Damsel Under Stress (3 page)

“It’s a date where you’re getting no action,” Marcia said drily. “And let’s face it, that’s the real problem. He hasn’t slept with you yet.”

Gemma actually blushed, which may have been a first. “Well, there is that. But it’s not the only issue. He’s started to be ‘busy.’” She made air quotes with her fingers.

In adherence to the universal law that the person you’re talking about will show up while you’re talking about him, the buzzer from downstairs sounded. Gemma got up and ran to the intercom. I felt that Philip was lucky the intercom only worked from our end when someone pushed the button. He’d have probably keeled over if he’d heard this conversation. Gemma pushed the intercom button and said, “We’ll be right down.”

“I’ll come up to meet you,” Philip’s voice replied, scratchy over the speaker.

“You don’t have to do that,” Gemma insisted, then released the button and turned to us. “Well, come on. If I have to have chaperones for my date, you may as well be the ones. Then you can tell me if I’m imagining things.”

We all collected purses and coats and trooped downstairs. I had to admit that this arrangement was a little odd. Even Owen, as shy as he was, hadn’t come up with anything like this for a date. Though, come to think of it, we hadn’t yet had a real date, so I couldn’t compare.

When we got downstairs, Philip presented a red rose to Gemma with a bow. Then he bowed to the rest of us. “Ladies, thank you for joining us today. Now, I believe public transportation will be the most effective way of reaching our destination.” He offered his arm gallantly to Gemma, and the rest of us fell in behind them as we walked to the subway station.

We hung back just enough to be able to talk about them. “Okay, I’ve gotta admit, this is kind of on the weird side,” Marcia said. “The note was one thing, but bringing us along?”

“Maybe you were onto something when you said she wasn’t going to get any action on this date,” Connie mused. “It’s like we’re chaperoning them.”

I almost shouted, “That’s it!” before I turned it into a cough. Depending on how long he’d been a frog, he may have come from a time when men and women were seldom allowed to be alone together before they were married. I couldn’t recall if he’d ever let himself be alone with Gemma when they weren’t out in public. But that would have been hard to explain without getting into the magic thing. Instead, I said, “Well, he is kind of old-fashioned. If he’s not ready to get that involved, then he might be coming up with ways to put the brakes on while still seeing her.”

“That makes sense,” Marcia said, but then we had to stop talking about Gemma and Philip because we were almost at the subway station and too close to them to take the risk of them overhearing us.

I tried to watch Philip and Gemma for clues, but I didn’t notice anything particularly odd, other than the fact that Philip probably would have looked more at home wearing an Ascot tie and spats. Gap khakis were just wrong on him. He definitely acted interested in Gemma. He never took his eyes off her, he appeared to listen to everything she said, and he was incredibly attentive in every little gesture toward her. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to notice that and acted more and more put out toward him. It looked like she was in danger of losing a great guy simply because they were from different eras and had different ideas of what made a good courtship. If anyone needed the help of a fairy godmother, it was them.

But if I protested the interference of a fairy godmother, I knew Gemma would reject it outright, if she even let herself believe in such a thing. Meanwhile, I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to be meddling in my friends’ relationships, not when my enemies were at large and, come to think of it, I had the distinct impression that I was being watched.

Two

I
f it had been summertime, I’d have suspected that a bumblebee was hovering nearby. There was definitely a buzzing sound, like tiny wings flapping at high speed. Since it was below freezing, I could be fairly certain that it wasn’t any kind of insect that was stalking me. I immediately went through my mental catalog of magical creatures. The problem was that my exposure to magical creatures was still pretty limited, and besides, Idris seemed to have a fondness for creating new ones.

I lagged behind the others at the entrance to the subway station, pretending to have to search for my MetroCard, so I could get a better look at something I was sure they couldn’t see without being too obvious about it. It took me a moment or two to spot the tiny thing hovering over my shoulder, and when I did, I relaxed considerably. It was a male fairy—or sprite, as they preferred to be called, as they had issues with being called “fairies.” Go figure. I hadn’t realized they could shrink that small, but then I remembered Tinkerbell. Yeah, that’s fiction, but I was learning that a lot of things I thought were just stories were real, so why not that, too? The sprite saluted me, and I figured he must have been my current magical bodyguard. With the threat from Idris and his people, I was almost always tailed by someone in the MSI security force.

