Big Love (8 page)

“Oh, you will,” Miracle replied, winking at Carol. Her voice lowered to a sexy timbre as she said, “I’m sure of that.”

Carol pretended to study the shelves of product, unable to meet Miracle’s direct gaze.

“Is that what you call flirting?” Zing whispered to Sammy while the others examined themselves in the mirror again, mesmerized by their transformations.

“You bet it is,” Sammy said.

“I want to try it. It looks fun.”

“Oh, baby girl, it is,” Sammy said.

Zing turned back to the mirror and practiced winking at her own reflection.

***

Later that night, Zing wasn’t surprised when Annabelle appeared in her bedroom.

“Your hair looks really nice,” Annabelle said. She sat on the bed beside Zing.

Zing self-consciously fluffed her curls. “Thank you. I was a little worried in the beginning. It was my first haircut. Sammy washed it and made it smell nice, too. Oh, and he gave me this,” Zing said, handing Annabelle a magazine.

Annabelle looked at the cover. “Alien cats?”

“I know, right? I have so much to learn.”

“And remember you only have twenty eight days left,” Annabelle said. She raised her eyebrows and stared pointedly at Zing.

“I remember, don’t worry. But that’s not much time to save Nell’s heart from that woman.”

“You mean Dove Lance?” Annabelle asked.

Zing nodded. “Yes. Nell needs me. Her heart is at serious risk.”

“Yes, but if Nell is willingly in a relationship with Dove Lance, there isn’t a lot you can do about it,” Annabelle said. She touched Zing’s hair again. She seemed transfixed by it. “It’s so soft.”

Annabelle picked up the
The Guardian Angel’s Handbook
where it sat on the bedside table unopened and unread. “I wish you’d find time in your busy schedule to peruse this.”

Zing plopped backwards on the bed, groaning. “It’s so boring. I’d rather read Miracle’s poems.” She popped back up, saying, “Did you know that she intentionally writes bad poetry?”

“I know she does. But I can’t figure out why.”

“Because she can. That’s what she told me. She does it to piss off the literati,” Zing said.

“What does that mean?”

“I have no idea, but it has something to do with people who think all poetry should be done in a certain way and anything new or different is bad.”

“I think that writers and artists should be treated nicer because they devote themselves to improving the quality of life,” Annabelle said.

“Tell the literati that,” Zing said. “Miracle has tons of copies of her book of poetry. You want one? I can get it autographed.”

“You mean with my name on it?”

“You betcha.”

“I’d love that!” Annabelle squeezed Zing in a sudden hug.

“You’re hurting my ribs,” Zing wheezed.

Annabelle turned her loose. “Sorry. I forget you’re corporeal.”

“That’s okay. I forget it a lot, too. This morning, I stubbed my toe on the coffee table. You wouldn’t believe how much it hurt!” Zing looked down at her hands and mused aloud, “That’s how it must feel when a lover does you wrong—like a stubbed heart.”

Annabelle opened the handbook and flipped through a few pages until something caught her eye. “It says here that if your human is endangering themselves and it’s caused by negative emotions, then it is the guardian angel’s job to intervene.” Annabelle slapped the book shut.

“Intervene?” Zing asked. “How do I do that?”

“I think in this case, intervening means getting Nell away from Dove Lance.”

Zing nodded. “I have a funny feeling about Dove. Do you think she is who she says she is?”

“I think Dove Lance is definitely hiding something,” Annabelle said. “I feel it in my bones. Well, you know, if I had bones.”

Zing nodded. “I feel it, too. I have to stop Nell from stubbing her heart.” Zing snapped her fingers and said, “And I know just the person to help me!”

Chapter Five

“You want me to do what?” Carol asked.

Zing and Carol were in the bakery’s kitchen. Carol was teaching Zing how to cut out sugar cookies shaped like tigers. The elementary school’s mascot was a tiger. Every Tuesday, the bakery made tiger cookies. The mothers picked the cookies up in the morning so the little ones had them when they got home.

Nell was busy in the office writing up supply orders before she opened the bakery’s doors for business. Zing stole a look at the office door, making sure Nell couldn’t overhear her. “I want you to help me save Nell.”

“Save Nell from what?”

“A broken heart,” Zing said as she inspected the row of tiger cookies she’d made. She was pleased with her handiwork. They all had clean edges and were perfectly shaped. Carol glanced over at them but didn’t say anything. She simply pointed at the oven. Zing figured that was a good sign.

“Are you for real?” Carol asked.

Zing answered the question literally: “I’m real for the next twenty-seven days.” She slid the tray of cookies into the hot oven.

“Then what happens? You go poof and turn into a pumpkin?”

“No, silly, guardian angels have nothing to do with Halloween. At the end of twenty-seven more days, I have to leave this body and return to HQ.”

“Ugh. You’re nuts. I’d throw you out the door if you weren’t so good with the customers,” Carol said.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Zing stamped her foot for emphasis.

