Chapter 57

It was more a groan than a moan.

“Oh god.” That would be Her Highness.

“This is all your fault.” So would that.

“Now ... I didn’t make you,” I said.

“No ... but you let me,” She said.

“But ... you’re so tiny.” That would be me. “I never thought you would.”

“You’re so tiny,” was repeated a lot during the photograph session after the successful endeavor.

An ominous belch from the royal.

“Over the side, Junior.” I said that...

“I don’t want to see it.” And that.

“Shit ... too late.” Definitely me.

“David. You’re in her way.” Junior said that.

The walk from Ludbubble back to the boat was blessed with a fantastic sunset, warm gentle breezes, frothy yeasty burps and peaceful conversation.

David had arranged a ride back to Pentwater ... they would pick him up at noon. That was part of the conversation. He had known the King’s nearly all his life.

“Really nice people,” He had said. “Salt of the earth. Orchardists. They used to own King’s Canyon and farm 750 acres of cherry trees. When the conglomerate of Consumers Energy and Detroit Edison approached them with the buy offer, they were shocked. Over night they went from orchard owners to multi-millionaires. Never affected them a smidge ... Joan, the daughter, is still salt of the earth. Vacations in Pentwater every season.”

The Farmer’s Market attracted vacationers and locals alike. An anomaly during the Great Melt Off had deposited some particularly fertile soil in and around Ludington ... gardens grew like mad. The produce from those same gardens had won many and many a local fair ribbon and not a few from the yearly State Fair in Lansing.

For a hundred years Made in Michigan meant quality.

Then the Bean Counters took charge.

The Princess ... the former princess ... the deleted one ... didn’t care much for accountants. The bottom line is a terrible way to run a country. Junior pretty much took care of that ... she went to war and won. Accountants and lawyers, investment bankers and business moguls had fled the Princessapality like rats from a sinking ship. Mrs. Princess had been doing her hardest to make her country work ... and it was working. Education soon surpassed the Fed A ... rail was on the rise ... new tracks laid on old roadbeds ... tracks that went where they were needed.

Junior was keeping on keeping on. Even if she WAS a teenager ... and did dumb stuff ... like last night. The whole thing ... in fifteen minutes... 13.29 actually.

Five fucking thirty comes damned awful early when certain parties had been subject to heavy vomiting most of the night.

“Morning sickness is supposed to come in the AM not the PM,” I groaned. Last night had been a doozy. “I’m up, I’m up,” I said.

Missy quit banging on the hull... “Good. I’m staying right here until I hear feet and see people. Mac and Cheese for breakfast!”

“NO! Absolutely not!”

“Missy, I thought you were a nice girl.”

David laughed and started in, “Get up. Get up. Come on, Junior, Surprise. Go go go...”

“David,” I said. “Too much cheer.”

“The sun is peeking over the hills it’s going to be a beautiful day,” he said, “You don’t want to miss it.”

The glass door slid open and cabinet doors started banging. Cups clattered to the counter.

“Wait,” I sniffed, “Do I smell the elixir of life? Missy? Did you bring ... coffee?”

“A thermos full ... good stuff, too. Simmons-es don’t make bad coffee.” She poured.

Nothing quite like pouring coffee in a mug to spread the smell.

“Oh. Bless your natal day. Your parents are to be congratulated.”

Quiet ensued ... except for a random...”HOT!” and “Mmmm” and “Good.”

“What about breakfast?”

“We’ll get it at the Market,” Missy said. “Mendoza’s have a food truck ... and it’s good.” She looked right at Junior. “They have Mac and Cheese.”