Fairy Tale Weddings

  Just before the heavy door glided shut, Thorne yelled, “We’ll name one of our children after you, too!”

  Cindy was too furious to think straight. She removed her coveralls and flung them carelessly into the laundry bin. “Can’t you see I’m working in here,” she muttered, sarcastically mimicking Thorne’s words. The red bandana followed the coveralls, falling short of the bin, but Cindy couldn’t have cared less.

  “Cindy.”

  At the sound of Thorne calling her name, Cindy turned, closed the door and slid the lock into place.

  Thorne tried the door, discovered it was locked, then pounded on it with both fists. “Cindy, I know you’re in there!”

  She refused to answer him.

  “Cindy, at least hear me out.”

  “You don’t need to say a word to me, Mr. Almighty Thorndike Prince.” Dramatically she brought the back of her wrist to her forehead. “I suggest you leave before you do any more damage and I’m forced to have you fired.” She taunted him with his own threat.

  “Cindy, please, I’m sorry. I had no idea that was you.”

  She reached for her jeans, sliding them over her hips and zipping them up, her hands shaking in her hurry to dress. “I think you’re…despicable. Vanessa was right. You are the lowest of the low.”

  “She’ll change her mind. I just promised to name our first daughter after her.”

  “Oh, stop trying to be clever!”

  “Cindy,” he tried again, his voice low and coaxing, “hear me out. I’ve had a rotten day. I was convinced I’d never find you again and one thing after another has gone wrong. You’re right, I shouldn’t have shouted at you, but please understand. I didn’t know you were the cleaning lady.”

  She rammed her arms into the long sleeves of her sweatshirt and jerked it over her head. “It shouldn’t have mattered who I was…as you kept telling me.”

  “And I meant it. If you’d let me explain…”

  “You don’t need to explain a thing to me…I’m only the cleaning woman.”

  “I love you, cleaning woman.”

  Telling her that was cheating, since he knew the effect it would have on her. Cindy threw open the door and faced him, arms akimbo and eyes flashing. “I suppose you love Sheila, too.”

  “No, I—”

  “Don’t give me that. Did you think I’m so socially inept I wouldn’t find out about your wedding announcement? I do happen to read the paper now and again.”

  “Sheila had that published without my knowledge. I have no intention of marrying her. How could I when I’m in love with you?”

  That took some of the wind from her sails, as her aunt might have said, and her temper went with it. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Don’t tell me you love me, Thorne. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you if you do.”

  Thorne reached for her, astonished anew at how right it felt to hold her. He held her tight and sighed in relief. He had his Cindy, his princess, his love, and he wasn’t going to lose her again.

  “That night was all a game,” she whispered. “I never dreamed…never hoped you’d come to care for me.”

  “The magic never stopped and it never will. You’re mine, Cindy Territo. And I’m yours.”

  “But, Thorne, surely you understand now why I couldn’t let you know.”

  “Do you think it matters that you’re a janitor? I love you. I want you to share my life.”

  Cindy tensed. “Thorne, I’m scared.”

  “There’s no reason to be.” His hand smoothed the curls at the back of her head.

  “Are you crazy?” Cindy asked with a sobbing laugh. “Look at us.”

  Thorne blinked.

  “You’re standing there in your thousand-dollar suit and I’m wearing bargain-basement blue jeans.”

  “So?”

  “So! We’re like oil and water. We don’t mix.”

  Thorne smiled at that. “It just takes a little shaking up. You can’t doubt that we were meant to be together, Cindy, my very own princess.”

  “But, Thorne—”

  He kissed her then, cutting off any further objection. His mouth settled firmly over hers; the kiss was both undeniably gentle and magically sweet. When he held her like this, it was easy to believe that everything would always be wonderful between them.

  “I want to meet your family.”

  “Thorne, no.” Cindy broke out of his arms, hugging her waist.

  He looked puzzled. “Why not?”

