GIVEN TO THE PRINCE

Part 9

Victoria let out a long sigh. Sometimes her friend could be very exasperating. She knew without a doubt Jessica was a disaster looking for an opportunity. The knot in her stomach hinted toward the possibility she and her costume might be the next episode. Pressed for time, she decided to pin Jessica down tomorrow and settle the costume issue then. 

Despite her overzealous personality, Jessica was a genuine friend. Until meeting the children, her friendship was the only personal attachment Victoria had allowed herself. She knew they made an odd pairing, a Wall Street financial executive and one of New York's firefighters. Somehow, though, they seemed to fit. 

How they met was a typical result of what she tolerantly termed, a Jessica maneuver. Jessica had managed to talk Miss Temple into giving her an appointment under the guise of needing some commercial acquisition assistance. As things turned out, the assistance was in the shape of a very large contribution to a charity known as Sisters for Sisters. Jessica's passionate advocacy convinced Victoria to support the program for troubled girls. Before the ink had dried on her donation check, she'd also found herself commandeered to supervise two fundraisers and one picnic. Jessica was one of those people to whom you could not say no. The kind, if you were fortunate, you called friend. 

Smiling at her musings, she slipped diamond studs into her ears and studied her reflection in the expanse of mirrors covering her closet doors. The yellow sheath dress gave her the casual and cheerful image she wanted. More feminine than her usual business attire and more suited to the event of the evening. 

Soft, shiny hair hung in loose curls past her shoulders. The problem of keeping the soft tendrils out of her face was solved with ivory and gold hair combs. How tenaciously she clung to this one secret vanity. The long silken strands reminded her of her mother whose straight platinum hair had hung nearly to her waist. Odd, how that one thing stood out in her memory so clearly. 

Tossing her head, she watched her curls bounce and then settle onto her shoulders. She loved the hair which at times could also be a curse. When left unrestrained, it became a catalyst attracting too much attention. Her male peers equated long, golden hair with dumb, helpless females. To alleviate the problem, her stylist obscured its length in intricate braids. Tonight was different, special. She chose the unfettered style because of Aaron. He loved to wrap the curls around his fingers. She would not disappoint him. 

Draping her creamy chenille shawl over her arm, she stepped out of her apartment. The click of her key in the door lock synchronized with the sound of the arriving elevator. 

"Victoria?" 

Startled by the voice behind her, she jumped and spiraled. "Father, you scared me! What are you doing here?" 

Her father lifted his hand toward her. "You look absolutely angelic...and so much like your mother. I have not seen your hair this way for years. You should leave it loose more often." 

"Don't be ridiculous, Father. I would never get any work done with hair constantly in my face. What prompted this visit? You never come over unannounced." 

Even though he leisurely scrutinized her as a painter might study his subject, memorizing every shadow, angle, and texture, his taut lips and furrowed brow forecasted some pressing urgency. Appearing to be lost in his own private thoughts, he didn't answer her at once. His eyes clouded with an emotion Victoria couldn't interpret and his shoulders slumped downward.

Her father always radiated a vibrant, driving energy other men envied. But tonight his skin looked sallow, his eyes drained. His weariness reminded her of the afternoon he'd hurried her through the signing of those obscure documents. Two weeks had passed since then. She'd intended to pin him down for an explanation of his odd request and his apparent ill-health. A convenient time never presented itself. Nevertheless, looking at him now...she knew she should have made the effort. 

He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. "My timing has been inconvenient lately. I apologize." He looked down at his feet, his voice trailing a little. "I just dropped by to talk with you, nothing serious, just talk." 

Victoria pondered the pensive tone. He sounded regretful. Why? Surely, there was more to this visit than he was explaining. "You've been acting odd lately. Is everything okay at the office?" 

He lifted his head and gave her a reassuring smile. "Yes, everything is fine. I thought perhaps we might spend some time together. It's been a long while since we've done that. I was hoping..."

Before she could anticipate his next action, he clasped his large hands around her shoulders and pulled her tightly to his chest. She froze. The last time she'd been hugged by her father, she'd been a grieving twelve-year-old. She remembered how warm his chest had been against her tear-dampened cheeks and how she'd wanted him to hold her tighter. But her father was not a demonstrative man, and he had released her long before his warmth had reached her heart. This embrace ended just as quickly. Only this time, a trickle of warmth did reach her heart. An unfulfilled longing slipped in also, whether hers or her father's she didn't know. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, as he stepped away from her. Taking three dragging steps toward the elevator, he stopped and turned back, an obscure emotion sculpting his face with worry lines. "Victoria, you do know I love you, don't you? Whatever happens...please remember how important your happiness is to me." 

This time he didn't turn back but stepped into the elevator and dropped out of sight as suddenly as he had appeared. She shook with icy shivers as if she'd just sunk into the wet, forty-degree cold plunge at her health club. Shock held her in place. Gripped, she watched the descending numbers light up over the elevator. 

Every aspect of her life was careening into maniacal twists designed to drive her crazy. What was she supposed to do with a father who suddenly seemed vulnerable and unsure of himself? Nothing was making sense anymore. There was not enough time to go after him. The children were waiting for her. Tomorrow...tomorrow she'd get to the bottom of this. 

She gathered the fractured pieces of her composure and made her way out of the building, walking toward the company limousine and the waiting chauffeur. "Good evening, Thomas."

 "Good evening, Miss Ballard. The flowers you requested are in the back seat. And, may I say, you are looking very lovely this evening." 

"Thank you." She slipped through the door Thomas held open for her and slid into place across the gray leather seat. Two large bouquets of pink and yellow roses filled the interior with a welcoming fragrance, soothing her confused emotions and redirecting her thoughts. She was glad she'd decided to use the limousine. The princess car, Talli's name for the sleek white limousine, would add to the night's ambiance and the children's enjoyment. 

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