A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,51

light blazer. But the sleeves were rolled up. It was like his forearms had to be free. She stifled a sigh.

“And what is it that you do, Mr. Ricci?” her father asked.

“I drive a cab, and I’m the caretaker of the apartment building we live in.” He gestured at his sister.

Her father rearranged his facial expression almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to convey disapproval. Marie’s face heated. She’d forgotten what a snob he could be, mostly because he rarely encountered anyone who didn’t run in their circles. But he had always been a little bit like this when her friends had come to the palace when she was in school.

“He was going to be an architect!” Gabby piped up.

What? She turned to Leo in surprise. He was making a dismissive gesture as he shot a quelling look at his sister.

Gabby ignored it. “It’s true! He was partway through college when our parents died, and he had to drop out. But he knows so much about architecture. Like, so much.”

Marie felt a little stab of hurt that Leo hadn’t told her any of this, especially given their extensive chat about architecture in Madison Square Park. In fact, she’d expressly asked if he’d gone to university, and he’d said no.

“Yes,” Leo said mildly. “The unexpected death of our parents required some rearrangement of plans.”

A footman called Luis approached Gabby with two glasses on a small tray. One, rimmed in sugar, was light pink and full of tiny, fizzing bubbles. The other was some variation on hot chocolate, with a mountain of the kitchen’s famous homemade marshmallows floating on the top. “For the young miss,” Luis said, “ginger raspberry smash or hot milk chocolate with honey-caramel marshmallows.”

Gabby’s eyes widened. Marie’s heart twisted as Gabby curtsied—to Luis—and took both drinks. Marie glanced at her father, who was reacting with predictable disdain.

“I think you’re meant to choose one or the other,” Leo said softly.

“Nonsense.” Marie stepped forward and picked up the drink Gabby had hurriedly set back on the tray. “One’s for now; one’s for later.” She set the hot chocolate on a side table and nodded at Luis to dismiss him. “I recommend starting with the raspberry, since it’s lighter, and moving on to the chocolate. At least that’s how I always do it.”

Her father shot her a look. He knew that she’d never in her life had either of those drinks. Well. She shot him a look right back. She wasn’t about to stand by while he embarrassed her guests.

“I notice that the palace seems to have central heating,” Leo said. “When was that added? The walls are stone, aren’t they? That must have been quite the project.”

The question thawed her father somewhat. The palace was one of his favorite topics. “It’s not as old as it looks. My great-grandfather had it built in the 1860s. He was a devotee of the Romanesque Revival movement. The palace was built with central heating—though the system has, of course, been upgraded since then.”

From there, the conversation was easier, if not warmer. Leo—the architect; it boggled the mind—seemed genuinely interested in the history of the palace and asked intelligent questions. Dinner was a little awkward—Marie had requested a simple meal in the breakfast room, but her father had overruled her and ordered a four-course repast served in the formal dining room. She made a point of slowly picking up the proper utensil for each course so the Ricci siblings could see what she was doing. It helped that Gabby talked almost nonstop, and during lulls, Leo asked her father questions about the palace.

Eventually, they were done. Leo took a yawning Gabby to her room along with Frau Lehman, who seemed to have decided to take personal responsibility for Gabby instead of assigning a maid. Would they read stories? Talk about the day? Marie wanted to go with them, so much, to be part of whatever routine would unfold, but of course that wasn’t her place. So, as they took their leave, she stumbled through an awkward good-night, hesitating over whether she should remind Leo of her invitation to go for a walk. Probably not. It was late, and no doubt he was tired, too. Anyway, she needed to talk to Max.

At her suite, she had her phone out before she’d fully closed the door. PhD????? We’re out of touch for a few weeks and you drop this bomb?

Max: Hey M, xo. How was NYC?

Marie: Don’t change the subject. Since when are you interested in doing