Austentatious

by Alyssa Goodnight

  “It’s too early to tell,” I told him honestly, determined not to get distracted. “So what happened to the key?”

  “Oh, it came back too, but I never slipped it into the lock again—chicken, I guess. I take it from all the questions that it wasn’t with the journal.”

  “No,” I confirmed, slumping in my seat, a little defeated. “It wasn’t.”

  My free fall back to ignorance came too fast, and all at once I was dizzy, my head spinning. Okay, deep breath, start again. “Any ideas?”

  “I’d start with that Violet character. Best lead you got.”

  “You’re right. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Nelson, and I’m sorry to have brought up sad memories of your sister.”

  “Never mind that. It’s past.”

  On impulse I asked one final question. “Just out of curiosity—was she happy with her decision?”

  “Far as I know. Sent plenty of postcards from all over. Didn’t seem to miss Tyler one little bit. Him, on the other hand, never stepped foot outside Gillespie County. But that doesn’t prove a thing—Cat done gone and messed with fate.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, my voice sounding faraway. I could relate to Tyler’s situation. I’d recently come to the conclusion that my dad had planned Walt Disney World vacations around hurricane season and trips to Europe around the impossibility of scoring last-minute passports. Cat Nelson may have messed with fate, but at least she’d gone somewhere.

  “Okay then. Good luck to you.” He hung up with a click in my ear, and it barely registered, my thoughts were in such a tussle over this new information. Evidently I needed to go back, yet again, to Violet’s and fend off the Purveyor long enough to find the key. A key that was likely to ratchet up the insanity yet another dubious notch.

  The cupcakes momentarily forgotten, I unearthed my laptop and powered it up, crossing my fingers that Violet’s was open on Sunday. It wasn’t. My search was going to have to wait until Monday. I was going to have to sneak off to search for a magical key on the same day I hoped to be promoted to manager. Perfect.

  As I turned back to the morning’s cupcake distraction, I was conscious of the fact that I should call Beck. I knew she was waiting to hear from me, and I had plenty to tell her. But while I was confident she’d forgive me for rousing her so early on a Sunday, I didn’t really want to go into the whole business right now. I’d call her eventually ... or she’d call me.

  I was assembling the cupcakes, my hands coated with gooey macaroon mixture, when the phone rang again. Of course it was Beck, a.k.a. Karma.

  “Hey,” I answered, the phone jammed between my ear and shoulder.

  “Hey! What are you up to today? Wanna meet up?”

  “Um, sure,” I blurted, thinking fast. If I invited her to brunch, I’d only have to rehash the wedding details a single time. “How about brunch? I’m already meeting Gabe, and he’s as avidly curious about my one-night solo social whirl as you are.”

  “Okay, sure,” she enthused.

  “One thing, though—he doesn’t know about the journal.”

  “So you want me to keep Fairy Jane on the down-low?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Not a problem. As long as you promise to fill me in later.”

  “I’ll do you one better. I’m meeting Gabe at Moonshine downtown at noon. Meet me there ten minutes early, and I’ll catch you up.”

  “Gotcha.”

  With my afternoon satisfactorily arranged, I hung up the phone and returned to the task of forming little coconut caps on the cooled, ganached cupcakes, easily sliding into the unruffled calm that comes from mindless repetition. It didn’t even occur to me to call Gabe to see if he minded a third.

  Beck made an entrance in a swirly red miniskirt and turquoise sweater, her hair pulled back in a sparkly barrette, causing me, in my jeans and nubby sweater, to feel just the slightest bit drab. Squelching that feeling, I waved from the bench seat beside the hostess station, and she hurried over, all giddy anticipation. She dropped a hug around my shoulders and then sat back, clearly ready to get right to it.

  “So? Spill it, chick. Did you call the dude in Fredericksburg?” Seeing my nod, she continued, “Tell me about that first. Then the wedding, then whatever else you got.”

  “Fine, but as soon as Gabe shows up, we’re nixing all journal-related conversation and sticking with the wedding replay, okay?”

  “Got it.”

