Susan woke up late the next day. A distant hum reached her guest cottage at the end of the garden. She looked at her watch and jumped out of bed. It was almost eleven o'clock! There was so much to be done before the party, which was to start at seven, that there wasn't even a minute to waste. Susan glanced at the sofa bed she had slept on and frowned. The cottage was a single room with a bathroom attached, and the bed, folded out, took up nearly two-thirds of the space. Apart from it, the little room held two small armchairs, a narrow wardrobe, a low table, and a dressing table with a mirror.

Deciding not to waste time making the bed properly, she just pulled up the sheets and threw the blanket over them, then hurried into the bathroom for a quick shower. Afterwards she pulled on denim shorts and a T-shirt that said "Hello," brushed out her straight blonde hair, and tied it back with a band.

The warm rays of the summer sun greeted her as she stepped out of the cottage. She turned her face up to the light and closed her eyes. The cottage stood under the branches of a small pine grove, and she happily breathed in the cool air still lingering in the shade of the trees. The estate's wide garden held one more cottage like hers, at the opposite end, closer to the house. Past the lawn and the flower beds, beyond the pine grove, stretched her grandfather's large orchard and vineyards — one of the biggest landholdings in town.

Susan hurried along the narrow path and came out on the main walk up to the house. The lawn beside the marble stairs to the back veranda was in an uproar. Lamps, tables, and chairs were being carried about; the surrounding trees and bushes were being decorated. Every relative was hard at work — some with grumbling and advice, some with irritation or silent resentment, a few with actual enthusiasm.

"Suzie, you're arriving just in time to hang the banner!" one of her aunts shouted the moment she spotted her.

"All right! What needs doing?" She approached with some reluctance. The short, stout woman gave her a sharp look.

"If you ask me — to persuade your grandfather not to invite half the city to dinner!" she mumbled.

"That's enough, Aunt Dorie! Grandpa wants to feel the good old days again, when parties like this happened almost every week — especially when he was mayor! We can't begrudge him that!"

"Yes, but those were different times! Now it all lands on our shoulders!"

"Why are you all complaining? When you're not invited, you're angry, and when we've all gathered, you're unhappy again?!"

"Things are far more complicated, Suzie — but you're on Grandpa's side, as always! Come on, stretch the banner between these two lampposts!" the woman ordered sternly.

Susan shook her head and took up the task she had been given. After hanging the banner reading "Happy 80th Birthday, Grandpa Max!", she helped her cousins set up a table on the lawn, then helped her father arrange the chairs for the orchestra in the gazebo. There she found her grandfather, moving through the busy crowd like a general among his troops. The resemblance was helped along by his white hair, carefully combed back, and the severe suits he had always worn.

"Suzie, shouldn't you greet your beloved grandfather on his birthday before helping all your relatives?"

Susan turned from the platform, where she had just finished with the chairs, and wagged a finger at her grandfather.

"Grandpa! You know I love helping whenever I can!"

"I know, I know! Come here, my girl!"

She hopped nimbly down from the round gazebo stage and, with a dazzling smile, threw her arms around him.

"Happy Birthday, Grandpa! I'm so glad I'm here again!" she sighed.

The old man's hands, which had lost most of their strength by now, closed around her slender waist.

"You know you're always welcome with me, right?"

Susan nodded and leaned her head back to look at his kind, wrinkled face.

"I have a present for you!" She raised her eyebrows and gave him a mischievous look. "When do you want it? Now, or at the party tonight?"

"No! Absolutely not at the party! I wouldn't be able to enjoy it properly!" her grandfather said, frowning.

She laughed, and her ringing voice filled the old man's heart with joy. His fingers, slightly crooked with age, gently patted her smooth cheek.

"Come to my study. This heat is getting unbearable for my old bones," he said with one of his typical smiles, the kind that touched only half his face.

"Probably not from the heat of the sun, Grandpa! You're wearing a long-sleeved suit in July!"

"Shh! I don't listen to childish voices and objections!" Max declared sternly.

She gave him her most innocent look and nodded quickly.

"Yes, sir! I'll report to the study in ten minutes!" she said, snapping to attention.

"See that you do!" the grandfather declared loftily, and turned toward the house.

