You’ve Gotta Kiss a Lotta Frogs

The Fairytale Fella Series: Book 2

Melinda Curtis

Once Upon a Time

Do you believe in fairytales and fairy godmothers?

You should.

If you come to the farmer’s market in Brody Falls, you’ll see an old woman sitting at a card table. She dresses in red. Magical apple red.

In winter, she wears a woolen red cape. In warmer months, a red scarf flutters around her silver hair like silken butterflies. Her purse is a large red satchel with a crocheted rose hanging on the side (red, of course).

Unlike other vendors, the woman in red offers no fresh produce or handmade goods. She hangs no professionally made banner and puts out no painted sandwich-signs. She sits behind a simple card table with a piece of pink notebook paper taped to the edge. Her sign has two simple words on it: Love Advice.

Young or old, no one in Brody Falls can remember a farmer’s market without her. Ignore her invitation if you like. She’ll remain a mystery. Those who’ve sat on her folding chair won’t discuss what’s been said.

They don’t call her odd.

They don’t call her old.

They simply call her their Fairy Godmother….

Chapter One

“You’ve gotta kiss a lotta frogs.”

“Haven’t I kissed enough already?” Julia Mackenberry slumped in a folding chair at the Love Advice table at the farmer’s market in Brody Falls. She was on a mission—find her Prince Charming before her eggs died an untimely death. She rubbed her throbbing temples. “I mean…you should have seen my date last night. Tall and handsome, yeah. But death-lily white.”

Did she want to have a child with a vampire?

Yes, chorused her soon to be sacrificed eggs.

“Let me check your frog-o-meter.” The old woman’s plump fingers gripped Julia’s hand. Her thumb and forefinger pressed the flesh between Julia’s thumb and forefinger—hard, like an acupuncturist who’d forgotten their needles.

“Ow,” Julia yelped.

Suck it up, the eggs shouted, because they knew the Love Lady had helped Missy Lancaster find a man (a wealthy realtor), landed Belinda Higgans a stockbroker husband (owned an island in the Caribbean), and shown Ana Zapata the way to bump into a sexy soccer star (that concussion in the park was totally worth it).

Mama ain’t just getting you a daddy, Julia told the eggs. She’s getting you a sugar daddy!

“No.” The Love Lady removed her calloused, vice-like grip from Julia. Her voice had a happy, high-pitched quality that contradicted her bad news. She sounded like Glinda the Good, but she looked like an ancient Red Riding Hood. “You have many more frogs to kiss.”

The good news was: the old woman’s pressure point treatment had relieved Julia’s throbbing temples.

The bad news was: Julia was no closer to finding true love than she’d been three months ago when she’d been told her female equipment had to go. Given her mother and her sister had both battled cancer, Julia had been tested recently for mutated BRCA1. The result? She was a mutant (and she didn’t even have X-Men powers), being 50% more likely to contract breast and ovarian cancer than the average woman. Julia wanted a baby before all her lady parts were removed.

The old woman tightened the knot on the red scarf covering her gray curls and nodded at Julia with both her chins. “You’re looking for love for all the wrong reasons.”

She must have talked to Julia’s mother. “I’m thirty,” Julia said firmly.

The eggs applauded.

The Love Lady grinned, a spectacle of color given she wore two slashes of rosy blush and a couple of coats of apple red lipstick. “Your eggs must be ancient.”

Julia gasped. The eggs gasped. Even the passerby in the crowd seemed to gasp. (Okay, maybe that was a kid choking on a corndog for a moment.)

“Never fear.” The Love Lady patted Julia’s hand. “I have something that will speed up the process.”

“Now you’re talking.”

The old woman held up a red notebook the size of an address book. “You must follow this to the letter.”

Now, Julia was no spring chicken when it came to the promise of love. She’d tried online dating, singles nights, business networking, fortune tellers, matchmakers, and wedding crashing. “What do the letters spell?” The ones she had to follow.

“L-O-V-E.”

Sold! the eggs chimed.

“Okay. Why not?” Julia reached for the book. Maybe it had a list of eligible men in Brody Falls. That was better than the love potion perfume she’d purchased last week. The scent had given the produce man an allergic reaction. And she had yet to get the stench out of her 1950s vintage sundress.

The old woman pulled the book just out of reach. “That will be fifty dollars.”

“Fifty? I only have forty in my purse.” That was the Love Lady’s usual fee.

“That’s too bad.” The Love Lady tucked the book back in her red satchel. “The book is ten dollars extra.”

“Wait.” This was like waving a cinnamon bun, fresh out of the oven, under Julia’s nose and then taking it away. “Would you accept forty in cash and a ten dollar gift card to Consignment Couture?” The shop Julia owned.

A slow smile spread across the old woman’s face. “Your wish is granted.”

“What’s that you’re reading?” Paula asked Julia two days later, pausing while dusting a display of rhinestone-studded heels at Consignment Couture. “Another love advice book?”

“Yep.” Julia leaned on the counter and flipped a page. The work day was coming to a close and those letters the Love Lady promised hadn’t materialized (not so much as an L, much less an O or V or E).

“What does this one recommend?” Paula was sixty-five, and dressed like she came from the Mad Men secretarial pool. Julia could make a fortune selling Paula’s wardrobe. Today’s vintage ensemble was a white dress with large red roses, scoop-necked and belted. “Are you to do yoga? Dancing lessons? Teeth whitening?”

