When I got up to Merlin’s office suite Monday morning, Trix looked significantly better than she had Friday night. She almost even looked happy. “Thanks again for coming to my rescue,” she said. “It was sweet of you and Ethan to interrupt your date to help me.”
“I think my enemies had already interrupted our date,” I said. “Once a walking skeleton has thrown fireballs at you, it’s hard to get into a romantic mood.”
She fluttered her wings. “Oh, I don’t know. Don’t they say that the response to danger and sexual arousal aren’t all that different? It could have made for some interesting foreplay.”
“Trust me, that was the last thing on my mind when we got out of there.”
“Do you have any idea who it was or what they wanted?”
“No clue. I doubt it was a magical mugging. They were specifically after me. But why me? It’s not like getting me out of the picture will make that big a difference.”
Merlin came out of his office, concern on his wrinkled face. “You’re well, then?” he asked me. “I heard about the incident Friday night.”
“I’m fine. They didn’t do anything to hurt me. I think they just wanted to scare me, and I’m not entirely sure why, unless they’re still trying to make me give up and quit. Fortunately, Sam’s security team was on the ball, even in their off-hours.”
“It would probably be safe to assume you’re closer than you think to the truth about the spy.”
“Or else I’ve managed to piss off the wrong person and this has nothing to do with work.”
He cocked his head to one side, considering that idea. “Possible, but it seems like a great deal of effort for a personal vendetta. Those kinds of bandits don’t come cheap. They didn’t in my day, and I doubt that has changed with time.” He started to go back to his office, then turned back. “I think you should take Wednesday off to be with your family,” he said. “Getting you away from the office might give the spy a false sense of security.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate that.”
I left work early to meet Ethan in front of the building. While I waited for him, I chatted with Sam, who was back in his usual spot on the building awning. “My folks are flying in this evening,” I told him. “Do you think you could increase the bodyguard detail a little bit?”
“Worried that Idris’ll go after them?”
“Kind of. I mostly just want to avoid any situations that might make my parents worry. If they had any idea about the weirdness I’m caught up in, they’d have me hauled back to Texas so fast my head would spin. Heading off the bad guys at the pass would be a very good thing.”
“Gotcha! I’ll get my people right on it.” Then he winked. “Besides, Palmer already talked to me about it. He said you were worried.”
Even when Ethan arrived and we were on our way to the airport, I couldn’t stop fretting. I’d already worried about what my parents would think about my dinky apartment over a nail salon in an old tenement building. They were guaranteed not to like that. But even if they couldn’t see creatures with wings, flying gargoyles, and other magical oddities, they were still likely to see the effects of anything that got close to me. I wasn’t good at coming up with explanations on the spur of the moment.
“It’ll be okay,” Ethan said mildly as he negotiated the traffic on the way to LaGuardia.
“Hmm?” I asked, distracted.
“Your parents. Most people are scared of New York the first time they come here, but after a while it becomes just another place. It isn’t nearly so scary. In fact, I think that letting it become a real place instead of the bizarro world they imagined will make them feel better about it.”
“The problem is, it’s more a bizarro world than they possibly could have imagined. Muggers I think they could deal with. But magic?”
“These people have been hiding their magic from others for ages. I think your parents can spend a week here without discovering the secret. It took you a year, didn’t it? And I’d lived here for nearly ten years before I figured it out, even as an immune.”
I hoped he was right. It had been difficult enough to give Ethan, someone I barely knew at the time, the “magic is real, okay?” speech. I didn’t think I could give it to my parents while remaining sane. I gave him a quick kiss before I got out of the car and headed in to the baggage claim area.
The longer I waited, the more nervous I grew. I hadn’t seen my parents in more than a year. More important, they hadn’t seen me. What would they think of me? I felt like I’d changed so much. What if they didn’t like the new me?
When I saw the crowd of passengers arrive and head to the baggage claim for the flight from Dallas, I got so nervous I thought I’d throw up. Then I caught a glimpse of my dad’s head towering above the crowd and I rushed forward. “Dad! Mom!” I called out.
It took them a second to find me, and in that moment I was astonished by how much older they looked. It had only been a year, but my mental image of them was one I’d retained from childhood, apparently. The current reality came as a jolt. My dad had silver hair, and there was more gray than blond in my mother’s hair.
But then they reached me and hugged me like they never wanted to let me go. “Oh, my baby!” my mother said over and over again. My dad just kept patting me on the back. I was glad that Ethan had to stay behind with the car because I didn’t want him to see me cry.
“It’s good to see you,” I told them when I’d regained enough control to speak. “I missed you so much.”
My mom held me at arm’s length. “Look at you! You’re so thin. Are you eating enough? If you didn’t have enough money to eat, you should have said something.”
I felt like I was right back at home. “I’m eating fine, really,” I said with a laugh. “You have to walk a lot in New York. That keeps me in shape.”
“You aren’t anorexic, are you? Like all those models?” She opened her tote bag. “Here, I brought some food with me since they don’t feed you on airplanes these days. I think I still have some fried chicken.”
