by Raven Snow
He smiled at me, and I knew he was going to be fine. "Yeah, I know."
Redirecting my eyes back to the road, I said, "And because you're my favorite, you know what you get to do?"
"Clean the toilets?"
I nodded. "Clean the toilets."
Jeb was already inside by the time we got there. I surveyed the damage to the carpet as Cooper swiped a pair of skates and took to the floor. He was a lot better than when I first met him, but he still managed to fall on his face more often than any other customer I had.
"That's a lot of puke," I said, returning to the matter at hand. "I didn't know people could make that much puke, and I'm somewhat of an expert on it."
The door to the men's room opened, smoke and Stoner Stan billowing out of it. Stan's eyes were scratchy looking and red, but he had a big smile on his face. Stan always had the best stuff.
I didn't waste my breath telling him not to light up in the bathroom. "Cooper, wait ‘til the smoke dissipates before you clean in there." To Jeb, I whispered, "His dad would kill me if I brought him home high."
"Most parents would."
"You know," I said, looking at the pond of puke. "I could clean this up, and you could do the paperwork."
He smiled and shook his head. "I don't think so, Miss Foxxy."
"I figured you'd say that."
So, with absolutely no funky music to keep me company, I was banished to the office to pay bills. One bill on the stack was for my wedding dress. That was a headache in itself. Who knew a dress could cost so much?
On the bill, however, was the phone number for the company representative. At first, my eyes just glanced at it, and then, I realized that we bought Vic's dress from the same place.
Grinning, I dialed them up. They had me on hold for a few minutes. Then, a perky man with an accent I couldn’t place answered.
After telling him my information, I asked if he could tell me when and from what number my mother-in-law called to change the color of the dress. He could only help with one, but I figured it was better than nothing.
"Looks like the call was made three and a half weeks ago, Miss Beck. To our foreign offices, if that helps."
I thanked him and hung up the phone, feeling a little let down. He'd only confirmed what I already knew, that the changeling changed the dress color. Interestingly enough, while it was still in Europe.
What I didn't know was who and why. Why my wedding? Changelings spread chaos wherever they went, but even they had to have some kind of reasoning, right? I wasn't sure.
Wyatt called me just as I was finishing up the last bill. “I told Charles he had to find somewhere else to stay this week.”
Sighing, I said, “I wish you hadn’t. I don’t want to come between you and your family.”
He paused, and when he continued, he didn’t sound any less angry. “Go out to lunch with me.”
I checked the clock, and my stomach rumbled. “Chinese buffet. Half an hour.”
He was there before I was, though it was just a short walk from the Funky Wheel. Wyatt’s always early, something I admire about him. He’d gotten me all my favorites and secured us a seat by the window. Damn, but I loved that man.
After shoving some noodles in my mouth, I handed him my phone. “Call Charles and tell him he can stay.”
He didn’t take it, being the stubborn, proud man that he was. “You’re my family too, Harper. And if he can’t accept that—”
“Then, that’s okay.” At his look, I went on. “He doesn’t have to be my brother, but he’ll always be yours. Call him.”
It hurt to say it. A sneaky, pathetic part of me liked that Wyatt was willing to cut his brother off to save my feelings. But I was a big girl, and I didn’t need Charles’ approval.
I already had his brother’s heart, and that was a responsibility I wasn’t going to shirk. So I held out my phone again, protecting the gift I’d been given. He made the call.
When he was done talking to his brother, he sat and watched me eat, letting his own noodles get cold. After a moment, he said, “You’re a kind-hearted person, Harper.”
I snorted. “You should see the mess I left Jeb with.”
“Speaking of ‘left,’” he said suddenly, “what have you done with our son?”
“Left him with Stoner Stan,” I said between bites. Good noodles or bad manners? You make the call.
“Perfect.”
Pointing my fork at him, I said, “We’ve got to educate the kid sometime. He probably doesn’t even know what pot is.”
