on a plan that has unified support and is backed by a monarch with sixty-one percent favorability. They want this deal done, too, but can’t take a personal risk if they’re facing election. We’re making it as easy as possible for them with minimal political fallout.”
On a deep breath, he added, “Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about the deal you made with the ambassador. I understand that she has Barrata and Galli on board, but she’s still working on Festa. To our knowledge, she hasn’t even met with Selvaggi. If she doesn’t have Selvaggi, you’re under no obligation to introduce her education plan. Keeping our focus on the Strada sends a strong message about your priorities to everyone involved.”
Eduardo remained silent. He wasn’t going to tell Sergio about Festa, or about the fact that Claire had a phone call scheduled with Selvaggi. The information had been shared in private. Besides, Sergio was right. As long as Claire didn’t have Selvaggi on board before the Strada proposal went to parliament, they wouldn’t have to deal with it.
Luisa entered to top off everyone’s coffee as Sergio wrapped up, then Zeno asked about a few unrelated issues for the morning press briefing. Margaret had reports on work Prince Antony and his wife had completed for the San Riminian Scholarship fund and a follow-up on Eduardo’s Our Place appearance several weeks earlier, then she handed him materials she’d prepared for an upcoming event to support research projects at Royal Memorial Hospital.
He thanked her and slid the papers into his briefing binder. As if on cue, Sergio sucked in his lower lip and Zeno looked at the floor.
“I hate to ask, given the expressions on your faces, but is there anything else before we wrap?”
Margaret’s face split into a grin, but it was Zeno who cleared his throat. “Yes, Your Highness. I am afraid we have a Code Orange.”
Sergio turned away, trying to contain his laughter. Code Orange was their office term for occasions when they were forced to deal with human imperfection and the resulting media spin. The most memorable had occurred during Marco and Amanda’s wedding. Federico’s sons were caught on live television chewing gum in the pews when gum was famously forbidden in the centuries-old Duomo. When the grinning boys spit the gum into their palms, traded, then popped the wads back into their mouths, the nation’s collective gasp of amused revulsion was nearly audible.
Comedians around the world had a field day on their late-night shows. Even serious news programs aired the scene in the final minutes of their broadcasts, claiming it was, “a moment to lighten your day.”
Code Orange situations were often ridiculous, but needed to be addressed, lest their coverage detract from the business of state. In the case of the boys, Zeno told the exuberant palace press corps that all parents experienced such indignities with their children and that the boys were now keenly aware of the importance of protecting historical sites.
“What about, ah, sanitary habits?” one bold reporter had asked.
Zeno had pulled off a credible look of lightheartedness, despite feeling anything but. “I imagine they’ll be shown that footage at regular intervals for the rest of their lives and it will be every bit as agonizing as being forced to watch ourselves at that age. There are experiences no one wants to relive, particularly on film.”
No one uttered the phrase “Code Orange” outside Eduardo’s office, lest anyone ask the definition. If it became known that the monarch had a code word for addressing his family’s very human foibles, it would—ironically enough—result in yet another Code Orange.
“I suppose we’re due. Margaret’s still smiling, so it can’t be that bad.”
Zeno opened his mouth to speak, paused, then started again. “Before she married Prince Marco, Amanda made regular purchases from a major online retailer, one that offered overnight delivery to her college residence hall and to her flat in Washington, D.C.”
“I can guess which one. I can also guess what happened. Her purchase history was leaked and one or more items are causing a stir?”
Margaret glanced at Zeno, and Sergio glanced at Margaret. Then they all looked at the king.
“Not quite, Your Highness,” Zeno said. “The items were innocuous. Gym shoes, light bulbs, a coffee maker. A lot of books. She left reviews for many of her purchases. They were posted under a screen name, but that name has been definitively linked to your daughter-in-law and the reviews are being republished in multiple outlets.”
Eduardo wasn’t sure whether to be horrified