Once Upon a Prince

by Rachel Hauck

  “Suz, what happened?” Gage’s steps thundered down the stairs after her.

  “Nothing happened.” Susanna ran into Myrna, the office manager, when she reached the bottom.

  “Gage, leave the girl alone.” Myrna smacked her gum and glanced at her clipboard schedule. “Susanna, your ten o’clock appointment cancelled.”

  “Glenn Cowger? No.” Was it too late to join Aurora in the woods? “Did he say why?”

  “Not a peep, darling. And I tried to get something out of him.” She peered at Susanna. “You don’t look half bad for a woman who got dumped.”

  Susanna made a face. “Yay me. So, did you ask Cowger to reschedule?”

  “Shug, look who you’re talking to. Me. Myrna.” The woman with the henna-rinsed hair and the countenance of a marine on duty curled her lip. “Of course I asked him. Gave him ten ways to Sunday to reschedule, but he’d have none of it. Said he’d think on it, would call you later.”

  “Great.” Susanna glanced at her boss. “Scratch Cowger Homes off our morning meeting.”

  “Let’s not give up so easily,” Gage said. “Get a plan together, Suz. Myrna, pull files on the other architects in the region. Let’s see if we can figure out who else Cowger is considering. Also, pull the city building permits. Wonder if he’s run into a snag. Tell Clark and Alexis we’re postponing the meeting for ten minutes.”

  Myrna went into action. “On it, boss. And, Suz, don’t worry about Adam, he’ll come around.”

  “Ugh, I’m so glad my personal life is out there for all to comment on.” Susanna started for the kitchen. She really needed coffee. Gage trailed after her.

  “Do you have any idea who Cowger—”

  “Come on, Gage, he’s clearly made another choice.”

  “We don’t know what he’s doing. There’s a good chance he didn’t get his building permit. So let’s keep after him. Win him over.” Gage cornered her in the kitchen. “I need your A game, Suz.”

  “How about my D-minus game?”

  “No, I want the hotshot Atlanta landscape architect who won major jobs for Remington & Co.”

  “I had the Remington & Co. reputation behind me when I won those jobs.” She let her expression and tone seal her implication. Gage Stone Associates was still building their company and reputation.

  “Okay, fine. We’ve got a ways to go, but you had Cowger.”

  “And now I don’t. Want my opinion? Your rates are too high, Gage.” Susanna yanked the coffee carafe from the machine. Bone dry. She leaned toward the doorway and hollered into the hall. “All right, y’all. Who drank all the coffee and didn’t make any more, huh? It’s only nine o’clock.”

  “What do you mean my rates are too high?” he asked.

  “It’s not rocket science, Gage. You charge too much.” Susanna opened the cabinet for the coffee. She popped the lid of the canister. Empty. She snorted, low, sardonic. “It’s a conspiracy, I tell you.” She tipped the empty canister at her boss. “I’m going to Starbucks.”

  “I need you at staff, Suz.”

  “I’ll be back. But here’s my big input for today. You want Cowger back? Lower your bids.”

  “My bids are competitive.”

  “Sure, if you’re Remington & Co. You’re building your rep, Gage. It’s will-work-for-nothing time.” Susanna pressed the plastic lid back on the canister. “I need coffee.”

  As she passed Gage, he snatched up her left hand. “So, Adam didn’t propose?”

  “No, and you must be the only person on the island who hasn’t heard.”

  A crimson wash spread on his cheeks. “I did, but I wanted to hear it from you.”

  “So I could relive it all over again?” Nice.

  “Did he really say he found the right ring but not the right girl?”

  “Yep. Said we loved the plan more than each other.”

  “He’s crazy. If any two people—”

  “Needed a wake-up call, it was Adam and me. He’s right, Gage. I just never wanted to see it.” She headed for the stairs to get her purse. “I’ll be back in time for the meeting.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I am.” She gazed down at him from the bottom step, a wash of tears blurring her vision. “Sad but okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “It’s just going to take time to get used to the idea of Susanna with no Adam.”

