AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If this was a prank call or a sales pitch, a request from one of those foreign princes for my bank account number, I’d hang up. But for now, I perched on the edge of my kitchen stool, my stomach twisting with excitement.
“Well,” he began. “You can confirm whether or not you received the plane ticket my steward sent you.”
My jaw dropped. He had my attention. “Your steward?”What the hell is a steward?
“Yes. It seems we have a small problem that needs to be addressed.” Interesting choice of the wordwe.“It’s been explained that the only way to do so is to assure you have transportation to Liechtenstein so we can sort the issue.”
“Hold on.” I held the phone with my shoulder and opened my laptop, then put Mr. Fancy Pants on speaker and began typing. Where the hell was that country, exactly?
“Um... what’s the problem you’re referring to, Henryk?” I asked.
Such a cool name, and I was sure I’d heard it before, though for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where.
Google flashed my results onto the screen. There were articles, a map, a Wikipedia entry. Just because I hadn’t heard of Lichtenstein didn’t mean no one else had.
Liechtenstein was a small European country full of castles, run by a noble family. Population only thirty-eight thousand people? That was tiny! A corner of New York. A neighborhood in Los Angeles. A piece of London.
“The problem is,” Henryk began, then stopped and sighed heavily. “It’s more suitable for you come over here and we can discuss it properly in person.”
I narrowed my eyes even though he wasn’t here to see it. “Look, buddy, I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me what’s going on.” I might have been excited by the idea of a paid-for European adventure, but I wasn’t stupid.
Nothing “for free” came without major strings attached. Not in this world.
He heaved a sigh heavy enough for the weight of it to be heard halfway around the world. “Erin, do you remember a park with blue swings? In Washington? You were there on vacation with your parents, I believe.”
Do I remember? My heart began to thump a little harder. Was this guy some sort of years-long stalker? How on earth did he know about a vacation I’d taken with my parents many moons ago? Correction. The blue swings—that day—it wasforeverago.
“Yeah... what about it?” I asked, cautious as hell now.
“Do you also remember you married three boys that day because you couldn’t decide who you liked better?” His tone was deeper with frustration, but his words took me back twenty years.
I froze then began to laugh. “Oh my God! Is that what this is about?” Henryk. A familiar name. Was this his roundabout way of looking me up after all this time?
I picked up the ticket that I’d set beside my laptop and looked at it. It appeared real enough. Had the airline logo. A seat number. Was stamped first-class. No one did paper tickets anymore, but wouldn’t it have been quite the plot twist in this little mystery if it was real?
“I was one of those three boys. I had long brown hair back then.” I’d been seven, but I had a vague recollection. So much time had gone by.
But then, I jumped to my feet as memories flashed across my brain. “Henryk! You had bright blue eyes and hair to your shoulders! You were so cute.” That was probably too much information.
He sighed again, and I giggled. The situation wasn’t as funny as it was entertaining, although I doubted he found it so. “Thank you, but that isn’t the point of this phone call.”
“Please tell me then, whatisthe point?” I asked, mimicking his pompous accent. “You didn’t need to send me a fake plane ticket to reach out, you know.”
“It’snotfake.” He sounded offended, every word sharper, and I almost laughed. Almost, but I was also processing. That ticket wasreal?
“And thepoint,” he said, “is that, unfortunately, in my country, such a commitment, a promise, as it were... is legal.”
I opened my mouth to respond, and for a few seconds, no words came out. Was he freaking serious? “We were seven years old!”
“I remember.” His tone was dry, and I tried to picture him now. Probably in a cardigan, with one of those fancy tobacco pipes, maybe a pocket watch. It was the image his tone inspired. “I imagine you are in shock. I was, as well. It is an unfortunate thing, but I need you to come to my country and legally release me from that bond.”
I wanted to burst into hysterical laughter, but about the more I thought about it, the less funny this seemed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Deadly serious,” he said, and if his words hadn’t said it, his tone conveyed the depths of his solemnity.
“But I married all three of you that day!” So that made me a bigamist. Or a polygamist? I wasn’t sure of the verbiage, nor did it matter. I threw my hands in the air. “You gave me a daisy, not a ring. It can’t be legal. That’s ridiculous!” Most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.
This was bullshit. It had to be.