“Heaven forbid.”
Wyatt and I went to rescue Cooper from Stoner Stan just as soon as I finished my egg rolls. As I pointed out to Wyatt, he was happy as a clam, mopping the floor and scrubbing the toilets. I left him to finish, making myself a drink.
We drove in Wyatt's car to the park to meet the photographer Nancy picked for the wedding. When I asked Wyatt why I hadn't known about this before, he raised an eyebrow at me. I guess I could concede that I had enough on my plate at the moment without worrying about documenting the wedding.
"Is he gonna take pictures of all of us?" Cooper chirped from the backseat.
"Nope. Just you," I said. "It's your special day, after all."
The man who met us was younger than me–and barely older than Cooper. He wore skinny jeans and glasses I suspected he didn't need. Instead of shaking Wyatt's hand, he went in for the high five. I returned it with a chuckle, mostly over Wyatt's instant dislike of the kid.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands together eagerly. "We're going to need to find the light."
I pointed to the sun, always one to be sarcastic. "There it is."
To my surprise, Wyatt laughed. It was probably at the expense of our photographer.
Sarcastic or not, I didn't have anything else to do today—if you weren't counting cleaning puke, and I wasn't. So, when the child took us on a merry scavenger hunt for the illusive light, I barely said a word.
We found said light on top of the playground. Wyatt and I took one look at those monkey bars and boosted Cooper up there alone. My swinging days were over, and my legs were longer that most of the slides.
That was how we ended up getting a bunch of truly beautiful shots of Cooper picking at his hemline and blinking in the harsh sunlight. I definitely wanted a copy of the one where he sneezed mid-click. I had a feeling that was going to be a winner.
At the end of it, though, I said, "You're hired."
The guy did a little congratulatory dance with himself. "You won't be sorry."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I will be." But I really didn't want to try out anyone else. The pictures were just going into Nancy's attic vault anyway, along with Wyatt's baby pictures and my school ones. I don't know how she got ahold of them–I certainly don't have copies–but they were there.
My eyes widened, and I realized I'd been overlooking something all along. The lore said changelings became the people perfectly, but lore is usually ancient and to be taken with a grain of salt. What if the changed brother had a birthmark? One that would show up in pictures but wasn't duplicated by the changeling?
I sent Cooper back with Wyatt despite his pouting that he wanted to go with me. Heading straight for Nancy's, I ran a couple red lights in my haste before forcing myself to slow down. The last thing I needed was for that awful Officer Kosher to pull me over.
Nancy answered the door after the fifth ring of the doorbell, looking a little put out. She was back in the mother of the bride dress, but I didn't comment.
"I need to look at your photos." Trying to hedge past her was like trying to get past a whole defensive line.
She frowned, pursing her lips. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Harper."
That drew me up short. "Why?"
When she put her hand on my shoulder, I sighed, because I knew I was in for it. "Wyatt doesn't want me encouraging you. There’s no case here. I think you should just go home and relax." Her hand patted my cheek. "Try a nice bubble bath. I'll see y
ou at dinner."
The next thing I knew, I found her French doors slammed in my face, leaving me outside by myself, amazed that I'd been put so firmly in my place by Nancy.
"A bubble bath?" I said to the door, before heading home.
Chapter Seven
Per Nancy's request, I did take a bubble bath, though I never had before. I used Cooper's kiddie bubbles that made the foam this noxious green color. It wasn't a colossal waste of time, because ideas formed in that bath. By the time I was toweling the green off my body, I had a plan.
Wyatt poked his head into the bedroom, a cautious creature. When he saw me lying on the bed, he came into the room slowly. No doubt the bubble bath had him spooked. Like a dog scenting a storm in the air.
Still, brave man that he is, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Aren't you going to get dressed for dinner?"
I shook my head slowly and prepared for the best acting of my life. My blinking slowed down, leaving more time when my eyes were closed. I let my head fall to the side like it was oh-so-heavy, and I yawned largely.
