The Fairy Princess and the Dinosaur

She then quickly preëmpted any admonishment from Grandmama. "Please forgive me for interrupting, Mr. Hal, and go on with the story. It's very interesting." Annie bestowed what she thought was her highest praise, not realizing that her apology outranked it.

Just then Cook called from the kitchen. "Who are you talking to, Princess? I don't see anyone..."

Princess Anastasia quickly spread a serviette on the ground, broke the last teacake into small pieces, and carefully placed them around the edge. Cook walked up just as she finished, and repeated her question.

"Who are you talking to, Princess? I don't see anyone."

"It's my tea party with the flowers." She pointed to the serviette with the pieces of teacake. "See, here are the places for Iris, and Rose, and Violet, and Lily..."

Cook rolled her eyes, which was much easier for her than it was for Rex. "That's very nice, Princess." When she marched back into the kitchen, Princess Anastasia breathed a sigh of relief.

Rex chuckled, which shook the ground a little, then tried to whisper. "It's time for me to go, Princess Anastasia. It was very interesting to meet you. We might not talk again, but I'll make sure no harm comes to you. It's what we dinosaurs do, you know."

Even though she couldn't see him, Princess Anastasia could tell that he was leaving, and quietly bade him goodbye. "Thank you, Rex, for everything." Whilst eating the last piece of teacake, she heard a soft, echoey "Goodbye, Princess" as from the bottom of a very deep well.

It had been a very, very interesting adventure.

Hal closed his laptop. "And that really is the end of the story. I hope you liked it, Annie."

Annie nodded, then stood and hugged Hal. "Thank you, Mr. Hal. It was a wonderful story." He hesitated, then gently hugged her back. He was surprised how happy it made him when she kissed him on the cheek. For the first time in a long while, he let himself wish that he and Helena had been able to have children.

Catherine's smile turned into a full-face grin. "And here I thought she would kiss the dinosaur and turn him into a handsome prince, who would then thank her for releasing him from the spell cast by a wicked witch and—"

Before she could complete her sentence, Hal shook his head in mock disapproval. "That would hardly be an appropriate story line for a four-year-old, now would it?"

She matched his look with her own faux reproof. "I was going to say he gave her a pretty golden locket. Would you accuse me of wanting to debauch my precious four-year-old granddaughter?" Her laughter was sweet music to Hal's ears.

As usual, Annie took umbrage at short-changing her age. "I'm almost five!" Then she gave Grandmama a curious look. "What's...D-botch?"

Hal grinned, but Catherine blushed furiously. "Oh, Annie, I'm afraid we have forgotten our poor horses." She quickly dug the bag of apple pieces from her purse and thrust it at Annie. "Quickly, you'd better feed them before they decide to go back without us." Annie looked uncertain, then decided Grandmama was joking and set off to take care of Esmerelda and Tillie.

The bantering exchange highlighted the shift in their relationship. No longer just hilltop acquaintances, they had shared some life stories, were communicating with simple quips and gestures. Such implicit intimacy had been missing from their lives for a long while. They took comfort from it, even as it unsettled them.

SEVERAL DAYS AFTER the final reading of Annie's story, Hal was sitting in Birdie's with his morning coffee, reading last week'sTest Valley Tattler instead of working on another cathartic story. On an inside page he came across a picture that showed "The Dowager Lady Pennington (full name Millicent Catherine Elizabeth Margaret Pennington) placing a spray of flowers on the tomb of her late husband, Sir Hubert Harold Burgoyne Pennington, Bart., who died 10 years ago this day."

It was Catherine. He puzzled over her being called The Dowager Lady Pennington and asked Birdie about it. She explained (in clear, if not Received Pronunciation, English) the intricacies of addressing the wives of both living and deceased Baronets. The matter was complicated because Baronets ranked above Knights, but weren't peers of the realm. Catherine's case was yet more complicated, because her father had been an Earl, so she merited the title Lady in her own right.

He had an idea that Catherine might eschew her given name Millicent because she thought it too old fashioned, but was disappointed that she had neglected to mention she was someone of such high estate. Hal, as well as being an Anglophile, like many Americans was also a bit of a royalist, and embarrassed that he had behaved in such a casual, even familiar manner to a member of the peerage.

In the grips of his embarrassment, he didn't hike up Barking Tor that Thursday, nor the following one. On the Monday, he was sitting drinking his first cup of coffee when Catherine walked in and sat across from him.

"We've missed you these past two weeks, Hal. Where have you been?" Her look told him he'd better explain his absence, and be quick about it.