Julia flipped to the beginning. “Lesson #1: Greet every man with a continental kiss. Coming and going.”

“Smoochy air kisses?” Paula flitted over to a display of specialty bras that hadn’t seen a customer since prom season ended, and spaced the hangars evenly to showcase each colorful, satin cup.

Julia nodded. “Lesson #2: Put your house in order by hiring Jacks of all trades.” She’d already called in an electrician and a plumber. The electrician was married and disqualified from her list. The plumber’s butt crack made it impossible to put him on her list. But there you have it. She’d kissed two more frogs. “Lesson #3—”

“Hello.” A tall man filled the doorway. His maroon T-shirt said he was from Green Gardening, which she’d called for a bid on landscaping in front of the shop and in back. His eyes gave away he was shy and single. Those sky blue orbs shied away from a display of revealing prom dresses, bounced off the rack of bullet bras, and landed gratefully on Julia.

She’d meant to laugh when their eyes met, but the laughter died in her throat. His eyes were a soft blue, his hair a soft brown, his left hand ringless. And it didn’t look as if butt-cracks would be an issue.

The eggs sighed.

“Lesson #1,” Paula sing-songed as she joined Julia behind the counter.

“Of course. Where are my manners?” Was that a French accent coming out of her mouth? Julia tip-toe ran to the man in her man-meeting high heels and air kissed his woodsy smelling cheeks. “I’m Julia.”

“Hank.” He stared at her as if she’d tried to sell him parachute pants from the retro rack. “I’ve seen your front—”

“Indeed,” Paula intoned in a raised brow kind of voice.

“—Can you show me your back?”

“I love a man who doesn’t waste time,” three-times divorced Paula murmured. “My current husband proposed to me the night we met.”

The eggs applauded in admiration.

“We’d like to hold fashion shows out here.” With a don’t-scare-him-away scowl toward Paula, Julia led Hank to the back sun-baked terrace. The small garden behind the shop was an overgrown jungle. There was a flagstone patio (fighting cracks of their own), a fountain with a frog centerpiece (and frogs living in the sludgy water), vines crawling around the fountain, and hip-high weeds in what had once been flower beds. “Let’s start with the fountain. I hate the frog. His tongue is out and he’s about to eat a dragonfly.” Belatedly, Julia realized the logo for Green Gardening on his chest was a leaping frog.

As if on cue, a frog surfaced in the murky green water and croaked.

“Had this place long?” Hank touched a vine trailer blowing in the weak breeze, and then snapped off the tops of several blades of wild grass.

“I bought Consignment Couture a few months ago.” Back when she’d thought she had all the time in the world for her happily-ever-after. “I’ve been making changes inside and haven’t had a chance to work outside.”

“The weeds are taunting you.” His voice. It filled the overgrown space and made it seem not so much a lost cause.

“It’s not personal,” Julia said.

A frog croaked his disagreement. Hank raised an eyebrow. Even the eggs were quiet.

Julia’s gaze drifted to the fountain. “They aren’t taunting. They’ve just had time to sprawl.” While Julia focused on making her social life not non-existent.

He brushed his hand through the tops of the high grass. Something moved at his feet and slithered onto the flagstone.

“Snake!” Julia did a modified version of the potty dance, backward and in heels.

Hank hunkered down by the slithering thing, picked it up and brought its face too close to his. “Common garden snake. Eats mice. And frogs.” He put the snake back in the grass.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Julia rushed up to him, clinging to a nicely muscled bicep. “Aren’t you going to take it away?”

“You haven’t hired me.” Hank named an astronomical figure the electrician would’ve blushed at.

“That’s highway robbery.” That would eat into her in vitro budget.

Julia wasn’t totally naïve. No one was going to fall in love with her and agree to father her baby in the next three months. She’d settle for strong liking and a sperm donation without any strings.

“Snakes. Vines. Frogs.” Hank shrugged. “Untrippable patios. Special lighting.”

Julia countered with a figure a thousand dollars less.

Hank dropped his jaw nearly to his chest and stared at her over the top of his mirrored sunglasses. “This job requires two pairs of hands for five days. I’ve got a pair.” He paused, staring at her in the same assessing way he’d done the snake. “The only way you’re getting a discount is if you provide the extra pair of hands.”

“My hands? In that snake infested patch?” Oh, no. Oh, no-no-no.

Hopeless, the eggs murmured.

“Yes, your hands,” Hank said. “Yes, in your snake infested weed patch.”

Julia hated snakes. She hated frogs. She hated weeding.

But there was the potential income from fashion shows, and the fact that he was bartering. She thrust out her hand. “Deal.”

He was eyebrows-to-heaven surprised. It took him a moment to name a start date. She double-air kissed him, and then those dark brows inched higher toward the fringe of brown hair on his forehead.

After he left, Paula shook her head. “You don’t strike me as the weeding type.”

She wasn’t. “Lesson #3: Accept all offers involving bartering.”

“That’ll make you very busy.”

“That’s the idea.”

Chapter Two

She’d kissed him.

In theory.

Four times.

Meant nothing.

But still…She’d kissed him.

It’d been a long, long, exponentially long time since a woman had kissed Hank, especially a beauty with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Hank Green had to get out and date more. Although he had too many problems to think about dating.

