The Magic of Love Series

by Margaret Locke

  There is no situation, Cat wanted to protest. But unease spread through her. Eliza wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t wondered, even if she hadn’t admitted it fully to herself.

  “Fine,” she said, walking over to the register desk. She pulled Jill’s photocopies of the book out of her bag and sat down, turning to the last page. “Can you grab me a Latin dictionary off of the shelf?”

  As Eliza rushed to get the book, Cat pulled a pencil out of the pens and pencils jar. She started to translate.

  “‘From her beginning to her end,

  The power remains with she who has been chosen.

  Use it carefully.

  As you sow, so shall you reap.

  Give and receive.

  Write and believe.

  Love has much to teach you. Learn from it.

  And open your heart to what may be.’”

  The two women sat quietly, both staring at the ornate illustration drawn underneath the final words. It was of a woman with long, wavy brunette hair and gray eyes, seated on a throne-like chair and holding a book in her left hand, a quill in her right. She stared out from the page with a commanding gaze. Cat turned the paper to the left and to the right. I swear her eyes are following mine.

  “She looks like you,” Eliza murmured, tracing her finger over the woman’s face.

  “Eliza, come on. She does not. This is insane.” Except she did, in a stylized, medieval sort of way.

  “Whatever you say. I’m rather fond of my theory, myself.”

  “Theory?”

  “That you’ve been given the power to create the Perfect Man.” She patted her friend on the shoulder. “Could you please make a Darcy of my very own for me? I don’t ask for much. Just a duke. In England. Who’s wealthy. With his own Pemberley. And who lives at the same time as Jane Austen, because I’ve always wanted to meet her, you know.”

  “Eliza ...” A nervous giggle bubbled in Cat’s throat. Her friend was putting her on. Right?

  “Okay, yeah.” Eliza exhaled heavily. “It’s much more likely all my fanciful notions are exactly that—fanciful—and that you knew Derrick twenty years ago, and that Grayson is an odd coincidence. A ... very odd coincidence. I mean, come on. Even I know my romance novels are just that—novels.”

  She tapped her finger against her lips. “But there’s a side of me that has always believed in ghosts, always wondered about paranormal phenomena, always wondered if time travel was truly possible. And that side of me has tingles up and down my spine.”

  Cat set the papers back on the end table. Eliza wasn’t the only one with tingles, but Cat wasn’t about to admit that out loud. “You can have your fantasies. I’m going to stick to reality, which tells me the only logical explanation—the only possible explanation—is exactly what you said; I took something I knew of at the time and wove a stupid story about it. That’s all. And Grayson certainly isn’t the only grad student ever looking to get some tail.”

  Eliza giggled.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “You, friend. I’m thinking it’s you who can have her fantasies now, not I.”

  Eliza ducked before the pencil could hit her.

  They both burst out laughing. After a moment, Cat sobered, chewing on a new pencil as she stared down at the photocopies.

  “It’s true that I don’t know how to explain it. And that it seems weird to me, too.” Not that some medieval book of love stories had anything to do with it.

  “The Law of Attraction,” Eliza said, snapping her fingers. “Maybe you’ve been attracting what you thought you wanted.”

  “I wanted a guy stuck in high school, and a guy anxious to score as quickly as possible? I need higher aspirations.” She didn’t dare mention wanting a computer scientist already spoken for. Eliza would have a field day with that.

  “Well, you were thinking about them, right? I mean, having just rediscovered your stories and all. It’s not so far-fetched that you put those vibes out into the universe and got an answer back.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Are you going all new-agey on me?”

  “Hey, Joy was always talking about what the universe gives us, and what we give the universe. Who’s to say it isn’t true?”

  Cat mulled that over. It was a pretty feeble explanation. Better than believing characters you wrote about years ago have come to life. Because that’s completely insane.

  Eliza ran her fingers along the top of one of the nearby bookshelves. “You could always test it, you know.”

  “Test what?”

  Her friend peeked at her out of lowered eyes. “Whether the book and those stories you wrote are somehow connected to Derrick and Grayson.”