  “He’s crazy, you know, to let you go. Probably spent too much time in the desert.”

  “He seemed sane to me. Besides, he met someone else.” The words sounded strange and formed an odd twist in her chest.

  “Do you want to take the day off?” Gage said, soft and with sympathy.

  “No. Work grounds me. Reminds me that life goes on. Reminds me this is the life I’ve always lived when he’s been gone.”

  “Okay, but remember I need you tonight. If you need some time, take it during the day.” Gage leaned against the banister, looking up at her, his gelled black hair catching the light falling from the second-floor windows. “The Butler benefit … for the hospital wing. Our chance to get the landscaping. Mrs. Butler is big on doing business with people she knows, and having you there will win points with the selection committee.”

  “That’s tonight?” It would be black tie. She’d have to get dressed up, do something with her hair.

  “Yes, tonight. We need this job, Suz. Word is the hospital committee will go with the architect Mrs. Butler recommends. And that’s going to be us. A job like this will boost our resume.”

  Susanna stared down him. He was right. All hands on deck. And it wasn’t Gage’s fault she’d wasted twelve years with the wrong man.

  “Of course I’ll go.” She forced a smile and punched the air. “Take one for the team.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “I’ll drive myself.” Susanna dashed into her office and grabbed her bag, slinging the strap over her head.

  “I’m picking you up. I want to make sure you get there.”

  Susanna headed back down the stairs. “Fine.” Maybe a fancy benefit would be a good distraction, just like meeting Nate the other day. At the bottom of the steps she poked Gage in the chest. “You were the last one at the coffee pot, weren’t you?”

  “I’ll send Myrna out for more coffee.”

  Susanna jangled her keys. “Be back in five.”

  “For what it’s worth,” he said, “Adam’s a fool.”

  “Is he?” She paused in the doorway. “No, Gage, Adam’s no fool. But me? I’m not so sure.”

  FOUR

  From the deck outside the leather-and-wood cottage library, Nathaniel watched a high, thin twilight bloom over the island. He tucked his hands into the silky pockets of his custom-tailored tux. The horizon reminded him of the purple and gold strata of a Brighton evening. It was fabled that if a man perched on top of Mount Braelor during a summer twilight, he could reach the Brighton sky, capture his destiny and make his fortune.

  For Nathaniel, his destiny—and yes, his fortune—were already set. In the House of Stratton mountain. In the chiseled marble of his family tree. It all felt a bit claustrophobic at times. But these few days in Georgia had opened his heart some. Standing on the sultry shore reminded him the world was a grand, fruitful place. Made him believe anything was possible. Like finding true love. Or fully embracing his destiny.

  Nathaniel returned to the library, locking the deck doors behind him. He scanned the documents and reports spread across his great-great-grandfather’s desk, his mind’s eye glazing over. So much law and legalese to wade through.

  “You ready?” Jonathan stepped into the library, slipping on his tux jacket. “Liam’s pulling the car ‘round.”

  “Did you print my speech?” Nathaniel swept the documents into folders, stacked them so they aligned, and laid them on the desk.

  Jonathan crossed the room, extending the white paper in his hand. “I read it over. Nicely done. It will satisfy Mrs. Butler.”

  “She said all she wa
nted was a quick word. Something about Great-Grandfather being so involved with the local hospital’s expansion and improvements.” When Great-Grandfather had made St. Simons a regular holiday spot, he’d donated sizable sums to the hospital. As did Nathaniel’s grandfather and dad.

  Nathaniel walked around the desk, scanning the words he’d penned with Jonathan.

  … we are honored to represent my father, the king, and all of Brighton Kingdom …

  … dedicating a hospital wing in his honor … please accept our donation as the first fruits of good faith and health …

  He listened to the words flowing through his mind. His words. But with her accent. Susanna’s. Lilting and bent with sweetness.

  The beautiful girl from the lover’s tree. Three days had passed since he’d helped change her tire, and still she flashed across his thoughts at random moments.

