Damsel Under Stress (8 page)

“You are?” She raised her voice and called into the living room, where Marcia was packing. “She’s going to meet the hottie’s folks!”

A second later, Marcia was in the bedroom. “Really? He’s taking you home for Christmas?”

“It’s not like that. They don’t even know we’re dating. They just know that I’m a friend from work who was going to be alone for Christmas, and they invited me.” They looked at each other and rolled their eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I know. I don’t believe it either, but that’s honestly what he seems to think.”

“They are totally going to be checking you out and trying to see why he’s been talking about you,” Marcia confirmed.

“Okay, this is a minor emergency,” Gemma said, hurrying to the closet. “You may not be meeting the parents in an official girlfriend sense, but you are meeting the parents, and this is your only chance to make a good first impression.” She disappeared into the closet, then returned with a small suitcase. “This should do. It’s good quality but not covered with designer labels.”

“I’ve got an overnight bag,” I said.

“You have a glorified gym bag. Take this. Now, what do you know about them?”

“They live in some village on the Hudson. I think they’re rich. And he says they’re pretty formal. They dress for dinner.”

“Okay, got it.” She disappeared into the closet again, then returned with an armful of sweaters. “You have to have cashmere. I’d suggest going with subdued and classy—nothing too obvious, but definitely not bargain bin or trendy. That’s the safest bet for meeting any parents for the first time.”

“And then I have to come up with some gifts,” I said.

Gemma groaned. “Oh, we don’t have time to do this right. I wish I wasn’t leaving town.”

“If you weren’t leaving town, this wouldn’t be an issue. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I can shop for myself, you know.”

She didn’t look convinced, but Marcia said, “Yeah, Gemma, she’s a big girl now.” She went back to her own packing, and I spent the rest of the evening listening to Gemma rattling off ideas for presents.

I was looking forward to some rare private time when I got home from work the next evening, but I’d barely had time to take my coat off before the intercom buzzed. I hit the button, and it was Philip’s voice asking for Gemma that answered me.

“Gemma went home for Christmas today,” I told him. “Didn’t she tell you?”

There was a pause, then he said, “No, she didn’t. May I speak with you?”

This was my first good chance to have an honest heart-to-heart, magic and all, with Philip, so I said, “Come on up,” and buzzed him in.

He knocked on the door a few seconds later. “Would you like some tea?” I asked as I took his coat.

“Yes, please,” he said. He looked exhausted and utterly miserable. “When did she leave?” he asked as I put tea and a plate of Christmas cookies in front of him. He reflexively stood as I moved to take my seat across from him at the table, then resumed his seat when I sat.

“Today during the day. She’s coming back late Christmas night. This whole trip was very sudden. She just found out about the last-minute fare sale yesterday, and last night she was so busy getting ready that I guess she forgot to let you know.”

He sighed and bit the head off a gingerbread man. I couldn’t help but flinch. “Perhaps,” he said.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry or get into your business, but as you may recall, I do know something about what you really are, and I suspect most of your issues with Gemma have to do with that. You’re out of your time, which has to be disconcerting. Things have changed a lot, particularly the courtship rituals. For example, engraved invitations and chaperones aren’t really necessary these days.”

“Yes, she made that clear to me.”

“We have other ways to communicate,” I went on, but before I could start on the wonders of the cellular phone, he pulled a tiny flip-phone model out of his breast pocket. It was even fancier than Gemma’s. “Okay, you’ve figured that part out for yourself.”

“I suspect she’s feeling neglected,” he said, snapping a leg off his gingerbread man. “I have been busy, but I can’t explain to her why I’ve been busy.”

“What’s keeping you so busy?”

“I’m trying to regain my family business. An unscrupulous associate of my father’s was the one who enchanted me, and then when my disappearance was never explained and I never returned, he inherited the business upon my father’s death. His descendants are still running the business, and I must take back what is rightfully mine.”

“Yeah, that would tend to keep you busy,” I agreed. “And you’re right, it would be hard to explain. But have you told her you’re busy at work? She should understand that much.”

