36

Hi. Thanks for holding.

What can I say? It's been years, but here is an update...wait, what? I don't know what to say. I have grand ideas - not time or inspiration - but ideas that existed before I started writing this story, so...all I can ask is that you believe I intend to finish this G-damed story.

Whatever...here is an update. A chapter - too short - that bridges that last and the next chaps. Again, I intend to finish this, but...PATIENCE is a virtue.

I've never forgotten this story...

September 28th, 1960

September 28th dawned bright and crisp and cloudless; a perfectly lovely day. The perfect day for a wedding, in fact; not that Malcolm Schulz, grizzled military veteran, father of four teenage boys and - most pertinently - second in command of Genovian Royal Security - noticed. Beyond how the weather might complicate his duties, he wasn't interested in the niceties of the day. He had a job to do; a serious job. Being the body-man for the Crown Prince's fiancé was no small task.

He stood rigidly and at attention, honing his focus. It was, after all, during the quietest and most peaceful of moments that a security professional needed to be at his most alert; invariably it was when danger seemed least likely that the attention wandered and lapses in judgment were made; security breaches committed.

Admittedly, the likelihood of chaos breaking out here in the second floor hallway of the Tate family home, directly outside the bedroom door of Miss Natalie Tate (code name for this one day: 'Bride') …was minimal.

He inhaled and checked his posture. No matter. His job was his job and, no matter where he happened to be dispatched to on a given day - the floor of parliament or the four bedroom home of a 20 year old college student - each and every one of his finely honed skills needed to be brought to bear.

His earpiece spoke suddenly. He acknowledged the information and knocked softly on the door. His young charge (Code Name for the day: "Maid of Honor") opened the door immediately and over the unintelligible din that five bridesmaids and a bride trapped in one room provided, quietly inquired, "Yes, Malcolm?"

He inclined his head briefly at the teenager in front of him, "Ma'am, security teams at the church and reception hall have given the 'all clear'. We can proceed whenever Miss Tate is ready."

She smiled and nodded sedately, "Thank you, Malcolm. I'll let Miss Tate know." He nodded and reset his stance.

Despite appearances, his was in fact, a genuinely important job. He was guarding the future Queen of Genovia…nineteen-year-old though she might be. He was immensely proud of his billet. Guarding the future Queen was, in some respects, even more important than guarding the Crown Prince himself…after all, the woman would one day give birth to the future King (or Queen) . In fact, so highly valued and coveted by security professionals was this assignment that, notwithstanding his spotless ten-year military record and fifteen years of service as part of the Royal Security force with countless commendations during both stints, he was subjected to weeks and weeks of interviews, background checks, psychological evaluations, home visits, interviews with family and friends…. When it was he who had been chosen, out of so many qualified and eager candidates, he was deeply honored. More than that, he was humbled.

He still was all of those things, but as he stood in this hallway, gazing at what looked like the 'Bride's' fourth grade picture hung right in his eyeline, he was left to wonder if these were the kind of assignments he could expect to receive. Was this the best use of his valuable expertise? Was this - wrangling a gaggle of silly bridesmaids in and out of limousines, watching over the drunken exploits of vapid youths who stood to inherit ten times the money that he and everyone he knew would make in a lifetime, generally securing the safety of the young and frivolous - worthy of his culmination of a quarter century of drive and discipline?

He inhaled and refocused, telling himself what he had been trying to drill into his thick skull ever since surveying this detail: If this was what it took to secure the future of his country's monarchy, if his talent was deemed valuable enough to accomplish this most vital of goals, if no one else was more qualified to fulfill the unique tasks this assignment required…well, his was not to reason why, his was but to do and die.

No matter how sinful a waste of all those skills and qualifications it felt at this precise moment.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and the bride and her maids erupted into the hallway in a sea of taffeta and lace. Trailing behind the flowing white train of "The Bride" was a throng of girls decked head to toe in shiny light blue dresses and matching hats, all holding bouquets of dark blue irises. They babbled past him excitedly, except for the last girl out of the room. She was moving at a pace and gait in direct contrast to those of her cohorts and was dressed in a slightly darker shade of blue. She closed the door softly behind her and turned directly toward him. Involuntarily, he stood a slight bit taller at her presence as she stopped next to him.

She placed a hand on his arm and spoke quietly, "Thank you so much, Malcolm. This is such an important day for my friend. I know all will go smoothly with you in charge."

She smiled congenially at him and he found himself reaching for his extensive training and discipline to cover his slight surprise and unaccustomed self-consciousness. He simply cleared his throat and nodded once as he watched his future Monarch walk toward the stairs. He noted the sudden but slight adjustment in the posture of the guard posted at the foot of the stairs as she quietly nodded in his direction when she passed.

While he alerted his satellite teams that he and his charge were on the move, it occurred to him that any one of his four boys would be lucky beyond measure to know, learn from and keep such a 'silly and frivolous' young woman as this one.

"We now take you to 'Le Jardin' restaurant in downtown Pyrus, where Elena Scott has the story on some Royal activity. Elena?"

"Thank you, Solange. Well, it was an historic day in Genovia...at least socially. Crown Prince Rupert spent his Saturday in a most unaccustomed way; playing the role of 'escort'.

footage of Prince Rupert leaving the Palace in a navy blue suit and getting into a black, four door sedan.

