Cindy's Prince

by Bush, Christine

  Ernie’s laugh was low and rumbling. “Sure. Describe the kids.”

  So he did. He told about the bowling balls, the golf club, their ages, and how Jasmine’s size was right between Morgan and Hannah.

  Ernie shook his head, still laughing, and started writing down some brands and numbers on a piece of paper.

  “This should do it. But you’re going to need help getting them fastened into the car. It’s a challenge the first time. You can bring them here.”

  Princeton sighed, glancing at his watch. He’d never even imagined it would be such a production.

  “Or,” Ernie said thoughtfully, “If you don’t care about fancy, you can just borrow my minivan, it already has four seats in it. I just need to get myself home by 8 o’clock. It’s family night.”

  Prince looked at the man with respect and gratitude. “You don’t need the car seats tonight? If not, how about a trade? You take the Aston Martin home, and just bring it back tomorrow.”

  Ernie stared with his mouth wide open, his grin showing a mouthful of white teeth. “You mean it? You’d let me take that baby home? Can I take the missus for a ride in it?” He looked at the car, squinting. “She’s pregnant, but not so big yet. I’m pretty sure she’d fit! This will make her day. ”

  Prince laughed. “Great. It’s a deal. You are saving my life, you know.”

  The two men exchanged keys, and shook hands.

  “Good luck,” the older man said, with wisdom in his eyes. “She must be quite a girl. I have a feeling we are both going to make our ladies happy today. Caring about car seats can be more romantic than flowers.”

  Prince climbed into the minivan parked behind the guard station. “Enjoy yourself, Ernie. And remember, the Aston Martin doesn’t like to go too slow.”

  He could hear the man’s deep, booming laugh as he pulled away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They piled into the minivan. Cindy looked shocked, thrilled actually, he had arranged for a car for them all. And even with car seats. Connie was as excited as the kids.

  That fact fascinated him. Could people who lived in the very same metropolitan area have such wildly different experiences? Had he ever, in his whole life, been excited or appreciative of a ride in a car? He remembered the horror of his first city bus ride. Had Cindy really believed they would take this whole troupe to the zoo on a series of busses? Half the day would be spent to get there. Do people really do that?

  Yes, according to Cindy, they do. People do what they have to do. People are not all born with the proverbial “silver spoon in their mouth”. But also, according to Cindy, they sure appreciate a ritzy ride instead.

  She made it easy to laugh. There was a joyfulness about her that made his pulse rate increase. He loved the feeling.

  Prince headed south in his “ritzy ride,” which he thought was a pretty dramatic way to describe a used, borrowed, slightly dented family minivan with an “I brake for geese” sticker on the back bumper. They zipped down the boulevard toward the zoo, with Connie and the kids singing the alphabet song at the top of their lungs in the back of the car.

  Next to him in the front seat, Cindy sat quietly. He could see her watching him out of the corner of her eye as he steered the minivan. Prince grinned at the ruckus from the back. “Not exactly ready for the stage yet, are they?”

  She giggled.

  He told her the story of the car seat fiasco, and of Ernie’s kindly offer of his car. He loved to hear her laugh.

  “So you lent him your car? Your pride and joy?

  “Sure. He was pretty charged up about driving it. I hope they enjoy the car. And no, it’s not my pride and joy. I like it, Cindy, but it’s just a possession.”

  When had this become true? With a flash of shock, he realized his perceptions had changed. The group in the car had become far more important than his fast little car.

  She stared. “Wow,” she said. “I think I’ve misjudged you. Sorry.”

  Prince thought over her words. “Maybe in the past, that was true. Truth is, I do like that car. I’m a lucky guy. Given more than most, probably. But I’m seeing what really matters, all of a sudden. I’m going to make some changes in my life.”

  Cindy didn’t say a word, but she quietly reached her hand out, and softly covered his on the steering wheel. Her touch electrified him, shooting sparks right up his arm. He kept his gaze glued to the road, trying to appear stable and in control. His insides, however, were another matter. Inside, every part of him was jumbled. He was elated. He was blazingly alive. He was in love. But he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  Prince let the intense feelings surge and ebb, and then, trusting his voice, he told her about the plan he had concocted for his mother’s next charity project. As the car idled at a red light, his grin was wide as he turned to watch her stare back at him in shock, eyes wide.

