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“It is. Trust me. Here.” I cut off a slice, loaded up with enough caramel sauce to drown a goldfish, and thrust it at her.
Uncertainly, she leans down and takes the fork in her mouth. Her eyes widen, and I know she's now Malveauxian pancake’s second biggest fan after me.
“Good, huh? Tomorrow, get the chef to make two plates of this and we can eat together.”
“Oh, no. That won't be necessary.”
“Of course it's not necessary, but it's fun.”
I can tell she's rethinking this.
“If you're worried that the chef won’t make it for you or something, then tell him that I'm a huge glutton and I want a stack yay high tomorrow.” I gesture with my hands to show just how many pancakes I require. “Oh, and two forks.”
“With two forks he might suspect.”
“Tell him that I dropped my fork today so you need the other one as a backup. If he was there to see me hit my head on the car when I first arrived, he’ll believe you.”
She grins at me. “As long as you’re happy to do that?”
“That's settled then,” I reply with a shrug. “We’ll be pancake best buds.” Absentmindedly, I pick up my cup and take another sip. “Ugh!” I follow it up with a pancake and caramel sauce chaser.
“Do you not like the tea?” Alice asks.
“Oh, it's great, I’m just not used to it,” I lie. “I'm sure I'll learn to love it over time.”
“Would you like me to bring you something else in the mornings?”
“Like what?” I hold my breath. If she says a Starbucks Grande mint Frappuccino, I think I would faint on the spot.
“Whatever you like. Just tell me and I'll get it for you.”
“Is there a Starbucks anywhere nearby?”
“A star…bucks?” she questions and I get my answer right there.
“Forget that. Coffee. Do you do coffee here?”
“Of course. Espresso?”
“Sure. Espresso with like a whole bunch of milk.”
“Ah. A cafe latte.” She glances at the potted plant by the chest of drawers, which I notice is sagging and beginning to turn yellow. Oops. “Perhaps the greenery will benefit from coffee, as well?”
“How did you?—”
“It's my job to care for you and your belongings,” she explains.
Feeling shamefaced I offer her a reconciliatory smile. “No harm, no foul?”
“Your secret is safe with me. But perhaps flush anything you don't want to drink down the toilet next time?”
The toilet. Why didn't I think of that?
“I'll be back soon with your coffee, and then we must prepare you for the day. Your first appointment is with Gustav, the royal dressmaker.”
Caramel pancakes in bed, coffee on its way, and a royal makeover? Life is pretty dang good for the world’s newest princess.
Thirty-five minutes later, I'm caffeinated by some surprisingly decent coffee, showered and dressed, and ready to meet the famous Gustav and his glam squad, who I am assured by Alice will weave his magic and transform me from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan.
