‘Did you know you have a screech owl on your table?’ he asked Mare.
‘No,’ Mare said. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Close the door, Mare,’ Dee begged.
It came out as a descending carillon of chirps. The guy on the other side of the door lifted amazed eyebrows at her. ‘And I think she likes me.’
Leave it to her to turn into an owl in front of an ornithologist. Who else would recognize the mating call of the Eastern screech owl?
‘You think wrong,’ Mare said to him, trying to close the door. And good-bye.’
‘Good,’ Dee said, panting. ‘Get him out of here.’
It wasn’t often a man got under her skin like this. She didn’t allow it; it was too dangerous. She’d tried a few times, letting herself believe that the arousal from hormones would affect her differently than the agitation of anger or fear. She’d been wrong. She’d ended up sending two guys into therapy and another to an ashram in India. She could still hear him screaming as he ran into the night, her bra dangling from his hand after she’d shifted right there in the back seat of his Jeep. And not into anything as cute as an owl. No, she’d shifted into his mother. Just like she had with the other two guys. And she hadn’t even liked their mothers.
She’d been celibate ever since, and assured herself she was happy that way. She didn’t have a choice, after all. But for some reason, this man suddenly made her feel like a nun peering out the convent gate, longing for what she could never have.
Thank God he was leaving.
He kept his foot in the door. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Please. I’m looking for Moira Mariposa, Elizabeth Alicia, and Deirdre Dolores Fortune. I’m researching a book.’
‘Our name’s O’Brien.’ Mare stopped trying to kick his foot away. A book?’
He nodded. About Phil and Fiona Fortune. That’s your real name, isn’t it? You just took O’Brien as an alias when you moved here.’
Dee shut her eyes, suddenly sick. Oh, hell. Didn’t it just figure? She couldn’t even have a decent fantasy without it blowing up in her face.
‘No, our name really is O’Brien,’ Mare said. And we don’t know anybody named Fortune. Would we lie to you?’
‘Since I got your alias from your parents’ old commune members, I’d say that’s a yes,’ he said, perfectly calm for all the disaster he was unleashing. ‘I was hoping to at least talk to your oldest sister, Deirdre.’
‘She doesn’t want to talk to you,’ Dee chirped. ‘Get rid of him.’
Her heart was slamming against her tiny chest. Her head threatened to explode again. It wasn’t fair. They’d run so far, hidden so well. And here was the man of her dreams - well, her dust - blithely threatening to do a great big Geraldo on them.
‘Thanks,’ Mare said, ‘but no thanks. Now if you’d move your foot so I could close this door—’
He just kept smiling. ‘That’s what I was told you’d say.’
‘Really?’ Mare asked. And here I thought I was being delightfully unpredictable. Go away.’
‘Find out who told him who we are,’ Dee begged.
‘How about we start over?’ he asked, putting out a hand. ‘I’m Danny James. Like I said, I’m researching a book—’
He never had the chance to finish. Mare stomped on his toes, and when he winced and jerked his foot back, she slammed the door. Then she turned and looked at her sisters. ‘Well, this is another fine mess the ‘rents have gotten us into.’
Dee was frantic. That was disaster standing on their front porch. How could Mare just dismiss it like an inconvenient Mormon on a mission? ‘We have to find out what’s going on,’ she said. Flapping her wings, she swooped over to perch on the living room windowsill.
‘I don’t have to find out,’ Mare said. ‘I don’t care. I got rid of him. He’s gone.’
‘I don’t have time,’ Lizzie said, picking up her book. ‘I have work to do. I’m really close to a breakthrough.’
‘Well, I have time.’ Dee stared out the front window where she could see Danny James pause out by the curb. ‘What if she sent him?’
‘Who?’ Mare asked.
Dee glared. ‘Xan.’
Mare shook her head. ‘She’s your nightmare in the closet. Let it go, Dee.’
‘Open the door’ Dee ruffled her feathers, preparing to fly. ‘I’m going after him. Somebody has to keep an eye on him. I can do it without being caught.’
‘You don’t think he’ll find an owl on his ass suspicious?’ Mare asked.
‘He’ll never see me.’
