Cindy's Prince

by Bush, Christine

  “Yeah!” The kids cheered.

  Their excitement brought her thoughts back to the circle. “So instead of just reading this one, we’re going to act it out. Now I’ll need volunteers.”

  “Can I be Goldilocks?” said a girl in the front row.

  “Certainly!” She pulled a blonde curly wig from her prop bag and handed it over. She nodded at Mary Beth’s foster mom. “I thought maybe Mary Beth could be the baby bear, and maybe her mom could be the mother bear!”

  Mary Beth beamed as her foster mom moved her wheel chair to the front.

  “Now I need a father bear.” She scanned the adults in the audience, who were primarily women. Did she dare? She smiled. He had surprised her once. Now she would surprise him back. “Mr. Highfield. Perhaps you could help us?”

  ****

  Princeton Highfield froze on the spot. Cindy looked him straight in the eye. She was daring him. He wished he could melt right into the floor, or, if he could unfreeze himself, maybe stand and run from the room. But she was daring him. Smiling.

  How hard could it be? He certainly knew the story. He could rise to the occasion. Even if he humiliated himself, it was just in front of a bunch of kids. Kids. That was the problem. He had no idea how to interact with kids. There were no kids in his family, no kids in his world. He swallowed hard. If his brother could face rampant munitions in the Middle East, he could face kids.

  “Glad to,” he said with far more confidence than he possessed. She was probably just getting him back for coming close to knocking her off her Harley in the grocery store parking lot. Or for the kiss. He went to the front of the crowd. With a nervous hesitation, he took his cereal bowl as directed.

  “Just follow along, Mr. Highfield. Thanks.” She stood facing him.

  He saw the laughing look in her eyes, just as her hand come up toward his face.

  “Now hold still. Bears need whiskers.” She held a makeup pencil clenched in her fingers.

  He froze, and the delay gave her the edge. With horror, he felt the smooth pencil on his cheeks. Before he could catch his breath, he sported streaks of whiskers. Mother bear and baby bear were next, but they welcomed the addition to their faces. The little girl was obviously thrilled. He was not. But it was too late.

  In for a penny, in for a pound. He would do this thing, or die trying. He swallowed hard, turned to the crowd, and listened as the age-old story began. He’d get back at Cindy Castle and her laughing eyes later. But this role it wasn’t going to be easy. A Broadway star, he was not.

  He kept his gaze on the cereal bowl in his hand. The one that was too hot, according to the story. So he left it on the table as directed, and obediently took the family off stage while Goldilocks did her “break and enter scene.”

  Mary Beth’s mom gave him a grateful grin as he helped her maneuver the wheel chair to the side. Goldilocks proved to be a real ham. She busily exclaimed how the chairs were too big or little, porridge too hot or too cold or just right, and beds too hard or soft, until she dramatically fell asleep on two chairs that evidently were “just right.” The crowd loved it. Even he laughed out loud at Goldilocks’ antics. Nothing wrong with that one’s self esteem!

  Somewhere along the way, he forgot to be self conscious. He saw the spirit in Goldilocks, and the excited response from the kids in the audience. But most all, he was tuned into the tentative exuberance of little Mary Beth in the wheel chair next to him. She gripped his hand like she was holding on for dear life, and gave him a hopeful smile. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the bulky cast that kept her stuck in the wheelchair.

  He didn’t know a thing about kids, but this one looked like she had been through a lot. The thought gave him a visceral reaction in his gut. Being chosen to be the baby bear had put a smile on her face. He wanted to keep it there. Even if he had to wear whiskers to do it.

  “Someone has been eating my porridge!” he roared as they came back to their makeshift stage, getting into character and sounding as much like a bear as he could. He pushed the wheelchair forward as Mary Beth squealed with delight.

  The story went on, everybody delivering their lines with gusto.

  “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed, and there she is,” roared Mary Beth in an excellent “little bear voice.” The crowd laughed and clapped.