"Today, he assumed a rare supporting role as the Maid of Honor's date while his lovely fiance, Lady Clarisse Mignionette, stood up for her closest friend, Miss Natalie Tate, on her wedding day. Mrs. Mallory was married today at 4:00 p.m. at St. Gregory's Catholic Church in Pyrus..."

footage of Prince Rupert getting out of the same sedan, walking up the steps of the church, accepting a program from an unidentified man, and entering the building.

"Usually, it's the Prince who is the guest of honor but today the ladies took the spotlight. The bride and her high profile attendant, accompanied by four close friends, arrived at the church precisely on time and looking beautiful. The bride wore a lovely floral lace and tulle dress with a chapel train, and the bridesmaids were stunning in pale blue."

footage of Natalie Tate on the steps of the church, arranging her veil with the help of Lady Mignionette, while four bridesmaids took their places in front of the bride, readying themselves for the processional.

"After the ceremony, which included roughly 200 friends and family, the happy couple emerged, looking blissfully happy and, dare I say, a touch more relaxed."

footage of the bride and groom being pelted with rice as the bridal party and guests looked on.

"The Prince and the future Princess shared a brief moment in the doorway of the church..."

footage of Prince Rupert and Lady Clarisse talking, smiling and nodding.

"...before Lady Clarisse was pressed into service again."

footage of Lady Mignionette and bridesmaids helping the bride into the car, followed by the groom and groomsmen.

Live shot of reporter Elena Scott in front of a large venue.

"Solange, the bridal party arrived here, at 'Le Jardin', a very popular and upscale restaurant in downtown Pyrus, to revel the night away. Other than the security that was both discrete yet noticeable slowing things down, in many ways this wedding was like many, many weddings that took place this day..."

footage of several different churches, different limousines, and different and waving bridal parties from around Genovia.

"Soon, of course, the former Miss Tate - now Mrs. Colin Mallory - will return the favor and play Matron of Honor at Lady Clarisse's Royal Wedding on December 24th of this year, less than three months from now. But for today, Mrs. Mallory, the future Princess and her Crown Prince are thinking of nothing but commemorating this very special moment in their dear friends' lives. Back to you in the studio."

"Thank you, Elena. It looks like a good time is being had by all! Congratulations to the happy couple, Mr. and Mrs. Mallory."

"I'm married!" Natalie roared as she held up a glass of champagne in a sort of primitive toast.

Her cadre of bridesmaids all raised their glasses and whooped in response before downing their bubbly.

Clarisse laughed, toasted and drank her champagne knowing that Natalie was feeling no pain...just as it should be. The press was ever present as they moved about the town, but were prohibited here in the reception. Rupert, and his partner in crime Marcel (but she knew mostly Rupert) made sure that the press understood this was not to be covered like a 'royal' event. This was Natalie and Colin's day; not Rupert's, Clarisse's or Genovia's.

Natalie clumsily hugged Clarisse and murmured, "You're next, Maid of Honor!"

Clarisse laughed, "You, too... Matron of Honor! It's not as easy as it looks."

Glassy eyed but clearly ecstatic Natalie sighed, "Are we not the luckiest girls in the world?"

Clarisse smiled and glanced over at Rupert chatting with the mother of the groom...who was all but goggle eyed while talking to 'the Crown Prince'.

"We are. We are." Clarisse returned Nat's hug.

"I'm such a fool. I should have scooped up Clarisse when I had the chance."

Colin stared at Peter, his Best Man and closest friend, through slightly unfocused eyes and blurted, "What are you talking about?"

Peter tore his equally unfocused eyes away from Clarisse, "I'm talking about Clarisse! I should have asked her out years ago. A year ago." He hiccuped, "Years ago. Look at her...she's beautiful."

Colin looked at his wife's (his wife's!) pretty best friend for a long moment...attempting to picture his best man, an admittedly nice guy who'd never been arrested or anything of the sort...winding up with her. He shook his head slightly, the copious amounts of whisky not enough to convince him, "And...what do you think would have happened?"

Peter looked at Colin like he was just startled from a nap, "Hm? Wha? Well...what do you mean? She might have said yes."

Colin shook his head slowly at his delusional friend.

"Your Highness."

"Ms. Simone." The Prince, well practiced in small talk with those he knew unflattering things about - like how this woman had shaken his fiance's confidence in herself to the point she was willing to break their engagement - simply smiled a smooth smile.

Vanessa, depleted of anger and venom and bile and everything else regarding Clarisse, and guessing that the Prince was not uninformed of her last meeting with his intended, conceded , "Congratulations on your engagement. The country is so excited.."

Warming ever so slightly, Rupert inclined his head, "Thank you very much.."

"Clarisse looks beautiful...and very happy." Both their eyes traveled across the room to where Clarisse was practically fused to Natalie's hip, laughing and dancing.

"She is. And you..." He smiled one of his patented smiles, "How are you, Vanessa.?

She gave him his full attention, "I'm well. I've started my research at Kingston." She smiled devilishly, "You'd better be careful. We are working on a strategy to reform the tax code."

Rupert laughed heartily, "I knew you'd be a thorn in my side!" He smiled genuinely at her, "I expect nothing but a bare knuckle brawl from you, Vanessa."

"I expect nothing but to give you one." She laughed just has heartily.

The debate raged. "No, Pete! It would never have worked out!"

Pete, now facing the entire cadre of groomsmen, defiantly held his ground, "Why not?"

Various manifestations of incredulity passed the faces of the four men until the Groom finally said, "Look who she wound up with, Pete."

In unison, they all looked toward the Prince. The six foot tall, immaculately turned out Prince of their homeland... Pete finally, if only partially, relented, "Well, if I'd asked her out first..."