Inconceivable! Read Online Free Page A

want to do a shoot in the palace. Otherwise, we keep spare clothing in the wardrobe for just such emergencies.”
Just such emergencies?
I kind of loved the refined, formal way he talked.
    He disappeared around a corner that, from my vantage point at the entrance to the room, was hidden. It looked like he stepped through the wall.
    “Come over here and have a look.”
    I carefully tiptoed through the room, afraid to drip on the plush rug or brush up against the furniture. When I rounded the corner, John had the wardrobe open.
    “Riding clothes?” It was just a guess.
    “That’s right. We keep these here for palace guests who come for dinner and stay for hunting or riding. There’s a linen bag in there for your wet clothes. I’ll wait outside.”
    And he quickly slipped into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him.
    The hulking wardrobe nearly touched the ceiling. Green and pink rose-patterned paper lined its interior walls.
    “That happens? You come to the palace for dinner and end up gallivanting through the woods in designer clothes?” I said out loud to the empty room as I gently touched the velvety fabric of a pair of pants.
    Most Toulenian women were thinner than my U.S. size twelve, so I assumed most of these clothes would be too small for me. I sure didn’t want to squeeze into tight breeches that would tattle on my every chunk and bulge.
    I checked the tags inside the waistbands, and found a pair of jodhpurs that had potential. I peeled off my undies for fear their dampness might seep through and create unseemly wet patches around my crotch.
    Putting on the old-style riding pants with the flare of fabric below the waist was like handing my thighs a megaphone: “We are
here
and we are
big
!” they seemed to scream from inside the overly bulky breeches. I just shook my head. There was no other choice.
    On to the shirts. Only white. A perfect complement to my wet black bra.
    I glanced at the canopy bed as I walked back through the room and wondered who might’ve had a fun romp there. A maid and John’s father? Maybe he caught her by surprise one winter’s evening. At the thought of this imaginary encounter, I exhaled loudly. I glimpsed at myself in the mirror, noting the black bra peeking through the thin button-up and my dark stringy hair drying in messy clumps.
No one wants to romp with this
.
    I tentatively opened the door and peered into the hallway. John was on his phone, scrolling through something with an intent expression.
    He raised his eyes. “You look brilliant!”
    I extended my arms, looked down at my attire, and laughed at his assessment.
    “You can’t be serious.”
    He laughed too. “I mean it. I’m only sorry it’s raining and we can’t go for a ride now that you’re dressed for it. Maybe another time. Let’s go and see about getting you back to your car.”
    I nodded, but I heard the high-pitch whine of air seeping out of my happy little balloon. This unexpected adventure could’ve led to a brief interview or tour of the palace. But it seemed the inside of a guest room wardrobe was the only intimate encounter I’d have with Belvoir. Just as well. My deadline loomed.
    He led me back through the maze of hallways, but stopped abruptly before descending the wooden staircase.
    “Hatty. Have you had lunch? Do you want a bite before you leave?”
    How ‘bout them apples? Maybe I’d get my story-photo-flirting trifecta after all.



wanted to jump at his invitation to stay for lunch but… “I’m supposed to have my photos from the daycare ready for an online story by 4:00 p.m.”
    “If I give you an exclusive interview over scones and coffee, think you could buy yourself some extra time?”
    “I’m sure. Let me text my editor.” I reached into the linen bag that held my wet clothes. “Oh no. My poor phone.” I pulled it from the pocket of my wet pants.
    It was waterlogged and didn’t jump to life like it usually did when I pushed the home button. Panic gushed into