"Every dancing princess gets her prince"

When Nanny came down the stairs early Saturday morning, she stopped in the living room to straighten it from the evening before. To her surprise, there wasn't a thing out of place. The stereo was closed; records put back, and the loveseats were both in their usual positions. No brandy decanter, coffee things or dessert dishes were evident. Even the fireplace grate was swept clean.

Upon entering the kitchen, Nanny found the same thing. All food was put away, dishes washed, candles removed and the table cleared. All that remained of the dinner setting from the night before was the rose centerpiece. And that was beginning to wilt a little.

Sighing, Nanny could almost believe the entire previous evening had never happened. The house had been swept clear of any remnants but her memories. Even the day had dawned fresh and clear with vivid blue skies and no evidence of thunderstorms. She glanced at her watch and realized even the cuckoo clock was silent.

The backdoor opened and Professor Everett came in, his golf bag slung over one shoulder. He looked surprised to see her, possibly planning to make his escape to the golf course before she came downstairs that morning.

"Ah, Good Morning, Nanny," he said. The bright tone in his voice did not match the tired and worried expression in his eyes. "I was just out back taking a few practice swings." He slid the bag to the floor and gestured with his golfing stance. "I've got a game with Fiske today and he loves to play for money."

Nanny nodded, but said nothing. She glanced around the kitchen again, and then looked at the Professor with a question in her eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," he told her sheepishly. "Maybe it was a guilty conscience."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Professor," Nanny said quietly. "And neither do I. What happened last night was…"

"Hi!" They were interrupted by Prudence, bouncing into the kitchen with the boundless energy of a seven-year-old. She ran to her Daddy, lifting her arms to him. After he picked her up, she kissed him soundly on the cheek.

"Good Morning, Daddy! How was the special dinner Nanny made for you?" The little girl then turned in her father's arms to smile at Nanny. Although Nanny immediately returned Prudence's smile, the child's face fell.

"What's wrong?" Prudence slipped from her father's embrace and went to Nanny's side. She took one of Nanny's hands in both of hers and looked up at the woman in concern.

"What happened, Nanny? Did the wine sauce come out really yucky? Did the fudge cake fall?" The seriousness of the child's questions made Nanny smile at her again, and this time Nanny's smile did reach her eyes. She knelt down in front of Prudence.

"No, Prudence, the dinner came out well," she looked up at the Professor.

"That's right, Darling," he crouched down next to Prudence also. "Nanny made a wonderful dinner. It was a wonderful evening." The Professor looked at Nanny. She smiled briefly at him but didn't reply.

Prudence looked from one adult to the other. "Then why are you both so sad?"

"Not sad, Sweetheart," Nanny told her, "perhaps just a bit tired. Butch did get us all up rather early yesterday morning."

"Yes, but you had all last night to sleep," Prudence said. "I'm not tired today."

Chuckling, the Professor stood up and patted Prudence on the head. "Prudence, that's pretty good logic. However," he made his way across the kitchen to the percolator, "sometimes adults need more sleep than kids."

"Oh," Prudence said, satisfied. "Well, tonight you can get lots of sleep because there'll be no kids in the house to bother you." She frowned at the empty breakfast table. "Nanny?" she asked, "Where's breakfast?"

Nanny looked at the child and was silent for a moment. Then she seamed to rouse and smiled at Prudence again. "Well, what would you like for breakfast, Your Ladyship?"

Prudence beamed, enjoying the attention. "Scrambled eggs, toast and juice." Then she paused, thinking. "Cinnamon toast."

"Alright Prudence," Nanny agreed, "Now run and get your library books so we can start our errands right after breakfast."

"Yes, Nanny," Prudence said obediently, and then left the kitchen heading for her room.

Nanny crossed the kitchen to the stove where the Professor was leaning against the counter drinking coffee.

"You made the coffee," she said accepting the cup the Professor handed her.

"I told you, I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I," Nanny stated as she removed a frying pan from the cupboard.

The Professor looked at her intently for a moment then said, "Nothing for me, thanks," he drained his coffee cup. "I'll grab something at the club." Retrieving his golf clubs he turned back to her.

"About tonight Nanny…" he began.

"Would you rather not go?" she asked him, mildly.

