The Frog Prince

Chapter Sixteen

C hapter S ixteen

H alloween is anticlimactic after the outrageousness of the Leather new growth opportunities abound) and a bio about top management execs, including Ed.

And continuing to be practical, I study Ed’s head shot on the Web site, trying to remember him from the ball, and I do but I don’t. Ed was quiet, I think, and not a particularly big man—medium height and slender, definitely not flashy and not dressed in anything outrageous.

I’m nervous about the date, but David has assured me that Ed is a really nice, genuine man, and he’ll treat me very well, and isn’t that the first step on the road to recovery? Stop dreaming about unavailable men and date those who are available?

I dress for my Saturday-date with care.

Ed’s offered to pick me up, but I tell him I’m happy to meet him at the restaurant, and I do.

*

I sit outside in my parked car, just across the street from the restaurant, and watch people arrive. I spot Ed as he steps from his sports car. It’s a nice car, and he’s pleasant enough looking—not handsome, rather nondescript—but as he locks his car and heads toward the restaurant door, adjusting his sport coat, I think he has a kind face.

I get out of my car, smooth my long skirt over my knee-high boots, and pat my sweater flat and tell myself to relax, try to keep an open mind, and have fun.

And Ed is nice, surprisingly unflashy for being a CEO of a multimillion-(billion?) dollar company. During dinner he asks intelligent questions and then seems perfectly content to let me talk while he listens.

But finally I turn the table and ask questions, and Ed answers simply.

Ed’s from Marin, he’s thirty-eight, the middle of three sons, and his parents are still alive and together. He golfs a little bit, but his passion is tennis, and he does his best to follow the Bay Area professional teams.

“Your parents must be really proud of you,” I say as he lapses into silence.

Ed shakes his head, expression rueful. “My dad’s a little disappointed. Dad always wanted me to be a doctor.”

“But you’ve been so successful.”

“Everyone has their own definition of success.”

I look at him a long moment, trying to see who thin, balding megamillionaire Ed Hill really is. “And what’s your definition?”

He nudges his water glass with his finger. He doesn’t drink, abstains from alcohol. “Happiness.”

“Happiness?” That sounds too simplistic.

“Liking yourself when you open your eyes every morning. Gratitude that you’ve got another day.”

Gratitude that you’ve got another day. Liking yourself in the morning. I repeat his words as I drive home later that evening. It’s still simplistic, but it does work for me.

*

Ed calls me on Monday and thanks me for a lovely evening, and follows up by asking if I’d like to go to the Lakers-Warriors game with him on Thursday. It’s a huge rivalry, Bay Area versus L.A., and both teams-are strong contenders this year.

“Okay,” I say, after checking my appointment book to make sure I have nothing going on.

“It’s going to be rush hour,” he says. “What if I pick you up so you don’t have to hassle with traffic?”

“Oh—”

“I can pick you up at work if you prefer. Won’t go near your house.”

I blush, and he can’t see my blush over the phone, but I feel bad anyway. “It’s not that—”

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand perfectly. Women are always trying to follow me home.”

“They are?” And then I clap my hand to my head. Of course they are. He may not be handsome, but he’s megarich.

He laughs faintly. “I’m joking.”

“I’m sure they are,” I say, just digging my hole bigger.

“What time should I pick you up from City Events?”

“You tell me.” I’m eager to make amends.

“Five thirty?”

“Sounds great.”

I hang up and look at the phone and think, I don’t feel any sexual sparks here, but he is nice, and nice is what’s important. Nice is what you can base a relationship on. I just have to keep giving nice a chance.

Thursday arrives, and I’ve brought a change of clothes to work, and at five I sign off my computer, disappear into the bathroom to change and touch up my face and hair.

I’m not wearing anything fancy tonight, just jeans, boots, and a bright red blouse that ties at the waist. I drag my hands through my hair to give it a suitably casual but sexy date-night hair look. With gold hoops in my ears and a funky necklace, I’m done.

I look myself over one last time. It’ll have to do. This is who I am. What I am.

Josh walks me downstairs at five thirty, and as we emerge from the building, a black limousine is waiting at the curb.

“Nice car,” Josh deadpans.

“Yeah. That’s the life.”

And then the back door opens, and Ed Hill climbs out. “Ready?” he says to me.

I look at Ed, and. then Josh, and then the car, and back to Josh. Josh leans forward, hugs me, whispering, “It’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a—”

“ Ssssh ,” I silence him, cutting him short, and leaving Josh, I head toward Ed, who is standing by the limousine, waiting for me.

That night at the game in the Oakland Coliseum we have courtside seats, two amazing seats just down from the Warriors bench. It isn’t until I’m sitting next to Ed and the television cameras keep panning over the front rows, lingering on the rich and famous, including Ed and me, that I understand the seduction of money.

Limos and courtside seats. Chauffeurs, chefs, valets, and personal trainers. Houses in Pacific Heights, Carmel, Jackson Hole, and Maui.

If I were Mrs. Edward Hill, I could buy anything I wanted. Travel anywhere I felt like. Get immediate attention by entering a room. Respect by pulling out my credit card.

I wish I could say I fell in love with Ed Hill and that my life finally turned into a fairy tale. But Ed, despite his kindness and his goodness and his luxurious life, doesn’t make me… happy.

I don’t open my eyes in the morning and think, I can’t wait to see him.

I don’t go to bed dreaming about Him.

I don’t want to rush through work so we can be together at the end of the day.

Ed is hoping he’ll grow on me, and he is doing his best to spoil me, but it’s not going to work. I’ll never love him the way he wants me to love him. He’s a friend. Nothing more.

In late March I finally tell Ed what he doesn’t want to hear: that although I like him very much, my feelings are platonic.

Ed listens quietly and then asks one question. “Is there someone else?”

“No.”

“You’re just not interested in me?”

“Not the way you want me to be.”

And Ed Hill stops calling.

*

It isn’t until I’ve broken things off with Ed that I notice Olivia has actually relented, pulled back, no longer focuses on me with so much savage fury.

What changed?

Looking back, I realize she started easing up around the very same time I started dating Ed, and the closer I got to Ed, the nicer she became to me.

Coincidence? Or not?