  Like now, when he was reading over his speech. Or when he was running on the beach. Or in the exhaling moments as he was drifting off to sleep.

  “Come across anything interesting?”

  Nathaniel raised his attention to Jonathan, who’d moved to the desk and the stack of legal folders Nathaniel had been reading.

  “Just what we know already. The Grand Duchy Hessenberg is to be given her independence from Brighton Kingdom if we find a royal heir.” At the moment, finding a long-lost Hessenberg heir felt akin to Nathaniel finding true love. Impossible. “Otherwise, the Grand ol’ Duchy becomes our province.” The reality awakened fear in Nathaniel’s heart. As one whose destiny was determined before he was born, his sympathies leaned toward Hessenberg. She deserved her independence if at all possible.

  Freedom, independence, was of priceless worth. Not to mention the relationship between the two countries had become like feuding siblings. They were at odds with one another more often than not. And in the last decade, Hessenberg’s economic woes had become a tangible leech on Brighton.

  They could no longer afford to bail her out.

  But the conditions of entail were ironclad. Heir or province.

  “I can’t image being King Nathaniel I and Prince Francis … negotiating an agreement while war loomed, doing the diplomatic dance with their royal cousins across Europe … the Kaiser, King George V, Tsar Nicolas II.” Jonathan flipped through the entail pages copied from the original. “Russia flexing, Germany threatening, Hessenberg’s southern and northern ports vulnerable to attack.”

  “What choice did Francis leave himself? He’d squandered Hessenberg’s wealth and resources seeking pleasure, trying to get ahead in the industrial age with his wild inventions, building that exotic car, Starfire 89, that wooed kings but was entirely unaffordable for the people.”

  “A car worth millions now … if you can get hold of one.” Jonathan closed the document and returned it to the desk. “This whole matter is complicated by the fact Francis was probably illiterate.” He regarded his watch. “Liam’s bringing the motor ‘round. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, yes, let’s go.” Nathaniel patted his jacket. Where were his notes? Ah, inside his breast pocket. “I don’t envy them, facing war, crafting an entail that required complete surrender of land and authority, and all rights to the Hessenberg throne to protect the sovereignty of Brighton.”

  “Then be grateful you face the end of the entail, not the beginning.”

  “The end doesn’t bring me much comfort either.” Nathaniel pressed his palm on the stack of documents and diaries as he passed the desk. “I thought my biggest trial was finding true love.”

  Even if Dad’s health stabilized, more than likely Nathaniel would be king in the years after Hessenberg became a Brighton province. A likely outcome since no heirs of the House of Augustine-Saxon had been heard from in sixty years.

  “Love? Ah, looking for a woman fit to be queen of your heart and your country? Making sure the House of Stratton lives on?”

  “You mock me, mate.” Nathaniel patted his shoulder as he passed him on his way through the door.

  “Mock you? No, I envy you. You have your pick of lovelies.”

  “Who want my crown not my heart.”

  “The least of which is Lady Genevieve.” Jonathan’s tone was teasing, leading.

  “I see I was a fool to bring up the subject of love. Can we just get on with the evening?” Outside in the side driveway, Liam stood by the motorcar in his dark suit and shades. He looked like a movie character. It was one of the reasons Nathaniel liked the former special-forces major. He so looked the part, one could hardly believe he actually was a royal security officer.

  Nathaniel rode to Mrs. Butler’s in quiet contemplation as the pinkish lines of evening fell through the canopying oaks. Talk of his ancestors, of the 1914 Entailment, rattled the doubt resting in his bones. Was his calling to be king of Brighton man’s idea or God’s?

  What choice did he have? What choice did God have? Nathaniel was the son of a king, who was the son of a king, who was a son of a king dating back five hundred years.

  And what of his father’s failing health? Would he be king before he was ready? Where were the decades of time he thought he had to prepare?

  As if his thoughts weren’t tangled enough, he pictured her.

  Susanna.

