Fair Peril Read Online Free

father. Emily had always been Daddy’s little princess. Moreover, Emily was accustomed to a certain lifestyle. And Emily was the child; Emily’s needs came first. Buffy had put aside her own feelings and let the girl live with Daddy dear.
    Buffy found herself quivering with anger.
    But she kept her voice down. “Emily, I was the one who was used. For twenty years.”
    â€œWell, you’re sure making up for lost time.”
    â€œThat’s right.” They had been through this before. Buffy rolled her eyes and dismissed it. “Let’s go see what we can do about your car.”
    â€œWhat about my fishies? They don’t have enough water. That’s what I mean—you get a talking frog and you don’t even care what happens to my fishies!”
    â€œPrincess, you must kiss me!” The frog had progressed from vehemence to frenzy, ricocheting around the aquarium.
    â€œFor God’s sake, take your own damn fishies!” How did moms always get stuck caring for the livestock anyway? Temper showing now, Buffy snatched Ziploc bags from a drawer and sloshed them full of aquarium water from the scrub bucket still sitting in the middle of the floor. “Go ahead, get them out before he eats them.”
    â€œPrincess, Princess, Princess!” The frog bobbed and surged, standing straight up at Emily’s approach. With fish dipper in hand, Emily stared at him, her young eyes like midnight-blue velvet, and suddenly Buffy felt uneasy.
    â€œHere, I’ll do it.” She took the fish dipper out of her daughter’s hand. The frog slumped in a corner, silent, as she scooped the goldfish out of their too-small pond.
    â€œWhat does he mean, he’s an ensorcelled prince?” Emily asked from behind Buffy’s large mud-caked backside.
    Thank modern education, the girl had probably never heard the fairy tale. Funny thing, in the Grimm version the princess never kisses the frog, just gets pissed off and flings him against the wall, and that makes him turn into “a prince with kind and beautiful eyes.” Kinky. An interesting way of pussyfooting around the older versions, which were kinkier. In some of them the princess slept with the frog for three weeks before he turned into a prince.
    â€œNothing,” Buffy told her daughter. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s like a parrot. It’s just something he says.”

Two
    Buffy was able to spot at once the trouble with Emily’s car, a brand-new metallic-mauve Probe Daddy had bought her. “You have to put gas in it, honey,” she said as gently as she could.
    â€œOh. Well, how should I know? Don’t be sarcastic.”
    Emily’s resentment was not strong enough to make her handle the emergency herself, however. Emily hated the smell of gasoline on her hands or, perish forbid, her clothing. Buffy was the one who borrowed a can at the corner Kwik-Mart, bought gas, sloshed it into Emily’s tank so that Emily could drive to the pumps, paid for a fill-up, then stood on the sidewalk and waved the girl safely on her way to the mall. Roaring off, Emily did not wave back.
    Emily lived for the mall. Emily would have lived at the mall if the place had stayed open at night. The mall was her fairy tale, her consumer fantasy, her now and her future, her all. The mall was her place to meet her friends. The mall was her friend. And, since the split, it was her family—the mall, Buffy thought with a sigh, was Emily’s mother; obviously she liked it a lot more than she did the real one.
    Buffy sighed again, walked into the Kwik-Mart one more time to buy herself a consolation bag of Fritos, then munched them as she slogged home.
    Hey, not all was dreary. At least she had her talking frog.
    â€œHey, frog.”
    From his brick, in the shadow of the world atlas, he ogled her sullenly, without replying. Apparently Prince Adamus d’Aurca did not appreciate her casual