  “Are you serious? Connie’s clinic?” she gasped. “Is this for real?”

  Prince nodded, still grinning. “Why not?”

  “Does she know? Did you tell her?” Cindy glanced back at her competent, dedicated friend Connie. At the moment, Connie bounced up and down in the backseat, wildly clapping to the last verse of the song, “BINGO” with the kids.

  “I thought you could do the honors. My mother will be getting her plaque for the zoo garden today, and all of her committee will be present and accounted for. It’s a great time for you all to meet and hear her exuberant plans for refurbishing Connie’s clinic.”

  Cindy wiped an eye that was starting to glisten.

  “Thanks, Prince. This is too good to be true. Her place has really been struggling. City grants have been cut or are now non-existent. This will be such a solution to her problems.”

  “Well, don’t thank me too soon. We haven’t heard my mother’s design plans yet. She doesn’t exactly understand “kid friendly”. You two will need to talk her off the cliff and into “reality.” Prince hooked two fingers of each hand in the air, making imaginary quotation marks. “But the money’s there. And she’s excited, and that’s most important. Once she’s committed to something, she’s like a pit bull. Only much better dressed.”

  Cindy laughed then her face turned somber. “First, the thoughtfulness of the car and now all this. If you are trying to impress me, it’s working.”

  Prince’s voice was steady. “Not doing it exactly to win you over, Cindy Castle, though if that’s the result, you won’t hear me complaining. My main goal is to show you having money is not always a bad thing. And all rich folk aren’t unredeemable. Followed by the win-over thing, of course.”

  She blushed. “I’ve been horrible, if that’s how I come across.”

  “Not at all. You’ve been right. That’s what I’m trying to say.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “What I’m seeing all of a sudden is everyone has something they bring to this life, and whatever that is, it can be a positive addition. You, Cindy, have been my wake-up call.”

  What, Princeton Highfield, are you passionate about?

  Prince was finally figuring things out. Ideas and plans formed in his head. He’d tell her, later, how he had been struck by her simple question a long time ago.

  But right now, they were arriving at the zoo. He pulled the car into the parking lot. “Okay, Cindy, we’re here. It’s time to tell Connie.”

  Cindy turned toward the back seat. “Consuela Maria Elena Rodriguez, I have a little news for you. After we see Mrs. Highfield get her plaque for the garden landscaping, you and I are going to have a little meeting with her.”

  “Sure, okay. I can’t wait to meet Princeton’s mother. Unlike you, I like rich people.” Connie fluffed her hair, smiling.

  “Well, girlfriend, you’re going to love this one. Celia Highfield and her committee have chosen the Northeast Corner Clinic as their next charity project. They have earmarked funds to refurbish, redecorate, and restock equipment.”

  Connie let out an earsplitting scream. “You’re kidding? Honest?”

 
; Prince laughed. “We may need to see the zoo keeper for a tranquilizing gun. Is she breathing yet?”

  “Oh man, here I am thinking you are Cinderella, and I’m the one who ends up with a fairy godmother!” She scrambled to get out of the car, unbuckling kids, and stashing things into her backpack. “Hurry up, let me meet this miracle woman. Before I wake up, and find out this is a dream.”

  “Right after the ceremony. We’re going to see her get her plaque.” Prince unhooked his seat belt and opened the door. “But I have to warn you, she may surprise you with her decorating ideas. You will have to gently guide her.”

  “Honey, if she wants monkeys hanging from the ceiling it’s okay with me,” said Connie. “As long as the kids get their bandages and stitches and shots, and I have a reliable thermometer.”

  “We’re here! I want to see the monkeys!”

  “Can I ride an elephant?“

  “I have to go potty.” The kids were bouncing, but obediently holding hands as they crossed the lot together and made their way through the turnstile gates.