"I thought I'd skip this one," I said. "If that's alright."
Wyatt, seeing me in a restful position for the first time in weeks, jumped on the chance with vigor. He dressed quickly in the dark so as not to disturb me. Before shutting the door quietly on his way out, he made sure my feet were covered and brushed the hair away from my face.
I waited there like that for an hour or so, feeling a little guilty for deceiving him. I knew I'd probably do better to stay behind and actually nap, but I was too wired to do more than pretend to sleep anyway.
When the door clicked behind the Bennetts as they left, I rolled from the bed. Dialing up Oliver, I struggled to put on pants one-handed.
"Yes," he purred.
Shuddering, I said, "Get rid of whoever's in your bed. We're going out tonight." After a pause, I continued. "Wear black."
"Ooh, breaking and entering, is it? See you in ten."
Best friends. They just know.
______
"Oh, god, we're breaking into your mother-in-law’s house?" Oliver crouched lower in my passenger seat. "How could that go wrong?"
"She's not my mother-in-law yet."
"I don't think that makes it legal."
This wasn't our first experience in breaking and entering, so we snuck up to the front door without a problem, keeping to the shadows like a well-oiled machine. Oliver was almost silent—a vast improvement over our first time when people three streets down could hear him breathing. He did stop to check his cape, though, so we had some ways to go yet.
A little magic through the lock, and the doors that had slammed on me earlier that day opened without a hitch. I shut the door softly behind us, and we stood there for a moment, getting used to the low lighting. Passing the couch where Wyatt's dad was usually sitting, I thanked my lucky stars he went with the family tonight. That would've been awkward.
The stairs to the attic creaked under Oliver's feet, and he jumped a mile. No one was around, but I smacked him upside the head on principle. Really, I needed more stealthy sidekicks. Vic would have been moaning about her stomach right about now.
"Maybe you'd like to call the police too," I said.
"Only if they dispatch one of the cute officers to handcuff me."
Most people's attics were filled with boxes and dust. Nancy's is filled with pictures, and there's not a speck of dirt in sight.
I started with the huge containers on the right, Oliver taking the left. Without much banter between us, we sifted through years of memories. It was a little strange when I'd come across a picture of me with Wyatt. In a matter of days, I'd officially be a part of this family, of their memories.
"Is a picture of a teenaged Liam naked what we're looking for?"
"Does he have any distinguishing birthmarks?"
"Not that would interest an almost-married woman like yourself," he said, grinning.
I still looked. Just in case. For scientific exploration.
I was about halfway through my stack of pictures, when we heard a bump downstairs. Oliver's eyes got wide, and we gulped in unison.
"Someone would rob this house while we're robbing this house."
"We're not robbing it," I said, getting to my feet and creeping towards the door.
He waved the picture of naked Liam at me. "Maybe you're not."
When we both had our ear pressed to the door in the attic, I heard another bump downstairs. This one sounded closer and louder.
"Do you think it's the changeling?" Oliver whispered, his face so close I could tell he'd had risotto for dinner.
"I guess I'm about to find out."
Taking a deep breath, I prayed to the pizza gods, and then I charged off into the battle zone. Figuratively, of course. In actuality, I crept down the stairs, looking back at Oliver frequently for strength. Pointlessly as it turned out, as he was quaking in his boots and had a stress sweat going on.
The house was pitch black now, and I had to feel along the walls to get to the bottom of the stairs. I blatantly hoped the whole way down that I wouldn't run into a light switch and lose the element of surprise.
Surprise found me, though, as soon as my feet left the last stair. I heard someone yell "Thief!" and then a whistling noise. A second later, something hard and heavy connected with my head, pain exploding in interesting lightshows behind my eyelids. Then I didn't feel anything for a long while.
______
Vaguely, I became aware of voices beside me. The sheets and bed I was lying on were familiar, as I spend a lot of time in the hospital. Inhaling deeply, I tried to smell if they'd brought me my pudding cup yet. That would make getting my skull bashed in worth it.