  “Because—”

  “I’ll need to meet them sometime.”

  Her uncle Sal’s contorted, angry face flashed before Cindy. She knew he disapproved of Thorne. If Cindy were to bring Thorne to the apartment, Sal would punch first and ask questions later. Any of her uncles would behave the same way. Her family was highly protective of all their loved ones, and there’d have to be a whole lot of explaining before Cindy brought Thorne into their midst.

  “Meet them?” Cindy repeated. “Why?”

  “Cindy.” He held her squarely by the shoulders. “I plan to marry you. If you’ll have me, of course.”

  She stared at him, overwhelmed by happiness—and then immediately swamped by doubts.

  “You will be my wife, won’t you?”

  He asked her with such tenderness that Cindy’s eyes brimmed with tears. She nodded wildly. “Yes…”

  Thorne relaxed.

  “No,” she said quickly, then covered her face with both hands. “Oh, good grief, I don’t know!”

  “Do you love me?”

  Her response was another vigorous nod.

  “Then it’s settled.” He removed her hands from her face and kissed her eyes and her nose. Then his lips descended slowly toward her mouth, pausing at her earlobe, working their way across the delicate line of her jaw….

  “But, Thorne, nothing’s settled. Not really. We…I need time.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you time.”

  The organ music vibrated through the church. Cindy stood at the back of St. Anthony’s and her heart went still as the first bridesmaid, holding a large bouquet of pink rosebuds, stepped forward. The second and the third followed. Cindy watched their progress, and her heart throbbed with happiness. This was her wedding day and within the hour she would experience the birth of her dreams. She would become Thorne’s wife. Somehow they’d crossed every hurdle. She’d claimed she needed time. He’d given it to her. She’d been so sure her family would object, but with gentle patience Thorne had won over every member. Now it was June and almost six months had passed since the night of the Christmas Ball. Thorne had convinced her the magic of that night would last throughout their lives, and finally Cindy could believe him. There wasn’t anything in this world their love couldn’t overcome. They’d proved it.

  Thorne stood at the altar, waiting for her. His eyes were filled with such tenderness that Cindy had to resist the urge to race into his arms.

  His smile lent her assurance. He didn’t look the least bit nervous, while Cindy felt as if a swarm of bees was about to invade her stomach. From the first, he’d been the confident one. Always so sure of what was right for them. Never doubting. Oh, how she loved him.

  The signal came for four-year-old Carla to join the procession, and dressed in her long lavender gown, the little girl took one measured step after another.

  Cindy stood at the back of the church and looked out over the seated guests. To her left were the people who’d loved and nurtured her most of her life. Aunt Theresa sat in the front row, a lace handkerchief in her hand, and Cindy saw her dab away an escaped tear. Cousins abounded. Aunts, uncles, lifelong friends, Vanessa, Bob Knight and others who’d come to share this glorious day. She lifted a hand to the pearl comb Thorne had returned to her. The combs secured her delicate veil. Cindy thought of her mother and how happy she would’ve been today.

  To her right was Thorne’s family. Wealthy, cultured, sophisticated. St. Anthony’s parking lot had never hosted so many Cadillacs and Mercedes, nor had th
is humble sanctuary witnessed so many designer dresses and expensive suits. But they’d come, filling the large church to capacity, wanting to meet the woman who was about to marry Thorne Prince.

  The organ music reached a crescendo when Cindy stepped onto the trail of white linen that ran the length of the aisle. The train of the satin and lace dress that had been worn by both her mother and her aunt flowed behind her. Cindy walked at a slow and stately pace, each resounding note of the organ drawing her closer to Thorne, her prince, her love.

  The congregation stood and Cindy felt a surge of excitement as the faces of those she loved turned to watch her progress.

  Thirty minutes later Cindy moved back down the same aisle as Thorne’s wife. Family and friends spilled out of the church, crowding the steps. Cindy was repeatedly hugged and Thorne shook hand after hand.

