Princess Polka Dot's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Both mayors had said yes. But Princess Polka Dot knew a promise could break the moment they saw each other's faces. One sour word, and the whole visit would end in shouting. So she refused to let them meet cold, with nothing between them but twenty years of blame. She needed a buffer in the room. She needed two buffers. The morning of the visit, she set the great hall ready. She placed the floats in the center, half yellow and half pink, ribbons curling from each one. Then she invited two guests who had nothing to do with the feud. The first came on soft feet. A young fawn stepped through the door, spots scattered across her brown coat, ears turning at every sound. The princess had raised her by hand. The fawn went straight to the floats and sniffed the streamers. The second guest shuffled in behind, leaning on a cane. Margaret Willowbrook had baked bread for both villages longer than either mayor had been alive. Everyone's grandmother, the villages called her. She carried a basket of warm rolls and smiled at the princess like she smiled at a child. "I heard two grown men might need minding," she said. "So I came." The mayors arrived within minutes of each other. Mayor Victor came first, grey suit pressed sharp, his black moustache set in a hard line. Then Mayor Harold filled the doorway, his navy jacket straining at the buttons, the music box tucked under his arm. The two men saw each other. Victor's jaw clenched. Harold's face went red. "So," Victor began, cold. "The thief comes to—" The fawn trotted between them and pressed her nose into Harold's hand. He flinched, then froze. His thick fingers opened. The fawn licked his palm, searching for bread. A strange sound came out of Harold. It was almost a laugh. Margaret stepped forward and pushed a warm roll into each mayor's hand. "Eat first," she said. "Fight later, if you still want to. Your mothers would box your ears, both of you, standing here like roosters." Neither man had an answer for that. They ate the bread. The fawn leaned against Harold's leg. The princess saw her chance and spoke quietly. "Look at the floats. Not at each other. Just look." They looked. Victor walked slowly around the nearest float. He touched the line where yellow met pink. "My father carved this curve," he said. His voice had changed. "My father carved the other half," Harold said. He set down the music box. "Side by side." The two men stood over the same float. They did not shake hands. But they did not shout, and they did not leave. The hour passed, and then another. By the time they walked out, they had agreed to one thing: to let the princess hold her festival, and to bring both villages to see it.