Page 39 of Prince Material
The moment broke. Orson stepped back, adjusting his glasses. “We should…”
“Yeah.” I followed him downstairs, trying to ignore the lingering warmth where my hand had touched his arm.
The kitchen was warm and fragrant, steam rising from a large pot on the stove. Diana stood stirring it while Tia set the table, moving with the easy familiarity of a long-established routine.
“Perfect timing,” Diana said, ladling the gumbo into bowls. “Floris, honey, you sit here next to Orson. Have you ever had gumbo before?”
“No, ma’am.” I settled into the indicated chair, watching as she placed a bowl in front of me. It smelled incredible, though I couldn’t place any of the spices.
“None of that ‘ma’am’ business. It’s Diana.” She sat across from me, her movements careful but steady. “Now, the secret to good gumbo is?—”
“Mom,” Orson interrupted gently. “Let him try it first before you give away all your cooking secrets.”
I took a spoonful, and the flavors exploded across my tongue—complex, spicy but not overwhelming, with depths I couldn’t even begin to identify. “This is amazing.”
Diana beamed. “The trick is?—”
“The roux,” I finished, remembering what Orson had told me. “You have to almost burn it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You know about roux?”
“Orson told me.” I took another spoonful, savoring the flavors. “He said it’s what gives gumbo its depth.”
“Did he now?” She looked at her son with something like surprise. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention to my cooking.”
Orson’s ears turned pink. “I pay attention to everything.”
“Except when to take breaks from studying,” Tia piped up. “Or when someone’s flirting with him.”
“Tia!” Orson choked on his water while I tried very hard not to react to that particular observation.
Diana’s eyes darted between us, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “So, Floris, tell me about your studies. Orson says you’re interested in water management?”
I latched onto the change of subject gratefully, launching into an explanation of Dutch water management systems and my interest in civil engineering. As I talked, Diana’s eyes kept drifting to Orson, watching his reactions with that particular maternal insight that seemed to see right through carefully constructed walls.
“You know,” she said during a lull in conversation, “we had some Dutch engineers come down after Katrina. They had some interesting ideas about improving our flood defenses.”
Orson tensed beside me so I kept my voice casual. “The Delta Works inspired a lot of flood management systems worldwide. Though every situation is unique, of course. What works in the Netherlands might not be practical here.”
“True.” She stirred her gumbo thoughtfully. “But sometimes, outside perspective can be valuable. Help us see things differently.”
Something about the way she said it made me think she wasn’t talking about engineering. I glanced at Orson, who was studying his bowl with unusual intensity.
“Different perspectives are always valuable,” I agreed carefully. “Though local knowledge is crucial too. You can’t impose solutions without understanding the specific challenges and history of a place.”
Diana’s smile widened slightly. “Very diplomatic. Your royal training shows.”
I nearly dropped my spoon. “You know?”
“Of course I know.” She looked amused. “I’m a teacher. Iknow how to use Google, and when Orson mentioned you arranged for a private charter, I was curious about who you were. Not many people have access to that kind of wealth or privilege.”
“Mom,” Orson started, but she waved him off.
“Oh, relax. I’m not going to tell anyone. Though I have to say, you’re not quite what I expected from a prince.”
“Thank you, I think?”
“It is a compliment,” she assured me. “Now, who wants seconds?”