I reached over and closed her tote bag before she could pull out an entire chicken dinner in the middle of baggage claim. “Mom, I don’t need any fried chicken. We’ll be having dinner soon enough.”
“You’ve been living here too long. You always loved my fried chicken.”
While we were talking, my dad had gone about collecting their bags. “Do you have everything?” I asked. “My friend is outside with the car. They probably made him circle around.”
“You didn’t have to come pick us up,” Mom said.
“I wanted to, and my friend offered to drive.”
Ethan pulled up almost as soon as we got outside. My parents took one look at the Mercedes, then looked at each other. When Ethan got out of the car to help them load their bags, they appeared even more intrigued.
“Mom, Dad, this is my um, friend, Ethan Wainwright. We work together. Ethan, these are my parents, Frank and Lois Chandler.”
Ethan shook hands with both of them. My mom caught his hand in both of hers and said, “It was so nice of you to offer to come pick us up. You must be a very special friend to our Katie.”
An impatient cabdriver waiting to unload his passengers spared me potential further embarrassment by honking. Everyone had to scramble to get in the car so Ethan could pull away. It was only a temporary reprieve from embarrassment, though, for once we got on the road, we were trapped inside a car with my mother, whose potential-wedding-for-her-only-daughter radar was pinging loud and clear. She’d probably make Gemma scrap the sightseeing expedition and take her shopping for mother-of-the-bride dresses instead.
“So, Ethan,” she asked. “What is it you do?”
“I’m an attorney.”
“And you work with Katie?”
“Sort of. I have my own firm, but I’m on retainer for Katie’s company.”
“And that’s how you met?”
I tried not to groan out loud. I hadn’t even thought of working
out a cover story with him in advance.
“Actually, it’s kind of funny, but no. I’m a friend of Jim’s, Connie’s husband. You know Connie?”
“Of course. The girls were always coming home with Katie on weekends from college.” Connie was my other college friend who’d moved to New York with Gemma and Marcia. When she got married and a spot in the apartment opened up, they’d persuaded me to join them in New York.
“Well,” Ethan continued, “Jim originally set me up with Marcia, but we didn’t hit it off so well. But Katie and I did.”
I didn’t have to look at the backseat to see my mother’s satisfied smile. “So you two are dating?”
“Yes, we are.” He said it like he was proud of it, and that gave me a warm glow.
If I could read minds, I knew at that moment I’d be able to hear my mom rehearsing the speech she’d give her friends back home. “Oh yes, and our Katie is dating a very prominent Manhattan attorney. He drives a Mercedes, you know.”
“We only just started dating,” I said, before she got carried away with thinking of how she’d tell her friends that she was expecting an engagement announcement any day now. I changed the subject by saying, “I got you a room at a hotel down the street from where I live, so it’ll be easy for us to come and go.”
“I hope you didn’t go to any bother,” Mom said.
“We’ll pay our own bill,” Dad added.
“It wasn’t any trouble at all,” I said. “I wish we had enough room for you to stay with us, but believe me, you’ll be much more comfortable in a hotel. It’s the same hotel where Gemma’s and Marcia’s parents stay when they visit.”
“Then I’m sure it’ll be fine,” my mom said.
I glanced over my shoulder to the backseat and saw that both of them were staring out the window. It was dark already, so there wasn’t much to see. It was probably for the best. That part of Queens wasn’t the most scenic section of New York and probably wasn’t the best way to introduce them to the city. “You can see the skyline ahead,” I pointed out. “We’ll be crossing the Triboro Bridge soon, and then you’ll have a great view.”
That cut off the personal questions for a while as they looked for landmarks. Ethan shot me a glance, a smile, and a wink, and I winked back at him.
We made good time heading down FDR to Fourteenth Street, so my parents didn’t have a chance to start the truly personal questions. “I’ll take you to your hotel so you can unload your bags,” Ethan said, “and then I’ll leave all of you to have some time together.”
“You’re very sweet to go to all this trouble,” Mom said, a lilt of Southern belle flirtation in her voice. Was that what I sounded like when I pulled that stunt?
“It wasn’t any trouble at all.” I knew he was lying through his teeth. The tolls alone were outrageous.
“You’ll have to come over for Thanksgiving if you don’t have any other plans. Katie and I are planning a big feast for all her friends.”
I felt a moment of panic. I wasn’t sure I was ready to subject Ethan to that much of my parents. On the other hand, it would probably be the safest possible circumstances, with Marcia, Gemma, Philip, and Jeff there.
Ethan glanced at me, like he was getting my okay before responding. I gave him a slight nod. “Yes, we’d love to have you.”
“Great then, I accept. I was just going to get a turkey TV dinner and watch football all day.”
“You do get football at your place?” my dad asked, sounding the least bit panicked.
“Of course I do, Dad. It’s on network TV. But they have cable at the hotel, just in case. I’m not sure whether or not we’ll get the Texas game Friday, though.”
“We’ll be out sightseeing and shopping Friday,” Mom declared. “And I’m glad you’ll be able to join us, Ethan. But aren’t you spending Thanksgiving with your family?” She was in full-on mother-hen mode. I could only imagine what she’d think about Owen, a true orphan.
