Queen Liliuokalani: Royal Prisoner Read Free Page B

food could be delivered anytime, anywhere.
    “Sounds good,” he said.
    “I trust you still like dan dan noodles,” their father said, scanning the menu. “Kung pao chicken, fried pork dumplings—”
    “The usual!” Maisie said.
    Their father closed the menu. “The usual,” he said, and his voice sounded as happy as Maisie and Felix felt.

    For three days, life was almost perfect. Or as perfect as it could be without their mother with them, too. Maisie and Felix and their father walked over to Central Park and played Frisbee. They went to the zoo there like they used to when Maisie and Felix were little. They spent one whole afternoon at the movies, leaving one theater when a movie ended and buying a ticket right away to a movie at another theater. They ate cheap Indian food. They sat around the cozy living room in their pajamas and just talked to each other—about schooland life in Newport and their father’s job at the museum in Doha, Qatar. He told them about the desert where the sand was said to sing, and a trip he took to Dubai.
    But on the fourth day, their father sat at the kitchen table with a big mug of coffee and a look on his face that let Maisie and Felix know that something was up. And that something, they both surmised, had to do with Agatha/Agnes. Maisie studied the mug, which was green and blue and in the same style as all the bowls.
    “So,” their father said, “remember I said this apartment belongs to a friend of mine?”
    “Uh-huh,” Maisie said suspiciously.
    “And remember a while ago I told you that I was…um…seeing someone?” he continued.
    “You said spring was in the air,” Maisie reminded him.
    “Exactly,” he said. “Well, her name is Agatha…”
    Maisie and Felix snuck a peek at each other.
    “…and actually this is her apartment. And actually, she’s arriving in New York tomorrow.”
    Maisie and Felix waited.
    “You’re really going to like her,” their father said finally.
    They didn’t say anything.
    “I know this is…awkward,” he said. “Your mother with Barry—”
    “Bruce,” Felix corrected him, thinking how neither of his parents could get the name of the other’s new partner right.
    “I wish it were different,” their father said, in a way that made Maisie and Felix believe he did wish it were different.
    “Then do something about it!” Maisie said. “It’s not too late. I bet people get divorced and marry each other again all the time.”
    “They probably do,” their father said, nodding. “But your mother does not want to marry me again.”
    His voice sounded so sad that Maisie grabbed hold of his hand. She liked her father’s calloused hands, big and rough.
    “But,” he said, “we got you two out of the deal. How lucky were we, huh?”

    They went through the day together doing the things they liked to do, but something had gone out of Maisie and Felix’s mood. The next morning, they announced that they wanted to go off on their own for a while.
    “A walk down memory lane?” their father said, in that wistful voice he used whenever he talked about the time before the divorce.
    Agatha was due to arrive that afternoon.
    “Be back for dinner, right?” their father said.
    Apparently Agatha was one of the greatest cooks ever, and she was making them all dinner tonight. She’d made all of those bowls and mugs and even the plates because apparently she was also a great ceramist. In fact, Agatha seemed to be great at just about everything. She’d made the quilts on the beds. She’d knitted the scarves and hats and gloves that hung on the hooks by the door. She’d painted the bathroom walls with quotes by her favorite writers.
    “Of course,” Felix said with forced cheerfulness.
    Their father kissed the tops of their heads, made sure they had the key to get back into the apartment, and told them to have a great day.
    Without having to discuss their plans, Maisie and Felix walked to the subway, got on a downtown C train to