There were weeds for one, at too many clients’ homes. And a tree that needed trimming over at the courthouse. And lawns. Lots and lots of lawns. But he always made time in his growing gardening business to speak with potential clients.

Potential clients weren’t usually as pretty as Julia. She had all her teeth, which was more than Mr. Dartmouth could say. And she had eye-catching curves, which was more than Miss Olive could say. And she had spunk, which was more than the glazed-eyed public servants at city hall could say.

And she’d kissed him.

He’d had a tooth filled before he stopped at Consignment Couture. Half his face was numb, so he’d tried not to talk too much and drool all over himself. He’d probably come across as a half-wit, especially when she’d dismissed the beautiful fountain for having a frog’s tongue. In his experience, frogs were good luck for business. Hank was going to make sure she fell in love with that frog before the project was over.

He pulled into the driveway of Brody Falls Daycare.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Kimmy ran to Hank as soon as he entered. She wrapped her arms around his legs and squeezed, angling her pixie features up to him. “What’s for dinner? Did you run out of gas today? My shoes make farting noises.”

“Kim.” Miss Clark’s severe tone cut through his four-year old’s excited ramble. “Your outside voice is for outside.”

“She always says that,” Kimmy whispered, grabbing Hank’s hand in her smaller one and tugging him to the door.

The late summer afternoon heat hit them like dragon’s breath, hot and muggy.

Kimmy skipped next to him. “I bit my tongue at lunch today. Gideon said if I stick my head underwater, I could hear goldfish talk.” Kimmy’s little hands fanned out from her ears like moving fish gills. “It would be cool to go underwater and talk to sharks, even with my sore tongue.” Kimmy lowered her hands and her voice. “Don’t eat me, Mr. Shark, or I’ll bop you in the nose.” She giggled.

And so it went, non-stop (Kimmy would make a good comedienne if she could learn to pause for the ba-da-bum). All the way home. All the way through dinner. All the way through PJs and brushing teeth. Kimmy was the most exhausting part of Hank’s day. And the most satisfying. She’d talk like a runaway train. And then once those teeth were brushed and she was tucked into bed, it was time for a story. She hardly ever made it to page two before falling asleep.

And then, while he was reading her Where the Wild Things Are and feeling like life couldn’t get any better, Kimmy asked, “When is Mommy coming home?”

“Are you kidding me?” Hank pushed a wheelbarrow through the side gate of Consignment Couture the following Monday to find his extra pair of hands totally ill-equipped to help him.

Julia sat in a white plastic chair, her head thrown back to catch the sun’s rays, leaving her long blonde hair flowing behind her. She wore gray plaid shorts and a black tank top that clung to every curve and slope of her body. When she saw him, she leapt up and hurried over, all those golden locks swinging halfway down her back and her blue eyes shining with welcome. Clients didn’t greet him with half the enthusiasm she did.

Kiss. Kiss.

The air over his cheeks felt warm. The blood in his veins ran hot.

“You can’t work dressed like that.” Like she was going to meet a date in the park. Instead of shaving money off his bid, she’d be adding to it.

“These are my weeding clothes.” She glanced down at herself, presumably at her mouthwatering hint of cleavage, shorts that showed off her tan, shapely calves, and the cheerful, flowery Vans on her small feet.

Hank spun away, stalking back to his truck. It didn’t take him long to return.

“What’s this?” She stared at the items he’d thrust into her hands—a Green Gardening T-shirt and a pair of work gloves.

“You wear them or I’m raising your rates and hiring some real help.” He would anyway if she so much as complained about breaking a nail.

“What’s the big deal?”

Besides her being too beautiful to get dirty? “You need protection. If you get sunburned out here, you’re no good to me. If the thorns on those vines pierce that delicate skin of yours, you’re no good to me.” If he kissed her—really kissed her—she’d be no good to him.

“You think I have delicate skin?” She beamed and tugged on the maroon T-shirt. It fell like a boxy mini-dress to her thighs. Or a sleep shirt if they’d had a sleep-over.

Dangerous thought, that. Hank grabbed a two-cup colander and a narrow cage with small mesh wires from the wheelbarrow. “We’ll start by draining the fountain. The water will help loosen up the dry soil back here.”

She followed him to the opposite side of the terrace. “What’s the cage for?”

“The frogs. I’ll take them to the park later and let them go.”

“Why not just let them hop to someone else’s yard?”

He got to his knees behind the fountain and loosened the plug. Almost immediately, water gurgled out nearly as loud as Kimmy’s draining bathtub. “I have no problem with the snake eating them, but I thought that would upset you.”

A frog leapt onto the rim of the fountain and then into the grass, taking charge of its own fate.

“The park sounds lovely.” Julia sat on the lip of the fountain and covered her nose. “Pew. I’ll be glad when this doesn’t smell like wet garbage. Can we change the frog on top? He doesn’t look very regal.”

Hank stood firm. “Frogs are a symbol of abundance.” People didn’t normally look him in the eye during his work day.

But she did. With eyes as soft as a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. “You chose a frog for your logo.”

“I grew up on a farm.” He handed her the colander. “We had a pond which attracted all kinds of creatures.”

Another frog hopped up next to her. She yelped and got to her feet with a shiver and a shake that robbed him of speech.

