Miracles for Nick

by Holly Fuhrmann

  "Nick was here?” Myrtle's entire demeanor changed from annoyed to avidly interested. “What did he want?"

  "To talk."

  "And he asked questions,” Blossom added helpfully.

  "Did he ask the question?” Myrtle asked.

  Fern shook her head. “No, it's too soon. They hardly know each other. He just asked questions about us."

  "Oh.” Myrtle looked disappointed.

  "And Glory realized she didn't have the answers,” Fern said.

  "Not that she would have given them to Nick,” Blossom defended Glory.

  "All I was saying was I wanted the three of you to fill out an application!” Glory realized she was shouting. She had never shouted at Michaelson's. She'd always felt that shouting was the sign of someone who didn't have control. She had been right. Here she was shouting, and her entire life was out of control, especially the part that included these three.

  "Why apply for jobs we already have?” Myrtle asked.

  "But I need some information for the IRS.” There. Let them argue that.

  "You're not paying us yet, so, there's no reason to bother them."

  Damn. “But, if business keeps up, I will be—"

  "We'll talk about it then, but right now we have to open.” Myrtle clapped her hands. “Come on, girls."

  Glory blocked Myrtle's retreat. “Listen, I'm the boss and—"

  "Hear that, Myrtle? Glory's the boss.” Blossom giggled.

  "I am the boss!” Glory reiterated.

  "Oh, you might be, but Myrtle is always convinced she is,” Fern said. “Her bossiness tends to cause problems. Like the time she decided to let April take the rap for a murder, sure that Bruce would save her."

  "She keeps saying the fact April almost spent her life in prison was my fault, but we know the truth, don't we Fern?” The brunette nodded her agreement, and Blossom continued, “It was her idea, and since she's the boss, she wouldn't listen to a thing we said."

  Glory was totally confused. Bosses? Murder? Life in prison? All she wanted was some information on her employees, like an address and a phone number. Was that too much to ask?

  "It's time to open.” Myrtle was glaring at all three of them. “Let's go, girls."

  Glory watched helplessly as Myrtle marched back into the dining room and Fern and Blossom began to hustle about the kitchen. What was wrong with her? She used to run a multi-million dollar international corporation, and now she couldn't even handle three employees? She was slipping, pure and simple. And Glory realized she didn't have a clue where she was slipping from or, even worse, where she was slipping to.

  * * * *

  Despite its less than exemplary beginning, the day was going smoothly ... too smoothly. That was Glory's thought moments before a tall, model-thin, beautiful brunette walked into the restaurant, spied Myrtle and yelled, “It's you!” in a way that left no doubt in anyone's mind that being you was not a good thing ... not a good thing at all.

  "Now—” Myrtle started to say, but that was all the further she got.

  The brunette's shrill scream drowned her out. She stomped a well-heeled foot.

  In seconds Glory assessed the screamer. She might have traded her heels for sneakers, but she recognized Ferragamo when she saw them. And the clothes the shoes coordinated with had never hung on a rack.

  "You promised,” the stomper screamed. “Two months ago, you popped into my life and promised me my happily-ever-after fairy story. Two months I've waited, like a fool. What kind of mind-trick did you play so that I was the only one who saw you at Bloomingdales and on the plane? Because let me tell you, Myrtle, everyone in this room can see you."

  "I'm sorry,” Glory said as she rushed forward, hoping to head off a full-scale scene. “Can I help you, Ma'am?"

  "Help me? Who are you? Another one of them?"

  Glory was sure that the them the woman was referring to was her employees, and no, she was definitely not one of them. She shook her head in denial and thrust out her hand. “Glory Chambers. I'm the owner."

  "And you let them work for you? You're just as crazy as they are, and for all I know you're in on it too. You're probably a fairy, or at least want me to think you are, but I don't. No, I don't think that at all."

  "Honey, you're becoming overwrought,” Myrtle said soothingly.

  "Overwrought? For two months I've been underwrought, because the objects of my wrought had disappeared. But the ability to disappear isn't unusual, is it? I mean, not if they were fairies. And you promised me a happily-ever-after, but let me assure you Myrtle, this overwrought fairy godchild is not happy. Not happy at all. Where are your two cohorts?"

  "Girls!” Myrtle yelled. “You might as well come out and say hi."

  The swinging door swung open so fast that Glory had no doubt the two had been lurking behind it listening to the entire confrontation.

  "Ma'am,” she said, hoping to head off another tirade, “maybe we could take this into the back?"

  "You are one of them. You ... you lying fairy!"

  "I don't know what this is all about,” Glory said, “but let's go in the back and see if we can work out whatever your problem is."

  The woman laughed then. A brittle, hard sound. “My problem is that I've always been a dreamer. I believed happily-ever-afters were possible. I even believed it was possible that I could have fairy godmothers, and that all the years of loneliness were a mistake—that I was meant to find something more. But, I was a fool. And it's time I woke up and joined the twenty-first century. Fairy tale endings only work in books, and that's where fairy godmothers belong as well. They definitely wouldn't be working in a restaurant."

  Blossom moved from the doorway. “We only want to help you. And, we would work in a restaurant if—"

  "You wouldn't if you were invisible, which you aren't. It must have been some kind of optical illusion before. As a matter of fact, your entire spiel was an illusion and I'm finally free of your spell."

  "Fiona, let's talk,” Fern said.

  "The only person you'll be talking to is my attorney."

  "Your attorney?” Glory asked.

