Princess in Waiting (The Princess Diaries 4)

“Grandpère, Mia, please, not this vulgar Grandpaw you Americans insist upon.” Grandmère sniffed and looked insulted. “Your grandfather most certainly did not ‘figure out’ my feelings for him. I made quite certain he thought I was only marrying him for his money and title. And I don’t think I need to point out to you that we had forty blissful years together. And without separate bedrooms,” she added, with some malice, “unlike some royal couples I could mention.”

“Wait a minute.” I stared at her. “For forty years, you slept in the same bed as Grandpère, but you never once told him that you loved him?”

Grandmère drained what was left of her Sidecar and laid an affectionate hand on top of Rommel’s head. Since returning to Genovia and being diagnosed with OCD, most of Rommel’s fur has started to grow back, thanks to the plastic cone around his head. White fuzz was starting to come out all over him, like down on a baby chicken. But it didn’t make him look any less repulsive.

“That,” Grandmère said, “is precisely what I am telling you. I kept your grandfather on his toes, and he loved every minute of it. If you want to keep this Michael fellow, I suggest you do the same thing. Stop this business of calling him every night. Stop this business of not looking at any other boys. And stop this obsessing over what you are going to get him for his birthday.He should be the one obsessing over what he is going to buy to keep you interested, not the other way around.”

“Me? But my birthday isn’t until May!” I didn’t want to tell her that I had already figured out what I was getting for Michael. I didn’t want to tell her because I had sort of snitched it out of the back of the Palais de Genovia museum.

Well, nobody else was using it, so I don’t see why I can’t. I’m the Princess of Genovia, after all. I own everything in that museum anyway. Or at least the royal family does.

“Who says a man should give a woman gifts only on her birthday?” Grandmère was looking at me like she pretty much despaired of me as a Homo sapien. She held up her wrist. Dripping from it was a bracelet Grandmère wears a lot, one with diamonds big as Euro one-cent pieces hanging off it. “I got this from your grandfather on March fifth, forty years or so ago. Why? March fifth is not my birthday, nor is it any kind of holiday. Your grandfather gave it to me on that day merely because he thought that the bracelet, like me, was exquisite.” She lowered her hand back down to Rommel’s head. “That, Amelia, is how a man ought to treat the woman he loves.”

All I could think was, Poor Grandpère . He couldn’t have had any idea what he was getting himself into when it came to Grandmère, who’d been a total babe back when she was young, before she’d gotten her tattooed eyeliner and shaved off her eyebrows. I’m sure Gramps just took one look at her across that dance floor where they met back when he was just the dashing heir to the throne and she was a pert young debutante, and froze, like a graffiti artist caught in a cop car’s headlights, never suspecting what lay ahead….

Years of subtle mind games and Sidecar shaking.

“I don’t think I can be like that, Grandmère,” I said. “I mean, I don’t want Michael to give me diamonds. I just want him to ask me to the Prom.”

“Well, he won’t do it,” Grandmère said, “if he doesn’t think there’s a possibility you’re entertaining offers from other boys.”

“Grandmère!” I was shocked. “I would never go to the Prom with anybody but Michael!” Not like there was a big chance of anybody else asking me, either, but I felt that was beside the point.

“But you must never let him know that, Amelia,” Grandmère said, severely. “You must keep him always in doubt of your feelings, always on his toes. Men enjoy the hunt, you see, and once they have taken their quarry, they tend to lose all interest. Here. This is for you to read. I believe it will adequately illustrate my point.”

Grandmère had drawn out a book from her Gucci bag and handed it to me. I looked down at it incredulously.

“Jane Eyre ?” I couldn’t believe it. “Grandmère, I saw the movie. And no offense, but it was way boring.”

“Movie,” Grandmère said with a sniff. “Read that book, Amelia, and see if it doesn’t teach you a thing or two about how men and women relate to one another.”

“Grandmère,” I said, not sure how to break it to her that she was way behind the times. “I think people who want to know how men and women relate to one another are reading Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus these days.”

“READ IT!” Grandmère yelled, so loudly that she scared Rommel clear off her lap. He slunk off to cower behind a potted geranium.

I swear, I don’t know what I did to deserve a grandmother like mine. Lilly’s grandma totally worships Lilly’s boyfriend, Boris Pelkowski. She is always sending him Tupperware tubs of kreplach and stuff. I don’t know why I have to get a grandmother who is already trying to get me to break up with a guy I’ve only been going out with for twenty-five days.

Seven days, six hours, forty-two minutes until I see him again.

Tuesday, January 13

Royal Daily Schedule

8 a.m.–10 a.m.

Breakfast with members of Royal Genovian Shakespeare Society

Jane Eyre v. boring—so far nothing but orphanages, bad haircuts, and a lot of coughing.

10 a.m.–4 p.m.

Session of Genovian Parliament

Jane Eyre looking up—she has gotten a job as governess in house of very rich guy, Mr. Rochester. Mr. Rochester v. bossy, much like Wolverine, or Michael.

5 p.m.–7 p.m.

Tea with Grandmère and wife of prime minister of England