Rosalie

“I’ll just put these away before I go for the day, Queen Rosalie,” said the pleasantly plump elderly woman as she sidestepped around the kitchen counter, a basket of laundry in her arms.

“Oh, don’t worry about that Gretchen, just leave the basket next to the stairs and I’ll do it later.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

“It’s nothing, really! There’s much less laundry to put away now that the kids are gone.” I ...