  I relayed the general gist of my conversation with Elijah Nelson amid a great deal of gasps and the occasional wild-eyed comment: “Shit! There’s a key? Wow—and she never came back? Un-freakin’-believable.” When I finally finished, she seemed confused. “And you didn’t go back in to look for the key?” Her tone was distinctly accusatory.

  “I waited to call him until this morning,” I said, speaking slowly. “And it turns out they’re closed on Sundays. Finding a matching key amid all that clutter seems like kind of a long shot, though. Unless the Nazi knows where it is and is willing to say.” I raised my eyebrows to indicate my level of confidence in that turn of events.

  “I don’t know how you stand it. The suspense is killing me. Don’t you wish life could be like the movies, all action without the filler?”

  “Um, no. I’m a big fan of the filler.” She cut her eyes over to me, clearly wondering if I could possibly be serious.

  “What’s your Plan B, if the key doesn’t want to be found?” she said.

  My eyebrows crinkled down in reaction to the ongoing LOTR analogy and I said, “A lot of the same: floundering around without a clue, hoping things start making sense on their own. But I’m not holding my breath.”

  Leveling me with a hard stare, she seemed to have no better alternative. “We’ll deal with that later. Tell me about the wedding,” she insisted, edging closer on the bench.

  It was quite the novelty to realize that for once I wasn’t the one living vicariously—I was the one with the exciting life. Or at least the exciting night. And already that one night was more than I could handle.

  “So did it all come true? Did you meet him?”

  “You don’t want to know about the cake?” I teased.

  She shot me a dangerous “very funny, but get serious” look and I straightened up quickly.

  “Would you believe that they had the ceremony outside, under the trees, at dusk? It’s March, for God’s sakes, and freezing!”

  Glancing pointedly at her watch, Beck warned, “Time’s a-tickin’, girl. Start with him, and go from there.”

  “Okay. Well, I definitely met him.” Lust shimmied up my spine just remembering, and I could feel my lips beginning to curl up.

  “And?” Beck’s lips parted slightly in anticipation.

  “And I had a very nice night,” I admitted, my smile fully in place now. “But I definitely don’t trust the journal’s ability to make sensible decisions.”

  Beck’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Kinda seems like you skipped all the good stuff, Nic.”

  “Just wanted to make that clear.”

  “Okay, let’s put him on hold for a minute. What happened? What’d Fairy Jane say now?”

  “That ... fairy ... is a menace! The latest leftover was ‘change of Plan—pencil him in,’ but that’s only part of it.”

  “I assume that ‘him’ is him, who, I might add, I’ve yet to hear anything about?” Her eyebrows crinkled down in annoyance.

  “Seems pretty damn likely.”

  “Him who?” said a familiar voice a few feet in front of us.

  Naturally it was Gabe, dressy casual in dark denim and a sharp-looking green polo, his hair gelled up into some sort of style. He reminded me of a blade of grass nudging his way in.

  “No one important,” I quipped, shooing the moment away and earning a smirk from Beck. Gabe and Beck had met previously but had had little time to get to know each other, as Beck’s hours at Micro were a little sporadic. I refreshed the introductions, gesturing first to Beck. “Rebecca Connelly—Be
ck for short—intern extraordinaire and über-hip chick, meet,” and then over to Gabe, “Gabe Vogler, longtime coworker, self-professed geek, and all-around good guy.”

  With the introductions finished, I stood to catch the hostess’s eye. When I turned back, Gabe was staring, quite possibly hypnotized as I’d once been, by the winking, blinking pink stud in Beck’s nose. I snapped my fingers quick and hard as near his face as I dared, and Gabe whipped his head around in my direction, his eyes dark and distracted. I glanced at Beck, smudging her lips together, eyeing Gabe in all his nerdiness, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my one wild night had already become old news. Not a problem.

  Further conversation was put off until we were seated, Beck and I sitting on one side of the booth sipping Moonshine mimosas (both ordered by my just-barely-legal mentee) and Gabe on the other, sticking with iced tea.

  “UT engineering, huh? What year?” Gabe asked, cautiously curious.

  “Junior,” Beck answered with a nod and a dimpled smile.

