And Sera asserting herself—like she had earlier this evening when she’d insisted on chopping the onion all by herself while she’d helped with dinner—was also a good thing. But it left Opal painfully aware that Sera was growing up fast. And in a few more years, when her baby spread her wings and left for college, Opal would be on her own. A depressing thought.
She flicked another page and came face to face with a fluff piece devoted to critiquing various celebrities on their choice of outfit for this or that event. The snide tone of one comment made her inwardly wince. Sheesh. The dress wasn’t that bad—certainly not the fashion disaster it was being touted. And so what if the star had a few extra curves? She looked great.
Enough. Moving right along. If Opal were honest, Sera’s asthma wasn’t the only root cause of her overprotective tendencies. When it came to their kids, people tended to parent the exact opposite of the way they’d been raised.
Opal was no exception. Elliott and Kendall Stewart had subscribed to a hands-off style of parenting, more often than not leaving her to her own devices. They’d been thrilled and proud when she was scouted by a modeling agency, and encouraged her to go for it. Neither had been the slightest bit concerned by the prospect of their daughter living away from home at a very young age.
Opal had been financially independent and rooming in a New York apartment with two models from her agency by the time she turned seventeen. And it’d only been a few days after her seventeenth birthday that Elliott and Kendall Stewart were killed in a freak mudslide in China. Last Opal had heard, they’d been staying in out of the way places that barely warranted a dot on a map, and hearing about their deaths had been all the more shocking given she’d answered the late night call expecting it to be her parents checking in. Her agency’s legal advisor had helped Opal file for emancipation in the family court, and as she’d been able to prove self-sufficiency, and already had the proceeds from the sale of her family home invested, it had been pretty much a formality. She’d mourned her parents, missed them dreadfully—still did—but life had continued on pretty much as normal. She’d believed she was handling truly being on her own just fine.
A shiver goosed her spine. God. How very young and innocent she’d been.
The shiver turned into a full-body shudder as her mind flooded with memories of him. She beat them back, re-focused her thoughts on her parents.
It saddened her that Sera would never know her grandparents. Sure, they’d been a little flakey and distracted by their pet causes, but they’d been good people at heart. She’d never know how they would have handled her unplanned pregnancy, but she suspected her decision not to name the father and keep the baby wouldn’t have fazed them in the slightest.
The doorbell jangled. Opal jumped like a startled cat. She darted a glance at the wall clock. Just gone eight. Who—?
Danbur.
Her heart did a little pit-a-pat and her stomach swooped. It’d been four days since that memorable kiss they’d shared—not that she was counting or anything. But it seemed longer. A lifetime. And her mind clamored with questions. Where he’d been. What he’d been doing. Whether he was doing okay—mentally. And if he’d been thinking about her half as much as she’d thought about him.
She was on her feet with no recollection of moving from the couch. And before she could tell herself it was ridiculous to care what she was wearing, what she looked like, she’d yanked the elastic band from her hair and was frantically finger-combing it, while her spare hand tugged at the neckline of the old t-shirt she wore to set it straight. Both palms smoothed the sweatpants down her thighs, as though by touch alone they could transform them into something less worn and scruffy.
Ridiculous. She clenched her fists at her sides and strode to the door. And then, sucking in a bracing breath, she opened it.
This time her stomach didn’t just swoop, it plummeted to her toes. Because it wasn’t him.
The old man standing on her stoop smiled. Opal’s disappointment bit deep. She wrapped her arms about her middle and forced an attempt to return his smile. “Hi, Peter. What can I do for you?”
At least, that’s what she wanted to say. It came out more like a grunted “Hunhhh”. But before her face could heat with embarrassment she recalled that she was supposed to be furious at the old man. For… something.
She gnawed her thumbnail. For… for… leaving Sera with… with…. Danbur. Yes. That was it. Though why that decision had angered her so much she hadn’t a clue right now. And as she gazed into the old man’s bright blue eyes she knew absolutely that Peter would never put Sera in harm’s way. He’d trusted Danbur to look after Sera. Opal should trust Danbur, too. Especially since Danbur had already proven he cared deeply for Sera’s wellbeing. Hell, he’d proven a far better caregiver than… than… Liza. Yes. That was her name.
