Her Frog Prince

“Was she cute?”

“I wouldn’t call her cute, but rather…” He thought a minute. “Sassy.”

Jerry grinned. “Sounds interesting.”

“She was. In a way.”

“So, you gonna call her?”

Brad rubbed at his chin again. The shoe Parris had left in his boat sat on the back counter, like the proverbial glass slipper waiting to be fitted on the right foot. “Yeah. Maybe make a personal visit.”

Jerry grabbed a research journal, flipped to a blank page and took up a pencil. “Wait, let me make a note of this.” He scribbled the date at the top, then the time.

“What are you doing?”

“A minor miracle is happening in front of my eyes, I thought I’d document it for posterity.”

“Minor miracle?”

“Workaholic Brad is calling a woman for a date. Hey, you might actually have something besides squid on your mind for once.”

“I am not calling her for a date. More a—” he glanced again at the pink sandal “—consultation.”

Jerry tossed the journal and pencil to the side, then sat back down on the stool. “You spoil all my fun. How’s a guy going to live vicariously if you don’t live at all?”

Parris took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her hair, stopping outside The Banyan Room to look in the mirror and check for the twentieth time that no seaweed or trace of her ocean adventure remained. Everything was as it should be. After a quick shower and change of clothes, She looked capable. Smart. Like she could handle this.

In other words, like a fairy tale. Truth was, Parris wasn’t sure she could handle this. But she wanted to. Wanted to prove she could.

When her younger sister Jackie had left her in charge of planning and hosting this huge charity auction worth hundreds of thousands of dollars to go off to marry Steven, Parris had, at first, felt angry and put upon. Then, as the days passed, she’d begun to feel energized by the challenge. As a woman who’d never taken the opportunity to be anything more than a society princess, this was new ground.

Exciting ground. And yet, at the same time, terrifying territory because her footing was unsure. The auction was the first big event for Hammond Events and Consulting, the company their father had given them as a sort of test and as his convoluted way of bringing his two daughters together.

With Jackie living among the cow patties and horseflies in connubial bliss at Steven’s Florida ranch while Parris did all the auction work, togetherness wasn’t happening. And with all the donor problems they’d had in recent weeks, Parris wasn’t so sure the auction was happening, either. She wanted this to work out, more now than ever. In the past few weeks, she’d seen the opportunity the auction presented to make something of her life. Of herself.

Toward that goal, she had to convince the Phipps-Stovers to make a donation. She squared her shoulders, flicked a piece of lint off her suit and took in a breath.

Merry Montrose, the resort’s manager, came up to her before Parris could enter the restaurant. “How are you, Miss Hammond? I heard about your awful accident.”

Parris bit back the momentary thought that Merry had somehow been the one doing the tripping this afternoon. “I’m fine. Just surprised no one heard me fall in or turned around when I started screaming.”

“Oh, you know how those excursion boats are. So noisy. And at my age, the hearing’s not so good.”

Merry leaned closer, her blue-violet eyes zeroing in on Parris’s. When she was younger, she must have been gorgeous, Parris decided.

“I heard you were rescued.”

“There was a man in a boat who fished me out.”

“A true knight in shining armor?”

“I wouldn’t call him that.” She didn’t know what she’d call Brad Smith, but “knight” wasn’t the word that came to mind. “I don’t believe in those kinds of things anyway.”

“What kinds of things?”

Oh God. The woman was going to stand here all day and delay Parris from her meeting. But because the auction was being held at the resort, Parris couldn’t afford to offend the manager.

“Fairy tales,” Parris said curtly, trying her best to end the conversation. “All the Brothers Grimm did was warp a lot of impressionable young minds.”

“Do I detect some bitterness?”

Nosy old woman. Parris didn’t answer. She wasn’t about to get into a conversation about her personal life with the resort manager. Lately the woman had seemed to be quite the busybody, as if she had some kind of personal stake in Parris’s life. Maybe she fancied herself a matchmaker. Parris didn’t need help from her to find Mr. Right. She didn’t even have time for Mr. Right. She had a career to build, not a relationship to find.

Merry had turned and was looking through the oval glass in the doors that led into The Banyan Room. “There’s a happy ending in there.”

Parris peered through the glass, too. Inside, the Phipps-Stovers were sitting at a table for four by the fireplace, sipping champagne and eating the strawberry-topped cheesecake Parris had arranged as a special treat. Brian Phipps-Stover fed his wife a bit of cheesecake. Joyce giggled as she slipped the bite into her mouth.

God save Parris from newlyweds.

Didn’t they know what was going to happen three weeks, three months, three years—maybe even three hours—from now? The little charade of happiness would stop and everyone would show their true ugly colors, turning happily-ever-after into a-nightmare-a-day.

Parris had watched her parents’ marriage self-destruct. She’d seen her own fall apart before she’d even come within fifty feet of the altar. Happy endings were a con perpetrated by couples who pretended to live in harmony while they tucked the fights over bills and in-laws out of sight when company arrived.

“Everyone can have a happy ending,” Merry said, as if reading Parris’s mind.

“All I want is a happy auction.” Parris excused herself, then pushed on the doors and entered the up-scale restaurant. She glanced at her watch. Only three minutes late. If she hadn’t had that conversation with Merry, she would have been on time.

Parris pasted on a smile and crossed to the Phipps-Stovers, trying to stomach the endearments of “pookie” and “truffle lips” that echoed between them as they finished off the last of the cheesecake.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Phipps-Stover. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Parris said, extending her hand. “I’m Parris Hammond, co-owner of Hammond Events and Consulting. I believe you’ve already talked with my sister Jackie.”

Both Phipps-Stovers rose and greeted her in turn. “Is that Miss Hammond or Mrs.?” Joyce asked.

“Miss. I’m afraid I haven’t been as lucky as you.” Parris put a broader smile on her face as all three of them sat down. “I’ve yet to find a man who suits my taste.”

“Luck hasn’t much to do with marriage,” Brian said, spearing a strawberry with his dessert fork. “I’ve had better luck in Vegas.”

Joyce pursed her lips and cast him a sour look but didn’t say anything.

“First, I wanted to thank you for your support of the Victoria Catherine Smith Memorial Aquarium Fund,” Parris said. “It’s a wonderful cause and your donation will enable us to showcase the wonderful marine life in this area for everyone to see.”

“I like fish. They entertain me.” Brian shrugged, popped the strawberry in his mouth, then took a sip from the flute of champagne.

“Darling, you sip the champagne, then bite the strawberry,” Joyce said. “That provides the maximum epicurean effect.”

“If I do that, pookie, I get seeds stuck in my teeth. I eat the berry first and then wash it down with champagne.”

Joyce’s smile strained against her cheeks. “Really darling, people will think you’re uncouth if you do that.”