Not the frog. He blinked, croaked, and leapt deep into the grass.

“Don’t get eaten,” she called after it.

Common sense was telling him to back out of the project while he still could. She wasn’t going to pull her weight. And he would have left if she hadn’t kissed him. “Look, I need you to scoop out the frogs and put them in the cage while I bring in the rest of the equipment.” The water was going down rapidly, swirling over the drain with a continuous suck and gurgle.

“I thought I’d be weeding.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “If you don’t want to take orders, I have five different guys I know are looking for work. Just scoop. If you catch anything, dump it in the cage.” He wasn’t a total brute. He opened the cage door for her.

She looked pale, but began half-heartedly sweeping the colander through the mucky water.

Trusting her to catch any remaining frogs, Hank brought in the rest of the equipment from his truck. “Catch anything?”

“No. There were a lot of jumpers with death wishes.” She sounded relieved. “The water’s drained out and there’s nothing but piles of mud and algae.” She tucked a strand of golden hair behind an ear. “Wait. There. It’s a baby frog.”

She was looking, not scooping. With a weary sigh he had no right heaving at 8:30 in the morning, Hank came to stand beside her, leaning over to place his hands on the rim of the fountain. The frog was barely bigger than a quarter.

A small flat face shot out of the drain, mouth open, fangs bared, ready to eat a froggy snack.

“Snake!” Julia screamed. She dropped the colander and leapt back and then leapt onto Hank’s back for a piggy-back ride. “Snake-snake-snake!”

The snake in question—the two-foot long garden snake he’d met last week—didn’t have enough spare length to catch the leaping froglet. The snake twisted and tensed as it tried to free itself from the drain. The little frog leapt about in the corner. Safe. For now.

Hank straightened. Julia’s legs were still wrapped around his waist and she was babbling unintelligibly. Every other word seemed to be snake.

The snake in question was nearly free.

“If you want me to save that frog, you need to put your feet on the ground.”

Her long legs dropped to the ground (pity, really). And then she did a snake-inspired salsa dance next to him, similar to the one she’d done the day they’d met. “Hurry. Save the little guy. Hurry.”

A swipe of the colander and the frog was rescued.

Although the frog was safe, Julia didn’t stop dancing. “Ew. Do something about the snake.”

“I can either put the frog in the cage or the snake. Not both.”

She stopped dancing, eyes worshipfully-wide. “I have a vase. But only for the frog.” She ran inside and re-appeared almost instantly, dumping a dried flower arrangement on her chair and holding out a standard, clear glass eighteen-inch vase. “Here.”

Hank scooped the frog into his hand and deposited him in the vase. “Give him some water and put him out of the sun.”

“Right.” Julia stared at the frog.

“Looks like you have a pet.”

“I’m not keeping him.” Her gaze dropped to the snake swishing through the puddles at the bottom of the fountain. She retreated a few steps.

“Put the frog inside in the shade and I’ll get rid of the snake.” If this was any indication of the production pace they’d achieve together, Hank was in trouble. Once more, he considered backing out of the deal.

“You’ll take him all the way to the park?” She turned those sweet blue eyes toward him again. “Promise?”

His feet remained firmly planted, not backing anywhere. “Promise.”

“My hero.” She kissed him.

On both cheeks.

Chapter Three

Julia was hot and it wasn’t because there was a hottie capturing a snake in her fountain.

She’d jumped him. Granted, it was from fear, not overwhelming desire. But she wouldn’t be surprised if he thought she was a nut job.

The eggs sighed heavily, as if she was a lost cause.

“I’m not going to mess this up,” she told them, holding the vase at eye-level. “You’re my good luck charm, Kermit.” And just like that, her frog had a name. She put a small amount of water in the vase and set it on the kitchenette counter. And then because she wasn’t an amphibian person (or a snake person), she put a strainer over the top of the vase. “To keep you safe.” And from hopping out into the shop and scaring the customers.

After getting herself some water, Julia went back outside to find Hank had returned from the park. “Kermit’s an orphan, abandoned by his family.”

“Circle of life.” Hank was as basic as they come. Farm boy. Comfortable with critters. Broad shoulders. Strong back.

She hadn’t broken him when she’d panicked. “I’m sorry about earlier. Hopping on you and all.” All being the embarrassing panicky part.

The snake and cage were nowhere to be seen. The park was two blocks away and had a nice little stream with lots of tasty frogs. Kermit would not be one of them.

“We’re weeding now.” He was all business, pretending she hadn’t invaded his personal space. “I’ll loosen up the roots with a shovel. You pull them out and toss them into the wheelbarrow.”

“Right.” She wasn’t going to disappoint him again. After all, Lesson #4: Find things to do together where you can talk. And Lesson #5: Compliment him on his skills. “You handle slimy things really well.”

He shot her a look that told her he suspected she might be a little slimy herself.

“I mean, you’re an expert at what you do. I can see that.” Better. Definitely better.

The eggs sighed, lost-cause like.

I am not messing this up.

The eggs’ silence was damning enough.

He began creating a shoveled line through the weeds, and then paused to look at her. “Ready, princess?”

“I’m not a princess.” Her head came up. “I’m a city girl.” She’d never pulled a weed in her life. “I grew up in a high rise apartment in San Francisco. I’m a hard worker when I know what I’m doing.”

