Cindy's Prince

by Bush, Christine

  Prince had seen the need firsthand, and he’d heard the stories. He thought of little Mary Beth in her wheelchair, trying to heal from abuse. He thought of the struggling families in the health center. And he had seen people like Cindy Castle and Connie Rodriguez, who refused to give up caring for them. He decided to join them. He intended to make the lives of many children and struggling families a lot more tenable in the Philadelphia region.

  The “Friendly Bear Foundation” was born, and he was on a mission to fill the friendly coffers with contributions, its first outside donations. He sucked in a big breath. “I’ll answer all your questions,” Prince said with a wide grin. “And then all you rich yahoos are helping me out by emptying your wallets to help make it happen.”

  “You think?” retorted Matt with a skeptical smirk.

  “I’ll take that as a challenge,” Prince laughed. “And you know I like to win.”

  Three hours later, he left the table with his stomach filled with good Italian food, and his wallet filled with hefty contributions. He was on his way.

  ****

  The next few days fell back into a normal routine. Between the usual life enthusiasm of the kids, the love Cindy had for her job, and her focused and productive work on her manuscripts and drawings each night, she struggled to remember how much had changed. Prince had suddenly gotten much busier at work, and though she heard from him each day, she hadn’t seen him.

  At some moments, this made her long for him, at others, she felt relief. Sooner or later, she would have to decide what was happening with this man, who had the strangest ability to make her lips tingle at the thought of him. Looking beyond the present was just too uncomfortable.

  Now that she knew about their vigilant duty, Cindy was aware of the security team guarding her house when she left each morning for work. She was a little bit calmer leaving the children with the sitter as she set out for the day, knowing her family was protected. Her gaze scanned the horizon for one of the tell-tale cars when she returned, glad they were keeping her family safe.

  But from what?

  The police let her know Hank Peters had been tied to a serious burglary ring operating in the city for several years, in addition to the break-ins at her house. There wasn’t much a burglary ring would find interesting at her house, she realized. Her instincts told her the attacks were associated with Jimmy. But why? Jimmy hadn’t been a part of their lives for years, and would never be again. Nothing made sense.

  A little memory ticked away in her brain. So much had gone on in their lives in the past few months. She was upset over the break-ins. Plus the stress over the clinic, then the joy of the new funding. There was the excitement over her book contract. And most of all, she experienced the constant flow of emotion and confusion in her reactions to Prince.

  Prince. She thought back to the day she met him, first on the bus as he bumbled with the exact change, and then stood at her door. With a box—a box from Jimmy.

  She had been in a muddle of feelings about Jimmy. From the fact he was the children’s father, the disappointment about his rumored allegiances and actions before he left for the army, and the grief at the thought his troubled life had been cut short in the war, she had totally forgotten about the box.

  Not wanting to deal with it at all, she had intended to take it to the lawyer. But the box had never gotten there. Cindy had put it in the side compartment of her motorcycle on the very day it broke down. The stupid thing was the only thing tying her to Jimmy and his past. Peters was looking for the box. Something was in the box that would give the police the answers they needed.

  Tomorrow was Saturday, and she would pay for the repairs, and pick up the Harley. And she’d take the troubling box straight to the police. The thought empowered her.

  Prince called soon after the kids had settled in to sleep, she answered the phone with the excitement of a teenager. The sound of his voice brought back that mysterious tingling feeling in her lips. She pushed the thought of kissing him out of her mind, and told him of her plan.

  “I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow,” he offered. “I can drive you over to pick up the Harley and the cursed box. If you insist, we’ll take it directly to the police station. But aren’t you even curious to open it up and see what was sent?”

  “No.” Her fingers tightened. “I just want it out of my life. I want the past put behind us. Bad enough the kids don’t have positive memories about their father, I just don’t want to belabor the point.”

  Prince sighed. “I’m really coming to understand how much so many kids have to overcome as they grow. Morgan and Hannah will be fine, Cindy, because they have you. I wish all kids had that security.”