  ****

  The award ceremony was short and sweet. A few city officials spoke their gratitude to the volunteers, pictures were taken, hands were shook as awards were awarded, and then the Action News van packed up their gear.

  Within a few minutes, Cindy and Connie were seated at a picturesque wrought iron table by the fountain with Celia Highfield and two of her committee partners, Eleanor Bradford and Marian Carrington.

  “I’m going to take these three pint-sized monkeys to the primate exhibit so you can talk,” Prince bravely announced. He had Hannah on his shoulders, while Morgan and Jasmine danced exuberantly around his feet.

  “Are you sure?” Cindy asked, eyebrows furrowed.

  Prince laughed. “Did you hear me? We’re going to the primate house. If any of these monkeys don’t listen, I will simply have them added to the collection.”

  The kids shrieked with laughter. “We’ll be good, Prince. We promise.”

  And off they went, making monkey noises.

  “We’ve learned about the good your clinic does, Ms. Rodriguez,” Eleanor Bradford began, “and are well aware of the trials of funding in this day and age. Princeton says you do excellent work, but have been struggling getting by.”

  “Yes, it’s been a challenge,” said Connie softly, shy for the first time in her life.

  “We’d like to help. Often this is done by application and review, but as my son Prince has brought your needs to our attention, we’re delighted to get started,” said Celia Highfield, straightening in her chair, and putting her clasped hands on the table.

  “So our board will need a list of your financial concerns, a budget for materials and supplies, equipment on your wish list. And we’ll redecorate, of course. That’s the enjoyable part! Now you work on your list, and then we’ll come by and visit next week and see your facility. Dare to dream, Miss Rodriguez. Whatever will make your clinic sustainable should be on that list. We can gather quite substantial funds.” Mrs. Highfield went on to list a figure.

  Eyes wide, Connie audibly gulped. “You have to understand, this is just all so overwhelming. Like a dream come true. Substantial funds and my name have never been said in the same sentence before. Thank you.”

  The ladies smiled.

  “You are very welcome,” said Mrs. Highfield.

  “But where does all this money come from?” asked Cindy, frowning. “How do you do this?”

  Marian Carrington smiled at the question. “Why, it’s what we do, my dear. We take turns accompanying various friends from our social groups to lunch at the country club, and talk about our most worthwhile projects.”

  “And they contribute? Just like that?”

  “Certainly.” Her mouth curved into half a smile. “Especially after we tell them how much their neighbor pledged at the luncheon the week before. We women have our pride, you know.”

  “Our husbands compete in the board room, or on the golf course,” said Eleanor Bradford. “It’s much lovelier, don’t you think, to prove your worth over a lovely martini and a crab soufflé?”

  Cindy exchanged glances with Connie, who made an exaggerated shrug.

  “I guess it works,” Connie finally said. “Again, thank you.”

  “Now, about the decorating,” began Prince’s mother, looking a little dreamy. “I’m envisioning a gracious entry way, maybe a serene fountain, with a rock garden. And light, hopeful colors inside, like a muted beige carpet, with accents in that peach hue which is the rage this year.”

  Eleanor Bradford took over. “That brocade material we used on the chairs in the board room at the university would be elegant, don’t you think? I am thinking couches, or would Queen Anne chairs be preferable?”

  “Indirect lighting is so much more calming, don’t you think? Except for a few accent lamps on the tables. Those silk lampshades we used in City Hall were so delicate. And how about glass tabletops? They quietly make a statement, don’t you agree?”

  The three women turned to Cindy and Connie in unison. “What do you think, girls?”

  Connie’s mouth was open like a fish. Knowing her friend well, Cindy knew there were no intelligent words coming out soon. She looked like she was in a state of shock.

  Cindy thought of a fountain at the little entryway of the clinic, and envisioned the bevy of children diving in. She thought of expensive beige carpets, and the occasional results of stomach viruses. She thought of expensive glass tabletops, and toddlers, and flying objects. After an internal shudder, she swallowed hard.