That made me hesitate about going out with my friends. With my enemies on the loose, did I really want to put myself out there in public around my friends? I didn’t think Idris or Ari would hesitate to try to at least embarrass me, if not outright harm me or them. In the middle of Rockefeller Center, there were all sorts of magical disasters that could happen. “I just remembered something I need to do,” I said. “Y’all go on and have a good time. I probably wouldn’t have skated anyway. I’ve never been on skates before in my life, since we don’t have a lot of ice in Texas that’s not in drinks, and I’d rather not spend Christmas in traction.”

“I bet I know what you have to do,” Connie said. “You have to find a gift for the new boyfriend. That’s the problem with starting to date someone so close to a major holiday. You suddenly have to come up with a gift that’s meaningful as well as appropriate for where you are in the relationship.”

I was perfectly willing to use the excuse to get away from them, but thinking about what Connie said set off a panic attack. I’d already given Owen a gift, but that was only because I was his secret Santa at work. I hadn’t considered that I’d now need to come up with a gift for him on a personal level. “What is appropriate this early in a relationship?” I asked.

“Well, it needs to be personal enough to show your feelings, but not so personal that it presumes something that may not be there yet. Nothing too expensive, but possibly something that will go on to be meaningful if the relationship lasts.”

“No pressure there,” I said with a snort. “I guess this is where you’d give a girl a cute stuffed animal or a pretty candle set. But what do you give a guy?” I thought I heard a high-pitched, faint burst of laughter and turned to shoot my sprite bodyguard a glare. He immediately moved out of range, hovering somewhere I couldn’t see him anymore.

“That’s one of the great mysteries of life,” Marcia said. “Everything they like is expensive and, therefore, inappropriate this early in a relationship. Maybe you should have waited until after Christmas to hook up.”

“What kind of music does he like?” Connie asked. “You could get him a CD.”

I hadn’t noticed any CDs or even a CD player in the one time I’d been in Owen’s house. All I could remember seeing was books everywhere. If he had a stereo, it was probably buried under piles of books. And when someone had that many books, it was hard to find a book you could be sure he’d like that he didn’t already have. Besides, that’s what I’d given him as a secret Santa gift. With a groan I said, “I’d better get going. I have my work cut out for me.”

I did a little window-shopping in the general area around Union Square, but no modest yet meaningful—but not too meaningful—gifts perfect for a man I was just getting to know jumped out at me. No enemies popped by to make veiled threats or cause magical havoc, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. It would have been really nice if I could have tackled Ari, turned her in, and ended this whole thing. After a while, I gave up on either finding the perfect gift or having the bad guys show themselves. Instead of doing more intense shopping, I went home, hoping I’d have word from Owen about how things were going. Alas, the “message waiting” light on the answering machine remained unblinking and unlit.

I’d underestimated Owen’s abilities, for I’d barely hung up my coat when the phone rang. The timing was too perfect for it to be a coincidence. “Katie?” a voice on the other end said when I answered. “It’s Owen.”

Like I didn’t recognize his voice almost instantly, even though we’d only ever spoken on the phone at work. “How are things going?” I asked, grateful that he’d called when I was at home alone, so I could talk freely.

“It’s tedious,” he said, but I could tell from his tone that it was the kind of methodical, painstaking, analytical work he enjoyed. “She definitely had help, but I’m not recognizing the fingerprints. Something’s odd about it all. We’ve got the security team searching the city, and I’ll probably be here all day. How’s your Saturday going?”

“Not bad. One of my friends dropped by, and I did some shopping, so it all worked out.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Do you have dinner plans tomorrow night?”

“Not at all.”

“How does six sound?”

“Works for me.”

“Good, then I’ll come by and get you. I told you I’d make it up to you.”

“I believed you,” I hurried to assure him.

“I just hate to start on the wrong foot.”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, I’d better get back to work,” he said, and I could practically hear him blushing over the phone.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Don’t work too hard today.”