  Her lips pressed together. She was glad he couldn’t see the tears welling up and threatening to roll down her cheeks. His words did more than surprise her. They amazed her. She thought back to her assumptions about him at the very start. This Princeton Highfield was so much more than the spoiled and rich playboy she had judged.

  As she lay tucked in her bed, Cindy was also glad he could not see into her dreams that night.

  The next morning, her face blushed at the memory. Up early, she was ready for the babysitter when she arrived. Mrs. Polly was taking the kids out for the day on a shopping venture, followed by a movie. She watched them excitedly leave as she got ready to head to the clinic. Cindy had promised Connie she would join the corps of volunteers set to paint and decorate for the morning.

  A flurry of construction projects had gone on through the past week, and new floors, new bathrooms, and new shelving and storage had been erected. Amazement settled over her at how much a determined committee of society matrons could get done! After paint, fresh new window treatments, and the delivery of supplies and furniture, Connie’s struggling clinic would be state of the art.

  Cindy could feel the neighborhood excitement the minute she turned the corner to the clinic block. Doors laid across sawhorses erected on the sidewalk, where some familiar community faces wielded sandpaper and paintbrushes. A radio blared with a lively tune.

  Cans of paint lined up along the outside wall. Local teenagers with do-rags on their heads stirred vigorously, ready to apply a coat to the outside trim around the doors and windows. A fresh new sign now stood beside the clinic door.

  Two neighborhood women sat on the pavement wearing gardening gloves. Large clay urns sat in front of them. Generous and colorful fall mums were being planted to sit on either side of the entryway bright gold and orange. Inside and out, the clinic was becoming a reflection of community, progress, and hope.

  “The place looks magnificent!” she exclaimed to them all as she made her way into the clinic to find Connie. Inside, more volunteers painted walls and installed hardware and shelving.

  Connie was on her knees, pencil in hand, drawing the outlines of jungle animals for a mural on the wall at the far end of the waiting room

  “This is awesome.” Cindy clapped, unable to contain her excitement. “And so much help. Where did they all come from?”

  “Like angels from heaven, I say.” Connie laughed, wiping her brow with the sleeve of the old flannel shirt she wore as a protective paint smock. “From the neighborhood, and new recruits sent by the committee.”

  “By the committee? How about that? Who did they send?” She noticed the two young women sitting on the floor beside Connie, their hair tied back in scarves.

  “I know it’s probably hard to believe,” said one of the women, turning around and waving a small paintbrush in the air. “But it’s me, Haley Carrington. Remember me?”

  Cindy stared, dumbfounded. What was society driven Haley doing here?

  “Between my mother, Prince, and his mother, I’m sick of hearing about how we need to care about the world beyond the Main Line.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “So here I am, to paint, believe it or not. And so is Sarah here. We have absolutely no talent. But Connie here assures us it’s as easy as painting by numbers, after she draws the figures, so we’re giv
ing it a try.”

  “Of course.” Connie added, with her face scrunched up, “I’ve been informed we need to be careful about getting paint on their designer jumpsuits and the Hermes scarves in their hair. And their manicures. Got to protect their manicures. But they’re willing, and we need all the help we can get, so I’ll give them that.”

  Haley and Sarah grinned widely from their spot on the floor. “There’s a first for everything,” said Haley, dipping her paint brush into the waiting can.

  Cindy laughed out loud. “It’s great you’re here. Really.” She was learning, rapidly, people were not always what they seemed. They lived in a different world, but here they were, helping in hers. Miracles do happen.

  “Princeton is so on fire about his new project, and there’s no saying ‘no’ to him. And donating wasn’t enough. According to him, we have to get involved in these things.” Her gaze narrowed. “What did you do? Hypnotize him?”

  Hypnotize him? New project?

  Connie handed Haley a small can of green paint and pointed toward the wall. “Paint while you talk. There. Green leaves. Stay inside the lines.”