  Judging by the tiny movements of Gabe’s lips, I assumed he was doing the math, calculating that Beck was a good five years his junior. Evidently he wasn’t spooked by the nose stud or the magenta hair—good for him. I smiled at him and kept one eyebrow raised, waiting for the numbers to click. When they did, he flicked a quick glance at me before determinedly turning his attention back to Beck.

  “So how goes the mentoring?”

  “I’m gonna let Beck answer that,” I said, sliding out of the booth, heading for the buffet, and crossing my fingers that Beck could dodge the question.

  The booth was empty when I got back, toting a syrup-doused waffle topped with strawberries and pecans. I glanced toward the buffet line to see Gabe leaning down to speak into Beck’s ear, her shocking pink hair skimming the edge of his face. She looked up at him, her face glowing. It would definitely be interesting to see how this played out.

  Once we were all settled back at the table, it was only a few bites before Gabe remembered what we’d arranged to discuss.

  “So how was the wedding last night?” he asked, forking up a bite of chicken fried steak and letting his eyes stray to Beck, who was concentrating rather intently on buttering her cranberry orange muffin. I made a note to snag one of those on my next trip to the buffet.

  “I left early.”

  “That can’t be the best you can do,” Gabe insisted. Beck’s thigh bumped up against mine in an obvious I-told-you-so.

  I bumped her right back, resisting the urge to turn and glare. Then I took a deep breath and launched right into things.

  “I did meet a guy—a stranger,” I added, preempting Gabe. “We talked, we danced, we had cake. Then he walked me out, he kissed me on the cheek, and that was that.” It seemed a shame to encapsulate the evening like that, but also very sensible, all things considered.

  “Did you give him your number?” The question came out slightly muffled, having dodged Beck’s mouthful of muffin.

  “Not exactly.”

  Suddenly it was a two-flanked stare-down as both Gabe and Beck stopped chewing to gaze at me, wide-eyed.

  “What does that mean?” I imagined this was a joint question, but it was Beck who voiced it.

  “He invited me out Thursday night, I said okay, we said good-bye.”

  “But no phone number?” Gabe fired this one, and it occurred to me that I was being tag-teamed.

  “No need. I know where to find him if I want to,” I told them simply. “And besides, he isn’t ‘the One.’ ”

  I was conscious of Beck, frozen beside me, desperately wanting to press for details but holding it together because of Gabe.

  “You didn’t give him your phone number, but you let him kiss you?” Gabe demanded, clearly puzzled.

  “Oh, he was definitely the one for that.” I smiled, remembering with dreamy fondness that moment of weakness.

  Gabe promptly turned to Beck and tattled, “This is classic Nic.”

  Glancing first at me, Beck swiveled her eyes back to Gabe and countered, “How so?”

  “She has this perception of the perfect, sensible match, and if a guy doesn’t look and act the part, it’s all over for him from ground zero.”

  I took my time carving out another bite of waffle, swirling it in the syrup puddled on my plate. I answered before forking it into my mouth.

  “He’s an aspiring musician, and his band is being showcased at South by Southwest.” I raised an eyebrow, daring either of them to challenge my decision.

  “Are you kidding? That’s awesome.” This from Gabe.

  Watching Gabe’s face light up with interest, I was suddenly curious. “His band is Loch’d In, with an ‘h.’ Ever heard of them?” I asked casually.

  “Loch’d In? You’re kidding. That’s the Scottish band we saw on Friday night—the men with accents? Pretty big coincidence. He was at the wedding?”

  “He was a stand-in for the band’s lead singer, who, apparently, was an imminent father-to-be.” My voice was hollow and distracted. I was remembering Friday night: sparring with Gabe, having just discovered my journal’s special bonus features. Had it been a coincidence? It seemed too big for that—too impossible to believe, as if worlds were colliding.

  I couldn’t look at Beck, couldn’t risk meeting her eyes and losing it. Gabe, now focused on his plate and oblivious to the frenzy of unknowns clamoring in my head, asked. “So that’s it then? He’s out?”

  “That’s it.”

  “He’s the only guy you met?” Beck asked. “Him?”

  “Only him,” I said, answering the unspoken question.