Ah heck. She would have to tell Annie and Conrad about what that girl had gotten up to. Opal wouldn’t be able to live with herself if the sitter who regularly supervised Conrad’s grandkids thought it was perfectly okay to… to….
What had Liza done again?
Oh, not to worry. It couldn’t be important. But there was something else wasn’t there? Something Danbur had said about Peter. Or maybe something she’d wanted to ask Peter about Danbur. She shook her head. God. Her mind was full of holes and—
Never mind. There was no reason to be cross with Peter. No reason to be concerned about Danbur’s state of mind. No reason to be worried at all. She beckoned Peter inside.
“I won’t keep you, my dear,” he said. “I merely wished to assure you that I would be delighted to look after Sera if you ever find yourself delayed at work. You need only ring me and I’ll meet her at the bus stop after school. Oh, and supervise her homework. Whatever is required.”
Opal blinked. And swallowed the lump in her throat. What a sweetheart he was to make such a kind offer. “Th-th-th—”
He held up a hand. “There is no need to thank me. We are great friends, Sera and I. It is hardly an imposition to spend time with her.” And with that, he waggled his fingers and winked at something behind her and strode off.
Opal shut and locked the door, and turned to find Sera, dressed in her favorite pink pajamas, standing behind her. “I know you don’t like working late, Mommy,” Sera said, “’coz you get really worried about me and stuff. And it makes you really tired, too. But I wouldn’t mind if Mr. Stone looked after me sometimes. He’s nice.”
An ache in Opal’s chest—one that had been there for so long she’d accepted it as normal—abruptly eased. She and Sera had been on their own for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like to have someone to call on when things went pear-shaped. She scooped Sera up and gave her sloppy smooches on both cheeks until Sera squealed with laughter and squirmed from her arms.
“Can I listen to my music tonight?” Sera asked. “I read three whole chapters of my book while I was in the bath and I don’t feel like reading anymore.”
Opal nodded, and followed her daughter as she skipped back up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Sera selected a song and pressed Play on her portable CD player. She danced around the room a couple of times to the chorus of the catchy, upbeat song, and then climbed onto her bed. “What’s skinny-dipping, Mommy?”
Opal bit her lip. Could be worse. Luckily the more adult-oriented lyrics tended to go right over Sera’s head. Opal described skinny dipping as matter-of-factly as she could, ending with why it wasn’t something you should do very often—what with the high potential that you’d be discovered, or someone might steal your clothing as a prank. Sera alternated between giggling and wondering aloud why people didn’t go swimming in their underwear if they’d forgotten their swimsuits.
Opal hid a smile. Why, indeed. “T-T-Two more s-s-songs and then s-s-sleep,” she said.
Sera gave her puppy-dog eyes. “Three?”
“Okay.”
As Opal switched out the main light, she glanced back in time to glimpse Sera extr
acting an item from beneath her pillow. When she rolled onto her back and rested her hands atop the cover there was something clutched in each fist.
Opal squinted, trying to make out what they were. And then it dawned on her. The crystal Peter had given her. But it had broken in half. When had that happened?
Something tickled Opal’s brain—a memory. Or perhaps a revelation. It vanished before she could grasp hold of it and examine the truth it held.
“’Night, Mommy,” Sera called.
“Goodnight.” Opal wandered into her bedroom and flopped full length on the bed, massaging her temples. She should get up. She had heaps to do. But she couldn’t bring herself to move.
What the hell. For once she’d treat herself to an early night. She closed her eyes.
Sleep dragged her down. Her mind whirled with images of a park… a big man pushing a child on a swing, laughing when the child begged him to push her higher and higher… a young woman resting nearby on a picnic blanket, watching the fun….
And then the dreamscape changed. She was the young woman, content to sit and watch the fun because she was too big and clumsy now to join Sera and the man. Danbur.