‘How about when you change back to human form in the middle of the sidewalk and you’re naked?’ Mare stopped and looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, men usually don’t ask questions about naked women, so you might get away with that one.’
Dee ruffled her feathers again. ‘I have clothes stashed all over this town. Nobody’s going to see me naked. And anyway, we have to know. I can at least see where he goes before I have to be at the bank.’
‘Couldn’t he just be what he says?’ Lizzie asked. A book researcher?’
Dee inched her way to the edge of the table. ‘Mother and Dad have been dead for twelve years. Why would anybody do a book now? And exactly who gave him our alias? We can’t just assume Xan isn’t behind this. The last time she came after us, we almost didn’t get away in time. Open the door.’
Lizzie and Mare looked at each other.
‘Maybe we should vote on it,’ Mare said. ‘Just because Dee is over twenty-eight, that doesn’t mean she gets to choose her own life—’
‘MARE!’ Dee screeched, and Lizzie slipped around her and opened the front door.
Dee shoved off the dining room table and launched herself past them, out into the morning sky.
* * *
Xantippe Fortune put aside her silver spell bowl, the coppery dust of the True Desire spell gleaming in the bottom, and then wiped her see glass clean while the short, dark-haired woman next to her looked defiant but nervous. Very nervous.
Good, Xan thought and settled into the silver brocade wing chair, the folds of her red gown falling smoothly over her wrists.
It was hell finding competent help for a supernatural power heist in the twenty-first century, especially in a place as small and clueless as Salem’s Fork.
‘All I did was sneeze,’ Maxine said, smoothing down her polyester peasant blouse.
Fashion always tells, Xan thought. ‘You sneezed on a magic glass, Maxine. Twice. The first one blew the front door wide open, which made the sisters close it instead of leaving it open to the screen door, which made it impossible to hear what was happening in the front of the house. The second sneeze almost made them close the garden windows, and if they had, I would have lost the dining room conversation. Because you were never taught to use a handkerchief, they think a hurricane is coming. Plus it’s unsanitary. You just bought a diner, woman. I shudder to think what happens in your kitchen.’
‘I’m going to call it Maxine’s,’ Maxine said in a dreamy voice.
‘No, you are not,’ Xan said. ‘You are going to do nothing to call attention to yourself or to the fact that you have suddenly acquired enough money to buy a diner. Our arrangement was that I would give you the money to buy the diner in exchange for your clandestine services for the next three days, but you must not call attention to yourself. That’s where the “clandestine” part comes in, Maxine. Until Monday, the Greasy Fork stays the Greasy Fork. Do you understand?’
‘There are gonna be big changes,’ Maxine said, looking off into the distance at her magnificent future.
‘Maxine!’ Xan snapped, and Maxine jerked to attention. ‘What are you going to do for the next three days?’
‘I’m gonna watch the Fortune sisters and not make any big changes because I’m clandestine,’ Maxine said.
‘And?’
‘And I’m gonna keep an eye on the three men who come for them.’
‘And?’
‘And I’m gonna tell you everything.’ Xan se
ttled back into her wing chair again. ‘Good, Maxine.’
‘And then I’m gonna sell Martinis at the Greasy Fork.’
‘Maxine!’
‘But not until Monday,’ Maxine said hurriedly.
When hunting season comes, Xan thought. I’m going to turn you into a rabbit. ‘Good, Maxine. You may go.’
Maxine looked around the room. ‘How do I—’
Xan waved her hand and Maxine vanished, only to reappear in the see glass, looking dizzy and slightly nauseated behind the Greasy Fork’s Dumpster.
I know how you feel, Xan thought. The whole town makes me feel that way.
Then she turned her attention back to the Fortune house, her heart beating a little faster now that her plan was in motion. She’d cast one spell and brought the sisters’ True Loves to Salem’s Fork, then cast another and the sisters had seen their True Desires. Now Danny James had met Dee and Dee was on her way after him. Lizzie was about to turn around and meet somebody amazing. And Mare—
‘Xantippe?’
Xan sat bolt upright as Maxine stood before her. ‘How the hell did you get back here?’
Maxine blinked. ‘The portal by the Dumpster was still open.’