  Goldilocks was awakened and the story came to an end. The crowd cheered. When Cindy said it was time for the cast to take a bow, Mary Beth’s fingers curled shyly around his again. The gesture touched him. They all stood in a line, Mary Beth’s mother on the other side, followed by Goldilocks. They bowed.

  Mary Beth’s face turned up to his, glowing and happy. “Thanks, Mr. Bear,” she said in a very soft voice.

  Something happened inside of him. He looked down at her. She was so small, sitting in the wheelchair, white cast extended. What had happened to this child? What had put her in this chair? Squatting so he was face to face with her, he met her gaze. “You did a fantastic job. The best bear in the library!”

  She giggled and waved as her mom pushed her chair toward the exit door.

  Prince waved back silently. He didn’t quite trust his voice for some reason.

  “Thanks for coming to story hour! See you next time!” Cindy excused the crowd, and they took off, chattering and happy. “Thanks for helping,” she said to him, “I know I put you on the spot.”

  He laughed, suddenly wanting so much to talk to her. “My acting debut. At least I’m relieved no one I knew saw me.” His relief was short lived.

  “Princeton Highfield! Small world. Wait until I tell Haley I saw you here.”

  He kept a smile on his face, but inwardly, he froze, as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head. He turned and recognized Victoria Carrington, Haley’s older sister, who was married and had a child. “Victoria! What a surprise to see you here!”

  “Oh, we come often, don’t we, Amanda?” Victoria purred, looking at him. She had her hand on the head of her daughter, Amanda, better known to Prince as Goldilocks. “Haley said she had such a lovely time at the wedding last week.”

  Amanda looked at him quizzically, then her face lit up. “Princeton Highfield? Oh, you’re the one Aunt Haley is going to marry, right? Wait until I tell her I got to star in a show with you!”

  Victoria stepped in with well-practiced social grace. “No one’s marrying anyone, Miss Amanda. At least not yet.” Her eyes twinkled and she looked at Prince, who didn’t say a word.

  Instinctively, he glanced at Cindy, who suddenly looked distant, and distracted.

  Victoria caught the glance, and looked from one to the other.

  “So Prince, what brings you to the library?”

  He didn’t know what to say. I’m stalking the children’s librarian. I like hearing children’s stories. That, he didn’t want to discuss with Victoria Carrington. “Oh, I just like the library. I’m doing a little research.” He glanced at Victoria and knew she wasn’t buying it. She practically snorted. Her radar was up.

  “I see,” she said through stiff lips. She looked back and forth at the two, as Cindy began putting her props into her bag. “We’ll be leaving now. I’ll be sure to give Haley your regards.”

  “Well, that felt difficult somehow,” Cindy said when they were left alone. “I didn’t realize you were engaged. Congratulations.”

  “I’m not. So you can withhold the congratulations.”

  She studied him. “So why are you here?”

  “I got a library card!” he said, pulling the card from his pocket and waving it wildly, trying to give himself time to think. She was different from anyone he had ever known. Was he being foolhardy? Impetuous? Still high from playing the part of a bear? Or was he just following his heart?

  “The truth is, I think you’re a fascinating woman. Though a little bit strange. I’m here because I’m just dying to get to know you better. Can I take you to lunch?”

  She studied him for more than a moment. He could see she was thinking, bu
t he had no idea what went on behind her thoughtful eyes. So he waited.

  When she blinked first, he knew he had won.

  “Yes, I’ll go to lunch with you. But don’t go calling me strange.” She put her prop bag behind her desk, and pulled a sign saying “Back after lunch” from her drawer. “After all, you are the one who’s standing there in an expensive suit, with whiskers drawn on your cheeks.”

  Chapter Eight

  Prince’s cheeks were a little red from the whisker scrubbing in the men’s room, but all in all, Cindy had to admit he looked practically perfect. GQ material, though he probably wouldn’t lower himself to suffer a modeling career.

  She smiled grimly as they strode out the front door of the library together. What was she getting herself into? She already regretted her foolhardy agreement to this lunch. As they went down the steps to the sidewalk, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His brow was furrowed and he looked pensive and thoughtful himself.

