Cindy's Prince

by Bush, Christine

  The thought was a surprise, mixing in with the kaleidoscope of her mangled feelings. It helped her, somehow, not to give in to the despair.

  Cindy crept downstairs, and rummaged through the pile of phone books and address books she remembered restacking in the drawer of the table by the phone. She found a blank notebook, the kind Morgan used to practice his letters. It had a marbled black and white cover, and the lines were spaced far apart, designed for little hands. Not perfect, but it would do.

  She crawled back into the arm chair, with her blanket, and turned on a low, rosy light.

  “Belinda Bunny,” Cindy wrote, in firm, dark letters. Words began to appear on the page; the touching story of a little bunny who faced her bunny challenges with hope and carrots and humor. And hope. Sketches followed, her hand flew. She lost herself in her work, and at the very same time, she found herself in her work.

  Hours passed, the pages mounted. Finally exhausted, she fell asleep, tucked up in the chair, just as the sun began to peek its way into the new day.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Princeton pulled up to the gate at the Highfield estate, Ernie, his favorite security guard, was on duty. Ernie gave his usual smile and waved as Prince drove up.

  “Good evening, Mr. Prince!” he began, his face turning quizzical as he regarded the small car piled high with trash bags. “Whoa! You need some help with that trash?”

  Prince shook his head. “I know, I know. The car will probably never forgive me. I’m okay with it. But thanks. It’s some stuff I have to sort. Long story.”

  “Well, you just holler any time you need some help. And I mean it. Your father just gave me a raise, you know. Thanks for making it happen. I know you had a hand in that.”

  “No problem. It’s well deserved. You have a good night.”

  “And you too. But you take care of that car. This baby ain’t used to being beat up like that. Now my minivan, that’s another story! It’s made to deal with everything the kids dish out.”

  Ernie chuckled and shook his head. He went on, a kind of awe in his voice. “But this one—this Aston is used to being treated like royalty. Mmm, mmm. As well it should.”

  Prince laughed and patted one of the trash bags next to him. “Don’t worry. Today it’s a royal trash truck. It’s important stuff.” He put the car into gear, and punched the accelerator, charging through the gate with a wave.

  He unloaded the bags with care, toting them inside. First he sorted, creating several stacks. One stack of papers had been ruined by the spilled lotion. One by one, he wiped the pages, laying them out to dry on the floor in his kitchen, then the living room, then the hallway.

  When he got tired and frustrated with that pile, Prince moved to the dining room table, where he attempted to piece together the mangled pages so cruelly ripped to shreds. With tape, he secured the pieces after he had assembled a full sheet. The job was slow going, and the pages looked a mess when he was finished, but the words and illustrations were decipherable. Almost.

  The third pile held broken disks, and the smashed computer parts. That, he didn’t have a clue about, but he knew the techie people at Highfield Enterprises might. He’d face that task tomorrow.

  He probably wouldn’t be able to solve it all. Maybe not even most, but not for lack of trying. Prince had seen her face. He had seen into her soul at that moment of her loss. And he had known, at that instant, he had fallen deeply in love.

  Not attraction. Not curiosity. Though the feelings he had contained all those things. But more. There was a deep respect for her values, her dedication to Morgan and Hannah. They were about understanding her commitment to her world in general, for safety, health and happiness for even the strangers in her life.

  The emotion was about the desire to share. Not just the joy of her company, but the pain of her soul. The good and the bad. For better or for worse. The thought brought little explosive surges of energy through him. And a feeling of rightness. He kept on with his work, even when his body ached, and his eyes stung with fatigue.

  He was nosy. Prince couldn’t help himself. He read as he worked. The stories made him smile. Some were touching, some were funny. From even his small exposure to the children’s books in the library, he knew the material he had rescued was powerful and good.

  Prince could only imagine the loss, thinking her work was all gone. Cindy didn’t deserve this. An idea crept into his mind, first with a glimmer, and then growing bright.