Hal glanced at Birdie, hunched over a copy ofCanterbury Tales, and dropped his voice. "Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere. We could walk about the village while we talked."

Catherine shook her head. "You think Birdie would eavesdrop?" She raised her voice a notch. "Are you listening, Birdie?" The object of their speculation remained engrossed in her Chaucer. Hal thought he saw a smirk flicker over her birdlike features, but concluded that the better part of discretion was valor, aka the truth. He chose his next words carefully.

"I saw the picture of you placing a wreath on your husband's tomb. I had no idea you and Annie were members of the aristocracy. You must think I'm a complete dolt for treating you in such familiar fashion. I apologize, and promise not to repeat the offense."

He thought he heard a snort from Birdie's perch, and was unprepared for Catherine's reaction. "You...you numpty!" This time he knew he heard something, but it was more at a chortle than a snort. "If you offended, do you imagine we would have continued coming to see you?"

She was so agitated she almost sputtered. "Are you so bereft of common sense that you don't recognize genuine..." She searched for a word. "...friendship?" She appeared to think better of it, and quickly amended her peroration. "Perhaps even affection?"

Hal risked a quick glance at Birdie, whose impassive face appeared focused intently on her Chaucer. Catherine chose that moment to stand. "Annie keeps asking about you, and I don't know what to tell her. I suggest you show up Thursday and assure her that you aren't leaving or are unhappy with her or any of the other gloomy notions she has conjured."

No sooner had Catherine stomped out the door in her riding boots than Birdie swarmed over to his table, eyes flashing. "She be sweet on'ya, ya numpty. Whyn't'cha tell 'er how yer feelin'?"

Halhmmphed like Annie. "That's twice I've been called a numpty in the past five minutes, and I'm not even sure what it means. And there you go again, Birdie. You just mixed syn—"

She swatted his shoulder. "Oh, piss off, Henry! This is important!" She was back to BBC English. "A numpty is a stupid, silly fool, a perfect description of you. It's obvious to anyone with half a brain that she's fond of you, very fond, and you feel the same way. If you don't tell her, how will the two of you ever get together?"

Hal was unconvinced, but reluctant to argue with a determined Birdie. "Okay, okay, Birdie. I'll find some way to tell her. Let me—"

She threw up her hands and Hal flinched, but the only blow that fell was verbal. "For fuck's sake, Henry! 'Find some way'? Here's a way: 'Catherine, I'm very fond of you.' Then you ask her to dinner or something. Don't be so bloody thick."

Hal capitulated. "I hope you're right. I'm...I don't know whether I'm ready to..." He trailed off, but Birdie simply stood and waited for him to sort it out. He sighed, then sighed again. Uncharacteristically patient, she continued waiting.

"It isn't easy, Birdie. I haven't...I've been afraid to care about someone for so long..." He sighed yet again, prompting Birdie to snort yet again. "But you're right. I do care for her, and I hope she cares for me. I'll give it my best shot, honest."

Birdie nodded, this time patted his shoulder instead of swatting it. "Good man. Lemme getcha cuppa, fer courage 'n, hopefully, wit." With that, she went off to brew a pot of strong breakfast tea. Henry wisely chose to ignore her renewal of scrambled syntax.

Birdie soon showed up at his table again. This time, for the first time, she sat. She looked at him for the longest while, then—just as he was about to ask what she wanted—spoke. "Your honest best shot would be to ask her to marry you, Henry."

In best Wallop-speak, Hal was gobsmacked. "What? You're...mad! She may not be upset with me, she may even like me somewhat, but...marry?" His voice almost squeaked. "That's...that's absurd!"

Birdie just looked at him, this time for an even longer while. "Absurd? Why? Is the thought of being married to her absurd?"

"No...of course not." In fact, the idea was more than a little appealing, but too improbable for words. Or so he thought.

"What is it then, if it isn't absurd? Crazy? Outlandish? Impossible?" She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. "Or is it scary? Afraid to find out if she cares as much as you do?" She stood with a look that unmistakably meant Q.E.D., and loosed a parting shot over her shoulder as she returned to her perch behind the cash box. "Remember Henry, I studied classics at Cambridge.Qui audet adipiscitur."

Hal opened his laptop, then tried to resume work on a story. He finally accepted that he wasn't going to get anything done and slapped it shut. Birdie looked up and recognized his frustration, but was fresh out of ideas to help.

