Page 42 of The Heart of the King

“You make an excellent point. Let’s get a crew in here to strip it down or replace with things we don’t necessarily care about getting broken.” Jazz looked around to see what could be removed and realized she had no idea which things were irreplaceable and which weren’t.

Mrs. Sneedly was already on her phone making arrangements. “There’s a group on their way. Sarah is getting some clothes in the appropriate size in case she doesn’t bring much with her. We don’t have access to age-appropriate bedding. It’s been generations since a girl her age lived in the Monarch’s Quarters.”

“Is there anything colorful? Bright maybe?”

Mrs. Sneedly shook her head. “Not that I can think of.”

Jazz snapped her fingers as several staff members walked in. “I have something. Get them to work in here, and I’ll be right back.”

She hurried back to the Queen’s Quarters, something she still had a hard time thinking of as hers, and dug through a bureau in her closet. Jonathan, or his people, had packed up her things and sent basically all of it except the furniture.

Hadn’t she seen... there! She pulled the quilt out of bottom drawer. Fun bright colors in geometric shapes would appeal to the girl, wouldn’t they?

Jazzreallyneeded to find out what her sister-in-law’s name was. Did David even know?

The quilt had been way too big for her childhood bed, so it had looked far more like a bedspread than a comforter, but Jazz had loved it. She prayed this little girl wouldn’t destroy it like Mrs. Sneedly rightly feared.

Quickly pulling the much nicer spread off the bed, Jazz balled it up and handed it to Sarah. Mrs. Sneedly looked like she wanted to faint at the way it was handled, but it couldn’t be that old or it wouldn’t still be in use.

The quilt certainly brightened up the bed with its dark wood and even did something to help the room be less dreary as well.

Mrs. Sneedly barked out orders as things were removed and replaced.

They were nearly done when Jazz received a text from David. “She’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

“You need to head downstairs then, ma’am.” Sarah tilted her head. “Come with me first. Let me touch up your hair and makeup.”

The closet had a door that came out in Jazz’s room. Nearly hidden from her side, she’d been told the room they’d just been in was often used as a nursery or for children since they could get to their mother easily. That was why she’d chosen it for her young sister-in-law.

She and Sarah hurried to her bathroom where Sarah did a quick fix then sent Jazz on her way.

Reaching the portico, Jazz found David already waiting. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re ready for this,” she told him softly, reaching up to straighten his tie. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Jasmine.” He held her hand as Stewart told them the car was pulling through the gate.

The dark SUV pulled to a stop near the open door. Daniel exited the passenger side and opened the door, helping the girl out.

For some reason, in her head, Jazz had been thinking of the girl as four or five, but instead she likely was closer to seven or eight.

She heard David take a deep breath and felt him squeeze her hand.

The girl looked around, wide-eyed, but didn’t say anything. Daniel’s hand on her back urged her forward. Finally, she stopped a few feet from David, but only tilted her head and stared at him for a long minute.

“You’re my brother?” She sounded defiant.

He gave a single nod. “I am.”

She turned to Jazz. “Does that make you my new mom and him my new dad?”

Jazz suspected her answer would define how the next few days - or longer - would go. “Not at all. You already have a mother. Unfortunately, at the moment, she’s unable to take care of you. As your family, we’re going to do so instead until she’s able to again.” That was likely never, but Jazz wasn’t going tell the girl. “That’s what families do. Now, can you tell me two things?”

She didn’t wait for the girl to agree, but went on. “Can you tell me your full name, but then also tell me what name you prefer to go by? My name is Jasmine, but only David calls me that. Everyone else calls me Jazz.”

The girl still seemed to be sizing her up. “I’m Mildred Hazel. My mother calls me Mildred, or when she’s in a good mood and not drunk, Millie. My nanny, who takes care of me most, calls me Zellie, or Hazel if I’m in trouble.”

Zellie? Who called a kid Zellie? Jazz had to admit it was kinda fun, if a bit oddball. “Both lovely names. What would you like us to call you during your stay with us?”

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