Page 18 of Storm over the Caribbean
Yes, everything seemed to go perfectly so far.
“Mrs Ambrose,” a familiar, cold voice came from right behind me, almost making me jump out of my skin. “You seem to be very satisfied?”
Plastering a big smile on my face, I turned to face my dear hubby. “And why wouldn’t I be? I’m with my darling husband! And it seems like preparations for the event are going great!”
“I would agree—”
“Spiffing!”
“—ifyou had told me by now what this event is supposed to be all about.”
“Shh!” Placing one finger over my lips, I leaned closer conspiratorially. “You don’t want to be a spoilsport, do you? It’s meant to be a surprise.”
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “I frequently spoil sports. Most often by ensuring people bet on the wrong team and then raking in their hard-earned money.”
Instead of trying to think of an appropriate response to that, I simply bustled off to finish preparations. With my “gentle encouragement”, it didn’t take long for the volunteers to finish setting up the furniture on the lawn. Soon after, my friends, and whatever acquaintances they had been able to persuade or blackmail into coming, started to turn up. There were even some passers-by who stopped to watch, wondering what kind of event was going on.
“Well!” I smiled, waving at my friends. “Seems like everything is ready.”
“Adequate,” a cool voice at my ear said. Heck! How did he get behind me again without me noticing? “Then perhaps you can tell me why so many of the people coming to your little ‘event’ happen to be women. And while you are at it, you can finally tell me what this whole event is all about.”
“Well, how shall I put this…” Pointing ahead, I gestured to the banner that was at this very moment rising above the podium. “Sometimes a banner says more than a thousand words.”
Following my outstretched hand, he looked over at the banner. The banner which readRikkard Ambrose Foundation for Women’s Suffrage and Equal Rights—stand up and live your dream!
The Grand Speech of Mr Rikkard Ambrose
For one long, interminable second, Mr Rikkard Ambrose stared at the banner. As for me?
Well, I gave it a second look. No reason not to admire perfection, right?
Rikkard Ambrose Foundation for Women’s Suffrage and Equal Rights—stand up and live your dream!
I nodded, satisfied. Perfection indeed.
“Mrs Ambrose?”
“Yes, Dicky Darling?”
“What. Is. This?”
“Ah.” I nodded to myself. “I get why you’re surprised. Originally, I had intended to call it theLillian Ambrose Women’s Foundation for Suffrage and Equal Rights, but then I thought—why not name it after my beloved husband instead?” Beaming up at him, I snuggled against his side. “What better present could there be to celebrate our return from our honeymoon?”
“Mrs Ambrose?”
“Yes, Dicky Darling?”
“I will get you for this.”
“True.” Smirking, I patted my pregnant belly. “But not for the next few months, correct?”
A pause.
Quite a long one.
“… Correct.”
My smirk grew just a tiny bit wider. “So, I have plenty of time to prepare my defences. Oh, and…?”
