A Prince For Christmas

“You’re the genuine royal article, and you look like Prince Charming when you’re dressed as if you’re ready to attend a coronation. Her child’s heart will fall in love with you on the spot. She’ll forget all about wanting to meet me.

“The palace photographer will be there to take a picture of the two of you for a souvenir to be sent to her, then you can go enjoy your Holiday.”

“That’s good. I’m through with work until January and planned to fly to Kvitfjell tomorrow with Bea for a day of skiing before Christmas.”

“I’m glad. A certain source has told me she’s in love with you.”

“The press will say anything, Maren. We’ve had some good times together, but don’t read too much into it.”

“I’ve seen pictures of the two of you in the paper. She’s beautiful and I hear she’s very smart. You couldn’t go wrong with a woman like her.”

“You’re right.”

“Maybe when you get back, you’ll bring her to the palace to meet all of us?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Eric—” she cried in exasperation.

“If I’m in love with her by then, I’ll introduce you.”

His sister moaned in defeat.

“I don’t want to make a mistake, Maren.”

For several years now the paparazzi had labeled him Europe’s biggest playboy. It was a lie they continued to perpetuate in order to sell papers, but he refused to let it bother him.

There was a pause before she said, “I wouldn’t want you to do that. Make a mistake I mean.”

Eric could always count on his sister’s love.

Unlike Knute and Maren who’d married spouses of royal lineage in case either of them or their children had to rule, Eric could marry a woman of his own choosing, even if she was a commoner. That was the agreement he’d worked out with his father before he’d passed away.

Oddly enough, being allowed to find his beloved in the same way any nonroyal could, had made Eric reluctant to jump into marriage. He preferred to get it right the first time and not end up divorced.

The other day his best friend Olav, who’d recently married, reminded him that marriage was for an awfully long time so he’d better be sure before he took the fatal step.

For once Eric hadn’t been able to tell if his oldest childhood buddy was teasing or not. Since that comment, Eric had the distinct impression Olav’s marriage was already in trouble.

It put the fear in Eric.

“Don’t worry about tomorrow. I’ll do my best to represent you. What you need to do is take care of yourself and that baby.”

“Thank you, Eric. You’re the greatest.”

No he wasn’t. Knute would have agreed to fill in for her without hesitation. Anything for the good of Frijia. Their brother was a noble soul. Eric admired and loved him.

In an attempt to assuage his guilt over his distaste for duty Eric said, “I’ll let you know how the day went before I leave on my ski trip.”

“I’d appreciate it. Promise me you won’t break a leg so the rest of the Holidays are ruined for you.”

“I’m hardly going to do that.”

“Even an expert skier like you can have an accident, Eric. Just be careful. You know how mother is looking forward to all of us being together on this particular Christmas.”

Eric was very much aware their mother was still grieving and needed her family around. Knute had been inspired to take her to Germany with him. Hopefully she hadn’t had time to brood. Thank goodness their sister would soon be giving her another grandson to dote on.

“Don’t worry. I’ll only be gone a couple of days. Make sure you do as the doctor tells you, Maren. Goodnight.”

“Hold still for a minute, sweetheart.”

A couple of bobby pins to secure the embroidered red cap in Sonia’s mass of shiny brown curls did the trick.

“There.” Kristin, born Kristin Remmen, gave her niece a kiss. She’d looked after her since the death of her beloved sister. “Now you’re ready.”

“Do you think the Princess is here yet, Aunty Kristin?” Sonia shifted from one leg to the other in excited anticipation of what was about to happen.

Kristin eyed her five-and-a-half-year-old niece whose sightless brown eyes shone like stars. She’d been so good, but the thought of meeting Princess Maren of the Frijian royal family had been all she could think about for the last month. It couldn’t come soon enough for Kristin.

“I don’t know. We’re supposed to wait in here until the owners send for us.”

The Severeids had given them the use of the employee’s lounge at the rear of the world famous Chocolate Barn to do any last minute preparations.

She and Sonia had gotten ready at the small, quaint hotel a block away from the barn. For the occasion Kristin had bought a cherry red wool coat-dress with gold buttons that ran from hem to neck. The tailored look played down her curvaceous five foot five figure.

The appearance of Princess Maren meant one inevitable throng of photographers and television journalists. So, Kristin wanted to look her best and had swept back her honey blond hair in a French twist to reveal tiny gold earrings in the shape of jeweled Christmas ball ornaments.

The whole promotion had been tied in with Christmas and was to be the top human interest story for the evening news not only in Europe but all over the world.

“If your great-great-grandmother were alive to see you in the same clothes she brought over from Frijia for her little girl, she’d be so proud.”

According to Kristin’s family history, Anton Remmen, who’d worked on the family farm on the Varland Fjord, came to America in 1900 with his wife and their son and daughter Sonja, after whom little Sonia was named.

The red vest and black skirt reflected that region of the country they originated from, with the famous Varland lace on the white linen blouse and apron. In red stockings and black burnad shoes with silver buckles, Sonia looked the epitome of a traditional Frijian child.

Now Sonia’s picture adorned the label on the cans and packets of hot chocolate manufactured at the Chocolate Barn in Brobak.

Blessed with an engaging wide smile and dimples, many older people who remembered the famous Olympic ice skating champion Sonja Henie, remarked how much Sonia looked like her.

Kristin could see a superficial resemblance. Certainly there was a vivaciousness about her niece that captivated people.

The fact that she was so photogenic and adorable in her grandmother Sonja’s authentic outfit had prompted Mr. and Mrs. Severeid to pick Sonia’s picture from the hundreds that had been sent in from Frijia, Europe and America for the contest.

“Do you think Grandpa Elling will see me on TV?”

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Kristin lowered her head. She felt a pang in her heart at the thought of her grieving father who’d been too sick with a bad flu bug to come on their three day trip to Brobak and the surrounding towns in Frijia.