  The limousine arrived, and with his guiding hand at her elbow, Thorne led her down the steps and held open the car door.

  Almost immediately, he climbed in after her.

  “Hello, Mrs. Prince,” he whispered, his voice awed. “Have I told you today how much I love you?” he asked.

  “You just did that with a church full of witnesses,” she reminded him softly. “I do love you, Thorne. There were so many times I didn’t believe this day could ever happen, and now that it has, I know how right it is.”

  He gathered her in his arms and kissed her to the boisterous approval of their guests, who were still watching from the sidewalk.

  “Did you see the banner?” Thorne asked, pointing to the church.

  “No.”

  “I think Vanessa had something to do with that.”

  Cindy laughed. There, above the doors, a banner was hung, the words bold and bright for all the world to read:

  CINDY AND HER PRINCE LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

  SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL

  For Dale Wayne Macomber, who claims his mother never dedicates anything to him (here it is, Dale), and for Laurie, the woman who loves him.

  One

  “Once upon a time in a land far away,” Judy Lovin began in a still, reverent voice. The intent faces of the four-year-olds gathered at her feet stared up at her with wide-eyed curiosity. Hardly a whisper could be heard as Judy continued relating the fairy tale that had stirred her heart from the moment she’d first heard it as a youngster no older than these. It was the story of Beauty and the Beast.

  Today, however, her thoughts weren’t on the fairy tale, which she could recite from memory. As much as she was trying to focus her attention on her job, Judy couldn’t. She’d argued with her father earlier that morning and the angry exchange troubled her. She rarely disagreed with her father, a man she deeply loved and respected. Charles Lovin was an outspoken, opinionated man who headed one of the world’s most successful shipping companies. At the office he was regarded as demanding but fair. At home, with his family, Charles Lovin was a kind and generous father to both Judy and her older brother, David.

  Charles’s Wedgwood teacup had clattered sharply when he’d placed it in the saucer that morning. “All those years of the best schooling, and you prefer to work as a preschool teacher in a day-care center.” He’d said it as though she were toiling among lepers on a South Pacific island instead of the peaceful upper east side of Manhattan.

  “I love what I do.”

  “You could have any job you wanted!” he’d snapped.

  His unprovoked outburst surprised Judy and she’d answered quietly. “I have exactly the job I want.”

  He slapped the table, startling her. Such behavior was uncommon—indeed, unheard of—in the Lovin household. Even her brother couldn’t disguise his shock.

  “What good are my wealth and position to you there?” he roared. “Beauty, please…”

  He used his affectionate name for her. She’d loved the fairy tale so much as a child that her father had given her the name of the princess. Today, however, she felt more like a servant than royalty. She couldn’t recall a time when her father had looked at her in such a dictatorial manner. Swallowing a sip of tea, she took her time answering, hoping to divert the confrontation.

  She was a gentle soul, like her mother, who had died unexpectedly when Judy was in her early teens. Father and daughter had grown close in the years that followed and even during her most rebellious teen period, Judy had hardly ever argued with him. And certainly not over something like this. When she’d graduated from the finest university in the country at the top of her class, she’d gone to work as a volunteer at a local day-care center in a poor section of town. She’d come to love her time with these preschoolers. Charles hadn’t objected then, or when she’d been asked to join the staff full-time, although her pay was only a fraction of what she could make in any other job. But after all these months, it seemed unfair that her father should suddenly object.

  “Father,” she said, forcing herself to remain calm. “Why are you concerned about the day-care center now?”

  He’d looked tired and drawn and so unlike himself that she’d immediately been worried.

  “I’d assumed,” he shouted, his expression furious, “that given time, you’d come to your senses!”

  Judy attempted to disguise a smile.

  “I don’t find this subject the least bit amusing, young lady.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “You have a degree from one of the finest universities in this country. I expect you to use the brain the good Lord gave you and make something of yourself.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Try living off what you make taking care of other women’s children and see how far that gets you in this world.”