Susan gave him a look of pure love, and then with a smile she ran to the cottage. By now, the garden was almost ready for the evening, and relatives were gathering one by one into the house, hiding from the midday sun. Only the tables needed to be filled with food and drinks, but that would wait until evening.

In her little cottage, Susan took out a painting wrapped in protective paper from the bottom of her suitcase. She peeled the paper away to reveal a beautiful wooden frame around a medium-sized canvas: an oil painting of her grandfather and herself, done from a photograph taken some five years earlier. In it, Susan, leaning in from one side, had her arms around the neck of the old man, who sat in his old armchair. The artist had captured the joy on both their faces exactly. She ran her fingers gently over the canvas, then laid the precious painting carefully into a bright box with a ribbon at the center of the lid. She checked the gift once more and left the cottage.

Ten minutes had long passed when she quietly knocked and entered Grandpa Max's study. In truth, "study" was a generous word: the room was furnished more like an austere sitting room, with a sofa, two armchairs, and a table between them, the walls lined with shelves full of books. Only the massive old walnut desk opposite the door lent it an official air. The old man sat in the deep upholstered chair behind the desk. In his hand he held a glass of bourbon and ice.

Seeing the glass, Susan raised her eyebrows. With his bad heart, alcohol was absolutely forbidden.

"Suzie, you look like an angry schoolmistress!" her grandfather noted at once. She let her shoulders drop.

"I'm worried, not angry, Grandpa! You know that's bad for you!"

"But today is my birthday! It wouldn't be fair not to treat myself. I've decided I'm allowed this one little present." He swirled the glass, and the ice cubes chimed softly against the crystal.

Susan finally smiled again.

"Happy Birthday once again, Grandpa! This is for you!"

She handed him the gift and leaned down to kiss his wrinkled cheek. Her grandfather lifted the lid of the box eagerly. His small dark eyes filled with tears, and he sighed deeply, gazing at the painting for a long while.

"You could hang it here, on the wall by the desk!" Susan offered.

"Thank you, my girl! This is the best gift I have ever received!" said the old man in a trembling voice.

Susan sat on the arm of his chair.

"Surely not the best!" she said modestly. Her grandfather took her hand and turned to look at her.

"In truth, the best gift of all would be if you, too, could..." He broke off, uncomfortable, and looked away. Susan knelt at his feet, the way she so often had as a little girl, and asked:

"What? You have to tell me!"

"Ah, my girl!" He stroked her hair with his free hand. "I know what I'm about to say won't be easy to hear — but before I die, I would like to hold your child in my arms, Suzie! My great-grandchild!"

Susan's face froze, and she went pale. Her clear hazel eyes darkened with grief. She leaned her head on his knees and sighed heavily. For several minutes, granddaughter and grandfather stayed like that in silence. Through the open window, behind the half-drawn curtains, drifted the song of cicadas.

"You already have great-grandchildren, Grandpa!" Susan murmured.

The old man shook his head and gently stroked her hair.

"You mustn't grieve so, Suzie! You'll find the right person, I'm sure of it! Sometimes we want so badly to be in love that we don't choose carefully whom we fall in love with. You need to stop thinking about that man and look around you! It's been half a year since it all ended. It's time. Who knows — maybe you'll spot your prince?"

Susan swallowed her tears with difficulty. That she was still grieving over it made her ashamed of herself. The broken engagement belonged in her past — her grandfather was right about that! She lifted her head and tried to summon back her smile.

"Grandpa, princes don't exist!" she murmured.

"What?" the old man objected indignantly. "The Prince of Monaco? The princes of Denmark and Belgium? The young princes of England? What are they, then?"

Susan burst out laughing.

"Not for me, I'm afraid! They're either too young, or too old, or already married! I haven't got a chance, Grandpa!"

"Nonsense! You are my princess! Whoever doesn't appreciate you doesn't deserve you, my girl! But my advice stands — cast an eye about you. Tonight, for instance, I want you to be... irresistible!"

"Grandpa!!"

"Dress so that every man from eight to eighty falls in love with you! Is that clear, my girl? You will be my lady of the evening! Now, march — go get ready!"

"Fine — but only because it's your birthday, Grandpa! Otherwise, I wouldn't!" With that, Susan slipped quickly out of the study, a smile trembling once more on her beautiful face.