The Enchanted Writes Book One
Page 15
Chapter Fifteen
It was now the day before the ball, and Henrietta was going mad. She'd already dropped two glasses, broken a plate, and when she had handed the Fire Chief his coffee, her hands had shaken so badly that she had tipped it over his sleeve.
She was a mess, a complete mess.
“Henny, Henny,” someone said from her side.
It took her a while to look over.
She had walked over to the tables by the window to clean them off, but after she'd wiped them down, she'd straightened up, her gaze locking on one of the shops over the street as her mind went blank.
“Henny.” Someone placed a hand on her arm.
She shuddered. Turning around, blinking quickly, she looked up into Patrick Black's face.
“You okay?” He looked concerned.
She stuttered out a, "yes."
“Well then, are you going to answer my question?”
She blinked back at him. “Sorry?”
“Wow, you really are out of it today. Why don't you ask Maria for some time off?”
“I'm okay,” she tried to reassure him.
He nodded, and then, uncharacteristically for the suave and dignified policeman, he looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, giving a short cough at the end. “So? Are you going to this party? The masquerade? The one tomorrow night?”
Henrietta winced at the mere mention of it.
“Oh, sorry, of course, it's not your thing, is it?” Patrick was speaking quickly, something he never did. “Never mind then.”
“Okay...” she stopped. Patrick was trying to ask her something, wasn't he?
Though her mind was stuffed full of fear at the prospect of the masquerade tomorrow night, a quick pinch of nerves got her attention. Was Patrick Black about to ask her to the masquerade? Her, Henrietta Gosling, awkward and ungainly sister of the hottest woman in town?
While certain men did need to get Marcia's attention by pretending to be interested in Henrietta first, Patrick was not one of them.
“What were you going to ask me?” Henrietta clutched onto the rag she had used to clean the table tighter.
Patrick smiled at her, and by George did it send tingles through her stomach. “It's okay, Henny, it's nothing. Have a good weekend.” He backed off, nodded at her, and walked out the door.
Henrietta watched him go.
Patrick Black was not in her league. Not in any way. But he’d just been about to ask her to the ball, hadn't he?
She took a step to the side and craned her neck to watch Patrick as he walked along the street outside. With every step he took away from her, her cheeks reddened.
No way, she thought to herself, he must have been about to ask me something else.
Henrietta only tore herself away from the window when Patrick was well and truly out of sight.
Then she got back to work. She no longer stumbled over everything in her path, and neither did she spill coffee over the customers as her hands shook.
Though her mind should have been filled with the horrible prospect of what was awaiting her tomorrow night, Patrick Black had distracted her.
In fact, she found herself staring off into the distance wandering about him so much that she didn't hear several customers when they asked for coffee and a slice of cake.
“Henrietta, Henrietta.” Someone leaned forward and waved a hand in front of her face.
It was Jimmy.
She blinked at him. “Jimmy.”
“Well, you look like you are off with the fairies. You had a hard night?”
Henrietta shook her head.
Jimmy laughed. “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. Your sister likes a drop now and then, but you don't touch the stuff, do you?”
She smiled at him. “I've never really developed a liking to alcohol, no.”
Jimmy nodded, and just for a moment he looked uncomfortable. Which was bizarre, because nothing made Mr December uncomfortable. A raging forest fire? He was fine. Night shift for a week? Didn't bother him. A full day of bench presses and training in the gym? He would lap it up. But right now Mr December looked awkward.
It got her attention.
“You know, it's a funny thing, but...” he trailed off.
“What?” She smiled at him encouragingly.
He took a swallow and leaned in, tapping his hand on the bench. “I suppose you already have plans for tomorrow night, right? I suppose like everybody else in the city, you are going to that ball, or whatever it is.”
Henrietta stopped what she was doing immediately.
He wasn't, was he? Was Mr December asking her out?
The Mr December. Jimmy Field? One of the only men in the entire city who Marcia Gosling truly fancied?
“Look, you probably are, forget I asked.” He stopped tapping his hand and straightened up.
“No, no, no,” Henrietta stuttered, then she stopped. She was actually going to the ball. Except she wasn't technically going in person, if that made any sense. She was going in disguise.
Jimmy returned his attention to her, and he looked expectant. In fact, his exact expression sent all sorts of wriggling sensations through her stomach, and they made her grin awkwardly.
“Well...” she tried to think quickly.
“It doesn't matter, everyone is going to the ball, forget I asked. Have fun.” Jimmy gave her a short but fabulously attractive wave, and then walked off.
She was flabbergasted, gob smacked. In the space of an hour, the city's two most eligible bachelors had almost asked her out. Almost being the operative word. Neither of them had ever asked her directly. All she could do was infer what they had intended.
There was always the possibility that Patrick had asked her what she was doing tomorrow night as a lead-in to talk about her sister, just as Jimmy may have only asked her whether she was going to the ball so he could figure out whether Marcia was going too.
Still. Still it gave Henrietta pause for thought.
She was unlucky, fabulously unlucky when it came to love. But could her luck be changing?
That slim hope was all that got her through the day and the night.
When she woke up the following morning, nothing could shift her mood. It was the day of the masquerade. By that night she would be trotting up the steps of City Hall, and she would have to face Theodore Hellier, Witch King and potential mayoral candidate.