Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

scowl. This “orphan” business, like melancholia and mild seasickness, was part of her vacation package. “They’re in the movie theatre,” she said casually, “watching Bugs Bunny.”
    The warmest smile imaginable stole across Mr. Starr’s aristocratic features. “They are beautiful children,” he said. “You must be very proud of them.”
    “Oh, yes, ” exclaimed Frannie, adding quickly: “They aren’t really mine, of course … but I’m alone in the world, and they’re such splendid company, and … well, what else am I going to do with my time?”
    Mr. Starr’s response was almost intimate, as if he had known Frannie for years. “I think that’s extraordinarily generous of you,” he said.
    The matriarch flushed. “Well, I … thank you, but … well, I get a lot of satisfaction out of it …” Her voice trailed off ineffectually. Mr. Starr was all but caressing her with his eyes. Already, Frannie sensed a rapport with him that she was certain he didn’t share with Prue Giroux.
    “We should chat about that sometime,” said Prue.
    “Uh … what?” Frannie was still mesmerized by Mr. Starr’s extraordinary gaze.
    “The foster grandparent program,” said Prue. “I’m sure my readers would love to hear your comments on that.”
    “Oh, yes,” Frannie murmured absently. “That might be … very nice.”
    “I can tell you love them,” Mr. Starr said to Frannie, all but ignoring Prue’s presence. “It shows in your face. And where there is love … there is a bond, regardless of blood.”
    Prue grimaced. “Blood?”
    Frannie smiled indulgently. What an idiot. “I think Mr. Starr is referring to kinship, Prue.” She turned back to her new admirer. “I love them as if they were my own, Mr. Starr.”
    He winked almost imperceptibly. “I know,” he said. What a sweet thing to say, thought Frannie, trying to discern what it was that seemed so familiar about this stranger’s face.
    “Do you, by any chance, know a Father Paddy Starr in San Francisco?” asked Frannie.
    “I asked him that already,” blurted Prue. “I wondered the same thing myself.”
    Frannie smiled. “The name is the same. I just thought … there might be …”
    “No,” said Mr. Starr. “There are lots of us, I guess.”
    “Mmm,” said Frannie.
    “By the way,” added Mr. Starr, “if you ever need help with the babysitting, I’d be glad to oblige.”
    “How kind,” beamed Frannie. “I think I can manage, though.”
    “I’m good with children,” he said.
    Frannie nodded. She was sure he was.

Aurora Borealis
    T HAT EVENING, WHILE MOST OF THE PASSENGERS CONGREGATED in the ballroom for the rhumba contest, Prue and Luke snuggled under wooly Norwegian blankets on the Lido Deck and watched the miracle of the northern lights.
    “My Daddy was right,” said Prue, her eyes riveted on the baby blue ribbon that trimmed the black velvet sky along the horizon. “Now I know exactly what he meant.”
    “About what?” asked Luke.
    “Oh … beauty, I guess. He told me never to get bored with life, because there are some types of beauty you won’t even understand until you see them for yourself. I’ve heard about the northern lights all my life, but I never really … believed in them … until now.”
    Luke answered by tightening his grip on her shoulder.
    “I guess,” Prue added, “I never really believed in us until now. I wanted to, God knows, but I never allowed myself to surrender completely. It seemed too unreal, too much of a pipe dream somehow.”
    Luke cupped her face in his hands. “It’s real, Prue. Every bit of it.” His smile flashed like whitecaps against a dark sea. “Except maybe these damn clothes.”
    “You look magnificent,” Prue gushed. “I’m so proud of you, Luke. Have you seen the way those old biddies look at you when we walk into the dining room? They’re eating you alive! I’d get a little nervous, if I didn’t know better.”
    Luke almost snapped at her. “Can’t you forget about appearances for once?”
    Prue was hurt. “Luke … I’m telling you what’s in my heart.”
    “I know, I know.” His tone was placating.
    “I’m happy , Luke. That’s a little miracle in itself. I didn’t even know what the word meant until I met you. Now … I feel like singing at the top of my lungs.” She smiled at her own impetuousness. “I’ve always gone to a lot of trouble to make people think of me as madcap. For the first time in my life, Luke, I feel madcap. I