  He pulled out his Palm Pilot and searched for the number of one of his Princeton classmates, now a success in the publishing world of New York. He wouldn’t be in his office in these wee hours of the morning. But there would be a message in his voice mail when he got to his desk, with Prince’s explanations and ideas.

  After the phone call, he moved to the fax machine sitting beside his desk, and slowly and gently fed the taped pages into the machine, one at a time. Then he started on the pages dried from the lotion. When he was done, he had sent several full stories, and a few illustrations. He put the rest into their respective piles. Tomorrow he’d face the rest. And probably face Cindy’s wrath and anger for his spontaneous and interfering actions. But even that would be better than the terrible bleakness she’d shown at her loss.

  Prince rose with a sense of mission in the morning, energetic even though he had only a short sleep. Lying awake in his bed, his mind had raced. Ideas begun as seeds a few weeks before, began to germinate and grow. He had become so aware of some of the needs of the world around him. And he was looking at his assets. The time had come, he knew without a doubt, for Princeton Highfield to make a stand. With his career. With his parents. With the world. He had done a lot of hard thinking after his painful conversation with his father. Prince was putting plans in action today.

  ****

  Prince found his mother alone, as his father had already left for the day. He joined her for breakfast in their formal dining room, sitting easily across the table. She was, as usual, dressed impeccably, make-up in place. She smiled happily at her son.

  “So good to see you, dear,” she said, stirring her china cup delicately. “All is well? I hear you’re having a bit of a tiff with your father. I’m sure that will pass. Have you spoken to Haley? I had lunch with Marian, her mother, the other week.”

  “I’m not going to marry Haley, Mother. And the tiff may not pass. I’m making my own decisions about my life, and he probably won’t agree.”

  She sipped delicately, but he could see her watching him over the rim of her cup. She smiled. “Ahhh, I see. No Haley. No, he probably won’t agree. He’ll be disappointed. I suppose I had better talk to Marian. She, too, has made assumptions.”

  “I guess it’s easy for people to make assumptions. Up until now, I’ve pretty much gone along with what was expected of me. I didn’t give it much thought. Not just about a relationship, but about what I want to do with my life.”

  “And now?” She sipped her coffee.

  “I’m working on that. But I have a feeling I’m going to be shaking the boat. I just wanted to apologize in advance.”

  His mother smiled, a wary expression in her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with making a few waves, Princeton Edmund. It’s about time. In fact, I applaud it. Though I must caution you not to take on more than you can handle. Your father is not exactly flexible. You must be sure you are willing to pay the price.”

  “Thanks for the thoughts, Mother. I’m ready for it.”

  His mother nodded.

  Prince watched her sitting across from him, outfit perfect, accessories subdued and screaming wealth. She was the perfect wife for Hugh Highfield. To the best of his memory, she had never contradicted her husband. Yet, in her own way, she had built a life for herself. He realized, in a flash of warmth for her, how little he knew about his mother’s life.”

  “So, Mother,” he asked. “And what are you up to these days? What’s the latest project?”

  As Prince had driven his mother to and from her charity e
vents on many occasions, he had heard bit of information about the charity projects she and her “committee” had done for the city, funding city beautification, historical gardens, and a recent landscaping project at the zoo.

  For so much of his life, he had seen her work as something designed to keep the idle hands of the rich city matrons busy with their fund raising luncheons and social events. Suddenly, he was looking at things from another point of view.

  His mother’s smile brightened. “How nice of you to ask! We’ve just finished raising the funds for the zoo project. They had to build a whole new environment for those…”

  A little pause ensued. Her brow furrowed, and he could see her thinking.

  “Creatures.”

  Prince grinned. “I think they are called primates.”

  “Yes, well, primates then. I don’t always know the details about these things. But I like to help where I can. We provided the designs and funds for the landscaping around the new construction. There’s a dedication ceremony on Saturday. I’m told it looks lovely. I’m receiving a plaque.”

  “That’s wonderful, Mother. I’d like to see that. What time?”