Xan closed her eyes. If someone breathes in the natural psychic energy of a supernatural center like Salem’s Fork her entire life, Xan told herself, even if she’s a dolt like Maxine, she’ll pick up some basic skills. ‘Yes?’
‘Danny James just checked into the Lighthorse Harry Lee Bed and Breakfast Inn.’
Xan nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Maxine nodded back. ‘About the Martinis, I—’
‘Maxine, do you have any idea how powerful I am?’
‘No, Xantippe.’
Xan waved her hand and Maxine became a mouse, frozen in terror on the floor, the only part of her left that resembled Maxine her tiny horrified beady black eyes. Xan waited a beat and then waved her hand and Maxine stood before her again, shaking so hard, her head bobbed.
‘Never forget, Maxine,’ Xan said gently, ‘that I turned you back by choice. The next time, I may leave you turned. And you might not be a mouse.’
Maxine sucked in a terrified breath.
‘But of course, I won’t,’ Xan said. ‘I need you, Maxine. You’re my friend.’ She smiled into Maxine’s eyes, radiating hypnotic goodwill, and after a moment, Maxine relaxed.
‘Good one,’ Maxine said, still a little rocky.
‘Go watch the girls.’ Xan waved her hand and Maxine disappeared, only to reappear in the see glass, next to the Dumpster again, stumbling as she landed. ‘Next time, it’s in the Dumpster, Maxine,’ Xan said to the glass, closed the portal, and sat back, catching sight of the sisters in another angle of the see glass: Dee flying away in the shape of an owl, and Lizzie and Mare in the doorway, talking.
Xan leaned closer to the glass and whispered, ‘It’ll be a fair trade, darlings, those spells were true,’ and Lizzie looked up, startled, and said something to Mare, who looked stolid as ever, shaking her head and then pounding off down the pavement like the draft horse her nickname said she was. They didn’t know it, but they were lucky to have Xan looking out for them, taking care of them, making them the deal of their lifetimes. It wasn’t going to hurt, it truly wasn’t, and they’d be better off in the end. She wouldn’t miscalculate, nothing would go wrong this time, and if it did, it would hardly be her fault. No, they were very lucky. Especially Lizzie, Xan thought, feeling a pang of jealousy as Lizzie turned to go inside.
Especially Lizzie . . .
If this had been any other morning, Dee would have been delighted to be flying off from the house. Her favorite times had been spent as a bird. She loved flight: the sudden lift, the ruffle of air through her feathers, the illusion of freedom. She adored the patterns and colors the earth revealed from this indifferent height. But mostly, she liked being alone, responsible for nothing, failing no one, just focused on the scene around her and how it would translate onto the canvas that waited her back in her studio.
Not today. Today, she had to waste her precious time trailing Danny James.
He was trouble, she just knew it. And not just because he exuded enough pheromones to melt a girl into a coma. Dee couldn’t believe that neither Mare nor Lizzie had reacted to him. She still felt as if she’d been gigged like a frog.
He was trouble because he knew who they were. Because he wanted to know more. Because, damn it, she couldn’t be sure he hadn’t come from Xan.
Ah, there he was. On a motorcycle, of course, hot enough to make Mare notice as he rolled past. But then, who wouldn’t notice Danny James? Heck, every woman he passed turned for a second look. Some a third. Of course, it wasn’t often that strangers made the turn into the blind valley that cradled Salem’s Fork. Maybe it was just curiosity.
Uh-huh. And maybe the next time Dee tried to have sex she’d stay her own shape.
She watched closely, hoping against hope he’d betray himself quickly so she could waste a bit of time skimming the warm air currents before heading into work. He didn’t oblige. He rode straight through Salem’s Fork toward the river. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone or pass incriminating notes. He did seem compelled to wave and smile to every person he passed. And everyone seemed equally compelled to smile and wave back. Oh, he was real trouble.
He made her suddenly yearn for things she couldn’t have, him and that happy smile and that damned motorcycle of his. He probably felt as if he were flying down there on his bike. She bet he felt free.
‘Mrs Washington!’ he called as he pulled the bike to a stop in the driveway of Lighthorse Harry Lee, a lurid pink and chartreuse Queen Anne monstrosity that sat a block from the town square. ‘I was hoping I could ask a favor from you.’