“I won’t.” But if I knew him, he would. I’d have bet money that he’d have dark circles under his eyes when he came to pick me up for our date.

By the middle of the next afternoon, I was in serious danger of having some dark circles, myself. I hadn’t slept much as I’d continued to worry about what to give Owen for Christmas—if I should give him anything at all so soon after starting to date him—and, of course, what I should wear to go to dinner with him.

After church and a quick lunch, I’d headed out shopping, presumably to consider gifts, but in large part to look for ideas of something to wear. I’d lectured Owen on not worrying about making a good first impression on me, but I was doing the same thing as I fretted about this first real date.

As I walked up Broadway in SoHo, looking more at the shop windows than at where I was going, I bumped into something soft. I yelped and jumped backward. I hadn’t exactly been paying attention, but I surely would have seen another person that close to me. When I got my bearings and realized who the person was, I knew I hadn’t lost my peripheral vision. It’s easy to bump into someone who’s just materialized right in front of you.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, dear,” Ethelinda said. “Just popping in where and when I’m needed.”

“I don’t really need you right now.”

“Don’t you? You’re having quite the dilemma at the moment.” She tilted her head to one side. “I know you don’t want my assistance with your affairs, but could I offer you one gift?”

Suspicious, I asked, “Like what?”

“A little wardrobe advice. For your dinner tonight. Wardrobe is part of my job.”

Looking at her and her weird, mismatched layers of clothes—today with an outer layer of dark green washed silk trimmed in yellowed lace, yesterday’s rose velvet peeking from underneath—I wasn’t so sure she was qualified, but what could it hurt? I could always ignore what she said, and I did desperately need wardrobe advice. “Okay, sure. What should I wear tonight?”

She tapped her wand against her lips and pondered. “Based on his profile, I believe you’d do best in something classic, not showy. He appreciates function over form. Good material, good workmanship, that’s what impresses him, although he won’t be consciously aware of it.” I had to admit, she had Owen pegged. Not that I owned anything like that or could afford to buy it. I supposed I could borrow something from Gemma or Marcia.

“Thanks, that’s good advice,” I said, but then before I could react, she’d waved her wand at me. I felt a tingle all over, then I looked down and saw myself wearing a red satin dress with a hoop skirt. I couldn’t say anything in protest because the corset was so tight I couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, no, that won’t do at all,” Ethelinda said, shaking her head. “Wrong century, and possibly the wrong season.” She waved her wand again, and I gasped to catch my breath once the restriction around my chest was gone. Whatever she’d put me in this time, at least it was more comfortable, although it scratched my neck. I looked at my reflection in a nearby shop window and saw that I was wearing a high-necked, starchy Victorian blouse and long skirt. “Now, that is fetching on you,” Ethelinda said, “but I don’t think it’s quite right for the occasion.” This time when she waved the wand, I went back to the outfit I had been wearing. I glanced around worriedly, even though I was pretty sure nobody could see me changing outfits while standing on the sidewalk. Then again, in that neighborhood, it might not even raise an eyebrow. They’d think it was a photo shoot for a fashion magazine.

“Oh, I know just the thing,” Ethelinda said, her eyes lighting up with delight. She waved her wand, and suddenly my coat was a lot nicer. It fit me perfectly, it was made of fine material, and it didn’t have that stain on the lapel that came from trying to drink coffee while walking to work. Intrigued, I unbuttoned the coat and saw a beautiful silk jersey dress underneath.

“Wow, thanks, this is gorgeous,” I said, still reeling slightly from the rapid changes of wardrobe. I probably would have gone through just as many outfits at home as I tried to decide what to wear, but I wouldn’t have gone through such extremes or ultimately found anything so nice. Then I remembered the way these things tended to go in the stories. “Does this outfit have an expiration date? Am I going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight or suddenly be nude, or anything like that?”

“It’s supposed to last until the next day, though to be honest, I’m not sure if that’s defined as midnight or sunup. You’d probably best be home by midnight, to play it safe. Not that you should be out later than midnight on a first date,” she added with a “tsk-tsk” gesture from her wand.