One cold December day, Edith and Luna decided to bring a lovely red velvet layer cake – rather than their standard bread – to the soup kitchen. When they arrived, they were greeted by the kitchen nutritionist, Mrs. Childs, who firmly told them that the kitchen’s clientele didn’t need sweets – they needed nutritious foods with anti-oxidants, such acai berries and quinoa. Edith rolled her eyes, “Please, let them eat cake.”
A lively vagrant called Rascal started chanting “We want cake! We want cake!” Then the whole dingy dining room joined in, chanting in unison “We want cake! We want cake!” Before things got really out of control, Mrs. Childs relented. The crowd cheered and the patrons enjoyed a piece of the delectable treat.
As Edith was serving the cake, her gaze fell upon a familiar face. She quickly averted her glance, hoping to avoid discovery. The man, a former Russian prince sporting a white beard, whispered, “I would recognize you anywhere. Your image is etched on my heart . . . Edith.” Edith was grossed-out, but she was more worried about being returned to her aristocratic family. “Please don’t tell them you found me!” she pleaded.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Prince Kurigan promised.
“How can I know that can I trust you?” questioned Edith.
He gently replied, “Because I shall tell you a secret of a certain indiscretion that you must likewise vow to take with you to the grave.”
“Yes. Tell me.”
“One summer day, at twilight,” he began, “I heard an angel’s song. Your grandmother thought no one was listening – but I was. And I was besotted with her. When she turned and saw me, she blushed. I walked over to her, reached out for her, and held her in a passionate embrace. Our attraction to each other was undeniable and unstoppable. That song forever changed my life . . . and hers. Unlike your situation, Violet was married, so she was able to hide her secret by pretending that the child was her husband’s. But that was only a lie fabricated to allow her to appear to live the life of a good wife and mother, without reproach. You see, Robert – your father – is my son. You, Edith, are my grand- daughter.”
“It can’t be. Papa was born before you and Grandma-ma met,” Edith said with an air of confusion.
“The meeting in Russia was our second meeting. I first met Violet years earlier with I was visiting London. She arranged the subsequent trip to Russia – the extravagant holiday – as a pretext to meet again and to allow me to see my son. Violet has a warm heart, but she keeps it locked away. Very few ever get a glimpse at it.”
“Indeed,” agreed Edith. “I have felt the warmth from her heart.”
“I know. She told me about Marigold.”
“Ohhh,” Edith said angrily. “Everything?”
“Yes,” Prince Kurigan answered. “Although our love for each other is a secret to the world, there are no secrets between us. We are one.”
Edith’s expression softened and she hugged her grandfather like a great big teddy bear.
The Prince lowered his eyes and quietly asked, “May I see her? Your Marigold? My great-grand-daughter?”
Edith’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, but she must never know you are her great-grand-father. You’re just a kind, jolly old man from the soup kitchen. We’ll be home tonight at 8:00.”
She laid a small note bearing her address in his hand. He gently clasped his giant hand on hers. “Thank you.”
As Edith walked away, she turned back to Prince Kurigan for a moment. “Why did you come here tonight? Isn’t Rose’s refugee hovel still available to you?”
“Yes, but the food there is bland and predictable. Word on the street is that this soup kitchen serves a meal that is good for the body as well as the soul. I can’t say I disagree. Mrs. Childs is quiet the chef,” he said patting his tummy.
Later that evening, Edith suggested that Marigold should don her prettiest smock. Something fit for a princess. “For tonight we shall have a very special visitor.”
Marigold loved surprises and was not disappointed when the Prince entered the room with a twinkle in his eye. “Father Christmas!” Marigold exclaimed, rushing into his arms.
“Yes,” Edith smiled. “Yes. Father Christmas indeed.”
Good explanation of why Edith doesn’t look anything like Mary!