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buttery beans plus a chunk of warm crusty bread—on a plate and serve it to Calla at the large butcher-block table in the center of the kitchen. Lady Jane sits propped up on a stool beside her. Lately, this is where the two of us—actually make that three, if you count Lady Jane—have been eating since Gallant’s been coming home so late. Or not at all. While I sulk, Calla scarfs down her meal. She is still holding that mysterious object in her right hand.
    “What’s in your hand?” I finally ask her.
    She unclamps her slender fingers.
    Aagh! It’s a frog. He jumps onto the table.
    “This is Henry,” beams Calla. “I found him at school today.”
    Henry ribbits as though acknowledging his introduction. His big, black bulging eyes gaze at me. I stare back at him, speechless.
    “I’m in love with him.”
    Ribbit.
    “O-kay.” I don’t know what else to say.
    “One day, I’m going to kiss him, and he’s going to turn into a handsome prince.”
    “Have you kissed him yet?”
    “Yes.” Calla puckers her lips. “But nothing happened.”
    “He’s probably not ready for a relationship,” I say consolingly.
    “That’s what I thought,” nods Calla. “You know, men are so immature.” Her beyond-her-years words of wisdom make me want to laugh—something I haven’t done in the last twenty-four hours.
    In a heartbeat, Henry hops off the table and takes off at lightning speed. By the time Calla and I leap up from the table, he’s nowhere in sight.
    “Henry! Where are you?” cries Calla.
    We both get down on our hands and knees and search frantically for the missing frog. The kitchen is vast—cluttered with cooking utensils, food bins, and storage containers. He could be anywhere. Hiding in a pot. Or a barrel of oats. Or even in the garbage. I just hope he hasn’t gone for a steam bath in the bubbling cauldron or a sauna in the smoldering hearth.
    After a frantic half-hour of crawling in every direction, we take a well-deserved break. We’ve turned the kitchen upside down. And no Henry.
    Calla bursts into tears. “My prince doesn’t love me anymore!”
    Her words slash through me like a sword. And mine doesn’t either.
    I give myself a mental kick. Jane, you have no right to go there until you find out from Gallant what’s really going on. Stop jumping to conclusions!
    I grab a clean napkin and gently dab Calla’s tears. She can’t stop crying. I think she’s just overtired, but her sobs tug at my heart.
    “Come, my sweet girl. Let’s get you into bed.”
    “But what about Henry?” she sniffles.
    I kiss her forehead. “You know men; they like to wander. But absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
    Calla looks up at me with tear-soaked chocolate eyes, perplexed. “What do you mean?”
    I wink. “He’ll be back in your arms tomorrow.”
    “You mean cage.” Calla lets out a giggle and gives me a hug.
    No, I meant arms, I think wishfully.

    After tucking Calla into bed, I tiptoe downstairs and find Gallant still working on his speech. Crumpled sheets of parchment are piled up on the floor. I guess it’s not going well. He must have writer’s block. Good. Serves him right.
    The grandfather clock gongs. It’s now ten o’clock. Cinderella and Charming are still not here. It’s not unusual for her to show up close to midnight. It’s now or never. I’ve got to use her tardiness—or should I say rudeness—to my advantage. This is my chance to interrogate Gallant. To find out what’s really going on between him and Aurora. My heart pounds. Am I prepared to face the truth?
    “Darling, let me get you some red wine,” I say calmly and seductively though my pulse is racing. “You need to unwind.” God! I’m good.
    “Fine.” He crumples up another sheet of parchment and tosses it to the floor. “This speech is going nowhere.”
    Perfect. I hurry to our bar, find a carafe of red wine, and pour him a goblet full. And one for me. With my nerves growing edgier by the minute, I need it more