by Eloise Flood
Piper hid a grin. Phoebe had been pretty quiet over the last couple of days, since Niall had gone back to his own time. But now she seemed to be getting back to normal.
Prue turned away from the registration counter in the hotel lobby. “Okay, we’re all checked out and set to go,” she said. “Ready, you two?”
Piper was about to nod when she heard an all-too-familiar voice. “Piper! Darling!”
She sighed as she spotted Sir Andrew hurrying toward her across the carpeted floor. “Piper, where are you going?” he demanded. “Why haven’t you answered any of my messages? Didn’t you get my notes? The flowers?” His voice lost its aggrieved note. “Darling, don’t you know how I need you?”
“I don’t believe this,” Prue muttered. She sounded supremely annoyed. “Piper, I thought you were going to take care of your little problem.”
“I am,” Piper assured her. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a plastic shopping bag. As she opened it, a garlicky, slightly putrid odor wafted out.
“Oh, gag me,” Phoebe gasped. “I hope I’m not sitting next to you on the plane. What is that?”
“An antidote,” Piper said. She reached in and pulled out a straggling bouquet, made up of various ugly and bad-smelling weeds. It had taken her the better part of yesterday afternoon to collect them.
As Sir Andrew reached her, she held the bouquet in front of her, smiling at him. “Sir Andrew, how nice to see you,” she said.
“Piper, I—” Sir Andrew broke off abruptly, his nose twitching. “Good God, what is that awful smell?”
“Oh, you mean my flowers?” Piper held the bouquet up to his face so he’d get a good whiff. “Unusual, aren’t they?”
He took a step backward, coughing. Piper followed, crossing her fingers. Now came the test.
“Sir Andrew, I’m so sorry I haven’t returned your calls,” she said. “It’s just that I’ve been . . . well, a little overwhelmed. I mean, I’m just a simple American girl, and you’re a, well, a—” She trailed off. What was Sir Andrew? An earl? A count? She had no idea.
“Anyway,” she hurried on, “What I want to say is, if you still want to pursue our romance, well, I’m very, very interested. And I’d simply love to have dinner with you tonight.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him for good measure.
She watched as a baffled expression spread over Sir Andrew’s blunt-featured face. It was quickly followed by a look of alarm.
“Yes, well—hoom, hahm.” Sir Andrew’s cheeks were slowly turning brick red. “Matter of fact, what I came to say is, er, um . . . I’ve been called away. Urgent family business. Leaving town this very afternoon, in fact.” He cleared his throat. “Wanted to wish you a bon voyage and all that.”
“Oh.” Piper lowered her gaze, pretending to be disappointed. But in reality she was avoiding Prue and Phoebe’s eyes. She knew if she looked at either of her sisters she’d burst out laughing. The antidote had worked.
“All right,” she said in a sulky voice. “I get the picture.” She had to restrain herself from adding, “You men are all alike.” That would have been laying it on a little too thick.
“Yes, well. Er—good-bye, pleasant journey, what?” Sir Andrew turned and hurried away.
“Is he gone?” Piper asked after a moment. She was still afraid to look up.
“He’s gone,” Phoebe said. “Neat, Piper,” she added in an admiring voice. “Very neat.”
“Thanks,” Piper said with a grin. Walking over to the nearest trash can, she dumped the smelly posy. “Whew. I don’t know how much longer I could have taken that smell.”
Prue was shaking her head, laughing. “You know, it’s hard to believe some of the fixes we get ourselves into,” she said. “We’d have to change all the names, of course, but someday one of us is going to have to write a book.”
“Emphasis on someday,” Phoebe said. “When we’re old and gray and have lots more adventures under our belts. But right now I think we need to focus on living a little.”
“Sounds good to me,” Piper said. She linked an arm through each of her sisters’. “Come on, let’s go home.”
About the Author
ELOISE FLOOD has written a number of books for children and teens, as well as Star Trek Next Generation: Chains of Command (with William McCay), which was a New York Times bestseller. She lives in New York City.
