"𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍..."
Beatrice "Birdie" Isley Kane is many things: a trust fund baby, a child star turned teen icon, and, in an unexpected twist, a British Royal.
But just months into her marriage to Prince Edwa...
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September 11, 1988 Buckingham Palace
—BIRDIE'S EYES—
"Send it back," I snapped softly to the palace worker, who held a huge bouquet and a telltale Cartier box in his hand, the third one that had been sent in the last four days.
It had been almost four days straight of nonstop gift delivery, and just like I had instructed, every jewelry box, every bag, every fur, and every handbag had been returned promptly to its sender... Michael.
I had kept the chocolates he sent because I couldn't send them back and, well, it would've been a terrible waste to throw them out, but everything else had gone straight back.
However, just as I suspected, it didn't deter Michael in the least, bolstering his persistence, as if this was all becoming some sort of challenge. What had started off as an apology suddenly became a game of his.
A little more than a week after his birthday, he made the first call, apologizing for the incident in Leeds. I hadn't said a word, merely listened in silence. After I realized he'd finished, I hung up, hoping my silence would send the same message my return gift deliveries were, which was to leave me in peace.
Granted I didn't know if I really wanted him to let me be, and I sensed he knew as much, but we both knew he had been mean, his comments had been unwarranted, and so it was only natural that I kept my distance.
He had called.
And called.
And called.
I busied myself with the gala details Stéph and I were working on and my next trip to the States with Eddie at the White House, focusing my attention anywhere but on the phone.
Then the gifts began.
At first, it was just the tiniest of presents.
Boxes of chocolates from the mom-and-pop Swiss chocolatier I had told him I loved with all my heart, and then, slowly increasing in grandiosity, he moved from a box of chocolates to bouquet upon bouquet of azaleas, my favorite, pink and purple and blue azaleas sent to Eddie's and I's quarters at the Palace, with knock-knock jokes in them from 'Boo Boo the Fool'.
Then came the jewelry boxes and handbags and furs. It was apparent that Michael didn't quite understand the concept of subtlety, or maybe his confidence in me caving was growing the more I ignored him.