  She handed Sarah a can of grey paint. “Color the elephant,” she instructed.

  Next thing she knew, Cindy had a brush in her hand too, and she was carefully applying orange paint to a tall giraffe. Connie took no prisoners.

  Painting together created a surprising intimacy. The women maneuvered around each other, as the colors brought the mural to life.

  “Isn’t it amazing how excited Prince is about the Friendly Bear Foundation? How he’s been fundraising all around the city to support projects for kids?”

  Cindy focused on the paint, staring straight ahead. Shock stilled her hand. “No, he didn’t mention that.”

  “Hmmm,” said Haley, furrowing her brow. “And I assumed you two were thick as thieves.”

  So did I. So did I. She didn’t speak.

  “Actually, we all thought you were the one who talked him into quitting his job,” Haley said, a manicured finger scratching at her still-wrinkled forehead. “Leaving Highfield Enterprises was the last thing anyone, including his parents, expected. Everyone’s been so shocked.”

  He’d left his job? He’d left Highfield Enterprises? Her blood raced. “I’m sure.” Her pride made her hide her surprise. She couldn’t believe she didn’t even know. She couldn’t believe he had told everyone else but her.

  Like usual, thoughts of Princeton Highfield made her head spin. On the one hand, she was in awe of his mission to start a foundation for kids. Had she been in any way responsible, inspiring him to do that? On the other hand, Cindy felt totally insignificant. Why hadn’t he bothered to tell her?

  At 11:30, like an alarm clock, Connie appeared and reminded her she needed to go. “And go look in the mirror,” her friend suggested, as she put her brush away. “You have paint on your nose and in your hair.”

  “It’s been great talking and getting to know you, Cindy,” Haley said.

  “Sure has,” said Sarah. “And this painting is fun. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon.”

  Cindy gazed at them as they sat on the floor in their designer clothes. Neither Haley nor Sarah had, of course, a single stray drop of paint anywhere.

  She ignored the orange paint splatters decorating her. What a mess. But worse, on the inside, she wanted to cry. Princeton had not even cared enough to tell her his important new plans.

  “We’ll see you soon,” the girls had said. She doubted it. Whatever her role had been in his new awareness of the world around him, it was not a permanent one. Like so many instances she had seen in her life, he was not going to stick around. All the more reason she needed to keep her head out of fairy tales and firmly planted on the ground.

  Cindy was distracted, walking thoughtfully with her head down, covering the short distance to her house without looking around. Her gaze skimmed over the old battered Volvo parked a few houses away, its driver slouched down in his seat, baseball cap pulled low on his brow, but she didn’t give it a second thought.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Prince pulled up to Cindy’s house, and she bounded down the porch steps, motorcycle helmet under her arm. One look at her face told him she had something on her mind. Most probably, the something wasn’t going to be a something that was going to make his day.

  “What’s up? You look serious.” He opened the door for her then closed it as she settled in the seat of the car. “You also have paint on your nose. How did the work at the clinic go?”

  “Fine.” She gave him the address of the repair shop where the Harley had been fixed, pulled down the visor and did her best to rub the spot from her nose.

  Prince ignored her stilted response. “Lots of volunteers?”

  She turned sideways and looked at him. “Lots. And a few unusual ones. Including Haley Carrington and her friend Sarah. She said your prodding got her to think about volunteering. Actually, they were a great help.”

  Prince laughed as he signaled to change lanes. “I’d have liked to see that. So what’s the bad mood about? And don’t try to evade the question. I know you well enough to see the mood. What’s wrong?”

  “You know me well? Is that true?” She shook her head. “Because I for sure don’t feel like I know you. Or what you’ve been up to. Or what matters.” Her voice was shaky, but try as she might to keep it even, the tremor remained.

