Damsel Under Stress (9 page)

“Exactly my point.”

“It would make me happy. It would make me feel secure. That’s the difference it would make for me. But I guess making me happy would be too much effort. I wouldn’t want to pin you down.” She stood and pulled the ring off, moved as if she was about to throw it at him, then thought better of it and put it in her pocket before she grabbed her purse and coat. “I want you out of my apartment before I get home from work tomorrow.”

Cringing, I turned back to Ethelinda, who was blissfully eating her dinner. “That went well,” I remarked.

“Yes, it did,” she replied, completely missing my sarcasm. “She can’t find the right man if she’s stuck herself to the wrong one. Now she’s open for new possibilities.”

“You mean, you planned for that to happen?”

She looked enigmatic as she took a bite of her steak. “Now, about your problem.”

“It’s not really a problem, but if you’ve got anything in that book of yours about Owen’s family, that might help.”

“Of course I have something about his family. I have access to all records pertinent to your relationship. That’s how I knew you’d been invited to spend Christmas with them.” Her book appeared in her hand, and she retrieved her lopsided glasses from within the layers of her bodice. “Hmm, now, that’s odd. There aren’t supposed to be blank pages in here,” she muttered. Before I could ask what she meant about blank pages, she said, “Oh, there we are. The Eatons, Gloria and James. Married late in life, no natural children. Goodness, but it took some effort to get those two together.” She looked up at me across the top of her glasses. “They’re very stubborn.” Turning her attention back to the book, she continued, “Took in an orphaned child after their retirement from the university at the request of an old friend. Hmm, that part’s strangely blank, too. Very odd.”

She snapped the book shut, it vanished, then she took off her glasses and looked at me. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing here that would be of much use to you.”

“That’s okay. It was worth a shot.” I turned my attention to my dinner. It wasn’t often that I got steak, so I didn’t intend to waste this chance.

Ethelinda’s attention strayed again. There was another couple seated near us. This couple did seem to have a cool emotional distance between them. They were cordial but didn’t show any signs of affection. Both of them wore business suits, and that gave me the impression that maybe this wasn’t a date. When the woman bent and pulled a folder from the briefcase at her feet, it confirmed my impression.

Before I could say anything to stop Ethelinda, she had waved her wand at another passing waiter’s tray. When the waiter placed the woman’s plate in front of her, there was a long-stemmed red rose alongside it. “From the gentleman,” the waiter said.

The woman went very pale, then abruptly turned red as she leaned across the table, clearly trying to keep her voice low but unable to succeed, as angry as she was. “What is this?” she hissed. “You know I’m married. I never had you pegged as such a sleaze.” All the poor guy at the table with her could do was stammer incoherently.

Someone had to deal with this, and since I was the only person around who had the slightest clue what was going on, it looked like it would have to be me. I slipped out of my seat, hurried over to the bar, and fluttered my eyelashes at the bartender. “Can I borrow your apron for a second? I just noticed a friend of mine is eating here and she hasn’t seen me yet. I thought it would be funny to pretend to be a waitress and surprise her.”

I must have improved my eyelash-fluttering technique, or else it really is true that you suddenly become a lot more attractive to all men as soon as you get a boyfriend, for he grinned at me and untied the apron. I put it on and approached the table where the woman was still teaching a sexual harassment seminar to her shell-shocked colleague.

“Excuse me,” I said, hoping neither of them had noticed me sitting at a nearby table. “There’s been a mistake. I’m very sorry, but the order numbers and table numbers got mixed up back in the kitchen. You weren’t supposed to get this.” I grabbed the rose off the table. “I’m sorry if there’s been any misunderstanding about this. I hope I’m not too late to get this rose to the proposal that’s supposed to happen in the other room!”

The man and woman stared at each other for a moment, then the woman hid her face behind her folder and burst into nervous giggles. “I’m so sorry! I guess I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” she said.

As I walked away, untying the apron, I heard him say, “Believe me, I’ll never make a pass at you. Not that I don’t think you’re attractive, but…Okay, can we just forget all this? There’s nothing I can say right now that wouldn’t sound like an insult or get me in trouble.”