He went back to loosening the soil. “Princess…City Girl. Either way, the weeds are awaiting an audience.”

Julia stomped over to the corner where he’d started working, grabbed a handful of grass, and gave it a big tug. Given the now-swampy soil, the weeds offered no resistance. She tumbled back on her butt, the muddy grass landed on her legs. “I’m okay…I’m okay….” If she said it often enough, she’d forget how much her butt hurt. “I’m…I suck at this.”

Agreed, the eggs said.

A shadow loomed above her. Hank. A smile—his first—and a warmth in his eyes she’d never seen before. A hand extended toward her. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

If he had’ve made fun, she might have ran back inside. As it was, she returned his big smile, took his hand and came to her feet smoothly.

“I guess I learn by failing.” She grinned up at him. This little red book had powers.

He grinned back. “You’re running out of ways to fail.”

She hoped that was true about a lot of things—not just gardening, but love. Or really, really strong like.

In no time, Julia’s flowery shoes (so cute!) were covered in muck. Her legs were splattered with mud and her hair was a straggly blanket about her sweaty (not glowing) face. But she wouldn’t give up. There was that smile of his. And so she wrestled with the vines Hank was cutting back, trying to get them into the wheelbarrow. Those thorny ropes just loved to snag on Hank’s borrowed shirt and Julia’s freshly-shaven legs.

“I’m here to spend my gift card.” The Love Lady poked her head out the door, a red scarf fluttering at her neck. “I see the book is working.”

Hank turned to toss another six-foot, thorny trailer at Julia’s feet. “You look familiar.”

“I’ve seen you at the farmer’s market.” The old lady smiled kindly. Her apple red lipstick didn’t seep into the wrinkles at her mouth or stain her teeth. Talk about aging gracefully.

Paula appeared from behind her, très chic in a purple sheath and gray shrug. “Has Hank talked to you? At your table, Miss Uh…”

“Never.” The Love Lady didn’t provide a name. “I’ve seen him with a little blonde at the apple cart.”

What? The eggs shrieked. What about that smile?

Julia’s gaze made a hard right. Hank stood without an iota of guilt at being outed as having a girlfriend.

“My gift card won’t buy anything in the shop,” the Love Lady said. “Nothing, but Kermit.” She held up the vase.

“But…” Julia forgot about eggs and blondes and potentially lost lovers or sperm daddies. “How did you know what his name was?” She hadn’t told Paula.

“Kermit told me.” The Love Lady turned to go, calling over her shoulder. “Don’t forget Lesson #10.”

Lesson #10? What was Lesson #10?

Ah, yes. Lesson #10: Don’t be honest about what you want in the first seven days. Chances are he’ll give you what you need for a lifetime if he’s the one.

Lie? To Hank? Her gut rebelled. Her head, however, had an agenda no amount of gut-clenching could put off. “A blonde, huh?”

He surveyed the vine and admitted, “My daughter,” the same way one might admit they had a haircut appointment at four.

What? If eggs could faint, hers did.

A child meant a mother. Ring or no ring. “So…you’re married?” Had she kept butt-crack’s telephone number?

“Divorced. I have custody.” Matter-of-fact. Farm boy straightforward.

What? The eggs sat up.

“Oh, that’s—” Wonderful. “—too bad.”

“She…uh…. My ex was an addict.” He hacked at the vine. “And a thief. She’s in prison.” His efforts increased in intensity. “But the thing she excelled at—the one thing they didn’t convict her of—was lying.”

Lesson #10….

If she lied to him, she’d be no better than his ex-wife.

“I know where I’ve seen that woman in red before.” Hank turned to Julia, comprehension in his eyes, which was better than ridicule, if truth be told. “She sits at the Love Advice table.”

“Yes.”

“You paid for her advice.”

Lesson #10….

“Yes.”

He looked dubious. “Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” It’d brought him to her. In a day, she’d come to like his straight-from-the-hip personality. It didn’t hurt that he had broad shoulders and a killer smile.

His dubious gaze turned distant. “So you’re looking for someone?”

“I’m thirty.” The statement shouldn’t make her want to squirm. If she held to the book’s advice to the letter she wouldn’t admit any more. A man should understand the importance of thirty to a woman. “I…uh…”

Shut up, said the eggs.

“I want children and my eggs…. Because cancer runs in my family, I’ve been advised the best chance for me to avoid the Big C is to….” Follow in the footsteps of Angelina Jolie.

“Oh.”

A smart woman would stop the bleeding there.

Be smart, be smart, be smart, chanted the eggs.

“I’m going to harvest my eggs. I plan to fertilize the ones without the cancer mutation and carry at least one baby to term before I have to lose all my original equipment.” She gestured from breasts to hip. “Men probably won’t want a shell of a woman.”

“Oh.” Not: Oh, I’m your man. Let me carry you off on a white steed and save you from being barren in a snake-filled garden.

“Hey, Julia. I need a signature.” Rick, the FedEx man, was standing in the doorway if his voice was any indication.

Julia didn’t look. She only had eyes for Hank, who looked as if he’d eaten a bite of sour lemon cake. Or as if he thought the Love Lady sold mumbo-jumbo or love potion perfume. That look and his daughter stopped her from saying: I was hoping to fall in love with a man who wanted a family immediately, just like me.

Hank was just another frog.

