His Sleeping Beauty. Carol Grace

happiness? He thought so. They probably didn’t.

      He worked his way through the crowd, keeping his counsel to himself, making small talk and occasionally casting a glance across the fence. Wondering if the music penetrated the walls of her house or if she’d tuned everything out to concentrate.

      He told himself to forget about her. Sure, she looked like something out of a fairy tale in the middle of the night. But by day, she was prickly and studious. She wasn’t his type and she wasn’t his responsibility. She wasn’t even his neighbor. He would have had better luck inviting her outgoing and sociable aunt. He didn’t mind escorting the niece back to bed if she came onto his property in the middle of the night, but a daytime party was a different matter.

      He knew she really didn’t want to come, and he also knew if she did, she’d feel out of place. He’d done his duty last night and today he’d invited her over. Her aunt hinted she needed a social life, but he couldn’t force it on her. What did her aunt expect, that he’d drag her niece out of her house, force her to drink some tequila and do a Mexican hat dance? If she were here, her aunt would say, as any normal person would, “Good job, Max. The ball is in her court now. You’ve done everything you could and more. Don’t worry about her.”

      He wasn’t worried about her. He’d almost forgotten about her. But when Sarah finally appeared, he almost dropped his drink, he was so surprised. He set his glass down, waved and beckoned to her, afraid she’d change her mind when she saw the kind of people who were there. He shook his head slightly at the sight of her in a buttoned-up-to the neck, simple blue dress and low-heeled shoes. She always surprised him.

      She couldn’t be any more different from the rest of the crowd. She looked like she was on her way to the office. Or to an afternoon tea. She should have just kept on her shorts and T-shirt. She would have fit in better. As it was, she stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. The other women were wearing strapless stretch tops with bare midriffs showing above short shorts or cropped pants and tiny T-shirts whether they had the figure for it or not.

      She looked so apprehensive she might have been facing the lion’s den. And when she saw that he’d seen her, she had a trapped look in her eyes that said she knew she couldn’t escape. He couldn’t remember when he’d had that effect on a woman before. Why had she taken an instant dislike to him?

      Did she wake up last night and realize what had happened? If she did, and she knew what had happened, she wasn’t letting on, and she was a good actress. Or was it just the tree trimming that had turned her off? Had her aunt said something about him to discourage her? He’d like to know what it was.

      He opened the gate in the fence between their houses and called to her. She forced a smile.

      “I have to thank you for the use of your oven. I don’t know what we would have done without it.”

      “You’re welcome,” she said.

      “Come on in,” he said. “They won’t bite.”

      “These are your friends?” she asked, stepping onto his patio. He caught a whiff of some floral fragrance. So she cared enough to put some perfume on. And she’d brushed her brown hair so that it hung straight and shiny to her shoulders. She wasn’t even wearing her glasses. She resembled the mysterious Sleeping Beauty a little more than she had this morning. He didn’t know her at all, but he sensed that coming to a party with a lot of strangers was a big effort for her. Her aunt would be pleased. Too bad she couldn’t have a good time while she was at it.

      “Mostly business acquaintances.”

      “What do you do?”

      “I’m a divorce lawyer.”

      “How sad. So everyone here is divorced?”

      “Some have remarried since I represented them.”

      She looked around the patio. “It must be depressing, dealing in human misery.”

      He bristled at the remark because there was a grain of truth in it. But he was proud of his success. “I don’t think of it that way,” he said evenly. He personally didn’t wreck anyone’s home or break up anyone’s marriage. He deliberately stayed away from any commitment. He did his best for his clients and he didn’t like her thinking he took advantage of other people’s misery. “The way I look at it, I’m the one who gets them out of their misery. Have you every been married?”

      She shook her head. “Have you?”

      “No.”

      “I can see why.”

      “Because of my thinning hair, my bloodshot eyes, my bowed legs?” he teased.

      She blushed and let her gaze slide from his face then down to his Top-Siders, as if she was trying to decide what really had prevented him for getting married. “No, I mean you must get discouraged dealing with divorces all day. No wonder you haven’t taken the plunge yourself. All those bitter people out there. If I were you, I’d avoid marriage also.”

      “Why have you?” he asked.

      “I…I…I haven’t met the right person,” she said, shifting her gaze to the guests.

      “Tell me,” he said, “do these people look bitter to you?” They might be bitter, but he thought they put up a pretty good front.

      People were laughing, men were tossing a beach ball back and forth across the pool, a few women were dangling their legs in the shallow end of the pool, while others were tossing down exotic drinks, and some couples were even nuzzling on colorful chaise lounges.

      “I guess not. They actually look pretty happy. I’m sure that’s thanks to you. You got them out of a bad situation into something better.”

      “That’s how I look at it, otherwise…”

      She looked at him as if waiting expectantly for him to finish his sentence. As if she really wanted to know. Otherwise, what would he do? He was a divorce lawyer, one of the best. He was in demand. And he would be as long as he did his job and got his clients large settlements. What would he do if he didn’t think he’d improved his clients’ situation? He met her gaze, looked into her clear blue eyes and answered her as firmly as he could. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night,” he said.

      She looked away and a tiny frown line appeared between her fine eyebrows. When he mentioned sleep, did it trigger some memory of last night? Did she wonder if she’d had an episode? Did she remember anything?

      “Well,” she said, brushing her hands together as if to dismiss any worries, either his or hers. “Don’t let me keep you from your schmoozing.”

      When she said that, he realized he’d been talking to her exclusively for a long time and hadn’t noticed what was going on behind him at the party. Not that anyone else had missed him. Just a glance told him that his guests were milling and mixing and generally amusing themselves. They didn’t even miss him.

      “I’d better get back to the guests. Come on, let me introduce you…”

      “I can introduce myself.”

      He shot her a quick look. “Okay.” But he thought it wasn’t likely she’d go up to strangers. More likely she’d stand around and sneak back to her house when he wasn’t looking.

      Before he could make the rounds, his cell phone rang and he went inside to give directions to someone who couldn’t find the house. He stood by the open French doors looking out at the party scene, his eyes glued to Sarah. She was standing at the edge of the pool, talking to an old college buddy of his whose divorce had been finalized last month.

      He had to say, in her dress and pale skin, she stood out like an English rose in the middle of a tropical garden. Of all the women there, she was refreshingly different. Frisbees sailed through the air, couples danced on the patio to the live music and a beach ball bounced off the diving board and into the deep end.

      Suddenly there was a scream and a splash and he went running