  His eyes flashed as realization dawned. “They told you about the Friendly Bear Foundation.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Cindy nodded, feeling aggravating tears. Why did she have to cry at a time like this? “And about how you left Highfield Enterprises. Everybody in the world knows your business but me. Seeing that sure put me in my place.”

  “And what place is that?” He raised a finger and wiped a tear starting to flow down her cheek. “This is a big deal for me. A big change. I wanted to wait to show you the whole package, so you’d see me as successful, and not as some empty-headed society playboy. I believe in what I’m doing. I wanted you to be proud of me.”

  She sucked in a big breath. “Proud of you? What are you talking about?”

  “Cindy, you are so dynamic, so full of commitment. Your life is one of standing up for the things you believe in. I want to be someone you believe in. I want you to trust me.”

  Cindy stared, openmouthed, feeling a bit like a fish. Finally, she spoke. “Well, tell me, Princeton Highfield, about the Friendly Bear Foundation.”

  At that moment, his cell phone rang. He pushed a button and said, “This is Prince.”

  “Paulie here.” The voice of the security guard filled the car, on speakerphone. “I’ve been trying to get Mack on the phone to set the time to relieve him outside the Castle house. No answer. Have you talked to him since this morning?”

  Prince hadn’t thought to check in on him when he picked her up. Had the car been parked at its usual spot? He turned to Cindy with raised eyebrows.

  “I didn’t see him personally,” Cindy added, “But I’m pretty certain the car was there.” Was it? She said she wasn’t sure. Her pulse quickened.

  “I’m heading to take Cindy to pick up her Harley at a repair shop a few blocks off of the Boulevard, then driving to the police station with some possible evidence,” Prince said to Paulie. “The kids are out for the day. Can you get someone to check this out and let me know?” Prince’s jaw tensed.

  She could tell he was having a strong flash of concern.

  “No problem,” said Paulie on the phone. “Something just doesn’t feel right. Keep your eyes open.”

  A click sounded and the voice was gone, and then the repair shop came into view.

  “What does he mean, keep your eyes open?” Cindy was more than glad, all of a sudden, the kids weren’t at home.

  “Probably nothing. He’s just being careful.” He told her what he knew. “Come on, Motorcycle Mama, let’s pick up your prize.”

  Several minutes passed while she paid the bill for
the motorcycle repair, and listened to her favorite mechanic extol the virtues of the ancient bike he was currently working on.

  “Keep giving it TLC,” Cindy laughed. “Nothing like a good ole Harley who has done its time. And thanks for fixing mine.”

  Pushing the bike to the parking lot, she bent over and opened the left storage compartment. The box still sat innocently inside. It had resided peacefully since she stuck it there, undisturbed while her house had been ransacked and nearly burned.

  She picked it up and stared at its shape, the size of a small shoebox. “Doesn’t look like much.” Turning it over, she held it out for Prince to see. “Let’s go get rid of this thing. The police station is just a few blocks away.” She dropped it back into the compartment and slid the latch into place.

  With helmet secured, and Prince following her in his car, she accelerated on the cycle and headed toward the station. The air brushed her cheeks, and she reveled in the familiar vibrations of the bike as she downshifted at a light. Being without her cycle had been quite a while, too long in fact. She let the thoughts in her head unravel, and breathed in the fall air.

  Getting rid of the box might solve the mystery, and bring closure to an ugly piece of the past. Whatever clues it held would be handled by the police. That felt good. On to the future?

  Prince’s words rang in her head. Can you trust me?

  She knew trust was key in any healthy relationship. Would she ever be able to claim it? Or would she be plagued with the anxious ups and downs of doubt, unable to fully commit and accept Prince at his word? Were the differences too great? Were the fears too strong?

  ****

  The phone rang again. At the first sound, Prince punched the button on his phone.

  “Bad news, Prince.” Paulie spoke in a grim voice. “We found Mack, knocked out in his car. He’ll be okay, but they’re taking him to the hospital for treatment for a concussion. The house looks fine. Doesn’t look like anybody tried to get access.”