Free Ivy Secrets by Jean Stone

She felt as though she should. But then, Marina was a princess and Charlie was … well, Charlie was only Charlene O’Brien, here at Smith on a scholarship.
    “No problem,” she responded, and reached up to remove a poster of Greece. “The rooms are the same size,” she added, so that Marina wouldn’t feel bad about uprooting her. As she carried the poster into the other room, she saw Marina smooth her hair in front of the mirror, then wet her lips. Charlie noticed an exquisite ring on her finger—a sapphire, perhaps, surrounded by a cluster of diamonds.
    “I have never had a roommate,” Marina said.
    “I have. Two sisters most of my life,” Charlie answered.
    Marina laughed. “Living in a room with my sister probably would have killed me by now.”
    “I’m surprised you didn’t get a single room.”
    “I never asked if it was an option. Look, I am not crazy about this arrangement, but if this is what it takes—”
    “I’ll be quiet,” Charlie interrupted. “I don’t play loudmusic, and I’ll try not to talk to myself.” She hoped Marina would see the humor in her remark, but the princess stared at her blankly. “It’s just that—” Charlie stumbled for words, “well, I’ll try to make you comfortable.”
    “You are not to ‘make me comfortable,’ ” Marina answered. “Please. I do not need any more caretakers than I have already.” She glanced around the room. “I assume this old house has indoor plumbing. Where is the bathroom?”
    Charlie grimaced and pointed toward the door. “Down the hall,” she said, then added, “Sorry.”
    Marina rolled her dark eyes. “We need to get something straight. Do not pamper me and do not treat me differently from the way you treat the others. If you can manage that, we will get along fine.” She turned away from Charlie and stared out the window. “And whatever you think,” she said slowly, “you must understand that being a princess is nothing special.” She faced Charlie again. Charlie noticed a look of distant sadness sweep from her eyes. “Did you register for classes yet?” the princess asked.
    “I registered early. I didn’t know if I’d have time between working.”
    “Working?”
    “In the kitchen. It’s part of my work-study program.”
    Marina looked at Charlie and scowled again. “What is a work-study program?”
    Charlie hesitated. She hated to have Marina think she was one of the poor kids. She’d never felt poor—hell, her father had a good job in the steel mill, and they never went without. Still, she supposed they were middle class. And to Princess Marina, middle-class Americans were probably below poverty level. But then, Marina would find out sooner or later. “I’m here on a scholarship,” she confessed. “Part of it means I have to work in the kitchen.”
    Marina studied her as though trying to figure out what Charlie meant.
    “Don’t worry, though. I don’t cook. I clean up after the cook,” she said, trying to sound light. “I only have to work one meal a day,” she added quickly, as though that made it sound less middle-class. “It varies though,” she heard herself prattle on. “Sometimes it’s breakfast, sometimes dinner.”
    “What’s your major?” Marina asked.
    Charlie shrugged. “Liberal arts. For now.” She didn’twant to tell Marina that her parents expected her to be a teacher, but that Charlie hoped to learn what other options were available to her. She didn’t want to tell Marina that she would one day like to own her own business—a chic clothing store, perhaps, one like Felicia’s where Charlie had worked in the summer, where the clientele included women like Marina who could well afford several hundred dollars for a dress, then add to that the right bag, shoes, and accessories. She didn’t want to explain that a Smith degree would help her look good to the customers she wanted to attract. And, in the meantime, it also wouldn’t hurt if she found herself a husband.