Carol pulled the glazed donuts out of the fryer. They always did those last because plain as glazed donuts were, warm ones straight out of the fryer were a great favorite with the customers. “What happens if I don’t help?” she asked.

“Nell could get hurt.”

That seemed to get Carol’s attention.

Zing continued, “I don’t think Dove Lance is who she’s pretending to be.”

Carol was all ears. “You don’t?”

“I think she’s fishing for cats,” Zing said.

“You mean she’s a catfisher?” Carol asked. “You could be right. This needs to be fixed.”

“What needs to be fixed?” Nell asked, coming out of the office.

Thinking fast, Carol said, “No, I said your hair was fixed.”

Zing added, “And it looks great.”

Nell smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I still can’t believe it. If I’d known a head injury would get me a new hairstyle, I might have done it sooner.”

“Oh, no,” Zing said. “Don’t do that.”

Nell patted her shoulder. “I was just kidding.”

Zing held up the tray of tiger cookies she had just finished cutting out. “Do you like my cookies?”

“I do. You’ll make a good baker someday.”

Zing basked in Nell’s appreciation.

“So, Nell, what’s up with your Dove Lance romance?” Carol interjected. “How’d she like your new hairdo?”

Zing wasn’t very good at humans’ social skills yet, but she knew enough to recognize that Carol was even worse than she was. Carol was heavy-handed and brusque. And that translated into what people called a butthole. Miracle had told her that the butthole exterior was Carol’s way of protecting her soft insides. Miracle had even confided in Zing that she was thinking about asking Carol out on a date.

“Are you sure?” Zing had asked.

“There’s something about her that I can’t get out of my head,” Miracle explained. “Maybe I should just invite her over for dinner with the two of us. That way it won’t be a real date. If we get along, then maybe I could ask her out for a real dinner date later.”

So Miracle was going to ask Carol out on a date that was masquerading as a dinner and then she would ask Carol out for dinner that was actually a date. Human love sure was confusing, Zing thought.

Zing was snapped back to the present when Nell answered Carol’s question, “I wanted Dove to meet me for dinner tonight, but she’s got to do a book signing, so she can’t.”

“Can’t she go to dinner beforehand?” Carol asked.

“No, the book signing is in Des Moines.”

“She’s going to Des Moines tonight?” Carol asked, incredulous.

“She’s very busy.”

“She’s been busy for the last six months,” Carol said sourly. “Don’t you find it just a teensy bit odd that you’ve never seen her except on Facebook?”

Nell shrugged. “Lots of people meet online.” Nell ended the conversation by putting on her apron. “It’s show time, Zing. Put your donut-selling hat on and unlock the front door.”

“But I don’t have a donut hat,” Zing said.

“Just open the damn door,” Carol said with an exasperated sigh.

***

Zing entertained the customers and sold donuts almost faster than they came out of the fryer. She slid a tray of tiger cookies into the glass case. “I made these,” Zing told a harried woman who was holding a baby and trying to keep hold of a two-year-old at the same time.

“They look wonderful. I’ll take six. Tommy is having a playdate after school with five of his closest friends.” The woman involuntarily shuddered.

“I’ll put in an extra cookie for you. I think you’re going to need it,” Zing said, adding another cookie in the box.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “You’re very sweet.”

“You are what you eat. And I eat lots of sugar.”

The woman laughed. She left the store looking a little less harried.

During a lull in customers, Carol carried out another tray of tiger cookies. She whispered to Zing, “I think you’re right. We’ve got to do something about Dove Lance. I checked with all the book stores in Des Moines and there is no Dove Lance giving a book signing at any of them.”

“She lied to Nell?” Zing asked, her eyes wide and unbelieving.

“People do that, you know,” Carol said.

“Can I get a dozen glazed donuts?” a man asked.

“Hi!” Zing greeted him. “One dozen coming right up.”

“We’ll talk later,” Carol said and then shuffled back to the kitchen.

“Maybe you should try a chocolate éclair too. They’re my favorite,” Zing said.

“Okay,” the man said. “I’ll give it a try.”

Zing added a chocolate éclair to the box and rang up the order on the cash register. She collected the man’s money and he walked out the front door just as the mailman came in. The mailman put a few envelopes and a parcel on the counter.

“A box!” Zing said. “I wonder what’s in it! I love surprises, don’t you?”

“Boy, you sure are a perky one this morning. You must be new,” the mailman said. His name badge read Henry.

“I’m the new dame in town, sweetheart,” Zing said. She’d heard that line in one of the black and white movies Miracle showed her. They stayed up late most nights watching classic movies. Zing ate so much sugar she didn’t sleep much and Miracle referred to herself as a night owl. “Of all the donut joints, in all the towns, in all the world, you had to walk into mine,” Zing added, doing a spot-on Bogart impersonation from the movie
Casablanca
.

Henry laughed and held out a pink slip. “You need to sign for it,” he said pointing at the slip. He handed her a pen. When she was done he looked at her signature. “Zing? Is that short for something?”

