The Bishop’s Progeny

Peter finally got the courage to walk towards the group of girls standing around the punch bowl, with the intention of sharing his bag of freshly made popcorn, when the object of his affections said to her companions, “Do you think if I kissed him he’d turn into a Prince?” Their giggling made him stop dead in his tracks. He was like a deer in the headlights of a car, when from across the room he heard his sister Colette say loudly, “The question is whether you’d turn into a Princess.” The girl who had spoken turned a deep shade of pink, as an attractive gaggle of young men broke into laugher. “You didn’t have to do that,” Peter said, offering his sister the bag of popcorn. “I’m pretty much used to it.” “As far as I’m concerned, you are a Prince. Weren’t you the one that picked up Daadi’s bee business, and you afraid of bees?” “Michael is more afraid than I am. Besides, he has a growing family.” Colette looked at her big brother, so like their father. While Michael had inherited Groossdaadi’s Cary Grant charm, Peter was short, with balding straw-colored hair, and ears that stuck out like pie plates. Yet he had the gentlest heart of all of her siblings. There had to be a woman besides herself that could see that.