  Did he also regret his offer?

  Not to sound like some kind of a corny movie, but truth was truth. The things in his life were foreign to her. And vice versa. When she had dared to believe those types of differences could be overcome, she had ended up with a broken heart.

  And yet, she remembered the touching look in his gaze as he had knelt beside Mary Beth. More than a little heart melting had gone on there, and it had clouded her judgment. She had been impressed with his compassion. And here she was. She was like the little moth flying too close to the flame. But today she knew better. They’d make it quick and get it over with, and the world would return to its usual balance.

  “Wow, I must say that’s some car you have,” she exclaimed as they arrived at the parked Aston Martin. “Isn’t that the model James Bond drives?”

  He laughed. “The same. I’m known as 008.”

  “A secret agent? Ya think?”

  “In my dreams.”

  He opened the door for her. The chivalry was extremely unfamiliar and uncomfortable. The situation was not as if she had never gone on a date, or had a boyfriend who had enough chivalry in his old-fashioned soul to open a door. Experiencing the combination, she decided, was setting her off. Good looking, rich, mannered, and with an Aston Martin to boot. Too much like a fairy tale. Add to the mix the fact his name was Prince, and you had the situation from which romance novels are made.

  And she didn’t believe in happily ever after. Didn’t want to. Even with an Aston Martin thrown in. The trouble was that she had had some kind of unreasonable reaction to this man from the start. She, Cynthia Castle, committed to independence, self-reliance, and hard working reality, was guilty of feeling little ridiculous heart flutterings when he was around. He excited her.

  Her logical side protested. She had worked hard to escape any of the ridiculous fantasy that she had seen in women who “fell in love.” She was going to regret her decisions to let her guard down. He lived in another world, had different priorities. She was setting herself up for disaster by being attracted to someone who represented everything that she avoided in her life. She was out of her league.

  But there was, she had discovered, another determined little voice in her head. And that voice was curious. Exhilaration made her pulse beat slightly faster. She tingled as he put a gentle hand on the small of her back as he helped her into the small car.

  “How fast does this thing go from zero to sixty?” she asked as he climbed into driver’s side and started the engine.

  “Very fast,” he said, and the car roared to life. “Lunch coming right up. We could go to the Four Seasons, or to the Striped Bass. Or anywhere that you’d like.”

  She thought for a moment, hearing the names of two trendy places that she’d seen featured in Philadelphia Magazine. She wasn’t dressed up. She only had a short lunch break. And most important, they were not in her world, and she may as well make the point and be herself.

  “Anywhere I want?”

  “Anywhere.”

  She gave him directions. Left, right, right, and soon they were zipping past the famous Rocky steps of the Art Museum.

  “What’s the name of the restaurant? I don’t know of one out here.”

  Cindy laughed. “It’s called Freddie’s. Eating there will be a new experience for you. And today’s a grand day to try it!”

  He parked the car easily in an open spot, below the art museum. They walked in the sunshine, grassy park beside them, joggers running along the nearby bike trail, moms with strollers and exuberant toddlers playing in the grass.

  Her step had a bounce to it, skirt swinging, long hair shining in the sun and blowing in the breeze. He strolled beside her, content to let her lead the way, mesmerized.

  A few blocks down, she stopped next to one of the food vendors who lined the park, and called out to the wiry old man who stood under the striped canvas top of the cart.

  “Freddie! Top of the day to you!”

  “Cindy, my lovely girl! So good to see you, and who is this fancy gent who gets to walk by your side?” He wiped his hand on his well worn apron and extended it.

  “His name is Princeton, and I promised him an adventure for lunch.”

  Prince had a smile on his face as he gripped the man’s hand.

  “He may be fancy, but he has a good handshake. Well then, you’ll have the best.” Freddie reached in the cart and pulled out two hot dogs. He loaded then with the works.

  Prince saw Cindy watching him, a daring glimmer in her eye. He grinned. “If they’re that good, you better give us both two, with everything. He handed Freddie a crisp fifty dollar bill.

