Enchanted in Time (Enchanted After Thirty #1)

Chapter 3

3

I t was Saturday morning, and the eagerly anticipated summer vacation had finally begun. It meant sleeping late, staying in your pajamas half the day, and having hardly any appointments. Wonderful.

The mailman rang the bell early in the morning. “Big batch today!”

Hannah groaned. “Coming!”

“No, I want to get the mail!” Emi implored, already putting on her sandals. “You’re the only one who ever gets any mail, Mommy. This way, I can pretend I get lots and lots of letters!”

“They’re just bills, sweetie, not the nice letters you think they are.”

“I still want to!”

Just as Hannah was opening the door to let Emi out so she could then bolt down the three flights of stairs, the door to the neighbor’s apartment opened. “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Meyer. Did the mailman ring your bell as well? He always rings everyone!”

“Hi, Frieda, I’m getting a whole lot of mail today!” Emi cried excitedly as she raced past the elderly lady and down the stairs.

“Hello, my angel. Goodness, what cute little dimples the little one has!”

“Frieda,” Leon said as he padded over to her. “Do you have more chocolate for us?”

“Leon, that’s not something you ask people!”

“Oh, Mrs. Meyer, let him be. I’ll bring you some later, my angel, all right?” Frieda winked at him over her half-moon reading glasses.

Soon after, Emi came tromping up the stairs, a mountain of letters in her hands. The bottom envelope was more than twice the size of the others. “All you get is bills—yeah, right,” she said, panting. “Look, Mommy!”

Hannah furrowed her brow and took the stack of letters that was about to slip out of her daughter’s hands, although Emi refused to let go of the large envelope. She kept staring at it, her mouth hanging open. “It has some kind of squiggly writing on it. I can’t read it. Oh, wait! Let’s see. It says: To Han...nah Mey...er, Stif... What does that say?”

“It should say our address. Let me see.”

Emi reluctantly handed her mother the large envelope, which was made of thick, solid paper as if it were highly official and from another time. Now that Hannah was finally holding it in her hands, her jaw also dropped as she stared at it in amazement.

Her name and address were written in florid script, evidently with a quill or fountain pen. The corners were adorned with shiny gold embellishments, and in place of a stamp, it bore the imprint of an elaborate coat of arms.

Hannah knit her brow. “Who handed you the mail, Emi?”

“A man in a yellow coat.”

“Why would the mailman hand you a letter that has no stamp?”

“What a noble crest!” Frieda commented, leaning so close to Hannah that her large, gray curls were brushing against her cheek.

The coat of arms consisted of a shield divided into four parts. The four panels featured a roaring bear, a long sword, a golden chalice, and white lilies. Emblazoned above the shield was a crown, and winding around the shield and the crown were rose tendrils.

Leon was jumping up and down with excitement. “Does that coat of arms belong to a real knight?”

“I don’t know.” Hannah looked at the back, but there was no return address. “Who would send me a letter like this?”

“The king who has the coat of arms!” Emi exclaimed, her little brown eyes sparkling. “Mommy got a letter from a king!”

“Maybe a fairy-tale prince is courting you, Mrs. Meyer. You’re still young enough.”

“Me and my three adorable children?” Hannah raised one eyebrow. Princes were only for single young women who had their entire lives before them and certainly no children.

Frieda raised her forefinger in rebuke. “Never lose hope! Now open it so we can see what’s inside the envelope!”

Hannah resisted the urge to say that it was none of her nosy neighbor’s business, and she was about to open the letter when she realized they were all still standing in the stairwell. “Let’s open it inside!”

Frieda beamed expectantly, and Hannah gave in and invited her neighbor into the apartment. It was a good thing she’d cleaned it the night before! Even so, Frieda still stumbled over Emi’s sandals, which the little girl had carelessly tossed on the floor of the narrow hallway instead of sticking them in the shoe organizer that was mounted on the wall.

“Try not to trip! Emi, you’re not supposed to leave your shoes just lying around!”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” her neighbor said, laughing, and quickly set the sandals to the side. She then followed the children into the living room—which Hannah always found to be small but extremely cozy—and sat down with them on the dark blue couch next to Marco, who was leafing through a soccer magazine.

