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The Fourth Son

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Banquets are not cosy dinners, or parties with friends, or dining in the best restaurant in the city with a dozen others. Ruth had done all that, and it had been amazing. 

A banquet, an orchestra – I mean a full complete orchestra playing music – and a menu that was designed and delivered by a three-Michelin-star chef.

Now you know why there is one, not only on the plane.

It was Cinderella at the ball, with the exquisite ball gown, the music, the dancing, and the prince. Oh no, there wasn’t a glass slipper or a fairy godmother.

AND THIS WAS JUST THE FIRST NIGHT!!!

Was reality going to set in in the cold, hard light of dawn?

I don’t think so.

Not for Ruth anyway.

For our new King, it might be said it was a little different.

Breakfast in the room where he had all his breakfasts when he was a child, and the reminiscing coming back in a flood of thoughts, his father, his mother, his brothers, his sisters.

Now, he got to sit at the head of the table.

Except for one small problem.  His mother was there waiting for him.