  “Wow. A fifty. And it looks brand new,” Freddie remarked, scrounging in his apron pockets for change.

  “Keep the change. But we’ll be back for a water ice when we get done these,” he said, pointing to the list of flavors over the cart.

  “Thanks, Mr. Princeton. Hey, Cindy, you wanna take the blanket if you’re having a picnic? You’re both kind of dressed up.”

  “Sure, thanks, Freddie,” she said, tucking the faded blanket under her arm when he retrieved it from the box beneath his seat. “We’ll be back.”

  Prince followed her, juggling the stack of hot dogs.

  “Thanks for being good to him,” she said.

  They sat on the blanket, under a big oak tree and ate.

  He snorted. “You know, I’m starting to think that you have the strong belief that wearing a suit makes me sub-human. Good to him? Of course. He’s a human being. And a nice one. Why wouldn’t I be nice to him?”

  She blushed.

  “Okay,” he went on. “This was not what I expected for lunch. I thought you’d want soft lighting and mood music. But if you like wieners and acorn ambiance, that’s fine with me. I just wanted to be with you. To get to know you.” Cindy blushed, if possible, even a deeper shade.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I sound like a creep.”

  “A creep?” Prince laughed. “No. But I do feel like I’m being tested. So then? Have I passed the test?”

  “I guess.” She shrugged. “I thought you might be a snob, to tell you the truth. You have so much going for you, have had so many experiences.”

  “Well, this is a day of firsts for me. First wiener picnic on a blanket. First time anyone has drawn whiskers on my face, especially in public. First time I starred in a theatrical performance.”

  “You were a most awesome bear. The critics will rave.”

  “Thank you. I can just read the headlines now.” He sat up taller, and turned to look at her. “And the first time I’ve been around kids. The little girl in the wheelchair—she seemed so fragile.”

  “She’s been through a lot. But she’ll be okay in her new foster home. She’ll be safe. Thanks for being good to her too. You were a good sport.”

  “Seeing her in that wheelchair got to me.”

  “And Mary Beth’s one of many, Prince. So many kids have so much to deal with.”

  “You’re good with kids. Is it hard,
raising your niece and nephew?”

  “I never think of it as hard. They’re my life. We’re a unit. A family. It does take a lot of my time and energy. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Her voice sounded defensive, her chin jutting out. “It’s okay, really. I’m just curious. Looks like you do a great job. And you’re quite a storyteller.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  They had finished their hot dogs, returned the blanket, and were slurping cherry water ices as they walked back to the car.

  “I absolutely love storytelling,” she went on. “I get lots of practice with Morgan and Hannah. And I like to make up my own stories.” She stared off at the horizon for a minute. “That’s what I really want to be one day, a children’s book author.”

  He stared intently. Her face was lit with enthusiasm. She sounded so passionate and committed. “You do?”

  “Yes. Deep in my soul, I know that’s what I’m meant to do. I love kids, and I like to help them deal with the problems in their lives. I can do it at the library, through the books there. But I know I can do it even better in my own stories, with my own characters. I can help them understand, learn, and have hope despite the things hard to take in life.” She took a deep breath.

  A little ache was beginning in his head, behind his eyes. He stared at Cindy Castle, standing there with a kind of glow around her. She may think he had so much going for him, but she just didn’t know. She just didn’t understand. Inadequacy flowed through him, standing there in his Armani suit, waiting for the next question. He was so sure the question would come, his head had already begun pounding in protest. He had asked himself the same question lately, and he had no answer.

  She did not disappoint him.

  “So tell me, Princeton Highfield,” she began, with her adorable face, and her sparkling eyes. “What matters to you? What are you passionate about?”

  He squinted into the bright sun. “Nothing,” he said as they reached the car. He clicked open the locks of the car door, wondering for a second why he had bothered to lock the convertible when he left the top down. He assisted her into the car like the well trained gentleman he was, slammed his own door with more of a bang than the car deserved. Without uttering another word, he drove back to the library.