  She touched her mouth with her linen napkin and motioned with her head to Bently, who promptly removed her plate. The English butler had been with the family since long before Judy was born. He sent her a sympathetic look. “Do we need the money, Father?” she asked.

  In retrospect, she realized she probably shouldn’t have spoken in such a flippant tone. But to hear her father, it sounded as if they were about to become destitute.

  Charles Lovin completely lost his temper at that, hitting the table so hard that his spoon shot into the air and hit the crystal chandelier with a loud clang, shocking them both.

  “I demand that you resign today.” And with that, he tossed his napkin on his plate and stormed from the room.

  Judy sat for a long moment as the shock settled over her. Gradually the numbness subsided and she pushed back her genuine Queen Anne chair. All the furniture in the Lovin home had been in the family for generations. Many considered this a priceless antique; Judy considered it a dining-room chair.

  Bently appeared then, a crisp linen towel folded over his forearm. He did love ceremony. “I’m sure he didn’t mean that, miss.” He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, barely moving his lips. It had always amused Judy that Bently could talk like that, and she assumed he’d acquired this talent from years of directing help during dinner parties and other formal gatherings.

  “Thank you, Bently,” she said, grinning. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  He winked then and Judy returned the gesture. By the time she arrived at the day-care center, she’d put the thought of resigning out of her mind. Tonight when she got home, her father would be his kind, loving self again. He would apologize for his outrageous tantrum and she would willingly forgive him.

  “Miss Judy, Miss Judy!” Tammi, a lively little girl, jumped to her feet and threw her arms around her teacher’s neck. “That’s a beautiful story.”

  Judy returned the wholehearted hug. “I love it, too.”

  “Did Beauty and the Beast love each other forever and ever?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Did they have lots of little beasts?”

  “I’m sure they did, but remember, the Beast wasn’t a beast any longer.”

  “Beauty’s love turned him into a handsome prince,” Jennifer exclaimed, exceedingly proud of herself.

  Bobby, a blon
d preschooler with pale blue eyes, folded his arms across his chest and looked grim. “Do you know any stories about policemen? That’s what I want to be when I grow up.”

  Judy affectionately ruffled the little boy’s hair. “I’ll see if I can find a story just for you tomorrow.”

  The boy gave her a wide smile and nodded his head. “Good thing. I’m tired of mushy stories.”

  “Now,” Judy said, setting the book aside. “It’s time to do some finger painting.”

  A chorus of cheers rose from the small group and they scurried to the tables and chairs. Judy stood up and reached over her head to the tall cupboards for the paper and paints.

  “You know what I love most about the Beast?” Jennifer said, lagging behind.

  “What’s that?” Judy withdrew an apron from the top shelf and tied it around her waist. Her brown hair fell in soft curves, brushing her shoulders, and she pushed it back.

  “I love the way Beauty brought summer into the Beast’s forest.”

  “It was her kindness and gentleness that accomplished that,” Judy reminded the little girl.

  “And her love,” Jennifer added, sighing.

  “And her love,” Judy repeated.

  “I have the report you requested.”

  John McFarland glanced up from the accounting sheets he was studying. “Put it here.” He pointed to the corner of his beech desk and waited until his business manager, Avery Anderson, had left the room before reaching for the folder.

  McFarland opened it, stared at the picture of the lovely brown-eyed woman that rested on top and arched his brows appreciatively. Judy Lovin. He’d seen her picture in the New York Times several months ago, but the photo hadn’t done her fragile beauty justice. As he recalled, the article had described her efforts in a day-care center. He studied her photograph. Although she was lovely, he knew women who were far more beautiful. However, few of them revealed such trusting innocence and subtle grace. The women he dealt with all had a seductive beauty, but lacked heart. Seeing Judy’s photograph, McFarland was struck anew at the contrast.