“My parents are taking a cruise this year.”
“Then it’s good you don’t have to be alone. You’ll have to join us.”
Ethan pulled up in front of the hotel, which was in a brownstone building much like my apartment, and helped unload the bags. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Katie,” he said.
“Thanks again for your help.” I was relieved that he didn’t try to kiss me. Not that I didn’t want to kiss him; I just didn’t want to have to deal with my parents asking me about the state of our relationship. As it was, things were nice and ambiguous.
I was watching him drive away when Mom said, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
She pointed toward a nearby tree. “That.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, I caught the briefest glimpse of a gargoyle’s wing.
I turned back to my mother, horror knotting my stomach. “What did you see?” She could not have seen a gargoyle. She just couldn’t. Hell, she was in New York City for the first time in her life. There were any number of things she could have seen that would have shocked her. A careening taxicab with an ad for a strip club on top would have been enough to give her the vapors.
My dad gave a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t mind her. She’ll be seeing a mugger behind every tree. I had to confiscate her pepper spray before we left for the airport.” He took Mom by the shoulders and turned her to face the hotel entrance. “Come on, Lois, let’s get checked in.” He caught my eye over the top of her head and gave me a smile as he shook his head in amusement.
With a great sense of relief, I stepped forward and picked up one of their bags. “In this part of town, we only have muggers behind every other tree, and that’s only on odd-numbered streets, so you’ll be okay here,” I said.
I got them checked into the hotel, then led them down the street to my apartment building. “I live less than a block away, so this is the next best thing to staying with me,” I said, trying to sound chipper, even as I dreaded them seeing the way I lived. My parents were nowhere near rich, but they lived in the lap of luxury, comparatively speaking. My whole apartment could easily fit into the living room of my parents’ house.
I reached the doorway to the side of the nail salon. “Here we are. See, this key unlocks the front door to get into the building.” I demonstrated. “Visitors ring the doorbell here, and we can then buzz them through. It’s like an extra layer of safety.”
Once we were all inside, I led them up the stairs. I was intensely conscious of the dingy paint on the stairwell walls, the worn dips in the stair treads, the stained linoleum on the landings. Seeing through my parents’ eyes, I couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to live in a place like this. I glanced over my shoulder at my mother and could see her eyes narrowing in judgment. Oh yeah, I was going to hear about this. I dreaded seeing her face when she got a look at our apartment.
“And here we are!” I said brightly when we reached the third floor. “See, another couple of locks here—just in case. It’s actually a very safe neighborhood and nobody has tried to break in since we’ve lived here.” I didn’t tell them that my apartment had yet another layer of protection. It had been warded against magical attack. No one could use magic to break into or damage the building. Somehow, I doubted they’d find that bit of information particularly reassuring.
I flung the door open with a game-show-hostess gesture. “Marcia, Gemma, we’re here!” I called out. My mother greeted my roommates with a big hug. My dad shook their hands and nodded silently.
“How was your flight?” Gemma asked.
“Long,” my dad replied.
“Ready for dinner?” Marcia asked. “Our treat, since you’re doing Thanksgiving for us.”
“We made reservations at one of our favorite New York places,” Gemma added. “It’s not too far away, and it’ll give you a look at the neighborhood.”
My mother made a show of protesting that they didn’t need to go to any effort, but she was helpless against the relentless force that was Marcia and Gemma. My dad and I looked at
each other and smirked. Eventually, Mom gave in and we all headed out.
Mom walked with Marcia and Gemma, who gave her a running narrative on every place they passed. I followed behind with Dad. When we reached Union Square, Gemma said to Mom, “You’ll have to come over here Wednesday morning for the market. It’ll be the best place to stock up on food for Thanksgiving. Katie shops here all the time.”
“The farmers bring their produce in to sell, and they’re fun to talk to,” I added. Anything that reminded my parents of home was sure to make them feel better about me living in New York.
“There aren’t any muggers in the park?” Mom asked nervously, cradling her purse against her chest.
“It’s pretty safe,” Marcia assured her. “It’s busy, and you’re generally safe wherever you see a bunch of people.”
The restaurant was on the other side of the park. We crossed the street and reached the awning-covered entrance. “And here we are!” Gemma said, before stepping forward to check in with the hostess.
“This is a typical New York bistro,” Marcia explained.
It was a long, narrow room with mirrors on the walls to visually widen the space and a low ceiling made of old-fashioned pressed-tin tiles. The tables were close together, so we could overhear a hodgepodge of discussions about everything from politics to movies. I’d been fascinated by restaurants like these when I first moved to New York, for they were so different from the chain restaurants on the freeway that dominated dining out in my part of the world.
Mom looked nervously at the white tablecloth as we took our seats at the table. “You girls don’t have to take us out for dinner,” she said.
Gemma put her hand on Mom’s. “Mrs. Chandler, we insist. We simply demand at least one homemade pumpkin pie for each of us in return.”
Once Upon Stilettos Page 11