  Cat snorted. “Give it up, Eliza.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?”

  Cat stared at her. She was serious, wasn’t she? Everything in Cat wanted to laugh out loud, to scoff at Eliza’s ridiculous suggestion.

  On the other hand, Eliza was right: Cat had nothing to lose. Plus, she’d delight in teasing her friend about this for years to come, suggesting a book was a magic matchmaker. With her mouth tipping up in a smug grin, she shrugged. “You’re right. But how would I test it?”

  “Write something into the stories that wasn’t there before and see if reality changes.”

  “Brilliant. I’ll do that. If only to prove to you that I, in fact, cannot break all the rules of human reality.” She burst into uncontrollable giggles, at the same time as the door jiggled and a couple of college kids entered.

  “But not now.” She nodded toward the customers, attempting to regain her composure. “I know you have your evening seminar tonight, so let’s, um, talk about this again in the morning, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” Eliza said as she grabbed her coat back off the hook. “I’ve gotta go talk with Professor Avery about my dissertation chapter, anyway.” She cast a glance at the college students, who were chattering amongst themselves. “But I’m not letting you off the hook. First, the test. And then, my duke.”

  “Uh, Eliza? Prepare for disappointment.”

  Eliza winked as she opened the door. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 12

  The next morning as they entered the coffee shop, Cat stopped short. Derrick was sitting in the corner—with the cheerleader. Candy. Sickly-sweet.

  “I guess he got the message that you weren’t interested,” Eliza said.

  The woman said something to Derrick, who turned and looked right at Cat. He gave her a little wave, said something back to the cheerleader, then stood up and began walking toward them.

  “He’s coming over here,” whispered Eliza.

  “Um, I can see that,” Cat answered. Smoothing her hair back, she told herself she had nothing to be nervous about. Nothing to be nervous about. Besides the fact that Eliza thought she’d made this guy up. Ha. As if.

  Derrick stopped a few feet before her, looking unsure about whether or not he should approach her.

  “Hi, Derrick.” Cat attempted to sound relaxed.

  He rocked back and forth on his heels as if nervous, but answered her with a smile. “Hey. Nice to see you. It’s been a while. I figured when you didn’t call...” He trailed off.

  “Yeah.” She paused for a second. “It wasn’t you, it was me. I guess I’m not ready to be involved with anyone.” I’m such a liar. She smiled politely at him.

  “Derrick, did they call you something else in high school?” Eliza interrupted. “You know, like, did you have a nickname?”

  Derrick frowned.

  “Did they?” she persisted.

  “Yeah.” He squinted, confusion written on his face. “Ricky. I told Cat that.”

  “The girl that you dated? Abby? What did she look like?”

  Derrick’s eyes danced back and forth between her and Eliza. “You told her about Abby?” he said to Cat.

  She shifted, crossing her arms across her chest. “Yeah. I’m sorry, was it a secret?”

  Why was Eliza grilling him
?

  Eliza didn’t give up. “What did she look like?” she repeated.

  His lips narrowed. “A little like Cat, actually. Same color hair and grey eyes. Her hair was short, though.”

  “Buzzed in the back?” Cat broke in, unease snaking its way through her veins. She’d had her hair quite short in high school, a rebellion against the mullet from her middle school days. Looking at pictures from either era made her wince.

  “Uh, yeah. Look, why are you asking me these questions? I just wanted to say hi and wish you well, no hard feelings.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Eliza said, managing to sound flippant. “We were trying to figure out if we knew you or Abby back then.”

  “I don’t remember either of you.” He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, didn’t we go to different schools?”

  “Yeah,” Eliza said. “Guess we didn’t know you after all. Oh, well.”

  Glancing back at Candy, who was starting to look impatient, he said, “I should get back. Cat, um, you remember Candy?”

  “Yes,” Cat answered, giving Candy a friendly wave and a wide smile to reassure her she had nothing to worry about. “Give her our best.”

  “Will do,” he responded, before walking back to his table.