  Jon peered around to the front seat. “You know what? Forget the entail. I think you’re right. Your greatest challenge is to find a wife. You and Prince Stephen are the hope of the House of Stratton.”

  Was he telegraphing his thoughts? “I’d rather fight through the entail.” He wanted to get married. But not because it fit his job description as a crown prince.

  He wanted to marry for love.

  Susanna remained in his thoughts until he corralled his image of her and sent it back to the dark recesses. Dreaming of her was a complete waste of time. He had a better chance of finding an heir to the Hessenberg throne than of marrying Susanna Truitt.

  But oh, he wanted to see her again, practically yearned for it. So much so that on Sunday, Jon inquired about his grimace. Nathaniel quickly blamed heartburn from too much pizza.

  On Sunday he took two five-mile runs—one in the morning, one in the evening—to distract his heart from her. Why go where he absolutely could not?

  Then today, while attempting to read the ninety-nine-year-old entail, his mind rebelled, refusing to embrace another wherewithin and hitherunto so he could dream of a girl with cerulean-colored eyes and a smile that blinded his heart.

  He’d come to the island on his father’s business and a short holiday. No more. No less. To consider romance was foolhardy.

  Because his name, his destiny, everything about him was for the king and Brighton Kingdom.

  Right down to the beating of his heart.

  FIVE

  At six-thirty, Susanna slipped into the black sheath dress she kept in her closet for weddings and marine balls, along with a pair of matching heels.

  Black. How fitting. In the aftermath of finding out white wasn’t in her near or distant future, an elegant evening in a black gown, socializing with south Georgia’s elite, almost mocked her. But instead, she chose to see it as a bit cathartic.

  She fought the wash of sadness as she leaned toward her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You’re going to get over this, Suz. Adam did what you should’ve done long ago—speak the truth.”

  But twelve years? Ugh. It made her stomach knot and ring out all kinds of sour regret. Why had she remained silent when deep down … deep down, she knew? It made her question her integrity and discernment. Her courage.

  But she’d been blinded by the safety of a life with the controlled and honorable Adam Peters. Sure, they had their quarrels and fights, but in the end, he was her safe and steady future. Someone she could count on.

  A horn blast from the driveway below told her the time for reflection was over. She grabbed her silver clutch from the dresser and stuffed it with a twenty-dollar bill, lipstick, and her cell phone.

  Time to move out—an Adam saying she’d adopted—and mo
ve on.

  Gage met her at the door with a bouquet of flowers and shoved them at her with an awkward “here.”

  “O–okay.” Her hand trembled as she gripped the plastic wrapping, the adrenaline and hope of moving on without Adam waning. She felt weak and watery. “Gage, I–I … Thank you for these.”

  The giving and getting of flowers had often been a source of contention with Adam. Gage knew that, or at least he used to know. He’d sided with Susanna once when Adam was home on leave.

  “Give the girl some flowers, Adam.”

  The no-nonsense marine considered flowers a waste of money. Susanna agreed most of the time. Except for anniversaries, birthdays, and Valentine’s Day. Especially when he’d been deployed most of the last six years. He missed all but one of her last seven birthdays.

  “Yeah, forget it. I saw them at Publix. I like the orange flowers. Listen …” Gage tipped his head toward his car and offered his arm. “Here’s how we ought to play tonight—”

  “Gage, wait, maybe you should just go without me.” Susanna stepped back inside the house, setting the bouquet on a table inside the door. She couldn’t do this … she couldn’t … The whole island knew.

  Found the right ring but not the right girl.

  “Come on, Suz. Let’s win this one. This hospital gig will keep us in the black for a year.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, us. The firm.” He offered his arm again, but Susanna descended the steps on her own. Handsome in his black tux and styled hair, Gage was just her boss. Just her friend.

  At the Butlers’, Gage pulled up to valet parking, checked his appearance in the rearview, and turned to Susanna before handing over his keys to the approaching red-vested man.

  “Schmooze, schmooze, schmooze. That’s our game plan. And oh, the event coordinator told me the hospital board members will be wearing red-ribbon pins.”