  There was a moment of silence. Then she spoke. Her eyes looked very large, shocked even.

  “Two in the afternoon. You’d come?”

  The surprise in her voice hit him like a jolt. Had he really been so ignorant of her impact on society? Had he really been blind, not interested in her life? The thought stung. Cindy’s voice ran through his head. If everyone in society contributes in their own way, the world can be a better place.

  “Yes, Mother. I’ll be there.” Seeing there were tears in her eyes, he reached over and patted her hand. “All of a sudden, Mother, I’m very proud of what you do.”

  And he was. She was doing her part, in her own way. What was his part? He had ideas rumbling around in his mind. “And what’s next?”

  “We’re having a committee meeting next week to decide that. We’ll come up with a worthwhile project, something to benefit the city, and then gather the contributions to accomplish it. It’s rather fun, really. I have a flare for design, you know. Last year we renovated the courtyard of a senior rest home. Absolutely lovely.”

  Prince stared, thoughts coming together.

  “How about a community medical clinic in the northeast?” He leaned forward. “Cindy’s friend works there, and they sure could use some help. But not just with landscape. The place really needs a lot. Funding is very difficult, from what I hear.”

  She glued her gaze to his. “The little librarian? The one who’s raising her sister’s children?”

  He met her gaze. “Yes, that’s the one. Her name is Cindy Castle. The children are Morgan and Hannah. They are very important to me, Mother.”

  “Ahh,” said Celia Highfield. “The little librarian. So this is what the hurricane is about. I should have realized.” Her gaze narrowed. “And you know your own mind. I respect that.”

  There was another silence. He nodded.

  “I see. Well, then, we should talk about this health clinic. And I must meet her nurse friend. As it is time for a new project.”

  He nodded again. “Thanks, Mother. Because they need a lot. Renovations, furniture, supplies, the works.”

  “Consider it placed on the agenda. I’ll let my imagination and my committee members loose. The project will be a challenge and a pleasure. But it’s time for me to go, son. I have a hair appointment.”

  He looked at her already perfect hair. A hair appointment? “Fine, Mother. Do you need a ride?”

  Celia Highfield shook her head. “All settled. The limo is coming. But we will talk soon. And I’ll see you on Saturday? At the zoo?”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “And bring your Cindy Castle, if you can. I should know her better. Your father may be totally against your pursuit of her personally. But he respected the things she said, you know. And he’s a very astute judge of character. These things take time.”

  Princeton’s throat tightened again. He just nodded, as he stood to leave, not sure if words would come out. He bent over, and kissed his mother’s cheek.

  “And Princeton,” she said softly, before he left the room. “Your father likes you, too. Very much. Even though his manner may not show it.”

  He smiled. “You’re an amazing woman, Mother. I think I’ve rarely told you that.”

  “Thank you, Princeton.” Her voice was controlled and polite. But her gaze flashed with her emotions, and then the control returned to her usual, calm demeanor.

  ****

  When she left for work in the morning, Cindy looked up and down the street, and saw nothing amiss. She had cautioned the babysitter about keeping the doors securely locked. She waved to a police car crawling down the street, glad they were keeping their word and patrolling the neighborhood.

  The day went by quickly at the library. The night before, her phone had rung twice. When Prince’s number was displayed, her pulse raced. Her emotions were in such a tangle, she didn’t pick up the call. What would she say to the man who represented everything she didn’t want in her life, and who was becoming so important to her? How could she ever reconcile the need for him with her pride and her longtime cherished independence?

  Like quicksand. The deeper she went, the harder it was going to be to get out. And she had seen so many women sucked in, committing with trust and love, only to be left, eventually, in that quicksand. The thought made her panic.

  But what if he’s not like those other guys? What if he truly is, like he appears: good, honorable, and trustworthy?

  It was a tough question, and not one she had answer for today, with the break in still on her mind, making her feel vulnerable. And her fatigue, making her feel needy. So she did what she knew how to do. She worked.