  “You had to pick a guy with baggage—literally.” Gabe smirked.

  Huh? Before I could ask Gabe what he was talking about, he pushed on with, “You have a chance here, Nic, to play with the cool kids, and as an engineer and a self-professed geek, you should jump on it.”

  “I probably should object to that line of reasoning, but I’ve gotta side with Gabe on this one,” Beck said, spearing a chunk of pineapple and quirking her lips in friendly apology.

  “Except that I’m not looking for cool, I’m looking for compatible.”

  “Who’s to say he’s not?” Gabe was clearly rooting for this guy.

  “Me!” Surely this should have been obvious. “We have nothing in common. And what about health insurance, a 401(k), job security. . . ?”

  “First off, you don’t know he doesn’t have all that stuff. But even if he doesn’t, so what? Not everyone is on the fast track to a cushy retirement, Nic. And I’m guessing your main objection is that he’s not even on the sensible track. Face it, Nic,” he persisted, his smile smug, “you’re a snob.”

  “I am not!” And then I wondered. Am I? I decided to concede the possibility. “Okay, maybe I am, but I’m not going to apologize for that. It’s my life.” And just like that, the fight went out of me. “It’s just not gonna work, okay?”

  Gabe didn’t argue, merely quirked his lips in a rueful smile. I glanced over at Beck. She’d stayed quiet since the engineer jab, likely forming hypotheses of her own based on her insider knowledge of the journal and Fairy Jane. Or else just distracted by Gabe.

  “Okay, so we’ve exhausted that topic,” I announced to the table at large. “Why don’t you go reload,” I suggested, gesturing to Gabe’s nearly empty plate, “and when you get back we’ll discuss the success of your evening. First date,” I informed Beck.

  Flicking a quiet glance at Beck, Gabe slid obediently out of the booth. “You two coming?”

  Beck looked down at her near-empty plate, but before she could answer, I swung my leg to smack against hers under the table, and like a pro, she looked up at Gabe and smiled. “Not yet.” So Gabe trailed off alone, none the wiser.

  He wasn’t even a booth away when Beck whipped her attention back to me and whispered, “So is this true, a ruse, what? Tell me that you did not kiss a Scottish rocker, hand-picked by your fairy godmother no less, and send him on his merry way!”

  �
�Shhhhhh! Yes, it’s true, but as I explained, he can’t have been the One. Fairy Jane must have been mistaken—or insane. Yes, he was charming and witty and sooo sexy, but he’s completely, inarguably ”—I drove this point home, hoping she’d concede the battle of wills before it began—“wrong for me.”

  “How do you know it was him?”

  “Take my word for it—it was definitely him.”

  Her skepticism was clear, but she didn’t press it. “So really, that’s it?”

  I looked away, confirming Gabe’s far-off location before falling back into the fray. “What do you mean exactly?”

  “You’re just going to snub Fairy Jane and to hell with your one-of-a-kind magical journal?”

  “I tried to snub her, last night after the wedding. I wrote another entry explaining why things with Sean would never work, explaining about The Plan ...”

  “Oooh!” Beck had clearly put two and two together. “And she told you to pencil him in!” Her mouth fell open on a shocked smile. “I gotta say, I like the way she thinks. But how does she think you’re gonna manage that? You didn’t exchange phone numbers. Big mistake.” Seeing my glare, she added, “I’m just sayin’.”

  “You’re right, we didn’t. Ergo, I will not be penciling him in. But I figure I’ll give her another shot. I even tried to steer her in the right direction.”

  “You didn’t!” Beck demanded.

  “Didn’t what?”

  Beck and I jerked apart to stare up at Gabe as he slid into the booth with his second plate of food. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to horn in on secret powwows.

  “You’re back,” Beck enthused. Her smile was winning, even in profile. “So tell me, where do you take a girl on a first date?” A little flirtatious drawl from Beck, and curiosity had clearly gone skittering from Gabe’s mind. The girl was good.

  “Depends on the girl.” Very smooth, Gabe. “Last night we went to Eastside Café.”

  “And is there a second date in your future?” I asked, wondering about Beck’s chances, pulling for them.