I handed the bartender his apron, then presented him the rose with a flourish. “Thanks! I’ll never forget the look on her face,” I told him, then I hurried back to Ethelinda before he could say anything. I hoped she hadn’t done anything else while I was gone.

“For what it’s worth,” I said as I took my seat, “there are reasons other than romance for men and women to have dinner together, and you might want to be sure of the reasons before you interfere. You could have ruined that man’s career.”

She gave a haughty sniff, then summoned dessert. I thought she might have forgotten about my own issues in all the excitement, but just as I dug into the chocolate cake, she asked, “And things are going well for you otherwise? How was your dinner Sunday night?”

I had to blink myself back to my own relationship concerns. After what I’d seen from her this evening, I knew the last thing I wanted was to have her involved. “Things are going great,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. “I doubt he’d have invited me home for Christmas with him if they weren’t. And we’re going out later this week.”

“Your dinner, though? It went well? Your outfit was good?”

“The outfit was a big hit, and the dinner was good, too. It started a little awkwardly, but the friends-to-dating transition can be a challenge. We seem to have worked it out, though.”

“Nothing happened, did it?”

I instantly grew suspicious. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing unusual?”

“You mean like the restaurant catching on fire?”

“Heavens! Is that what happened?” She seemed so stunned that either she was innocent or she was Dame Judi Dench in costume and makeup, turning in another Oscar-caliber performance.

“Yeah, but it was a minor fire and nobody was hurt.”

She fanned herself and looked like she was having heart palpitations. “A brush with disaster! That doesn’t happen to my clients!”

I grew suspicious again. She was pouring it on awfully thick. “It’s okay, really. Everything worked out.”

“It did?”

“Yes, it did, so relax.”

“That’s good to hear.” She finished her dessert, the empty plates vanished from the table, and she said, “Do you need anything else from me?”

I hadn’t actually needed that much from her, but I said, “That’s it. I hope I didn’t waste your time.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Pish tosh. Time spent with my clients is never wasted, and I needed to eat. Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

“Nothing. My roommate’s already loaned me her cashmere sweater collection, so I don’t need any wardrobe help. I don’t need you to turn a pumpkin into a glass BMW. We’ve got our next date planned, and I think I’ll be okay. Yeah, I’m a little nervous, but that’s part of the fun of a new relationship. The butterflies only intensify everything.”

“Well then, you know how to reach me if you change your mind.” She got up, and I followed her out of the tavern, where she abruptly vanished in her usual burst of glitter. I was halfway tempted to sneak around to Owen’s street and see if his lights were on. Both his study and his bedroom overlooked the street. But, knowing my luck, his Katie radar would be working and he’d look out the window just in time to catch me, and then I’d feel like an idiot. Instead, I hurried home, wondering what was missing from those blank pages Ethelinda mentioned.

Owen was at a meeting and I was sitting at my desk in the makeshift office in Owen’s lab the next morning when Rod stuck his head around the whiteboard. “Hi!” he said. He was still wearing his hair the way I’d seen it on Sunday, and his skin looked better than I’d ever seen it before.

“Are you exfoliating?” I asked without thinking about what I was saying.

Before I could apologize, he grinned and said, “Yeah. You can tell the difference?”

“You look fresh and well rested.” I thought that was a diplomatic way to avoid saying his skin usually had pores you could drive a truck through.

“Then I guess getting sucked in by that saleswoman at Bloomingdale’s was worth it. I thought maybe she’d give me her phone number if I bought enough stuff. Is Owen around?”

“Departmental meeting,” I replied. “It could be an hour or more. Did you need something?”

He patted the fat envelope he carried. “I’ve got those results on employee magic use for his comparison project.”

“Oh yeah, that. I can take them and give them to him when he gets back, unless there’s something else you needed to talk to him about.”

“No, that’s fine. I can leave them with you.”

He turned to go, but I said, “Can I talk to you a second?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“I don’t know if you know this already, but I’m going home with Owen for Christmas. I was hoping you could give me the scoop on his foster family.”

He gave a low, long whistle. “Oh boy. That’s a topic for a dissertation.”

“That bad?”