Marco gave her a questioning look. “Hello, Marco, your mother received a letter,” Frieda said, so as to explain why she was there. She pointed to Hannah, who was coming up behind them, her eyes glued to the letter she was holding in her hands.

Marco shrugged and went back to the post-match analysis for his favorite team, while Emi and Leon jumped up and down impatiently. “Open it! Open it!”

Hannah took a pair of scissors from the top dresser drawer to avoid having to tear the pretty envelope, then cautiously slit it open. Such a precious letter. Whatever was inside, she wanted to avoid damaging it at all costs.

The envelope had a red liner, and inside it was a thick sheet of white paper. Hannah carefully pulled it out. It felt stiffer and smoother than ordinary writing paper. Was it parchment?

She unfolded the sheet of paper and stopped short. The large, curved characters jumped out at her, and she was so surprised by the official and dignified presentation of this beautifully formed writing that she could hardly decipher the meaning of the letters. Who would go to such lengths to send her such a beautifully presented message?

“What does the letter say?” Frieda, Emi, and Leon all asked at once. Even Marco lowered his magazine.

Hannah kept staring at the parchment in her hand until it occurred to her what she was holding. “It’s an invitation.”

“An invitation? To what?” Marco asked, curious.

“Let’s see, Mommy, let’s see!” the little kids cried.

Hannah crouched down beside them and set the pretty invitation on the wobbly coffee table, and immediately they all bent over it to take a look.

“It’s an invitation to a ball,” Marco said, grumbling. “Who goes to that kind of thing anymore?”

“You’ve been invited to a real ball?” Emi squealed. “By a real live king?”

“That’s wonderful!” Frieda clapped her hands and somehow managed to make herself heard over the children’s excited shouting.

Hannah stared at the invitation, unable to believe she was holding a letter of this sort in her hands. “This has got to be a mix-up. Or a joke. Someone is playing a joke on me!”

“No, Mama, it’s real. Just look at the coat of arms!” Leon insisted.

Marco read on: “‘The ball shall be held at Lichtenberg Castle.’ That old heap? That’s just a decrepit old ruin. How are they going to hold a ball there?”

“Lichtenberg Castle?” Hannah frowned and scanned the invitation. Sure enough. There it was.

The dilapidated old building was in the middle of a wooded area, about three miles from the city where they lived. The ruin stood on a hill in the middle of a wide valley and was accessible by way of an old stone bridge. The crumbling castle was in such an idyllic spot that many had lamented its condition and wondered why the owner or municipality had allowed the structure to become so overgrown and run-down. What a lovely setting it would make for a family outing or festival!

“Read it, Mommy, read it!”

Hannah cleared her throat.

“His Majesty King Gustav Ludwig Friedrich von Lichtenberg

hereby announces

that a ball shall be held this Saturday.

All marriageable ladies of the kingdom are invited.

Following the assembly of the entourage and introduction of the same,

His Majesty Prince Maximilian Heinrich Ludwig von Lichtenberg

shall choose a lady from amongst those present to be his wife.”

Emi was jumping up and down beside Hannah. “Mommy, Mommy, how exciting! You’re going to marry a prince!”

Hannah was about to burst out laughing when Marco’s hearty laughter filled the little room. “Mom’s not a princess. She’s way too old.”

“Well, listen to you!” Hannah playfully pinched his cheek.

“Who knows how old the prince is,” Frieda pointed out. “If the invitation is addressed to your mother, there’s a chance she could be his future bride.”

Hannah laughed and looked at her elderly neighbor in disbelief. She couldn’t possibly believe that this was a real invitation to a ball where a prince would be in search of his future wife!

Right at that moment, she had a realization. “Someone’s playing a practical joke. Yesterday at the baby shower, I said to Lena and her friends that there had to be a Prince Charming waiting for me somewhere. I’m sure this was their idea!”

“But the coat of arms, Mommy,” Leon insisted. “It’s real!”

“I’m not an expert on heraldry, sweetheart, but I don’t think it’s real.”