  She hugged the Morgan and Hannah when she walked in the front door, noticing their extra exuberance.

  “Everybody had a good day? I see we have some happy folks!”

  “We’re invited to go to the zoo on Saturday!” yelled the kids in unison. Morgan’s words were clear. Hannah’s in truth sounded more like “We ga ga ga Zoooo!” The effect was the same.

  She gave Mrs. Polly what she knew was a puzzled look. “The zoo?”

  The babysitter wrung her hands. “Well, I don’t exactly know. Mr. Prince called, and said he had had trouble getting you on the phone so he wanted to leave a message. First he talked to Morgan on the phone, and then asked me to write down what he wanted to tell you. The kids became, as you can see, quite excited.”

  She stared at the note held out to her. “I’ll be by to pick you all up on Saturday at noon for a special trip to the zoo. And bring Connie and Jasmine. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

  “We’re going to see elephants, Aunt Cindy! And a giraffe. I can’t wait.” Morgan bounced up and down like a kangaroo.

  “Raff! Raff!” echoed Hannah.

  Cindy was toast. She was trapped and let out a long sigh. He was playing dirty. And it had worked. There was no way she could disappoint the kids after all this excitement. And he knew it. Served her right for not picking up the phone and handling him in an adult and civilized way. She could almost imagine him smiling.

  Was she mad? A little. Was she excited? A little. Was she confused? A lot. Was she going to call it off? No.

  The outing was a trip to the zoo. Just a trip to the zoo. She’d see it for what it was, and no more. She’d call Connie, so she could arrange coverage at the clinic. Then she’d get out the bus schedule to see the best route and time. They were going to the zoo.

  ****

  Saturday was a perfect fall day. The sun was bright, the trees just barely turning their assorted colors. Prince should have been happy, but he was not. He was standing in the aisle of Wal-Mart, trying to figure out the world of car seats. Even a Princeton education was no help here.

  He had called the car rental company where the Highfield company had an account, and had been assured a spacious m
inivan would be his for the day at his asking. But they did not, he was told, provide car seats. And all kids—as they were sure he knew—needed car seats.

  The task would be simple.

  Three car seats, coming up. Or maybe not.

  Car seats, it turned out, were more specific and detailed than most rockets blasted off by NASA. Who would have guessed? He took a deep breath, and began the search. He had, after all, graduated with honors. He could handle car seats, couldn’t he?

  There were different sizes, different models, different installment devices. Some faced front, and some faced back. Some had backs and some just “boosted.” Some were small, and some looked like they would last through an earthquake. Did he want a washable cover?

  The most helpful salesperson was baffled by his ignorance.

  “How much does the smallest child weigh?” he was asked.

  He thought, his face tight in a grimace. “About as much as two bowling balls.” A good description for Hannah when she was dead weight asleep, he thought.

  The sales person stared. “How tall is she?”

  “About this high.” Prince cleared his throat, and then he held out his hand. “Her head just clears the dining room table.” This wasn’t taken well. Clearly his intelligence was in doubt.

  “How about the biggest one?” the determined clerk asked, optimistically taking another tact. “How tall is he?”

  “As high as my tallest golf club. Almost exactly.”

  She winced. “Sir, I think you need more information to make an expensive purchase like this. You’d better check with your wife. And I have to go. Time for my break.”

  He didn’t really blame her. He needed a break himself. But he was desperate. Who could help him with this information?

  An idea flashed. He made it to the parking lot, onto the expressway, and back home in no time at all. He patted the dash of the Aston Martin.

  Good car. Good car.

  Prince pulled up to the gate at the Highfield estate, and was relieved to see Ernie was on duty.

  “Help me, please, Ernie.” He could hear the desperation in his voice. “I’m trying to buy car seats to go to the zoo today, and I’m way out of my league. I know even less about kid’s apparatus than I do about kids. And I’m trying desperately not to look like an idiot. Tell me about car seats, Father-of -the-year!”