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Stephen nodded. “What’s his name?”
“Grieg,” I answered.
We split up, covering more ground.
“Like the composer?” The stranger asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “How did you?—”
“I like music, too. Interesting choice.”
We crossed the street and headed to look around the park.
“I am not like obsessed with Grieg. But we got him from some friends.”
I did not explain more than I had to. Grieg’s parents were the product of Norwegian stock originally bred by Queen Kiersten of Norway. She’d given a breeding pair to my brother-in-law’s mother, Queen Karolina of Lundhavn, as a birthday present. Grieg was brought to me by Karolina at my darkest hour. He’d been handed to me as a precious twelve-week-old puppy. Caring for him got me out of a stupor. He’d given me only love in a time of need. I was desperate to find him unscathed.
“Dogs are special. They’re smart. We’ll find him,” the stranger said.
“He’s everything to me. I take him everywhere. He’s the best boy.”
“Of course.”
“Grieg!” I called.
The stranger and I split. I looked in every bush, shouting his name.
Ten minutes later, I heard the best words. “I found him!”
Racing over, I found Grieg cowering in a bush. I knelt to coax him out.
“Come on, baby,” I said in French. “Are you alright? Let Mama take you home.”
The dog emerged, tail wagging hesitantly. I scooped him up, showering him with kisses. It was such a relief.
“He was rattled. Poor guy,” the stranger said.
“Thank you for your help,” I said. “It meant so much. Now, let’s pray my bike is still back there.”
“Stephen didn’t wander far. I bet it’s fine. People here don’t steal stuff like they do back home.”
“In the States?” I asked.
He nodded. “Sorry, I’m Wyatt. I should have said. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Odie,” I said.
He had no idea who I was, but the driver did. It was blissful to be incognito, and my bike made that even easier. No one suspected me out here cycling about, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was Princess Odette—the Queen’s second-youngest sister.
“Nice to meet you,” Wyatt had a crooked, handsome smile.
He was thinking about something. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I thought for a moment it might be me. He was cute with kind eyes. Iflushed at the thought of this handsome American crushing on me. It was flattering but too much. I wanted to say something else—to find another reason to talk—but I couldn’t. It occurred to me that maybe he knew who I was now. Wanting to avoid the awkward dance of him bowing, I spun around and beelined towards my bike with Grieg safe in my arms.
I settled Grieg into the box. I worried he’d be scarred, but he jumped right in. He was ready to go back home to warm comfort.
“You have a good, safe rest of your day,” Wyatt called.
“Thanks. This intersection is a disaster.”