Julia felt hollow as she trotted up the steps and greeted Rick with air kisses (because he was single, even if he was the town Casanova), signed for the package, and then put it on the chair.

When she turned around, Hank was busy cutting back the vines.

Chapter Four

Julia claimed to be looking for love, but it seemed she just wanted a sperm donor.

Hank wasn’t on the market. Not for love. Not for any more progeny.

Love was messy. And unreliable. And heartbreaking.

Not only was Hank too busy to date, he also had a rule about Kimmy. He didn’t want to begin seeing a woman and have her disappear from Kimmy’s life if things didn’t work out. When Nicole fell into addiction and robbed the credit union she worked for, his life had fallen apart. He hadn’t seen the signs. But he had seen the fall out.

Julia greeted him to the job the next day in blue jeans and an Elvis T-shirt, looking more garden-worker-ish than princess-ish. He respected that. And her smile. It was golden, that smile. It said: Forget being a hermit and take a chance.

Hank had used up all his chances with Nicole.

“What’s on the agenda today, boss?” Julia asked with forced enthusiasm. They hadn’t talked much yesterday after her revelation that she was looking for a man and a family on a timetable with a fast-ticking clock.

Hank was here to do a job. Julia’s personal issues could not come into the picture. “We need to pull up the flagstone and prep for concrete.”

Julia stared at the flagstone patio. “These stones look heavy.”

“They are.” As heavy as his heart. Julia’s impetuous idea would probably never come to fruition. She’d never know the joys of being a parent to a child of her genes. But he couldn’t help her. “If you want to have a fashion show back here you can’t risk your models twisting their ankle on uneven stones.”

“I suppose that’s logical.” When everything about her dreams weren’t. “Flagstone in the wheelbarrow?”

He nodded, handing her a screwdriver. “Use it as a pry bar.”

She bent and got to work.

That was it? She wasn’t going to bring up the topic of sperm donor or love interest? She wasn’t going to look at him with a grin that invited him to focus on his needs for once instead of Kimmy’s?

Glory hallelujah!

“I wonder how Kermit is doing with the Love Lady.” There was a sad note in her voice.

Hank sat back on his heels. “If you wanted to keep the frog, why didn’t you say so?”

“I’ve never had a frog before.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know how to take care of it.”

“You’ve never had a baby before, but that hasn’t stopped you from wanting one.” He regretted the hurtful words as soon as he spoke them.

Julia’s wistful expression and sad tone didn’t change. “My sister had two children before she developed cancer and learned she had the mutated gene. Her boys aren’t carriers.” She glanced at him with eyes brimming with sadness and hope. “She’s not alone at night, although she’s divorced.”

“It’s exhausting being a single parent.” And lonely, even if you weren’t alone.

“I know.” Julia’s gaze dropped to her gloves. She plucked at one finger. “But…I used to play house when I was a girl. I always carried around a baby. I’ve always imagined being married and having a houseful of rambunctious, loud kids.”

He should stop the conversation now. He didn’t. “Did you also imagine a husband?”

“Not always.” Her smile was tinged with regret, the way people smiled when they realized they’d lost dreams. “What about you? Guys don’t seem to dream of much but being a sports star.”

That was the problem with asking people questions. You opened yourself up to questioning right back. “I wanted the family and the picket fence. The whole nine yards.” He’d thought Nicole was his soulmate.

“What happened?”

“We got married young. And my wife never grew up.” Hank hesitated, the sense of loss and failure bitter in his throat. “She went from recreational marijuana to smoking meth. That drug stole the soul of our marriage. That drug compelled her to steal from the credit union she worked for. She’s not getting out of prison for a long, long time.”

“She cheated on you.” Julia touched his cheek.

When had she moved so close? “That was the drugs, too.”

She withdrew her hand. “I went to the Love Advice table because I wanted the love of a child. I’m willing to settle for less with a man in order to have that.”

Hank wasn’t the right man to be having this conversation with her. He had all he could handle with the business and Kimmy. And yet, something in his chest kept spewing forth words, words that made it appear he was open to a relationship with Julia. “Have you ever thought instead of considering it settling for less, you should consider dreaming of more? Of love without children of your own blood?”

“That’s enough about my dreams.” She swallowed and looked away. “What do you dream of, Hank?”

“I have to put my daughter first. I no longer dream.”

Julia soaked in her bathtub after a long day in the garden with Hank. She was on the verge of giving up. On daddies and sugar daddies and sperm daddies.

Hank didn’t dream. He didn’t risk. He was living only to make his daughter’s life a good one.

The same thing she’d do if she couldn’t find love and had a child on her own. She’d put her child and Consignment Couture above having a personal life. It was what she wanted, even if it wasn’t what her mother wished for her.

Hank made it seem so grim. Didn’t his daughter fulfill him? Wasn’t she enough to fill his heart with love? Is that the way Julia would be if she had a child alone?

The eggs were oddly silent.

On the final morning of work at Consignment Couture, Hank drank coffee and stared at his tiny condominium patio. It was filled with pots growing tomatoes and flowers. Someday, he’d like to have his own nursery in addition to his gardening business. He hadn’t slept well last night. His heart had ached that Julia might never carry a child of her own. She might never even realize that adoption or fostering would bring her the same joy.

He liked working with Julia. She had what his grandmother used to call gumption. But with money as tight as it was it was best not to dream big.