Zing nodded. “It’s short for Ama-
zing
.”

Henry laughed again. “So, where’d you come from, Zing?”

“HQ,” Zing said, whispering. “But I’d appreciate if you’d keep that between us. I’m on a secret mission.”

“Oh? FBI or CIA?” Henry asked with a playful wink.

Zing looked confused.

“You can tell me. I’m a government employee, too,” he added with a chuckle.

After looking both ways to make sure nobody could overhear her, Zing leaned across the counter and whispered, “I’m a guard—”

She was interrupted by Carol coming out of the back room, saying, “Give Henry a free donut, Zing. Then tell him it’s closing time.” She grabbed the mail and parcel and went back to the office.

Zing picked out a chocolate donut with sprinkles and wrapped it in wax paper.

“I don’t know how you work for such a cranky boss,” Henry said.

“She’s just gruff on the outside,” Zing said. She handed Henry his donut.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Henry said. He took a big bite of the donut and walked out the door. Zing locked the door behind him and flipped the sign around to read “Closed.”

Carol came back out of the kitchen and opened the cash register. She counted the money, saying, “Well, another day, another dollar.”

“Or in my case: Another day, another dozen donuts,” Zing said. She boxed a dozen donuts for herself and the last four donuts in the case to give to Homeless Tom. “It’s really nice of you to give a donut every day to Henry.”

“I don’t do it to be nice,” Carol said. “I do it because I want my mail delivered on time and in one piece.”

“I’ve heard bad things about the post office,” Zing said.

“From who?”

“HQ. You know, postal workers have separate guardian angels. Their guardian angels are highly trained in dog defense and other dangers.”

Carol digested this bit of news. “What kinds of other dangers?”

“Oh, you know, spiders in mailboxes, lonely housewives, meth labs, drunk drivers. One time a mailman found a snake in the mailbox. He opened the lid and if his guardian angel hadn’t been highly trained in reflexology, there’d be one more dead mailman.”

“Reflexology?”

Nell came out of the kitchen waving two books in the air. She could barely contain her excitement. “Look what Dove sent me!”

“Gee, let me guess. . . Books?” Carol said sarcastically.

“Don’t be mean. One of them is for you. And they’re autographed.” Nell looked over at Zing. “Don’t worry. I told Dove about you and Miracle. She’s sending two more autographed books for you all. She really likes your name. And Miracle’s name, too. Isn’t that sweet?”

“She’s sending me a book, too?”

“That’s right,” Nell said, flipping through the pages. “Your very own autographed copy.”

Carol opened her book and read the inscription aloud, “Carol, I’ve heard so much about you and I can’t wait to meet you someday, Love, Dove Lance.”

“Isn’t she the sweetest?” Nell asked.

“Yeah, someday, my ass,” Carol said. “She won’t even meet you.”

Nell ignored her. “I’m going to text her right now.”

“Why don’t you call?” Carol asked.

“She doesn’t like to talk on the phone, so we text. That way she can answer when she has a free moment.”

Carol leaned against the counter and fanned herself with the book. “Let me get this straight. You’ve never seen her in person and you’ve never even heard her voice?”

Zing cleaned the glass cases and listened intently.

“So? Lots of famous people are that way. Ever since Dove became an author, she’s become very introverted and reclusive. Fame was forced upon her. She didn’t choose it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Carol said. “Fame and fortune is a real bitch.”

“Jealous much?” Nell retorted. She stalked back to the office. As soon as the door shut behind her, Carol made a perfect rim shot with the book into the trash barrel.

“Why did you do that? Don’t you want to read it?” Zing asked.

“Uh, no. It’s garbage.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve tried to read a couple of her other books. I highly doubt she suddenly improved.”

“Do you mind if I read it?” Zing asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I think that would hurt. I stubbed my toe and that really hurt. I can’t imagine my head.” Zing fished the book out of the trash can. She dusted the flour off the cover.

“We’ve got to find this Dove woman and expose her for what she is,” Carol said. “Something is definitely hinky with the whole thing.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to think on it,” Carol said.

“I’ll ask Miracle to help us.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Carol said. “How is she, anyway?”

“She wants me to invite you over for dinner tonight.”

“Really?” Carol looked excited by the invitation.

“Will you come, please? We can talk about a plan over dinner. Then we’ll have three heads.”

“Three heads?”

“Three heads are better than one,” Zing said.

“I believe the saying goes: two heads are better than one.”

“I know that. But if two is better, then
three must be better by another third. I was good in math class.”

“Angels take math class?”

“Who do you think invented calculators?”

Carol laughed. It was the first time Zing had ever heard her laugh. It was a wonderful laugh, the kind that resonated from deep within and made everyone around her smile.

“So, what should I wear?” Carol asked.

“I don’t think it matters,” Zing said. “Miracle said she thought you were hot.” She touched Carol’s arm. “You don’t feel so hot to me.”