back. The cat immediately starts to purr.
“It’s his first time visiting me,” I tell. “It’s usually Freddy and Bono keeping me company.”
“Seems to me you’ve had lots of company.” He sits on the couch, his height and the largeness of his personality out of place in the quiet room.
It’s like he’s waiting for me to say something. Does he mean Ashton? “I guess,” I finally say.
“Hmm.” The king leans forward and looks for another cup. Since there were only two on the tray, he snags Mrs. Theissen’s half-empty teacup and drains it. “So what’s the thoughts of Mr. Carrington taking me up on my offer of a job?”
“You were serious?”
“You bet I am. I can tell he’s a smart lad, who’s never had the opportunity to realize his full potential, same as his sister. And look what she’s been able to do. They both need a push, and if their own father won’t, I won’t be one to let the opportunity pass by.”
“That’s really generous of you,” I say.
“It is. I’m a generous guy.” Another glance at the tea tray has the king reaching for a cookie. “Even after he took out my favourite painter with my favourite car. What are you working on these days? Lots of time on your hands.”
With an embarrassed smile, I point to the finished canvas, and the king offers to hang it in the hallway for me, among the other art.
“You don’t have to do that,” I protest.
“I want to do that. It’s good enough to go up with the rest of them. I want you making the most of your potential as well, young lady.”
“Thank you.”
King Magnus takes another cookie, and gestures to the door. “So what do you think of that?” he asks.
I understand he’s referring to my father and Mrs. Theissen’s quick exits, but that’s the only thing I do understand. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed tothink,” I admit.