He reassembled the headless gingerbread man on his plate, shoving the broken leg back into place with his index finger. “I’m not even certain that us being together is a good idea at this time. She came across me when I was feeling very lost, and she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Now, though, I have business I must attend to, and her association with me could put her at risk from my enemies. I cannot expect her to wait for me, either.”

“You know, I work for the big guns in the magical world, so I’m sure I could get you some help if you needed it.”

Hope flickered in his eyes. “I could use your assistance with something. As I understand it, you’re a magical immune.”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with the new head of what should be my company. He doesn’t know who I am, simply that I’m a potential investor. It might be useful to have a magical immune present to help me determine if underhanded means are being used.”

“I guess I could do that. When’s the meeting, and what’s your excuse for having me with you?”

“The meeting is Thursday afternoon. I thought perhaps you could pose as my wife or lady friend.”

“Undercover work sounds like fun, and I get off early that day. Maybe I could be the daughter of a Texas oilman with money of my own to invest.”

The blank expression on his face reminded me that he’d never seen an episode of
Dallas.
He nodded politely and said, “Whatever you think is best. The meeting is at two in the afternoon. Shall I call for you here?”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine.”

“I appreciate your assistance. And I thank you for the tea.” He put on his coat and hat and left, and I finally had the apartment all to myself. Talking about Gemma’s relationship issues reminded me of my own. While I was looking forward to living out all of my romantic holiday fantasies now that I finally had someone to share them with, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. I was about to meet Owen’s foster parents, and I knew they’d see this as a big event. I had to find gifts.

If ever there was one, this sounded like a time to call on a fairy godmother. I went to my nightstand to retrieve Ethelinda’s locket from the jewelry box I kept in the back of the drawer. I hesitated, though, as I sat on my bed and prepared to open the locket to summon the fairy godmother. I was almost always a hit with the parents of men I dated, even if the men weren’t so crazy about me. In fact, back home I’d been the number-one choice of parents for their sons’ girlfriend, which was one of the reasons I’d had so few dates in high school (three overprotective big brothers were among the other reasons). It wasn’t as though I needed a fairy godmother to help me with that sort of thing.

I put the locket back into my nightstand drawer and closed it. A firework then went off right outside the bedroom window. That window faced a narrow air shaft—so narrow I was sure if the people across the air shaft needed to borrow a cup of sugar, we could easily pass it over. It was unlikely that anyone was shooting off fireworks in that confined space. I went to the window, raised the blinds, opened the window, and leaned my head out to see what was going on.

Five

I
jumped back in surprise when I saw Ethelinda hovering right outside my window. “I can’t enter your home magically,” she said. “Your young man does very good wards. I couldn’t find a single chink in them.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I didn’t summon you. There’s no need for you to come inside.”

“You don’t have to summon me. I’ve been watching your case, and it seems to me that you’re in need of advice.”

“No, not really, thanks. I’ve got it under control.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh?”

“Tsk, tsk, what kind of response is that, Kathleen? It’s better to say, ‘Pardon,’ or ‘Excuse me.’”

“What does me eating have to do with anything?” I clarified.

“It’s better to discuss these things over food, don’t you think?”

No, I didn’t think. Eating meant being in public with a fairy godmother who seemed a bit ditzy. I could never be sure she’d remember to hide her magic from the rest of the world. Never mind the fact that I didn’t need her there. “That’s not necessary,” I insisted.

“Nonsense. You’re meeting his family. This is important. If this goes wrong, your future together may be doomed. Put on your coat and meet me outside.” She vanished in a shower of silver sparkles before I had a chance to argue. There went my plans for a quiet evening at home alone, but I didn’t feel I had much choice. She’d probably set off more fireworks and annoy the neighbors until she got her way. I got my coat and purse and went downstairs to find Ethelinda waiting for me on the sidewalk.

