At Your Service (10 page)

Ingrid stares at me, and suddenly her freckles look a little less cute and a little more menacing.

“All of them.”

“Princess Ingrid, er, madam, it can't be done. The one in Yankee Stadium is inside the gates. That means you can only get in there when a game is going on.”

“Is there a game today?” Now her foot is tapping.

“The team's still in Florida for spring training. I think they have tours of the stadium, but we'd have to really rush
to get there in time. They only have them around lunchtime unless you arrange it ahead of time. But I'll tell you what, you go stand with your brother and sister, and I'll see if I can talk someone here into getting me a printout of these spots, okay? We can circle the ones we can get to.”

The girl I ask is really friendly, but insists that the Apple Store isn't a copy center. I have to use my best concierge charm (it helps when I produce a business card; it isn't exactly hotel-issued, but you can get anything off the Internet these days). I finally manage to score a hard copy of the penny machine locations, which I tuck into my wallet.

When Ingrid spots me coming, she pushes between Sophie and Alex and puts one hand over each of their iPads. They both yelp.

“Ingrid! I was winning,” Alex shouts.

“You most definitely were not, Prince of Suck It,” replies Pay with a smirk. Prince of Suck It? She just called him Prince of Suck It. I almost wish I'd crashed through the phobia steps after all. But Alex grins back.

Ingrid seems unconcerned. “We're leaving,” she announces.

“We are not,” says Alex. Sophie begins pulling at her lip with her thumb. It's obvious she wants nothing to do with any kind of conflict. Maybe that's how she stays so regal all
the time. Just avoid all unpleasantness and live happily ever after in Dreamland. Wish I was there now.

Instead I have to solve this problem, like the good concierge I am. “Look, Princess Ingrid is on a mission of sorts. She wants to collect more pennies. Since Princess Sophie said she wants to see Central Park next, maybe we could head to the zoo there. It's not far from here, and then everyone will have gotten a chance to do something they wanted.” I exhale and hope this plan works for everyone. It sounds perfectly logical to me.

Too bad the three faces staring back at me don't seem to agree. You know that saying, “You can't please all the people all the time”? Right now I'm not pleasing any of the people any of the time. Sophie wants to see Central Park, but only in a carriage. Ingrid wants to zoom in and out of Central Park as fast as possible so we can head to the next spot on her penny-press list. And Alex? Who knows what he wants. I guess to finish his game.

Luckily, Pay is the bestest of best friends. “I'm with Chloe. It's stuffy down here. Let's check out the park.”

Alex scowls. “I really need to ask someone at the Genius Bar about a problem I'm having with my phone first. It's not connecting my international calls. Can we at least do that while we're here?”

Sophie and Pay nod. I don't see why he couldn't have handled that BEFORE playing a game, but I nod too. Ingrid is wearing a small storm cloud over her head and she doesn't say anything. We give Alex's name at the Genius Bar and, while we wait his turn, Sophie challenges Pay to another round of the game they'd all been playing. I watch over her shoulder and it actually looks like a fun one.

When we finish, I do a quick head count. Frans (wait, it's Hans, right? Oh drat, now I can't remember anymore) is over by Alex, who's talking to the Apple genius. (FYI: If I couldn't be a concierge, I'd want to work somewhere where my actual job title is “genius.”) Sophie is wandering over to look at the cell phone cases. Pay is right next to me and Ingrid is—

WHERE IS INGRID?

T
he whole place is one big box with a staircase in the middle, so it isn't like there's anywhere to hide. I scan the entire room, while my stomach feels like the Empire State Building dropped into it.

“Princess Ingrid?” I yell, and Sophie's head jerks up. Alex and Frans/Hans don't seem to hear, but Pay clues in right away. Sophie materializes at my elbow within a thump or two of my hammering heart. My whole insides are basically a construction zone.

“Shh!!!” she says.

“Why shh? I can't find your sister!”

“I know, but I don't want to get her in trouble with Hans.” So it's Hans. Hans, Hans, Hans. I try to imprint that on my
memory before I realize I don't actually give a fig which one he is. I LOST MY GUEST!

