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With a final turn on his heel, he led her into the kitchen. It was already cleaned and cleared of dishes. Esme chided herself. She’d actually thought she’d gotten invited to dine with royalty.
But all was not lost. Leo might be around one of these corners. She still might get a chance to see him before her hour was up, and she had to return to the ground floor.
“Hello, Ms. Pickett.”
“Hello, Penelope.”
“You are to address the princess as your royal highness,” said Giles. “And curtsey.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, your royal highness.” Esme bent both her knees, but that didn’t work. She put one foot behind the other but nearly tripped over the hem of her dress.
Princess Penelope bit her lip. And then a giggle escaped.
Giles turned and glared at Esme. “You are to keep to this room. His majesty, the King, has important guests tonight.”
“Yes, Giles,” said Princess Penelope. “I know. Thank you.”
The man straightened, not taking his eyes off Esme until the last moment. He bowed to the little girl. And left the room.
“Now that is some super power,” said Esme. “Being able to dismiss a curmudgeon like that.”
“Giles isn’t so bad. He plays chess with me when we’re back home. Everyone’s just very protective of me. They have been since my mother died.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Esme. “I didn’t know that. I lost my mother when I was just a girl, too. I was just a few years older than you.”
“I can barely remember her.”
“My mother used to read me a lot of stories. She left me all of her storybooks. When I read them, I remember her.”
“I wish I had memories like that.”
“Your father doesn’t like to talk about her?”
“He doesn’t mind. He just doesn’t have any memories that help. All of his memories I can find in the royal archives; their wedding, their coronation; their official duties. But nothing personal like reading to me in bed.”
Esme’s heart ached for the little girl. But Penelope’s shoulders remained straight, her back erect, her dainty hands crossed in front of her.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’d much rather talk about fractions. I’ve brought out my books. I love math.”
Esme looked at the textbooks gathered. She’d never met a five-year-old who’d said those words. And she worked with gifted students.
Textbooks were not Esme’s jam. Even in college, she felt that the best learning was done by experiencing the world. She looked around at the kitchen for inspiration.
“How about we learn fractions in a practical way?” said Esme.
“Oh, yes,” Penelope grinned. “Do you have a game? Perhaps nothing too physical in this small space.“
The small space was bigger than Esme’s entire apartment. “I have something better than sitting and standing. Baking.”
Of course, the pantry of a suite for royals was stocked to the brim. In a matter of minutes, Esme found everything she needed and piled the materials on the counter.
“We are going to make cookies,” said Esme. “We need to start with one cup of butter.”
“But this is a stick.” Penelope held up the long, yellow rectangle.
“Exactly. And it measures in tablespoons. So, how many tablespoons will it take to fill up this measuring cup?”
Princess Penelope’s eyes widened in wonder. She took the cup and a butter knife and began to slice off pats of butter until she got to sixteen. “Sixteen tablespoons is the same as one cup.”