This time, she was dressed like the Sugar Plum Fairy in a really old production of
The Nutcracker,
from back when they wore their tutus almost down to their ankles instead of in a little ruffle around their hips. Her previous outfits, including the rose velvet and green silk, hung out from under the hem, and the blue satin of her bodice was so faded it was almost white. It was missing a few pearls around the neckline, the threads that had once held them hanging free.

I hoped she had a good illusion hiding all that from the rest of the world. If not, I supposed I could pass myself off as a good Samaritan taking a bag lady out to dinner. Speaking of which, I wondered if I was expected to pay for the meal. I wasn’t sure how much money I had on me. None of the etiquette lessons my mother had taught me covered how you were supposed to interact with your fairy godmother, and I didn’t recall Cinderella ever going to a restaurant with hers in the stories. Technically, Ethelinda had invited me, but she didn’t seem like the kind of person who carried cash.

As soon as my feet hit the sidewalk, she turned and fluttered off, glancing over her shoulder and saying, “Well, come along.”

She had a distinct advantage with her wings, so I had to trot to keep up with her. This was starting to feel like a big mistake. There were a lot of people I could ask about dealing with Owen’s parents, like Rod, who actually knew them. As far ahead of me as she was, all I had to do was stop running and she’d more than likely forget about me entirely, but then there was always the chance she’d pop back into my life at the most inconvenient time to make up for our missed meeting.

I soon realized she was leading me toward Owen’s house. She wouldn’t, would she? I made up my mind to refuse to go if that was her plan. I didn’t want him thinking I was so insecure about him that I’d resorted to consulting a fairy godmother.

Fortunately, she came to a stop in front of a neighborhood tavern around the corner from Owen’s house. There was a chance that he’d be there eating dinner, but I suspected if he’d planned to eat out, he would have invited me to join him on our way home from work.

Ethelinda breezed right in and commandeered a table. The waiters didn’t even blink, so I suspected magic was involved. Soon after we sat down, steak dinners appeared in front of us. I supposed that took care of the “who pays?” issue.

“Now, let’s talk about this holiday with his family.”

Before I could open my mouth to say anything, I noticed that her attention had strayed. I turned my head to see what she was staring at and saw a thirtysomething couple sitting at a nearby table. They’d finished their meals and were drinking coffee, apparently waiting for dessert. I didn’t see anything about them that might have drawn a fairy godmother’s attention. They weren’t fighting, and they certainly didn’t look awkward. They had an old-married-couple comfort level about them.

“Tsk, tsk. What a pity,” Ethelinda said.

I turned back to her. “What’s a pity?”

“They’ve been together so long, but something is missing. They need a boost to get them going in the right direction.” She beamed suddenly. “And I know just the thing.”

A waiter walked by us, carrying a tray with two desserts on it. As he passed, Ethelinda waved her wand. I turned my head to watch the waiter set the desserts on the table. A second or two later, the woman squealed in surprise—a happy squeal.

“Oh Mike! I love it! I thought you’d never…Yes, definitely yes!” She took a diamond ring from her dessert plate and slipped it onto her ring finger, then held her hand up to admire it as tears of joy streamed down her face.

A little choked up myself, I turned back to Ethelinda. “I take it that was your doing?”

She looked smug. “It’s very simple, really.” For a moment, I halfway expected her to launch into some “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo” type song about how fairy godmothers work, but before she could explain how simple affecting the course of true love was, there was a commotion from the engagement table.

“Where did you get that?” the man’s voice asked.

I turned just enough to watch without looking like I was staring. The rest of the restaurant was also looking, and most of them weren’t even pretending to mind their own business. So much for New Yorkers being too jaded to stare. If there was enough potential juice involved, they were as likely as anyone else to take a gander.

“It was on my dessert plate,” the woman replied, her voice trembling. “You mean—you mean you didn’t set this up to have it put there?”

“Why would I? I thought I told you how I felt about marriage. I’m not looking for that kind of commitment. Are you trying to trap me into something?”

“Mike, we’ve been living together for ten years. That seems pretty committed to me. What difference would a ring, a ceremony, and a piece of paper make?”