His cell phone rang. It was Miss Clark.

“There’s been an outbreak of chicken pox at the center.” Her carefully modulated tones would be good over a P.A. system in time of crisis, because she sounded as if she had no heart, no deep love for the lives in her care. Nothing to lose. No loves. No dreams. “Since it’s Friday, we thought it best to close for a long weekend. We’re sanitizing the school. I’m sorry it’s such late notice.”

And Hank had no backup plan, except to bring Kimmy to work with him. A four year-old in a garden. A four year-old who was still so very full of dreams. How bad could it be?

“No school. No school.” Kimmy clomped into Julia’s garden wearing her yellow rubber ducky boots, a pair of jean shorts, and a pink Minion T-shirt. She carried a pail with a toy shovel, rake, and trowel. “We’ll have ice cream for lunch and cupcakes for dinner.”

“That sounds heavenly,” Julia said. She wore blue jeans, work boots, and a floppy sun hat. She’d come a long way from Monday. But she didn’t come to kiss Hank’s cheek.

A pang of longing struck. He’d miss those kisses.

“Come meet my immortal frog.” Sitting at the fountain, Julia held out one hand to Kimmy and the pointed at the frog statue behind her with the other. “His name is Kermit.”

Kimmy’s boots planted roots in the new curving sidewalk. She spoke not a word.

Julia glanced up at the fountain frog catching a dragonfly. “Don’t be put off by his tongue sticking out. I’ve come to like Kermit.” She looked back over her shoulder, smiling weakly at Hank. “Even if he isn’t green.”

Kimmy glanced up at Hank and whispered, “She looks like Mommy.”

Julia heard. She’d been reaching up to pat the stone Kermit when she froze.

“Just her hair,” Hank said. Nothing about Julia was the same as Nicole. Nothing. Julia was honest and kind and sober. “It’s not her.” He gave Julia an apologetic glance. “Kimmy was only two when Nicole went away.”

“She’s coming back.” Kimmy regained some of her chutzpah. “And when she does we’re going to go to Disneyland and the circus and the moon.” She crossed her little arms over her chest, daring anyone to contradict her.

“That sounds fabulous,” Julia said with an undisguised note of sadness.

“Do you have a little girl?” Kimmy came closer, still deciding if Julia was to be taken in her chatty inner circle, one not open to Miss Clark.

“No.” The light faded from Julia’s eyes. “I don’t. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Do you have a dog?” Kimmy sidled closer.

“No.” A defeated word. Spoken by a woman who’d given up on dreams.

Hank’s chest felt tight.

Kimmy stopped. “No pets?”

“I had a frog.” Julia glanced up at the frog on the fountain. “But he found a better home.”

Was Hank the reason she’d given up on having a child? Had she decided a woman who gave up her birthing equipment was any less a woman? What could he do? What could he say?

Nothing.

The farmer’s market would be opening in a few minutes. Maybe the Love Advice lady would have an answer.

“Can I leave you two ladies alone? I need to get something…somewhere….” At Julia’s nod, Hank hurried toward The Local Grinder and the Love Advice table.

The old lady saw him coming. She was wearing a red gauzy blouse and matching scarf. There was a small terrarium sitting on her table. It had plants and rocks tucked around a low bowl filled with water. And of course, Kermit. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Sit, sit.”

He sat carefully in her folding chair. “I don’t have much time. I need to know why Julia came to see you.”

“Why she came is no concern of yours.” Her voice was as high-pitched as the small bell charms on her bracelet. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here…um….I’m here to…”

Bob Millar, one of Hank’s corporate clients, walked by, staring at Hank with open curiosity.

“I don’t have time to date. I’m here for Julia’s frog.” So she wouldn’t be alone.

Her brows rose. “Kermit is mine. I’ve given him a good home.”

“You should have seen her this morning. She’s given up.” When the old lady didn’t respond, he leaned forward and said urgently, “She needs someone.”

“A frog isn’t someone.” Her voice gentled. “Do you have someone?”

He sat back in the chair. “I have my daughter.”

“Now there’s a girl who could use another someone in her life.”

She was wrong. So very, very wrong. Love was risky. For both his heart and Kimmy’s. “I’m not here for me. I’m here for Julia. She needs her frog.”

“She has a frog in the fountain.” The old woman’s plump finger tapped the leaping frog on his shirt. “You understand about frogs. They’re happy creatures. And happy creatures bring—”

“Prosperity.” Yes, he knew.

“No.” Her smile was patient. “They bring more happiness. With their song. With their loyalty. With their tremendous ability to support one’s difficult decisions.” Her gaze pierced, delving deep down where he hid things like hurt and loneliness. “You haven’t made any hard choices for a long time. You’ve been in limbo.”

“Yes.” Because providing a stable environment for Kimmy was the most important thing in his life.

“Sometimes, frogs find the perfect place. And they stay for years. Like Julia’s fountain.”

Hank’s glance strayed to the terrarium.

“Kermit has found a forever home with me.” She tapped the frog on his shirt again. The one over his heart. “Your frog needs to find a forever home.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“With Julia.” She touched the top of his forehead, and then slid her fingers down to close his eyes. “A wise frog can close his eyes and see the life he wants. A wise frog is brave enough to sing long and loud about what he wants.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What do you see?”