He’d caught little Verna Washington at her biweekly hedge pruning. She was in overalls and a floppy straw hat, a living lawn ornament. Like every other female in this benighted town, she smiled, almost impaling herself on her pruning shears when she tried to pat down her tightly permed gray hair. ‘Why, of course, honey,’ she caroled. ‘Didn’t you see the girls, then?’
‘I did. Thank you.’
And here Dee had thought Verna was a friend. Dee alighted in the willow that grew at the northwest corner of the house to see Danny lope up the sidewalk, another of those bright smiles crinkling his eyes.
‘Would you mind if I checked into my room a bit early?’ he asked Verna. ‘Since I have to wait to interview my subjects, I was hoping I could catch a shower and make some calls.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Verna trilled, sounding just like Dee in her mating-owl mode. ‘You go right on up. I had Mel take your bag up to 3B. It’s the Lighthorse Suite, Mr James. We call it that because Lighthorse Harry Lee himself came through town on his way to the Revolution and left behind a boot. See the planter on the porch? It’s an exact replica.’
Verna pointed to the boot, now sporting pink begonias, but Dee was fixated on her good luck. The Lighthorse Suite was situated no more than ten feet from where she sat. She felt like a good smile herself. The window was open. Could be a good chance to see what secrets Danny James might reveal.
Danny was trying to go inside, but Verna was still talking. ‘You sure you don’t want to give me just a little hint about what the girls’ story is?’ Verna asked, snagging Dee’s attention. ‘I know it can’t be bad. They’re such good girls. Why, they can’t even seem to shoo all those bunnies out of their yard, and them with that big garden and all. Soft hearts, you know. But you were saying . . .’
Don’t blow our cover, Dee silently begged. Not yet. Stupid to worry. Their cover was already blown. There wasn’t a person in town who wouldn’t find a reason to ask just what that handsome stranger had been doing at the O’Brien house at eight in the morning.
‘Oh, it’s no mystery,’ Danny James assured the little woman. ‘I’m just researching some history for a book, and I was hoping they might be able to help me.’
Verna patted him on the arm as if he were a gen
tleman caller. ‘Well, how fascinating. Maybe you’d like a cup of tea while you tell me all about it.’
And, of course, he smiled and offered her his arm. ‘What a lovely offer, Mrs Washington.’
Excellent. Verna would keep him talking for hours, while Dee searched his room. She quickly scanned her target. Verna had decorated the inn in Early Ruffle, all lace and chintz and vacant-eyed china dolls ranged on high shelves. Danny James was going to look like a panther at a tea party tucked under Verna’s pink sheets. His luggage sat by the door, just waiting to be searched: a backpack and a wheeled softsider, both unopened; a briefcase that sat tantalizingly open on the wedding ring quilt.
Making sure the coast was clear, Dee lifted off and slipped smoothly in through the open window.
She must not have been as smooth as she’d thought. She hardly made it into the room before there was a loud slam behind her. She turned to see that the window had fallen closed.
Oh, dear God. She was stuck. She plopped down on the quilt right next to the briefcase and tried not to panic. The door was open into the hall, but she sincerely doubted that an owl could flap right down the stairs without being noticed. Maybe she should hide in the closet until Danny James got too warm and opened the window again -hopefully before she turned back into a naked human. Of course, if she was a human, she could get the window open . . .
There was a big time planner on the desk. Dee tilted her head. Hmmm. Not a very modern man, with no PDA. No, he had a book with everything she needed to know about him, right there for God and the world to see. She looked toward the open door again and then the closed window. She did her best to tamp down the instinct to batter herself against the glass to get out. She had to stay calm.
She decided she could stay calmer if she distracted herself with her mission. She had turned pages before as a bird. Maybe she’d have enough time to turn these and see what she could find out. Flapping as quietly as she could, she flew over and settled on the desk.
The address book was open at the Ds. She scanned it to see only two names that meant anything: Dellwood Press and Mark Delaney. Tidy. Dellwood Press was the publisher who put out the wildly popular Mark Delaney books.
The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes Page 2