His gaze caught hers and bathed her in a sense of “rightness” so profound that she had to say it. Out loud. And she didn’t care who heard. “I love you,” she said.
He smiled and didn’t look away until Sera demanded his attention again.
Her dreamy contentment shattered on a sharp stab of disappointment. Danbur frequently told Sera he loved her, but he’d not once said those three little words to his wife.
Her palm smoothed across her belly. She grunted softly as she was rewarded by a kick from her unborn child. It would be all right. This baby would change everything, fix everything. It had to. Otherwise she didn’t know how she would bear it.
Sometime during the night Opal woke, shivering, deeply unsettled for no reason she could pin down. She shucked her clothes, crawled into an old t-shirt and sleep shorts, and climbed beneath the covers.
God she was tired. So tired. Her eyelids drifted shut and all her muscles went lax, but this time sleep was a long while coming.
~~~
Weekdays were never what Opal would call fun but Friday mornings were in a class of their own. A class that, frankly, sucked. She kicked a stone and watched it skitter across the pavement as she mulled the possibility of dropping Sienna Mitchell as a client. This morning’s note informing Opal she needed to clean the oven because Sienna had “made a little bit of a mess last night” was the last straw.
The “little mess” had proven to be a mass of grease splatters and a blackened puddle of some substance that had been baked on over the course of weeks or months—probably dating back to shortly after the last time Opal had been asked to clean the heinously expensive, top of the line oven.
Hah. Last night my ass. The mess had been neglected far too long. It wasn’t going to take a simple spray of oven cleaner, and a wipe down after the cleaner had worked its magic. Some major elbow grease was in that oven’s future, and Opal would be damned if she’d provide that elbow grease gratis—especially if it meant letting down her Friday afternoon client on short notice. Cue a painfully polite note explaining that the oven was too big of a job to fit in to her scheduled three hours, but if Sienna could spray the oven with cleaner the evening prior to Opal’s next scheduled visit, Opal would prioritize the oven over her usual tasks. She’d underlined “usual tasks” in case Sienna didn’t get the hint. Doubtless the note would go down like a lead balloon but too bad. A girl could only take so much of being treated like crap.
Annie’s sporty red coupe was parked in the driveway of the North’s home. Looked like Annie had the afternoon off.
Normally having a client home while she cleaned made Opal tense and uncomfortable at best, and at worst, sick to the stomach. She had no issues with hard work, and cleaning houses for a living wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. But some clients felt compelled to follow her from room to room, and making polite small-talk with her employer was far more taxing than scrubbing floors. Granted, being handed a coffee while you were cleaning was a nice gesture, but not exactly practical. As for Sienna’s husband, who’d once invited Opal to “take five and join me for a coffee”, well, let’s just say the slow and sleazy head to toer accompanying that invitation had made Opal feel extremely sorry for his wife—even if Sienna was, to put it kindly, high maintenance.
Annie was a sweetheart—Sienna’s complete opposite. A bubbly young blonde a few years older than Opal, Annie had a sunny outlook on life that could have been annoying as hell, except she was so sweet and endearing you simply had to smile.
From their very first meeting, Annie hadn’t been the least bit bothered by Opal’s speech impediment. She’d fixed her gaze expectantly on Opal’s face, giving the impression whatever came out of Opal’s mouth was going to be worth the wait, and it didn’t matter how long it took to form those words.
Opal had met Annie’s husband, Conrad, for the first time when he’d stayed home to look after Annie during a nasty bout of stomach flu. She’d instantly warmed to him. Conrad was significantly older than his young wife but they adored each other. According to Annie, Conrad was a hot-shot attorney whose annual salary bordered on the obscene. And most people presumed she’d married him for his money, which had to hurt, Opal thought, but Annie hid it well. Despite Conrad’s reputed wealth, his lovely home was modest compared to most who ran in his circles. He was a down-to-earth man who loved his daughters to distraction—hence him getting on board Stella’s idea for the fashion show and making it happen.