  Cat remained rooted to the floor, smiling an unnatural smile.

  Eliza yanked on her elbow, pulling her toward the counter. “Relax,” she whispered. “You don’t want everyone in here staring at us, do you?”

  Cat clutched her abdomen. “I think I need to sit down. Will you get me my regular?”

  “Sure.”

  Cat staggered toward a window booth, her stomach whirling. Her mind struggled to make sense of it all: the stories; Derrick being Ricky; Abby. But she couldn’t. It was like she was in a lucid dream—aware of everything going on around her, but with everything and everyone feeling surreal. Maybe I am dreaming. Maybe this is just one long nightmare.

  Eliza slid into the seat across from her, handing her coffee. “I had them add butterscotch, like you like.”

  “Thank you,” Cat mumbled, absentmindedly taking a sip, grateful for the comfortably familiar taste.

  Eliza took her fork and began eating the brownie she’d ordered. “Is that proof enough? I mean, come on. Derrick was called Ricky? His girlfriend was Abby? She looked like you, and even had the same hair?”

  “Lots of girls had my same hair.”

  Eliza snorted. “If you truly thought there was nothing going on here, you wouldn’t look so shell-shocked.”

  “So you believe I somehow magically created these men I’ve been dating?”

  “I’ve decided it’s within the realm of possibility,” Eliza conceded.

  Something raced up Cat’s spine, but whether it was excitement or fear, she wasn’t quite sure. It couldn’t be. Could it? This was an awful lot of coincidences in a row. The book talked about turning words into flesh. But for her, a mere human, to have created Derrick? “You can’t make people up, Eliza.”

  “Apparently you can, Cat,” Eliza cracked, laughing out loud.

  Cat choked on her coffee, staring at her wide-eyed. “How can you be so calm about this? This is crazy. You’re claiming I’ve done something no one but God has ever done: created another human being. Beings.”

  “Other people have created human beings, Cat. There’s just usually a lot more, um, physical pleasure in the process.” Eliza’s eyes sparkled. “But I don’t think we have definitive proof. It is still possible, after all, that you had heard of Derrick years ago, and also heard about his girlfriend, and you wove it into your story. And, well, you’re right; Grayson wouldn’t be the only hot-blooded male ever to roam the library stacks.”

  “That’s true.” Cat’s eyes brightened. “That could be true, couldn’t it?”

  “Sure. But let’s test it like we said last night. Change something in the story about Grayson and see if it shows up in real life.”

  “Fine,” Cat said, chewing on her lip. “I’ll change something. But it won’t do anything.” It won’t. The mere idea is insane. “Plus, I haven’t seen Grayson since the library. Who knows if we’ll ever cross paths again?” She couldn’t believe she was considering this. It was all so bizarre, so silly.

  “Maybe not. But it wouldn’t hurt to try.” Eliza swirled her latte with her spoon, her lips pursed in thought. “I think you should change something minor, something not likely to affect your relationship with him directly.”

  Cat rolled her eyes, still not believing they were talking about this. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, maybe his area of study? No, that would mess things up if he weren’t quoting sexy poetry to you. Maybe something about his family?”

  Cat hesitated for a moment. “I remember him telling me he was an only child. I could give him a sister.”

  “Yes!” Eliza said. “But how about making her a twin? That would be harder to chalk up to coincidence, in case you’re misremembering him claiming only-child status. You always say your memory isn’t the best.”

  Cat gave her a baleful look. “True,” she conceded, then took a sip of her drink. “All right, a sister. What should we name her?”

  “I think you should decide that, Cat. I’m pretty sure I don’t have your magic powers.”

  Cat kicked her under the table. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You certainly have the power to annoy me.”

  Eliza stuck her tongue out. “Right back atcha.”

  Setting her mug down, Cat said, “Okay, we’ve dawdled long enough. Let’s go open up. I’ll work on editing my, um, story during our lulls.” As if it’s going to do anything. Hah. She looked out at the cold, gray rain that had begun. “Given the gloomy weather, we might have a lot of lulls. Nobody likes November rain.”