“I wouldn’t say bad, but yeah, there are some things I should warn you about.”

That sounded even more ominous than Ethelinda’s blank pages. “Pull up a chair,” I told him.

He grabbed a chair from the lab outside, then turned around and waved his hand at the lab doorway while muttering some words under his breath. “An alarm, so he can’t sneak up on us,” he explained before sitting down. “I don’t know the whole story because I was a kid when James and Gloria took Owen in. They were good to him. There was never any sign of physical or emotional abuse. But they never really warmed to him. I’m not sure why they agreed to bring up a child when they seemed to have no interest in children whatsoever. I don’t even think he was related to them in any way.”

“He sounds like he’s a bit in awe of them.”

“They’re the kind of people you tend to be in awe of. They wouldn’t look out of place wearing crowns. They’re not really all that warm to anyone, to be honest, so I don’t think it’s all directed at Owen.”

“He also makes it sound like they’re very clear on the fact that they’re his foster parents, not real parents.”

“They never adopted him, I know that much, but I don’t know why, and they always had him call them by their names, never anything like ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad.’ But as foster parents they should have been free of their obligations to him when he turned eighteen. He was even prepared for them to cut him loose then. That’s when he went into the custom-spell business at school, so he could stay at Yale even if they quit paying the bills. But nothing at all changed when he turned eighteen. They kept paying his school bills and sending him an allowance even on into graduate school, and they kept expecting him home for holidays until he finished his studies and moved to New York.”

“What are they like, other than being very regal?”

“They’re proper. They’re demanding. They don’t use magic at home—they don’t believe in shortcuts.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to say. If they suggested that Owen invite you—and he wouldn’t have dared unless they suggested it—I think it’s a good sign. They probably think you’re good for Owen, and I’d have to agree with them. They might not act like normal parents toward him, but he’s been the center of their lives since they took him in.”

“So, bottom line, what should I do?”

He shrugged. “Be yourself. Follow their lead. And dress before you go to breakfast.”

“What?”

“Seriously. Owen says he’s never seen them in their pajamas. They get fully dressed before they leave their bedroom, every single day.”

“Wow. Now, that’s formal. Hey, do you think they’re really something nonhuman, only it’s hidden by illusion, and the clothes are somehow part of covering it all up?”

“I have no idea. But if you notice anything unusual, you’ll have to let me know.”

As he left my office, I realized that I might be in for a very interesting Christmas. I faced either magical royalty or some other kind of mysterious being that had fostered my boyfriend.

My crazy family Christmases from childhood were starting to feel very tame in comparison.

We only had to work a half day Thursday, so when it was time to shut down for the holiday, I stuck my head in Owen’s office door and asked, “Are you ready to leave?”

He looked up at me, frowning. “Is it that time already?”

“Five minutes past.”

“I still have a few things to wrap up. You don’t mind heading out by yourself, do you?”

Not only did I not mind, I was relieved. I needed to do some shopping, and I had that meeting with Philip. “That’s okay. I’ve got stuff to take care of. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. See you then.” He’d already returned to his work by the time I turned to leave his office, and he didn’t seem to notice when I left for the day, judging by the fact that he didn’t respond to my farewell as I passed his open office door. He was lost in his project and probably would be for the rest of the day, if not all night.

Shopping for Owen’s foster parents looked like it was going to be quite the challenge. Owen himself had to ask me for advice to get them anything more personal than a gift basket or a charity donation in their name. Their apparent wealth and grandeur made them even more difficult to shop for on my budget.

After looking at and rejecting any number of items as I browsed the stalls of the Union Square holiday market, I came to the conclusion that when it came to finding gifts for people like that, it took either a lot of money or a lot of personal effort. Personal effort I could do. I had a nearly finished cross-stitch sampler somewhere in the closet, so if I got a nice frame and buckled down to work, I figured that I could have it done and offer a truly personal gift. There was an ornate metal frame at one of the stalls that seemed ideal. I bought Owen a nice wool muffler that would go well with his coat and that had blue flecks in it that matched his eyes. It seemed a safe enough gift, personal without being too personal and demonstrating that I had some concern for him.