Once Upon a Prince (4 page)

“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.”

F
rom 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 wanted 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.

A
t 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 move 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.”

“The event coordinator?” Susanna opened her car door.

“One can find out a lot over dinner and a boatload of compliments.”

“Gage, it’s a job. Don’t sell your soul for it.”

“We need this, Susanna. We. Need. This.”

The Butler mansion was beautiful—cut from old river stone and inlaid with a marble foyer. A crystal chandelier hung above the hand-carved mahogany staircase and damask curtains adorned the twenty-foot windows.

Susanna had been inside once before, years ago, when Mrs. Butler had invited her to join the Debutants, a social service organization. Every spring, they’d plant flowers all over the island and hold a themed cotillion on a Saturday evening.

But the opulence and marbled wealth of the mansion, the grace and affluence of the other girls applying for the Debutants, sent Susanna back to herself. Her roots. To where she belonged—playing varsity volleyball and waiting tables at the Rib Shack, her surfboard leaning against the back kitchen wall.

Then, that summer, Adam came for dinner at the Shack with his parents. They left, but he waited for Susanna in the parking lot until closing so he could ask her to the movies.

“Let the schmoozing begin.” Gage ushered her into the ballroom, alive with tuxedos and sequined gowns flowing over a gleaming walnut dance floor.

The warm air skirted around Susanna. She already wanted to leave. A passing server stuck a glass of wine in her hand, and she stepped farther into the Georgia aristocratic set, almost hankering for her surfboard and a whiff of barbecue.

Spotting a woman with a red-ribbon pin on the strap of her dress, Susanna inhaled deeply and worked her way through the crowd of guests.
Let the schmoozing begin
.

“Hello,” Susanna said. There were three of them—spandexed into gowns cut too tight and too low.

“Hey there,” they said, flickering glances toward Susanna.

“Do you
really
think he’s coming?” This from a bouffant blonde wearing a blue strapless gown. It barely contained her
obvious
charms. “Carlene Butler has been claiming royal roots since Nixon was president. But I’ve never seen one ounce of proof.” The woman downed the last of her wine and licked her lips. “Not one.”

“Not just
roots
, sugar. She’s
related
to the royal family.” The brunette with the red-ribbon pin snickered into her glass. “I bet the royals have something to say about Carlene Butler’s claims.”

“Hush up, y’all.” The rebuke came from a brilliant redhead in a canary-yellow gown. “Carlene is a fine, upstanding woman. Hold your gossip until we know for sure if
he’s
here or not.”

He who? Susanna set her wine on a passing tray of empty glasses. The last thing her bruised heart needed was the elixir of fermented grapes. She had to keep her wits about her.

The redhead bobbed her head toward Susanna. “Aren’t you Glo Truitt’s girl?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Liz Cane.” She switched her wine glass to her left hand and offered her right. “You remember me? I’m your Aunt Jen’s friend. This here is Cybil and Babe.” The blonde and brunette. “Anyway, shug. I
am
so sorry.” The woman pressed her hand on Susanna’s arm. “That Peters boy oughta be shot.”

Ho boy
. Embarrassment perspired across Susanna’s forehead.

“Why? What’d he do?” Babe stepped close, her eyes glinting with a yearn for gossip.

“Nothing,” Susanna said. This wasn’t their business. But she
was grateful that one person on the island didn’t seem to know her personal woes.

“He told her he’d found the right ring but not the right girl.”

Cybil and Babe gasped in unison and drew back, their hands pressed over their hearts.

“He did not.” Cybil’s eyes could not be wider with shock. “How in the world are you not in a million pieces?”

“Oh, my stars. I’d be
completely
gone … just gone.” Babe inspected Susanna as if she might find a very obvious, exposing crack. “Him a decorated marine, a war hero and all?”

“He was being honest,” Susanna blurted the confession, wishing it back because it invited more conversation. She wanted to schmooze the red-ribbon lady, Babe, about the hospital wing. Not discuss her broken love life.

“Honest?” Cybil scoffed and stopped a passing server for a fresh round of wine. She took two glasses and passed one to Babe. “There’s honest, darling, then there’s brutal.”

“But I’m not the right girl.”
Stop talking, Susanna
. These women were not worthy of her confession. They were strangers with a voyeuristic concern. “Babe, you’re on the hospital wing committee?”

“Shug, don’t even. We know you work for Gage Stone.” Babe peered over the rim of her crystal glass. “What’s he thinking bringing you out to kiss our grits while you’re grieving such a love tragedy.”

Oh, brother. Well, then. No flies on Babe. Susanna hunted the room for Gage and finally spied him standing with a regal, silver-haired woman wearing an elegant cream gown. Carlene Butler. He caught sight of her and waved her over.

“Excuse me.” Susanna wove through the thick crowd. There had to be no less than three hundred people in the petite ballroom. “Pardon me.” She drew up thin, trying to pass between small clusters of women.

Why were they congealing together instead of making way?

