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Gordon entered his apartment and gasped.
How could he have left the place in such a disarray?
He phoned Rosie the head of the handmaids.
Gordon was never rude but he complained.
Seemed the was a widespread fever infection.
However, Rosie promised to solve her problems.
Soon the bell rang and on the doorstep was the redhead!

“I am not the char, but Mother Rosie wanted me to help.”
Silently Gordon, cursing destiny, shrugged and led her in. 
It did not take long to have the apartment in proper shape.
He offered her wages due to her, but she refused,
Instead, she asked him to take her for a small lunch.

“Give the wage to Mother, but from you, I need a favour.”
She told him that her name was Emily, and needed him.
Next Saturday was her sister’s wedding and she was alone.
She was the bridesmaid and had no one to partner her.
He was a perfect fit.  Was this a curse or fate, wondered Gordon.
He could hardly refuse and exchanged mobile phone numbers.

The wedding reception was a great success.  Emily’s designs 
Were fabulous.  The food was tasty.  The guests were happy.
The bride and groom opened the dance and like a gentleman,
Gordon took Emily in his arms to dance and shuddered.
She had the same perfume Sophie used, a clean, fresh vibe,
A Chloé Eau de Parfum, neither cheap nor costly.
The soft singer sang: “The Last Waltz should last forever.”
We danced cheek to cheek, my heart fluttering in love.
And without hesitation, I blurted:  Prepare your bride’s dress.
And kissed her full on her sweet, soft lips.  Fate?
When fate summons, monarchs must obey, says an old proverb.

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