"Oh," Nancy wailed beside me. "I feel so horrible! I thought she was a robber."
"She is a robber, Mom," Charles said, his voice rumbling like thunder in the small room. "She and that friend of hers broke into your house."
I opened my eyes slowly, groaning as the light hit my corneas.
Taking stock of the room, I snarled when I realized Tom and Charles weren't the only malcontents in the room. Standing off in the corner and looking far too gleeful, Officer Kosher was taking reverent notes. He kept glancing at me and then at the brothers, looking happier each time he did it.
"Charles is right, Mrs. Bennett," Kosher said. "What Harper did was criminal. Likely there were drugs involved."
"Drugs!" my mother-in-law wailed.
Kosher nodded gravely. "It's heartbreaking, I know. But the only way we can get Harper the help she needs is by pressing charges."
"That's enough, Peter," Wyatt said, entering the room with a fresh cup of coffee in his hands.
Wyatt returned to my bedside, squeezing my hand, relieved to see me in the land of the living again. He also looked a little pissed, which was fair.
"Wyatt," Tom started, looking pained. "I know you...care for her, but for god's sake, she's a criminal. She broke into Mom's house."
He pinched his nose, the vein in his temple pulsing in his head. Funny, I'd always thought of that vein as mine. It was disheartening to know other people could make it explode as well.
"Harper wasn't stealing anything."
I croaked, "There was some cake on the counter that looked pretty good. Probably would have gone home with me, but I got stiches instead."
Shooting me a look that said "stop letting the drugs do your talking for you," Wyatt went on. "She was...just being Harper."
His gaze went back to me, and it was warm and amused. "Nosy, pig headed, sneaky Harper."
"Not so sneaky if your mother got the drop on her," Kosher said. Then, with relish he continued. "With a bat, no less."
Surprisingly enough, it was Nancy that came to my rescue. “She’s just been under a lot of stress. Weddings are stressful.” She frowned. “None of you would know, because you all remain unmarried—making my chances for more grandchildren close to nil.”
And that was that. Nancy stared down each member
of the party until they looked away. No one dared say more.
“You’re such a badass, Nancy,” I said, my words slurring. “I’ll give you grandchildren for that comment alone.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that, dear.”
The next morning Kosher knocked on my door at an ungodly hour, and I almost went for one of the many handguns we keep in the house. Flinging open the door to the Victorian, I glared at his smug face. He'd put me in jail if I punched him, that much was certain. I just wasn't sure yet if it'd be worth it or not.
"I could make it look like an accident," I said, mulling it over.
His smile got wider, and he showed me a picture of our photographer. "Remember this guy?"
Without a word, I went back inside and put a pot of water on the stove. If I was going to have this conversation with my least favorite person at this hour, I was at least going to have my tea as well.
Kosher followed me in without an invitation. Like a vampire, once he'd been invited in, he thought he could walk in whenever he pleased. Also like a vampire, a stake through the heart would probably solve all my problems.
He sat down at the kitchen table, putting his hands behind his head and propping up his feet. "His girlfriend reported him missing last night after he didn't show up for their date." His eyes sharpened on me and my reaction. "Surprised?"
"That he has a girlfriend? Absolutely."
"Don't play cute."
"I'm not playing at anything," I said, shortly, pouring my tea.
"Aren't you going to offer me any?"
Brandishing the scalding water at him, I said, "Sure. Where would you like it?"
A meaningful glance to his crotch region made it clear where I'd like to dump the boiling water. I could almost hear his sweet screams in my ear.
Kosher shifted away, seeing the crazy in my eyes, but not completely backing down. "We searched his apartment. There were signs of a struggle."
I sat down then, tired to my bones and back. Guilt crushed down on me when I thought about that man's happy face at the park yesterday. Something had happened to him, and I was likely to blame for it.