  It was up to her. Despite the fall day, Cindy could feel sweat trickling down her back. But how do you explain children, how they rough house, how they spill, the messes they are capable of making to these society women whose lives had been filled with housekeepers, nannies, and domestic tranquility?

  Cindy remembered Prince’s offhand remarks about “gently guiding the decorating plan.” An understatement, to be sure. She was probably going to come off like a scud missile. And to think she had been feeling sorry for him, being loaded down by children at the primate display. He had the easy job.

  “Well, ladies, this gives us a lot to think about. The plan probably still needs some exploration, um, some brainstorming.” She knew she sounded like a jerk.

  “You don’t like our ideas?” Celia Highfield actually sounded hurt.

  “Oh, they are brilliant ideas.” She had the vision of large dollars flying out the window with little wings. “Brilliant. But maybe,” Cindy took a deep breath, “we might want to consider the use of the place. The children. Lots of children. Lots of sick and sometimes cranky children.”

  The ladies stared, as if she was speaking a foreign language. Connie looked miserable. What could she say next?

  But she didn’t have to say a thing, for at that exact moment, Princeton Highfield came around the corner at full pace, with children exuberantly in tow. All four were singing some ridiculous song.

  Five sets of widened eyes turned to them. They had been gone less than half an hour. The children had their faces painted. Even Prince, who sported a red heart on one cheek. Evidently they had fruit juice. This was known because Hannah and Jasmine wore half of it on the front of their shirts, and sported red “moustaches.”

  Obviously, they had eaten ice cream. This was proved by Morgan’s streaks of chocolate down his arms, and a wide ring of chocolate around his mouth.

  No doubt they’d also had blue cotton candy. Hannah was perched on top of Prince’s shoulders, and she had the paper cone from the cotton candy stuck to the side of her head. A blob of melting blue cotton candy the size of a golf ball also sat on Prince’s head, falling off and hitting the ground with a plop when the group skidded to a stop in front of them.

  “We’re having a blast!” announced Morgan with joy. “The zoo is the coolest place. Great stuff to eat, and some animals too.”

  Jasmine piped in. “Mr. Prince says we can go to the children’s section and ride t
he ponies later, but not until Hannah digests, as he’s afraid she’s going to hurl.”

  “More! More!” babbled Hannah, trying vainly to pull the candy cotton holder out of her hair.

  “Come on, Aunt Cindy,” coerced Morgan, shuffling his feet. “Let’s go see more stuff.

  “Oh my goodness,” began Mrs. Highfield, her hand flying to cover her gaping, horrified mouth. “Princeton, you look a mess.”

  “Well, kids can be messy, as they say. Are you ladies about done?” His gaze took in the seated group. “How about setting a time to go visit the clinic, and then you can firm up your ideas.”

  Everyone nodded, getting rapidly to their feet.

  “I think I suddenly see what you mean, girls.” Celia Highfield pursed her lips. “About the clinic. About the children. Perhaps not glass tabletops. Perhaps something, more durable?”

  Connie sighed and shot a grateful look to Cindy. “Yes. Durable is good. Durable is great. Indestructible is better.”

  “Maybe we can gather some pictures to show you when you come? Would that be all right?” Cindy questioned.

  “Why it would be wonderful. And helpful. We’ll come next Friday, mid-morning. Come on, ladies.” Mrs. Highfield gathered her troops to depart.

  “I still think the beige Berber would be a wonderful carpet,” said Mrs. Carrington, the carpet queen, in a petulant voice, as they walked away.

  Celia Highfield took her arm. “Come, Marian, we’ll talk. Do you know what hurl means? Have you ever seen a child hurl? And did you see that blue monstrosity on my son’s head? We need to take these things into consideration.”

  They watched the ladies depart then Cindy turned to Prince. “What did you feed them? How did they get to look like that?”

  Prince just grinned back.

  Cindy started to laugh, looking at him standing in front of her, shirt tail out, hair mussed—and with melted blue candy cotton dripping slowly down his forehead—and at the kids, who grinned from ear to ear. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You made a mess on purpose.”