“Thanks, Dad.”
“Are you talking to yourself again, Nash?” asks my mother from the passthrough; she’s heard whispering but hasn’t spotted me yet.
“No, Mom. I’m here too,” I step around my dad, go through the swinging doors, and enter the restaurant’s sunshine-yellow dining room. Our faerie ancestors, dressed in Renaissance-style garb or old-fashioned military uniforms, are in various states of repose on the walls, dozing inside their picture frames. Antique oak booths line three walls, and a large counter runs along the back wall. Five gargoyles, one per carved corbel, stand beneath the counter. They’re behaving for now, but they’re cheeky little monsters.
A pretty, middle-aged woman, my mom is still glamoured; not a single hair is out of place in her auburn bob. We’re complete opposites; Mom can work a fourteen-hour day and still look fresh as a newborn unicorn (I suspect her faerie magic is involved), while I’m barely functional after eight hours, with wild hair, streaky mascara, and droopy wings.
I wait for Mom to say something, anything, but she purses her lips and gazes steadily at me; looks like it’s up to me to break the silence. My lower lip wobbles slightly as I say, “I thought you would’ve defended me yesterday with Granny. It really hurts to know your own mother won’t stick up for you with the elder council.”
Mom blinks rapidly, like I’ve wounded her somehow, and now I feel both sadandguilty. “It tore me up insideto watch my mother strip away your magic; I cried myself to sleep last night.”
“You did?”
She nods. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I disagreed with the punishment. Your grandmother has to follow the ordinances established centuries ago to protect supernaturals everywhere… and the misapplication of magic is a serious violation.”
I heave a sigh. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be like you and Granny… a powerful gatekeeping faerie… and not just an ordinary kitchen faerie.”
Since Mom is still in her human form, it’s a lot less dramatic when she quirks one auburn eyebrow. “I love kitchen faeries; they have amazing magic! It was your father’s incredible cooking that first attracted me… and then when I got to know him… well, I was lost.” Her face softens as she gazes at me. “You have no idea how relieved I was when I realized you’d inherited your father’s magic—and not mine.”
My forehead puckers in surprise; my mom has never told me this before. “You wererelieved? But why? I’d think you would have wanted your daughter to inherit your magic.”
“Quite the opposite; I never wanted you to be encumbered with the weight of my magic.”
“But you can do practically anything! You instinctively know what our customers need to eat as soon as they enter the restaurant; you make incredible desserts. You pinch-hit for Granny when she can’t attend the elder council meetings, and you keep those little stone fiends in line.” I point at the five gargoyles beneath thecounter, who are fake-crying and patting each other’s wings.
Stars above! Those stinkers are making fun of my clipped wings!
Mom turns around, glares at the horrid creatures, and murmurs an incantation. I hear five loudthwacks; each nasty gargoyle hops to attention and stares straight ahead. “Did you just?—”
“I just spanked their bottoms.”
“See… that’s what I mean!” I exclaim. “You have wonderful magic.”
“No, sweetheart, I have burdensome magic. Sure, I enjoy helping my customers, and I love baking treats with a little extra faerie dust inside… but not the rest of it… and especially not looking after those gargoyles. Ugh! I wish I’d never crossed their mother.”
I pause, not sure I heard her correctly; Mom hasneverdisclosed how she wound up with those five obnoxious gargoyles. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you think you’re the only impetuous faerie in the family?” My mom shakes her head. “I challenged Matron Verda, one of the gargoyle elders, to a ‘friendly’ magical competition many years ago… and I lost. Now I’m stuck babysitting her five sons for a hundred years!”
My mouth gapes open. “Sothat’swhat really happened? There are all sorts of stories floating around town about how you bravely battled five horrid gargoyles and eventually won, forcing them into a hundred years of servitude for their wicked behavior.”
“Hmm…” says Mom. “I wonder who could have spread such falsehoods?”
“Youstarted those rumors?” I’m shocked that my Goody Two-Wings mother was ever such a baddie.
My mother winks. “Some secrets are best kept within the family.” Then she drapes an arm around my shoulders. “I think you need some of my caramel-fudge brownies to go… don’t you?”
“How did you… oh never mind,” I chuckle, realizing Mom’s magic is giving her insight into what food would make me feel better. “Actually, I could use a dozen.”
We both laugh, and some of the tightness in my chest loosens. Mom sends me away with brownies, a fresh batch of sugar cookies, and another hug.
After much internal debate,I decide to wear my red, two-piece swimsuit under a long, red-and-gold sarong and a golden linen top that floats just above my waistline. I have strappy, flat sandals on my feet, the kind with rubber soles so I don’t slip if the deck gets wet.
I arrive early at the dock to help Pru carry the food and beverages onto Vreeland’s sleek new yacht. At five-thirty we’re ready to depart, but there’s no sign of Rafe. Vreeland and I both check our phones; there’s no message from him either, but we’re in an area with poor reception. Vreeland glances over at me. “I’ll wait fifteen minutes, but then we should head out.”
“Fair enough.” I know how antsy sailors get when they’re ready to depart and something or someone holds them up.
“I’m sorry everyone,” says Rafe sheepishly, turningup at five-thirty-eight. “I wound up at the wrong marina and had to backtrack.” In black jeans and a long-sleeved gray tee, Rafe is just as muscular and good-looking as I recall, and he’s giving off the same tough-guy vibes as the first time we met.