When Hal walked up to pay, his frustration got the better of him. "Dammit, Birdie, you're right, I should ask Catherine to marry me, if only so she can have a good laugh and I can forget about it. But I don't even have a ring, and there's no place in the Wallops to buy one."

That was all the inspiration Birdie needed. She held out both hands in front of her, palms down and fingers splayed, inspecting the inventory of rings that graced most of her fingers. Spying what she was looking for, she slipped it off her right index finger and held it out to Hal. "Here, trust me, she'll like this one."

It was an opal, set in a nest of acanthus leaves. It had a classic look, but was far from a diamond. Birdie sensed his hesitation. "You're a man, you don't know what appeals to a woman. I know what I'm talking about, she'll love it."

"How much should I pay you, Birdie? I haven't a clue—"

"Stop there. You haven't a clue about a lot of things. The price of the ring is your asking The Dowager Lady Pennington to marry you, offering her this ring, and getting your first clue. Maybe even two. Now off wit'ya 'fore I change me mind." She pressed the ring into his hand and slipped into a cubby behind the bookshelves.

Hal stood staring where she had disappeared, then left Birdies Books and Brews. For the first time in more than a month, he turned on the telly and clicked through programs without absorbing any of them. Just before he went to bed that night, Hal remembered Birdie's Latinate quote and Googled it.Who dares wins.

He drifted off to sleep wondering if he wanted to win badly enough to dare.

NOT MANY DAYS later, as Hal sat at his writing table on Barking Tor staring off into the distant valley fields, Catherine rode up by herself. After dismounting, she took off Esmerelda's saddle and set it over a nearby stump, then walked over carrying the saddle pad. Without speaking, she laid the pad on the ground and sank bonelessly—as only women can—until she was sitting next to Hal. She patted the pad next to her as invitation.

Hal hoped that meant he was not only forgiven, but favored. His heartbeat raced as he sat—with much less grace but no less anticipation—next to this woman who had become such an important part of his life. She leaned against him and spoke so softly he had to strain to hear.

"I'm not very good at this, out of practice, you understand." She wound her arms about his and squeezed. "I like you very much, Hal Prince. In fact, I think I'm in love with you, and that's both exciting and frightening. Please tell me the truth: how does that make you feel?"

Hal gently turned her until she faced him; she moved her arms around him and laid her cheek against his chest. "It makes me feel like the king of the world." As she pressed her breasts against him, he felt a stirring long absent. "It also makes me feel like we should either find a place more comfortable or plunge into a cold shower."

Catherine shuddered. "I really hate cold showers, but I could stand someplace more comfortable. Well, I could lie down someplace more comfortable, to be more accurate about it."

Hal thought to lighten the conversation before matters could get out of hand in such an open spot. "Tell me, why on earth did you choose to be called The Dowager Lady Pennington? You're a vibrant woman, full of life and—"

"Piss and vinegar?" Catherine waggled her eyebrows and did her best to look seductive, despite being swathed in jodhpurs and a bulky sweater.

"Hmm, yes, perhaps a bit of both." Hal's heart swelled with love for this woman who had dragged him back into the world. "But seriously, why? You're anything but a dowager."

"It's simple, really. Maggie Smith got all the great lines."

They both laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks. Then Hal grew serious, and took Birdie's ring from his coat pocket.

"Well, then. Even though we're sitting and I'm not on one knee, The Dowager Lady Catherine Pennington, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Catherine gasped, then burst into a smile that lit up the whole of Barking Tor.

"Oh yes, Henry Prince, yes! But you do me the honor by asking." She took the ring, slid it on her finger, then cradled Hal's face in her palms and kissed him mightily. Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.

TO GIVE ANNIE their good news, Catherine suggested that Hal write a story wherein Prince Hal asks Princess Catherine to marry him, and she says Yes. He said he thought it was a capital idea, then they said their goodbyes for that day and took their leave.

It took him but an hour or so that evening to write the story, which was quite short. The next day he hiked up Barking Tor. Even though it wasn't Thursday, Catherine and Annie rode up shortly after.

After tethering Tillie, Annie ran up to him bursting with excitement, Catherine trailing a bit behind. "Grandmama says you have a new story for me! I want you to read itright now!" She sat and tried not to look impatient.

Hal opened his laptop. "As you wish." Catherine smiled at the reference.

Once upon a time—

"No, no, Mr. Hal, you have told me that oneso many times—"

Hal and Catherine replied as one. "Not this one, Annie."

Hal went to reassure her. "This one is new. It's very interesting ..."

Catherine finished for them both. "...with a very, very happy ending."

And so it was.