"No!" the Professor said. "I want to go. I just thought that maybe you had changed your mind after…"

"No," Nanny said with a slight shake of her head. "I haven't changed my mind. I want to go. I've…I've been looking forward to it."

"So have I," he said, softly. "I didn't realize before just how much." He smiled at her, his blue eyes sincere.

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Generally the family schedule on Saturdays was as routine as on any weekday. Breakfast, Hal's Junior Science Club meeting, Butch's Little League practice, Prudence's dance class, a library trip for pick-ups and returns, then lunch. The children had the afternoons free, for playing in the neighborhood or attending a matinee movie, depending on the weather.

Nanny spent Saturday afternoons puttering in the garden, often with a load of laundry on the line, and preparing an early dinner, all before the Professor's afternoon tea. The Professor's Saturdays were spent alternately teaching a morning class and catching up on his paperwork, or out on the golf links from early morning till late afternoon. The habit of Nanny preparing an early dinner on Saturdays evolved from the Professor being out many of those evenings and skipping dinner at home.

It was peculiar, Nanny realized, that as Hal's social life began to include spending more time with friends, including girls, it was more likely that he, and not his father, was absent from the dinner table on Saturday evenings. She realized, with a start, that she couldn't honestly remember the last time Professor Everett had gone out for an evening. He attended plenty of faculty functions and saw friends in the evenings occasionally, but she couldn't recall the last time she had heard him mention a date. It had been quite a while since any woman had called the house asking for him, and he hadn't brought a date home in…months? Or was it closer to a year?

Considering this, it occurred to Nanny that the Professor seemed to stop dating around the time she had had a few dates with her psychology professor, Roger Samuelson. She did remember well that Professor Everett appeared annoyed and out of sorts to find her in the company of "Swinging Sam". He had also expressed relief when he discovered Roger had returned to his former girlfriend. At the time, Nanny didn't want to believe the Professor's reactions were motivated by jealousy, but looking back it seemed more than a possible reason, but a likely one.

When her life-long fiancé, Cholmondeley Featherstonehaugh, arrived the previous fall it was impossible to miss either the Professor's sadness at her departure or his irritation at Cholmondeley. He had always been so gracious and solicitous to all of her visitors and relatives, his reaction to Cholmondeley had been quite a contrast. Even after she had chosen to stay with the family, the Professor would bristle at even the mention of the man. The children had all been quite fond of Cholmondeley and talked about his visit still, not to mention the continuing need for the care and feeding of the cat, rabbit and carrier pigeon he had brought them.

As Nanny maneuvered Arabella through the streets to pick Prudence up from her dance class, she recalled Cholmondeley's visit. One memory in particular produced a soft fluttering in her chest: the look in Professor Everett's eyes as she came down the stairs in her great-grandmother's wedding dress. He had told her the dress was beautiful, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of her face. She could see something deep and longing in his eyes as they gazed at one another, and in just those few seconds, she felt something irreparably change for both of them. Then she had fled from his gaze, just as she had escaped from his kisses last night, afraid of what might happen if she had stayed near to him one more moment.

Yet she didn't leave the household as Cholmondeley had anticipated, and this morning she had told the Professor she was looking forward to an evening out with him. And she was. Dinner alone and dancing… Nanny felt her face flush as she recalled being held in the Professor's arms the night before and how effortlessly they had moved together, like she belonged there. She'd felt so comfortable in his strong arms, so safe and warm and loved… Chiding herself for daydreaming like a schoolgirl, and for even thinking in such romantic clichés, she nonetheless realized all of it was true. She'd never felt like she had "belonged" to Cholmondeley, although she had been betrothed to him since her birth. She had never felt as she did last night, not when she had danced with Cholmondeley, and certainly not when they had kissed.

Luckily, Nanny found a parking place near the dance studio and pulled into the space smoothly. She had begun trembling thinking of the Professor's kisses the previous night. She had never been kissed like that before and had never kissed anyone like that before in her life. Nanny was well aware the Professor had been shocked by his own actions and had been prepared to release her, but she had astonished both of them by refusing to let him go. Wanting their kisses to go on and on and on she would probably still be there in the living room kissing him if the hall clock's cuckoo hadn't startled her.

