“I’m not sure an American can be king.”
“Of course he can. If he’s married to the queen, then he’s king. I wonder if Ethel would open her beauty parlor on Sunday? I think I’ll call right now and ask her.”
“Dolly, it’s two o’clock in the morning,” Bill said, but Dolly was already out of bed.
“She won’t mind. We’ll make the princess so beautiful J.T. won’t be able to resist her. By the time they get to Lanconia he’ll face a firing squad before giving her up.”
Bill groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “What have I done?”
Chapter Nine
GET up,” J.T. said. “This morning you’re going to learn to cook my breakfast.”
Reluctantly, Aria opened her eyes. J.T., fully dressed in his tan uniform, was standing on the far side of the room and yelling at her as if she were in the next state. She stretched. “What time is it?”
“Breakfast time. Now get up.”
“Are you always so loud this early?” She lay back against the pillows. “At home my maid brought a pot of tea to me every morning in bed. It was always served in the Lily set of china. Such a peaceful way to start the day.”
J.T. didn’t say a word, so Aria turned to look at him. He was watching her with a strange expression on his face and she began to blush as her eyes met his.
“Get up,” he repeated, then turned on his heel and went down the stairs.
Smiling to herself, Aria took her time dressing in a silk shantung suit, hoping it was all right for an ice cream parlor visit.
J.T. was sitting in the living room reading a newspaper. “You took long enough.” He stood and went into the kitchen.
“This is a skillet. These are eggs. This is butter—or it’s what we have instead of butter during a war. Put the butter in the skillet, drop in the eggs. Damn! I forgot the bacon. Get it out of the fridge.”
“Fridge?”
He pushed past her and opened the refrigerator. “This is bacon. You’ll have to learn to cook it, and before long you’ll have to learn to go to the grocery and buy it. Get another skillet out of the bottom of the stove and put the bacon in it.”
Aria opened a door and a drawer before finding a second pan like the egg pan but there was nowhere to set it. The top of the stove was covered with an egg carton, a loaf of bread, a pan from last night, eggshells, and odd-looking shiny metal utensils. She thought she could make room by moving the handle of the egg pan.
The hot handle seared her palm and she moved away quickly but she didn’t say a word.
“Have you got that bacon in there yet?”
She tried using only her left hand to remove the bacon but it was difficult. Pain was shooting through her body.
“Can’t stand to touch it?” J.T. asked angrily. “Here, use both hands.”
He grabbed her right hand and Aria gave a slight intake of breath that made J.T. stop and look at her white face. He turned her hand over to look at it. The skin was beginning to blister. He slapped margarine onto her palm.
“You burned yourself that bad and didn’t say a word?”
She didn’t answer but was grateful for the cooling relief of the grease.
“Hell,” he said in exasperation. “Stand over there and watch.” He finished cooking his breakfast while muttering things about Aria being useless. Then, as he put his food on the table, he again cursed because he realized Aria had no breakfast. While his grew cold, he cooked her bacon and eggs.
At last, they both sat down to eat in absolute silence.
How unpleasant this place is, Aria thought. How different from breakfast at home with her grandfather and sister. She smiled as she thought of how she would entertain them with stories from last night. Her grandfather would laugh loudly at the absurdity of the Americans.
“Care to share that with me?” J.T. asked.
“I beg your pardon.”