“Are you still pining for Prince Edgar?” Cassandra demanded, interrupting my pity party, or given the décor, my pity hoedown. “Who, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you ever actually met? You need to see someone, or take something, because your delusions are out of control. Just because you designed banners with Prince Edgar’s face on them doesn’t count as a date, and yes, I know you claim you had dinner with him, at IHOP, which doesn’t do very much for your credibility, I mean if that doesn’t define going off the emotional deep end I don’t know what does. You’re having a serious reality disconnect and it’s affecting your work and if you don’t stop lying to yourself, and especially to me, well, I’m going to have to let you go.”

As I was processing this threat and preparing to either grovel more effectively or hurl a lamp made from a vintage gasoline can onto the floor and quit in a huff, a voice inquired, “Are you Mr. Ogden’s employer?”

Everyone in the ballroom turned to see Prince Edgar, followed by his security team, standing near the ballroom’s ornate gilded doors.

“Um, oh my God, um, yes, I am. Your Highness,” Cassandra sputtered.

“Cassandra?” I said airily, causing her to fall into a wobbling curtsy as one of her wrought iron earrings unhooked and clattered to the floor.

“I’m so sorry to intrude,” said Edgar, “but I was wondering if Carter might enjoy his lunch break a few moments early? If that’s all right with Carter?”

For Cassandra’s benefit and my own, I paused. Edgar hadn’t tried to contact me in any way, and now he just showed up, as if his dramatic entrance, holding a deluxe picnic basket, would erase his neglect, or apologize for it. I gestured as if I was incredibly busy, then I checked my phone, as if I had to cancel my lunch plans with Hugh Jackman, and then I made a clicking noise with my tongue and shrugged vaguely in Edgar’s direction, indicating a put-upon “Up to you.”

“Of . . . of course, Your Highness,” Cassandra whimpered, now clutching a table so she could remain in a half curtsy, as I bet myself that she’d repeat the words “Your Highness” three more times in the next 10 seconds.

“It’s so wonderful to see you, Your Highness, and I hope our work at the United Nations was acceptable, Your Highness, and, well, what a lovely surprise to meet you, Your Highness, I’m such a fan, Your Highness.”

Four times! Score!

Once Edgar and I had left the ballroom I unleashed my frustration: “What are you doing? What is this?”

We were standing in a fairly deserted outer hallway, but Edgar needed more privacy, so he dragged me into a stairwell, and I sat on the stairs as his team waited outside.