Sophie grabs my hand. I'm momentarily surprised her skin feels like real-person skin and not like a marble statue or something.

“She's always up to nonsense like this and Dad says if she disappears again, she can't have a pony for her birthday.”

For real?

I just—

I don't even know what to say to a statement like that.

Sophie whispers, “Well, there's also that Dad's been mentioning military school for Alex, and if he learns we let Ingrid out of our sight . . .”

I sneak a glance at Alex. He's pointing to something on his phone, happily oblivious to our megacrisis.

Sophie follows my look and says, “I'll get him. He'll know what to do. You two just look around under the tables or something. But don't be
obvious
.”

Don't be obvious crawling around on the floor of the Apple Store? Luckily, this is New York, and the Apple Store is crazy crowded.

Pay and I split up and do a quick sweep of the store. One of my eyes remains on Hans, and whenever he glances around,
I quickly pretend to be examining whichever techie device is closest. Sophie says something to Alex, and he leaves Hans talking to Mr. Genius guy while he saunters over to me like he doesn't have a care in the world. Paisley and Sophie join us.

“She's not anywhere?” His body is all casual floppy, but his voice has a decidedly uncool edge to it. Good. At least someone is freaking out with me.

I shake my head. I'm not sure I trust my voice to come out anything other than pip-squeaky.

Sophie takes charge. “Okay. Be Ingrid. Let's put ourselves in her shoes. Where would she go?”

Thunk. My stomach slides all the way into my patent-leather heels. I reach into my purse, already sure of what I'll find there. Which is nothing.

“She took it.”

“Took what?” Alex asks.

“My wallet. It had the list of penny machine locations. And the quarters, all my cash, plus my MetroCard. Everything she'd need. Omigosh. She's going to try to get to all the machines.”

“So she's alone . . . up there?” Pay's chin jerks toward heaven, but I know she really means street level. And not “up there” but “out there.”

As in 100 percent all alone in New York City.

“We gotta go after her! I'm positive she'd go to the Central Park Zoo first. I told her how close we were to it. If we run, we can catch her,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I don't think I do a very good job.

“We have to lose Hans first.” Alex is matter-of-fact.

“Are we allowed to do that?” I gape at him. This may be an emergency, but I still have protocol on my mind.

“Quite right we're not. But if he's along, he'll tell Father right away and our gooses will be cooked.”

I suddenly have an even worse thought.

If Alex's dad finds out, that means my dad finds out. I can kiss my Capable Chloe nickname good-bye, right alongside my golden key from Les Clefs d'Or. I'll have to be an architect or a scientist or something totally boring instead of the greatest concierge in the history of New York City. This is now officially a megadisaster!

Okay, so maybe Hans would be the one in actual trouble, because technically, he should have been watching Ingrid, but just because he didn't do his job doesn't mean I shouldn't do mine.
My
job is to help my guests get what they want, and what they want is to ditch Hans. So, um, aren't I kind of obligated to do as they wish? My throat has a knot in it like it's
trying to tell me this isn't the best idea, but I swallow it away.

“Let's ditch Hans,” I say. “Except won't he call in the police to find all of us, then?”

“Doubtful. He'll chalk it up to a prank and figure we're safe, especially since he knows you know the city so well. We're always trying to get a little freedom from our bodyguards, so he won't think anything's actually wrong. Besides, five of us on our own is totally different than one nine-year-old alone in the city. He probably won't want to get in trouble for letting us give him the slip, so odds are fifty-fifty he even tells Father. My guess is he and Frans will try to find us themselves.”

Alex heads back over to the Genius Bar, and I see him yukking it up with Hans and the Apple guy. How can he even fake laugh at a time like this? Then he leads Hans off in the direction of the restroom. While Hans is distracted, Alex places his hand down by his leg and makes a little pushing motion, telling us to move it. We're halfway up the phobia steps (and the fact that I don't even pause to contemplate them is a definite first) when Alex comes tearing around the corner from the bathroom.

“Go!” he yells.

