She grabbed her purse from the teacher’s lounge and prepared to go out into the bright New York City day. Walking down the hall of the school, she passed awards, recognitions, and commendations. The kids of years past captured i
n the celluloid all looked serious. Not a single smile of joy or eyes sparkled with imagination.
Esme was still determined to bring fun and joy into her class’ childhoods. But first, she needed a break. And some sustenance.
“Miss. Pickett.”
Esme’s shoulders drooped at the sound of Principal Clarke’s voice. The way he said Miss was elongated with the buzzing sound of a Z in place of the double S. It was like he wanted to swat the extra S of her single hood away from her and put in a firmly rooted R to make her a Mrs.
Esme wanted that too. The problem was not many twenty-something men were ready to settle down. Thirty was the new time to get engaged. And don’t even think about kids before thirty-five after the career was settled, the house built and feng shuied, furnished, and child proofed.
Like most things, Esme was a fan of the old ways. She was a feminist, to be sure. But the kind that wanted equal rights and pay and still have a man open the door for her and sweep her off her feet. She could put up a good fight next to her prince if a dragon—in a tower or in a parade—came after them. But why should she when he should be well-equipped to do it for her?
“Ms. Pickett, I just received another complaint about inappropriate reading material in your class. Something about princesses and dragons and swords?”
Esme whirled around. How had he known that? She’d just left her classroom.
“Aubrey Thomas’s mother just called.”
Aubrey-stinking-Thomas. The kid had a cell phone. Had she texted her mom? Well, she could already read. Most of the five-year-olds in her class were on a second grade level already and were bored with her alphabet lessons.
“Parents entrust us to prepare their children for the real world, Miss. Pickett.”
Did no one believe romance still existed in the real world? That there were men who would slay a dragon for their true love? Apparently not. Most men her age vanquished trolls by swiping left and leaving it at that.
“I believe you have a bright future here with us,” said Principal Clarke. “But if I continue to receive calls …”
“I was trying to teach a moral lesson,” said Esme. “I just didn’t get to the end of the story.”
“Try a different story. Perhaps a biography next time?”
Esme breathed through her nose to keep her mouth shut. Facts, she felt, were for fourth graders.
“We have a very important visitor coming in today. The Prince and Princess of Cordoba. We want to make a good impression.”
That’s all anyone cared about at this school. Impressions. Not imagination.
“I’m going to grab a slice of pie,” said Esme. “Can I bring you back something?”
“Pie? Carbs in the afternoon? My, my, you do live dangerously, Miss. Pickett.”
With another deep breath through her nose, Esme kept her mouth shut and headed out of the building. She whipped her cell from her pocket, texting Jan to have a slice of her usual warmed up for her and on a plate by the time she rounded the block.
Esme hit SEND. When she looked up, she couldn’t believe her eyes. There was a dragon in the middle of the street. And it was flying straight for her.
Chapter Three
The city of New York passed by Leo in concrete gray, denim blue, and fluorescent lights as he looked out the car window. Passed by him was a relative term. He could walk faster than the car traveled in traffic. The busy street was more a parking lot than a thru way.
“Sorry it’s taking so long, gents,” said the driver.
He tipped his hat as he looked back at Leo and Giles in the back seat. Their driver was a New York native. He was tickled when he learned he’d be driving around a real live king. In fact, the man had actually giggled like a schoolgirl when he’d come face to face with Leo.
“That’s quite all right,” said Leo.
“Was that you said you want to quit, your royalness?”
Leo had traveled extensively before he was crowned. Back in his school days, he spent a good deal of time in Germany where he’d mastered the gruff language. After school, he did a lot of mission work in French-speaking Africa where the accents were thick.