Free A Prince for Jenny by Peggy Webb

he mourned the loss of a woman who had taught him to taste sunbeams.
     

 
    Chapter Seven
    The cake wasn't turning out exactly the way Megan wanted it to. She frowned at the cookbook, then scowled at her brother. Everything might have been all right if she hadn't let him put in the eggs.
    "How did I know you was s'posed to take 'em out of the shell?" he said.
    If only he wouldn't cry, she'd send him out of the kitchen and make the cake all by herself.
    "Besides, you shoulda asked Miss Williams," Patrick added.
    "Miss Williams is a nanny. She's not a cook. And besides, I want to surprise Daddy."
     "How come he's sad?"
    " 'Cause grownups get that way sometimes, silly. Now hush talking so I can think."
     She wished she knew about fractions and stuff, but she didn't guess it took a mathematical genius to figure out how much sugar to put in a cake. Lots and lots.
    "This is going to be delicious," she said, smiling.
     o0o
    The open letter lay on the table beside Daniel's chair. He didn't have to look at it to know what it said.
Dear Daniel, I have to go away on a trip. It wont be a bus trip like I planned, but it will be nise. Don't forget me. Forever yours, Jenny.
    As if he could ever forget her. He lowered his head to his hands.
    "Jenny," he whispered. "Jenny."
     o0o
    "Surprise!"
    His two children stood in the doorway looking like two survivors of a kitchen war. Chocolate decorated their faces, their hands, and the fronts of their clothes, and flour billowed from them like mushroom clouds.
    "We made you a birthday cake, Daddy," Megan said.
    Daniel almost said, "It's not my birthday," but seeing their radiant faces, he stopped himself.
    "That's wonderful, Megan ... Patrick. Let's see it.”
    Grinning from ear to ear, they blazed a white trail across the carpet. The thing they called a cake was great chunks of sticky dough held together with toothpicks and hope. Gobs of chocolate sat in fat random patches around the platter. Strawberries formed a crude D; small colored candies made a smiley face, and on top of it all were six twelve-inch candles from the candelabrum on the dining room table.
    Daniel was grateful they hadn't decided to light the candles.
    "Hmmm. It makes me feel hungry just to look at it." Heedless of their condition, he set the cake on the table, then hugged his children close. "I'm so proud of you."
    "Honest?" Megan asked. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"
    "Honest. Cross my heart and hope to die." They plastered his face with chocolate-flavored kisses, then he set them on their feet "Shall we go into the kitchen and eat this wonderful cake?"
    They skipped along beside him, chattering a blue streak. For a few blessed minutes he forgot the letter beside his chair.
     o0o
    Jenny knew it was foolish to keep watching out the window. Daniel wasn't going to come.
     But, oh, how she hoped he would. Clutching the curtain in one hand and pressing the other against the windowpane, she imagined Daniel riding up on a white horse like a knight in shining armor and rescuing her.
    Sighing, she let the curtain swing back into place. How silly she was. Wanting to be rescued from flying off in a private jet with a family who loved her. How ungrateful.
    Her suitcase was open on the bed. She took a pink blouse from its hanger in the closet and folded it carefully. Then slowly she walked to her suitcase.
    "Are you about finished, Jenny?" Gwendolyn called from the hallway.
    "Not quite." She had barely started.
    "We'll leave for your parents' house as soon as you finish packing."
    Jenny wondered if she could take two weeks. Maybe if she took two weeks, Daniel would come for her.
    She took the pink blouse out, unfolded it, and put it back on the hanger. She was tired of wearing pink.
    Outside her window a mockingbird called. Jenny's left leg dragged more than usual as she made her way back to the window.
     o0o
    Daniel carried Jenny's letter in his coat pocket. When he least expected it, the words flashed into his mind, obscuring