“Just let me through here …” She smiled at the backs of heads. Was something interesting happening by the entrance? Heat radiated from warm body to warm body. Susanna began to feel like she couldn’t draw a pure breath.

Have … to … get … out
.

“He’s here.”

“Where?”

“Is that him?”

“Oh, my …”

Her head pounded with the force of their whispers. Who’s here? Finally, a sliver of an opening appeared amid the thicket of tuxes and gowns. Susanna broke free into a cool pocket just as three tall, dark-haired men with a palatable air of authority parted the awed guests. Susanna was pressed out of her free zone and back into the whispering heat.

“It’s not him.”

“Oh, such a shame. Are you sure?”

“By golly, it’s him. Mercy a-mighty, he’s here.”

Yeah, well, she was out. Forget Gage and schmoozing, Susanna craved fresh air. It wasn’t just the crowded hot ballroom, it was life, crowding in on her and pressing down. When her phone rang from her clutch, it was the perfect escape.

“Excuse me. Please, excuse me.” Cutting east toward the ballroom’s single-door exit, Susanna left the mysterious guests and the crowd behind. Besides, the special guests had captured everyone’s attention and all schmoozing had temporarily stopped.

Gage should’ve made better use of his dinner and compliments with the event planner and found out about the special guests. But knowing him, the only information he wanted was the names of the power players on the hospital building committee.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed in the high, domed foyer as she exited the ballroom. Her heels clicked against the sleek floor.

“Suzy, w–where are you?” Avery.

“Out with Gage. At some benefit at the Butlers’. Aves, are you okay?” Susanna left the house and stepped into a hazy pink night. At seventeen, her baby sister was athletic, smart, popular, and a bit spoiled, but the pang in her voice was more than teen melodrama. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Daddy. He was in the kitchen working … next thing I knew, he was on the floor, holding his arm.”

“Call 9-1-1.”

“Catfish already called, but Suz, Daddy says he won’t go to the hospital, and Mama isn’t here.”

“Remind him that she’ll come back sooner or later and—”

“Daddy.” Avery’s voice came muffled through the phone. “Suzy said Mama will come back sooner or later.”

Susanna could hear her father speaking in the background.

“Okay, he’ll go.” Avery’s voice buoyed with tangible relief.

“Call me when you get on the ambulance. I’m on my way to the hospital.” She swung around to head toward the Butlers’ massive double front doors. She needed to find Gage.

“Suz, I’m scared.”

“It’s going to be all right, Avery. Let the paramedics take care of him. You just stay calm.”

“I will, but pray. Please pray.”

Susanna leaned against a porch column and fixed her thoughts on the Healer. Her prayer was short but full of the wind from her own heart.
Heal Daddy
.

She could hear Avery crying and the wail of a siren through the phone.

“They’re here.”

“You go. Be with Daddy. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

When Susanna entered the foyer again, guests were clapping, leaning and pushing forward to the front of the room.

All right, Gage. Where are you?

Smiles lit the warm faces of the guests and their dubious whispers were now filled with belief.

“Can you believe it? Right here on St. Simons Island.”

“Such a marvelous speech.”

“Brief and to the point. The way I like it.” A microphone screech pierced the air causing the guests to ooh and angle back. “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes. Please start making your way to the dining room.”

Susanna shoved through the crowd to where she’d last seen Gage. The guests congealed at the very narrow dining hall doors. She was never going to find him in this mess.

She dialed his phone, but it went straight to voice mail.

Wait. What was she thinking? Gage’s car and keys were with the valet. Surely he would concede her emergency and bring the car around.

Whirling for the front door, Susanna took one step before running into a wall of a man.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but I really need to—”

“Susanna?”

She peeked up at the chiseled face of Nate Kenneth. “Nate? Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you.” He smiled and bowed slightly. An electric sensation dashed through her belly. “I’m here to support the new hospital wing.”

“I came with my boss. He’s trying to win the expansion job.” She glanced back toward the ballroom. One last chance to spot Gage before she borrowed his car. He’d be mad, but when he learned the truth, he’d understand. Completely. Right? Never mind his car was his first true love.

“You look troubled.”

“I need to get to the hospital.”
Come on, Gage. Where are you? I’m taking your car
. “My sister called …” She faced Nate, and his steady attention nearly made her knees wobble. “My father …”

“What are you doing standing here? Let’s get you to the hospital. Come.” He unbuttoned his tux jacket and offered her his hand. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, no. I can’t ask you to do that, Nate. Thank you.” She glanced around again. “I can take my boss’s car. If the valet will give me his keys.”

“My car is right this way.” He grabbed her hand without waiting for her reply and drew her toward a dim, narrow hallway, slipping his phone from his jacket pocket. “Liam, come ’round to the car. A friend needs a ride to the hospital.”

“Nate, I can’t take you from this dinner.” She had to stretch to keep in rhythm with his long strides. “Did you hear? There’s some special,
royal
guest.” The carpet pile caught the tip of her heel, and she fell against his arm.