  As they stood up, Cat noticed Candy glaring at her from across the room. Cat tossed her another wide smile.

  “Think of what I could do to her man if I really could change people,” she said to Eliza with a chortle. “The power. The sheer power. I could make him stupid. I could take away his hair. Heck, I could make him gay!”

  “Sure, your highness. Or holiness. Or whatever I should call you. But remember, as Spiderman said, ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

  “As my sister would say, ‘Screw that!’” Cat retorted. “What good is this alleged ability if I can’t give a guy blue hair and three eyeballs?”

  “Oh, my goodness, I’ve created a monster. And monster, thy name is Catherine!” Eliza shrugged on her jacket, looking out the coffee shop’s front window as she did so. “Hey, check out the limo.”

  “What limo?”

  Eliza gestured toward the window, through which the Treasure Trove was visible. “Earth to Cat. The limo that just pulled up in front of our store.”

  “Oh, yeah. That limo. Wonder why it’s there? That’s not a parking spot.”

  “Maybe when you have a limo, you don’t care.”

  They watched as a sprightly older gentleman hopped out of the driver’s seat, opened an umbrella, and walked around to the right side of the vehicle. He pulled open the back door, and a tall, elegantly dressed man stepped out, accepting the umbrella from the driver. The man paused to adjust his suit jacket before he started walking up the stairs to the bookstore.

  “Holy cow, he’s going into our store!” Eliza exclaimed.

  “Not unless we’re there to unlock it. C’mon, let’s go.” Cat grabbed her friend by the elbow and pulled her out the door. After opening their own umbrellas, the two women walked as quickly as they could across the street. As Cat reached the bottom stair, the man, who had been inspecting the hours sign, turned to come back down, a disappointed expression on his face.

  “We’re here,” Cat called, taking the steps two at a time. “We ducked across the street for a mid-morning pick-me-up. Sorry!” As she reached the top of the stairs, she fumbled in her pocket with her right hand for her keys, while holding her coffee and umbrella in the left.

  “Here, let me hel
p you,” a melodious voice said. Cat looked up as the man took the umbrella from her hands. He had folded his own umbrella under his arm and did the same with hers, then took her drink.

  Ralph Fiennes. He resembled a young Ralph Fiennes. The English Patient Fiennes, not Voldemort Fiennes. She stifled a giggle as she imagined this impeccably groomed man with no nose.

  He looked at her, a curious expression on his face.

  Eliza, who’d just reached the landing, gave him an impish grin. “Hi! Sorry about that.”

  He glanced at Eliza. “It’s not a problem,” he replied, as Cat opened the door. Taking hold of the edge, he ushered them through. Following the women in, he continued, “I’m just glad to find you here.”

  “What’s with the limo?” Eliza said. Cat elbowed her subtly. Eliza ignored her, keeping her eyes fixed on the stranger.

  “The university hired that for me,” he said as he handed Cat back her umbrella and drink. “I’ve been guest lecturing at the Darden business school. I asked the driver to stop here on the way back. I promise I don’t usually drive around in limousines.”

  “Well, welcome to the Treasure Trove,” Cat said brightly as Eliza hung up their umbrellas behind the door. “How may we help you?”

  “I’m William Dawes. I’m looking for the Dawes family Bible I saw advertised online this morning. It said your store listed it for sale yesterday.”

  “I remember that one. I did that listing,” Eliza broke in. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it next to the umbrellas. “It has all those beautiful old photographs in it.”

  “Yes. Roger Fenton did those portraits for my great-grandfather’s great-grandfather.”

  “Roger Fenton?” Cat asked.

  “Do you know of Mr. Fenton? He was a childhood friend of my great-great-great-grandfather, William. Family legend has it that Fenton invited Will and his family to pose for portraits so that he could refine his technique before he photographed Queen Victoria and her family. William’s wife added those portraits to the Bible sometime after that.”

  “You know your ancestors back to the early nineteenth century? In England?” Eliza interjected, her eyes wide.