Slamming out the glass doors, we book it for the entrance to Central Park. I barely pay attention to the traffic we dodge between. I do notice when Alex maneuvers to the outside of
Pay, Sophie, and me, so that he'd get flattened by the crush of yellow taxis before we would. He might be sort of full of himself, but if that isn't true princely behavior, I don't know what is.

We thud down the pathway into the park, flying by people enjoying the early spring day on the green benches. We barrel past the hot dog carts and the soft pretzel carts and the ice cream carts. We zoom past the street artists sketching caricatures and weave around rollerbladers, until we stop, huffing and puffing, in front of the zoo entrance.

I usually love walking the pathway alongside the zoo, especially when it's time for the musical clock to chime and the brass animals to march along the top of the brick archway. Obviously, I am not noticing the clock now. I give only a sliver of attention to the seal enclosure, even though there's a crowd gathering, which means it must be close to feeding time. I spin in place at the zoo entrance: the café . . . the restrooms . . . the ticket booth . . . THERE! The penny machines (there are two of them) sit tucked to the edge of the brick walkway, right by the gift shop. These are more modern looking than the ones at FAO, but one thing is decidedly missing: Ingrid. There are children everywhere, but not one single ponytailed, freckled-faced Somersteinian. Somersteiner? Somersteiny?

Doesn't matter. She's not here.

We all spread out in different directions. I choose the pathway under the musical clock that links the main zoo with the Children's Zoo. I'm so frantic, I can't even remember what Ingrid is wearing, so I peer into the face of every girl I pass. There are blondes, brunettes, redheads, girls in hats, girls in hoodies, girls on their dads' shoulders. There are no princesses. Or at the very least, there is no Princess Ingrid.

I turn and do the same systematic check back to the penny machines, where everyone else is already waiting. I hold my breath in the crazy hope that Ingrid will pop out from behind Alex's legs and we'll all hug, and by later this afternoon we'll be laughing and joking about the scare she gave us. But all I have to do is look at Sophie's face to know that isn't going to happen.

Sophie takes her royal role waaaay too seriously, but I will give the girl this: So far, she's looked like she was ready to hold court with her subjects at a moment's notice. Not now. Her eyes are all wild, like Mr. Whilpers when he realizes I bought up every last one of his precious Dr Peppers from the break-room soda machine.

We are so dead.

W
hat do we do now?” Sophie shrieks, and grabs Alex's arm. He puts it around her and strokes her hair gently.

I feel like I should be the one to take charge here. Here's the thing: If you want to pay homage to the
Breakfast at Tiffany's
movie by actually having breakfast on the sidewalk outside Tiffany's, I can secure a café table and a delicious assortment of croissants. If you want to sit next to Spike Lee courtside at a Knicks game, I'm your girl. Organizing a search party for a missing princess who could be anywhere in the city at the moment? Um, I'm not so sure I'm qualified.

Luckily, Alex steps in. How very princely.

“Okay, let's all keep our wits about us. Whatever we do, we
can't let Father find out just yet. We're the ones who were supposed to be keeping an eye on her, and Father will have our heads if we've shirked our responsibilities. As well, I think we can find her on our own. If I'm going to be king one day, I don't want to go running to dear old Daddy every time I have a problem.”

Interesting. So Alex is also trying to show his dad how capable he is? This makes me like him a teensy-tiny bit more.

Sophie doesn't seem to feel the same rush of respect. “Heavens no. I don't care if Father does follow through on his threat of military school for you, Alex. This isn't like when it happens at home.”

“Um, happens at home?” Pay asks. She just beats me to it.

Sophie and Alex exchange a look before Sophie answers. “Ingrid's been sneaking off the castle grounds since she was about five. Mother and Father actually think it's good for her to learn her way in the world, so they sort of encourage it. Or at least they don't punish her.”

She takes a jagged-sounding breath. “Everyone in our kingdom knows she does this and they keep an eye on her.”

“Everyone in your kingdom? Everyone?” I know her country is small, but what, are they on a first-name basis with all the commoners?