“Let’s google it!” Marco leapt off the couch and ran over to the small corner desk with the computer. He booted it up, which took some time, and then started hammering away at the keys.

“What dress are you going to wear, Mommy?” Emi wanted to know.

Hannah caressed her little girl’s head. “Sweetheart, someone’s pulling my leg here. I’m not going to any ball.”

“Mrs. Meyer, it’s the king’s express order!” admonished Frieda, her index finger in the air.

“But we don’t have a king for a ruler. We live in a democracy. Therefore, no king can order me to go to a ball—especially since this whole invitation and ball have got to be some stupid joke.”

“I don’t think so,” Leon said earnestly.

“I don’t either, my little angel,” Frieda agreed, smiling at him.

“I found the page. Bring me the letter,” Marco yelled from the desk, and his two little siblings came bounding over with the invitation. “This is the page about Lichtenberg Castle. There’s nothing here about a royal family or a King Gustav and Prince Maximilian.”

“If a royal family had lived where the castle ruins are now, we would have known about it,” Hannah said, her brow furrowed. “But there wasn’t a single lesson in school about a king from this area, and even my parents never said anything about a king or a prince who lived at Lichtenberg Castle. We know nothing about this castle.”

“I’ll read you what it says here.” Marco leaned a little closer to the screen:

“The ruins of Lichtenberg Castle fascinate young and old alike. What we have here are the ruined remains, presumably of a former castle, now overgrown with ivy and thorny vines.

It is impossible to say who the owner was. The towns and communities that border the ruin and the surrounding forest region possess no deed of ownership and no power of disposition.

Nothing is known about the history of the castle. There is no record or mention of it anywhere. Based on occasional excavations and a thorough inspection, archaeologists and building researchers have concluded that it is a contrived ruin built by a prince approximately 100 to 150 years ago to give the area the atmosphere of a fairy tale.

We cannot say with certainty whether the name Lichtenberg Castle is of more recent origin or whether it was the actual name of a once magnificent building, assuming that building even existed at all.”

“That’s it? Nothing on the history?” Hannah leaned over her son’s shoulder and skimmed the text. Then she shook her head. “I’m telling you, this invitation has got to be a stupid joke.”

“Here are some more pictures.”

The kids clicked through the photos of the ruin. The walls and structural remains were so overgrown that they found it almost impossible to identify much of anything—until all at once, they all let out a gasp. “Look, Mom, it’s the coat of arms on your letter!”

Hannah glanced at the screen again. The photo showed a section of an archway in the middle of a massive wall. The archway had once served as the entrance to the castle courtyard, and one segment showed a bas-relief peeking out from beneath a rose vine.

“Can you make the picture bigger?” Hannah asked, and Marco immediately zoomed in. Now she could see it as well. The relief consisted of two lions framing a coat of arms. Hannah brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead and squinted. She could make out a shield divided into four parts: a roaring bear, a golden chalice, a long sword, and white lilies. Above it was a crown. The only difference was that the flourishes around the crest were not roses, as on the letter, but sweeping embellishments.

She straightened up. “The shield and the crown are identical, but the border is different.”

Leon countered with a precocious observation. “A coat of arms can change over the years,” he said. “You read that to me yourself from my book about knights, Mama!”

“In any case, it doesn’t say anything about the ruin being restored. So I doubt they’ll be holding a ball there tonight. And that’s that.”

“No, Mommy.” Emi was visibly disappointed and started pouting. “I will not believe that.”

“Look here.” Frieda had approached and was pointing at the text on the invitation. “It says down here that a coach will be picking you up at seven o’clock this evening, Mrs. Meyer, and that it will also bring you home.”

“A coach?” Hannah raised her eyebrows.

“With real horses?” Emi was squealing and jumping up and down again.

Frieda lovingly stroked her blonde hair. “I assume so, my angel.”

“That’s so great! Can I come with you, Mommy?”

Hannah laughed.

“Balls are only for grown-ups, angel,” Frieda interjected.

“And I’m obviously not going!”

A storm of indignation rained down on Hannah.

“You have to, Mommy!”