The fact was Nanny was still engaged to Cholmondeley. He expected, his family expected, and her family expected her to decide to marry him sometime soon. Tradition and family had always been important to her, and she had never, not once, been tempted not to follow through on what was required of her. For as long as she could remember, she knew who she would marry, where and how she would live, and what her future would be. She had been indulged in her wanderlust, as befitted any Figalilly, but was still expected her to carry on the custom of joining the two, old families. That she loved him wasn't in question. He had been part of her life forever. But loving someone, like Cholmondeley, as part of her extended family, and being in love with someone were distinctly different things.

Could she marry someone she loved, but wasn't in love with? Could she marry one man and forget how another had made her feel, for the first time, the full possibilities of what love could be between a man and a woman? Would she ever be able to forget how the Professor looked at her, how he held her, how he kissed her…and how much she wanted to hold him and kiss him again? She took a deep breath and shook her head. It was impossible. Her engagement was important to her family and what had passed between her and Professor Everett might only be a strong, physical attraction, nothing more. They had ignored it for years, and could continue to ignore it. Perhaps it was time for her to consider leaving the family after all.

The thought of leaving sobered her. Just then Prudence appeared in the doorway of the dance studio, spied Nanny and waved. She made her way towards the car, skipping all the way. Her actions made tears prick the back of Nanny's eyes. She loved this child, all of the Everett children in fact, how could she ever think of leaving them?

"Nanny," Prudence said in a sing-song fashion, "guess what I learned today?"

"I couldn't possibly guess," Nanny told her, helping the child secure her seatbelt.

"I learned that every dancing princess gets her prince," the little girl told her. "Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty…she just has to wait long enough."

"I certainly hope so, Sweetheart," Nanny told her, carefully backing the car out of its parking space. "I certainly hope so."

XXXXXXXXX

The hall clock cuckooed six times. Harold Everett looked toward the clock. Although Butch had bought the clock for the entire family to enjoy, the truth was the Professor had never liked the damn thing. And today he disliked the clock more that ever. It reminded him of the interruption of the most passionate and powerful kiss he had ever experienced, and he was still baffled why that kiss had ended. All last night and all day today he had thought about what had happened. Like the trained scientist he was, he weighted the evidence: optimistically he wanted to believe Nanny had pulled away from him because she too was feeling overwhelmed of where that kiss would logically lead them, and needed time to sort out her feelings. Pessimistically he considered she had decided the whole situation was a bad idea, and had left him without explanation to save them both the embarrassment. Of course, when fatigue and doubt had seized him several times that day, he started to believe she had not enjoyed his attentions or his kisses, and had broken away to avoid hurting his feelings. However that account made the least sense, the Professor reasoned, a soft smile forming on his face, he knew when a woman was enjoying being kissed, and Nanny had returned his kisses with a hunger and abandon he hadn't imagined she possessed.

The clock stopped and the Professor glanced up the stairs. She had said she wanted to go out with him this evening, and he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told her he hadn't realized how much he was looking forward to being alone with her. They had to spend more time together if they were ever going to figure out if this spark of attraction between them was something real, or just physical. He was ready to admit that he loved her, but was that a love based on familiarity and friendship, hunger and desire, or a combination of things creating a much deeper and longer lasting love?

He heard her on the stairs and looked up as she approached. When he saw her she nearly took his breath away. Gone was the pretty, pert and modestly dressed children's nanny. In her place was a beautiful, delicate and sensual woman. Her long, honey blond hair was loose and spilled over her shoulders, her make-up a shade heavier for evening, making her eyes appear darker and her lips fuller, glossy. The dress she wore was midnight blue silk and sleeveless, cut low enough in the front and the back to display more creamy skin than the Professor remembered seeing before. And he would have remembered. The dress was belted tight, showing off her tiny waist and rounded curves, the skirt flowing at a fashionably short length, revealing shapely legs that appeared longer in darker stockings and higher heels than those she usually wore.

Finding his voice, the Professor said, "I'll say what I should have said before: You look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you, Professor," Nanny said softly, almost shy.

He met her on the landing before the door, "I have one stipulation for this evening, and that is that you call me Hal or Harold."

"Alright…Hal," she agreed.

"And does that mean I may also call you, Phoebe?" the Professor asked, smiling.

"Of course," Nanny said, returning his smile.

"Good," he gathered her light wrap from her and draped it over her shoulders. "Arabella awaits and an open car can be drafty."

He held the door for her and followed her into the night.

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