With his eyes closed? Was she crazy?

Except…. In his mind’s eye he saw Julia. Holding Kimmy’s hand. Smiling.

He saw Julia’s face as he leaned in to kiss her.

He felt Julia’s hand in his as they drank coffee in the morning and looked out on the terrace behind her shop at stone Kermit on top of her fountain.

He opened his eyes, mind filled with questions he couldn’t voice. The most important being: Could he risk Kimmy bonding with another woman when he didn’t know for sure if Julia would stay?

“You know the answer,” the old woman said. “That will be forty dollars.”

Chapter Five

“Do you have a sister?” Kimmy sat on the edge of the fountain, kicking her rubber ducky booted feet out.

“Yes.” Julia’s chest felt hollow and at the same time full. Kimmy was a joy. Hank was jaded when it came to love, but he had to be happy with his daughter.

“You are so lucky.” Kimmy pounded her fist on her leg. “Madison has a little sister. She’s a baby, but someday when she grows up, they’ll play Barbies together and have light saber fights and build Lego castles and play princess.”

We could be like her, the eggs said. Don’t give up.

“You can do all that with your dad.” Your wonderful, wonderful dad.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Kimmy leaned in closer. “Daddy is sad a lot because we don’t have Mommy anymore. Or a little sister. You could be the next best thing.”

“Which would be…”

“A big sister!” Kimmy clapped her hands.

The eggs huffed.

“Hey.” Hank appeared at the gate, looking like he’d just received some very bad news.

“Hey,” Julia and Kimmy said.

Paula’s face appeared in the window of the back door. She smiled encouragingly.

Julia sighed. “I’m waiting for marching orders to get started.” May as well keep this business-like. One more day, and then Hank would be out of her life. Her heart would be broken, and a hard lesson would be learned: Always listen to your mother, not the Love Advice lady.

“Can we talk first?” Hank tried to smile, but oh, that smile looked like the break-up face.

How could he have the break-up face? They weren’t even an item.

Retreat! Retreat! cried the eggs.

Paula opened the back door, apparently having decided she couldn’t eavesdrop as easily with it closed.

“Kimmy said you brought plants. Why don’t I dig some holes?” Julia grabbed a shovel, positioned it in the middle of a flower bed, and jumped on the flat ends. The blade sank into the loose, composted soil easily. That’s what Julia needed—something easy in her life.

“Daddy likes to play ‘what if’ with the plants before he digs,” Kimmy said. “Sometimes he plays ‘what if’ for hours and hours.”

“Julia.” His palm came to rest on her shoulder. He took her shovel with his other hand. “I didn’t like it the other day when you kissed the FedEx man.”

The eggs shimmied with hope.

Julia wasn’t as easily fooled. “Those were just harmless air kisses.”

“I didn’t like it when you kissed Mr. Jamison from the bank when he collected your deposit.” Hank’s voice was bankerly-serious. His gaze as unreadable as a loan officer’s.

“Air kisses.” Her hands fluttered in the wind. “You have to kiss a lot of frogs, you know.”

“Sounds like you kissed a ton.” Kimmy came to stand in the dirt at her feet. “I got into trouble kissing boys at school. You should stop.”

“I didn’t like it this morning when you didn’t kiss me.” He moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek.

Gasps filled the patio. Julia’s. Kimmy’s. Paula’s.

“I couldn’t sleep last night because of the thought you might not be able to have the child you dreamed for....” Hank’s voice fell out of banker territory and into uncharted territory. “I thought I might help…somehow.”

Julia couldn’t move. What did he mean?

Everything, the eggs whispered.

Hank locked his gaze on Julia. “But today I realized that I couldn’t imagine you raising that child without me. And Kimmy.” Hank smiled down on his daughter.

Oh, my. The eggs fainted.

“A little brother or sister?” Kimmy began doing a hoe-down in the flower bed, stomping feet and clapping hands. “This is my lucky, lucky day! The stork is coming. Wait until I tell Madison.”

If he was offering to fertilize her eggs and then be a part time daddy, Julia wasn’t interested. Somehow, over the course of the week, she’d fallen in love with him. Part-time Hank just wouldn’t do.

Feeling a bit surreal, Julia covered his hand with hers. “You’re a great guy, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to participate.”

Good thing the eggs were still passed out cold. They wouldn’t approve of the out Julia was giving Hank.

“This isn’t a business negotiation.” He shook his head. “I’m willing to be your frog. The last frog you ever have to kiss to find your happily ever after.”

“What are you saying?” Julia didn’t dare hope or breathe or wake the eggs.

“I went to see your Fairy Godmother.” He grinned. “I’m saying stop air kissing every man who walks in the door in the hopes he’ll be your Prince Charming.” He set the shovel aside and took both her hands in his. “I’m saying I’m your prince and your frog and the future father of our children, as many as you want as long as your life isn’t put at risk.”

“But…but…I haven’t even gotten to Lesson #18.”

“Throw away the book, girl,” Paula chimed in.

“No books today. No school.” Kimmy twirled around the fountain. “Just frogs and babies.”

“I have no idea what book she means,” Hank said. “But if you feel that we could have something together, it’s time to take a leap of faith.”

“I’ve kissed enough frogs,” Julia murmured, allowing him to draw her into his arms and kiss her.

The End