“But Mrs. Meyer, you cannot refuse an invitation such as this.”

“Mommy, you have to go and take pictures of the knights for me!”

“There won’t be any coaches showing up anyway,” Marco added, making his contribution to the debate.

Hannah agreed. “That’s what it looks like.”

“Yes, there will. The coach is coming!” Emi stomped her foot, and Leon followed suit. “Please, Mommy!”

Hannah was not at all fond of disappointing her kids. They had it hard enough as it was, and she did her best to fulfill any wish of theirs that she could. They had so damn few of them anyway. She sat down on the couch, picked up her little girl, and set her on her lap. “Sweetheart, there’s no way I can go to a ball. I don’t have a dress.”

“Then you have to buy one!” Emi cried.

“We don’t have any money left,” Leon reminded her.

“Ball gowns are also awfully expensive, and they usually need adjusting, sweetie. Even if we did have the money, I wouldn’t be able to buy one today on such short notice.”

“Let’s not give up because of that!” Frieda said, rising. “Let me see what you have hidden in your wardrobe.”

“There’s nothing hidden in my wardrobe!” Having been caught off guard, Hannah hurried after her neighbor, who was already trundling into her bedroom.

“For years, I worked as a seamstress, and I’ve made many a dream dress. You wouldn’t believe what you can conjure up with a sewing machine and a few scraps of fabric. So, Mrs. Meyer, show me what you have!”

Without waiting for Hannah’s permission, Frieda opened the creaking door of the old wooden wardrobe. “No... no... no...” she said as she rummaged through the hanging garments. “Aha, this might do it.” She slung a white summer dress with a big summer flower print across her arm and kept looking.

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Mrs.—”

“Frieda!” her neighbor insisted, correcting her as she threw an old red cocktail dress over her arm. “You are to call me Frieda.”

“Frieda, you can’t just barge in here and rummage through my things! If I tell you I haven’t got anything for a gala event, then that’s the way it is. I don’t want my children to get their hopes up for no reason when I’m not going to this ball in the first place.”

“But Mommy, if Frieda makes you a pretty dress, then you will go, won’t you?” Emi stuck out her lower lip. The little rascal knew exactly what faces to make to soften her mother’s heart.

“Sweetheart, Frieda won’t be able to sew anything on such short notice. The coach is supposed to be here in less than ten hours.”

“But if she can do it, you’ll go, right?” Her sparkling brown eyes got even bigger in gleeful anticipation.

Emi got her brown eyes from Andrew. So did Leon. Whenever Hannah’s little daughter and youngest son looked at her, it felt like Andrew was looking at her. In those first few moments after his death, Hannah hadn’t thought she’d be able to stand always seeing him before her like that. But not long afterwards, she realized that her children alone were what kept her alive: itty bitty Emi, barely two years old; silly Marco, just five years old; and the unborn mite in her belly. Since then, her feelings had turned around, and she loved looking into her children’s eyes.

“But who will take care of you? You’re still way too young to be left alone.”

“Not me!” Marco immediately cried.

“I could look after your little angels,” Frieda offered, smiling at Emi. “I would love to!”

“See? Frieda will take care of us!” Emi cried.

Hannah rolled her eyes. Why did this old woman always have to side with her little kids? She didn’t want to turn her children down. In general, she tried to set a good example and show them that you had to take risks and try new things. But going to a ball?

Although... she could pretend that she would do it. Besides, Frieda would never manage to sew her a dress that would be fit for a royal ball. And there wouldn’t be any coaches pulling up to the door, either. It wasn’t right to play along, but she would do it anyway. Sometimes, as a mother, you had to go easy on yourself.

“If Frieda brings me an absolutely suitable dress by six tonight, then?—”

“Then you’ll get in the coach and go to the ball?” Emi squealed, clapping her hands to her cheeks.

Hannah sighed. “Yes, sweetheart, if the coach actually comes, then I’ll do it.”

“Yaaaayyy!” Emi and Leon’s excited shouting and noisy leaping about echoed so loudly throughout the little apartment that the walls shook.

“You can’t be serious, Mom.” This was all that Marco had to say.