Opal bit her lip, praying Stella had no complaints, and Annie hadn’t been made to regret asking Opal to fill the shoes of the model who’d backed out. Doubtless she’d find out very soon. She called out to let Annie know she’d arrived.
“Hi, Opal!” Annie stuck her head out from the kitchen and waved a hand in the direction of the living room. “Before I forget, I left a Vogue in the bedroom for you. Sera will adore the main spread—all the models are wearing pink dresses.”
“Thanks.” Annie frequently asked after Sera. Opal got the feeling she would love kids of her own, but Conrad had three adult daughters and wasn’t quite ready to dive back into fatherhood. Annie was working on him, though. And Opal suspected he wouldn’t be able to resist her for long.
“So. Anything to tell me?” Annie emerged completely from the kitchen and bounced on her toes, eagerness pouring from her in waves.
Opal did her best to hide her dismay at Annie’s food-spattered apron. It looked like it’d been dipped in chocolate sauce. Or gravy. At least, Opal hoped for Conrad’s sake it was chocolate sauce or gravy. And please God, the kitchen wouldn’t be too much of a disaster zone after Annie’s latest experiment.
Annie screwed her face into a wry smile. “Yeah, I know I’m not the tidiest person in the kitchen. So? How’d it go? I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the show—Stella was… Stella. And by the time she quit going on about everything you’d left.” She bounced some more. “C’mon, Opal. Dying, here!”
Opal decided to put Annie out of her misery. “O-O-Once I g-g-got over the st-st-stage fright it w-w-was l-l-loads of fun.”
“I knew it!” Annie fist-punched the air. “You looked fricking amazing, and you damn well owned that show—no lie. Conrad just about fell off his chair when he saw you saunter by in that cat-suit thingie of Stella’s. I had to tell him to close his mouth before he started drooling.”
Something taut inside of her relaxed. “C-C-Conrad was h-h-happy?”
Annie beamed at her. “Conrad was ecstatic. Stella, too. And no wonder, because you looked incredible. And since I suggested you fill in, and everything worked out great, I’m hoping she’ll quit being such a bitch. Or maybe not so much of a bitch would be okay. Because boy, that one really takes after her mother, and even Conrad admits his first wife is an epic bitch.”
Opal didn’t feel up to commiserating w
ith Annie about Conrad’s ex—or his youngest daughter who, in her private opinion, needed a smack for the way she treated Annie—so she raised her eyebrows and hoped Annie would get the hint.
“Oh yeah,” Annie said. “I’m off work early.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “God, there I go again—stating the obvious. And please don’t come near the kitchen. It’s an utter disaster, and I’ll be hideously embarrassed if you see the mess I’ve made. I’ll clean up once I’m done.”
Opal raised her eyebrows as if to say, “Are you sure?” She’d encountered the aftermath of Annie’s cooking attempts before. It hadn’t been pretty.
“One of Conrad’s business associates is coming over tonight with his wife,” Annie hastened to explain. “Conrad said we should get the meal catered but I’m determined to cook everything from scratch. I thought this would be the perfect time to prove to him I’m not a complete incompetent in the kitchen.”
Yikes. This probably wasn’t the best idea Annie had ever come up with.
“I’ll be fine.” Annie sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Opal. “I’ve got the menu all planned to a tee. It’s going to be easy as pie. And Conrad’s going to be so proud of me.”
Opal crossed her fingers behind her back. “Of c-c-course he is. Y-Y-You’re g-g-gonna do g-g-great.” She mustered a smile meant to reassure Annie, and beat a hasty retreat upstairs.
She heard the odd loud bang and clatter while she cleaned, but nothing too alarming. Then, as she was stowing the vacuum cleaner in the cupboard under the stairs, Annie’s howl shattered the silence.
Opal slammed the cupboard door and sprinted for the kitchen. The first thing she registered was the horrendous mess. Pans and bowls and spilled ingredients littered the countertops. More bits of this and that sprinkled the floor. And Annie stood beside the stove, sucking her fingers.
Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series Page 14