  "That's right. I'm suing.” With that, Fiona whirled around and slammed out of the restaurant.

  An unnatural, weighted silence hung over the dining room.

  "That's it, folks. Show's over. Sorry for the inconvenience. Why don't you let us pick up your lunch tabs today,” Glory offered in hopes of smoothing over the incident. Today was definitely not going to be a break-even day for Glory's Chambers.

  "It will be coming out of your pay,” she hissed at the three women.

  "You don't pay us yet, remember?” Blossom pointed out.

  "I'll think of something,” Glory warned. “And the three of you had better be thinking of some answers, because that's just what I want tonight after we close. Answers. Lot's of them."

  Myrtle shook her head. “But Glory—"

  "Don't but Glory me. Myrtle go see to your tables. Ours may be a new version of the boss-employee relationship thing, but I am the boss, and the three of you are going to figure that out tonight."

  Glory might be the boss, but she wasn't a fool. Fairy tales and talk of suing made her realize she was out of her league. As distasteful as the option sounded, Glory was calling in a reinforcement—Nick the fireman, attorney.

  * * * *

  "Ladies,” Nick said cordially as he walked into the closed restaurant. He slid a chair over to the booth where Myrtle, Fern, Blossom and Glory sat.

  "What's he doing here?” Blossom didn't look very happy to see Nick.

  "He wanted answers last night, so I thought you could satisfy both our curiosities at the same time.” Since he was an attorney, having him present while they discussed potential lawsuits was a good idea, no matter how much Glory wanted to avoid attorneys, especially this attorney. It seemed fate was against her.

  Fate, or fairies? a small voice whispered in her head.

  No. Glory gave herself a mental shake. She didn't believe in
fairies. No matter how strange Myrtle, Fern and Blossom were, they were all too human. And it looked like they might be in trouble. Though she had yet to get a straight answer from them, Glory didn't think they were a danger to anyone except themselves.

  "Let's get down to business,” she said. She was the boss, and this was just business, she reminded herself.

  In unison the three said, “But, Glory—"

  "Talk."

  "Honey, we're not sure you're going to want to hear this,” Myrtle said.

  "I'm a big girl, I can take it. Now explain what happened today. That woman walked in here and actually screamed when she saw you. Then she proceeded to create a huge scene. So whatever you did to her, it was something big. What did you do? Rob her? Steal her husband? Run over her cat? What?"

  "Come on, girls, talk,” Nick prompted.

  "If you both really want to understand, we've got to start before all this happened today.” Myrtle had obviously decided to once again take charge.

  "Okay, so start,” Glory prompted.

  Myrtle sighed, stared into space a moment as if searching for the right words, and then smiled. “Once upon a time—"

  "I don't want any fairy tales. Just tell me what happened,” Nick snapped.

  "Shh,” Blossom hissed. “You can't start a story without a once-upon-a-time."

  "We don't want a story, we want answers,” Glory said.

  "If you don't be quiet, you're not getting anything.” Myrtle cleared her throat. “Once upon a time there was a writer named Grace. She wrote about love and dreamed of finding it for herself, but she couldn't quite manage it. So, three of her characters broke loose from the bindings of their books and came to her rescue. They found her Max, and now Grace and Max have Charity, a beautiful little girl."

  "I'm not buying this, ladies. Glory and I want the truth,” Nick said, beating Glory to it.

  Why on earth had she ever hired the three? Okay, so she never hired them. They'd answered an ad—an ad she never placed—and said they'd work for free. Glory had just sort have fallen in with them. And now she was falling off the deep end.

  "This is your last warning. Another word and we leave.” This time Myrtle was the one snapping. “Now, where was I?"

  "Max and Grace,” Blossom prompted her.

  "Yes. Then after that these three turned their attention to Max's sister, Joy, who wasn't very."

  "Very what?” Nick asked.

  "Joyful,” Fern answered.

  Myrtle glared at all of them. “Stop interrupting. Now Joy lived alone, but longed for more. We found her Gabriel and his daughter Sophie—they needed her as much as she needed them. And now Joy and Gabriel have little Zeke as well."

  "That left just one Aaronson child who needed to find his happiness,” Fern jumped in.

  "You?” Glory asked Nick.

  "That's their story,” Nick said with a shrug.

  "And we're sticking to it,” Blossom responded, giggling.

  "Blossom, this is a serious matter,” Fern scolded.

  "So who do you have in mind for Nick? Not that screaming banshee from this afternoon,” Glory said, shuddering. Not that she was buying into their fairy tale. She might be crazy enough to hire three women off the street with no references or background check, but she wasn't crazy enough to think they were really fairies. And she didn't ask because she cared who Nick happily-ever-aftered with, because she didn't care. No, she asked because ... Glory gave up. She had no idea why she had asked, but she did know that she needed to know the answer.

  "Oh, no. Fiona's destined for another.” Blossom clutched her folded hands to her heart and looked practically swoony at the notion. “I know she didn't put her best foot forward this afternoon, but she's had a hard life. Never fitting in, feeling like an outsider. But that's all about to change."

  "We've had tough cases in the past, but nothing like Fiona's.” Fern didn't look swoony. She looked rather annoyed, as if it was Fiona's fault her case was tough.

  Blossom jumped right back in. “Why you wouldn't even begin to believe the things we've had to do to pull this one off. Why we—"

  "Blossom,” both Fern and Myrtle bellowed in unison.

  "Now, back to our story,” Myrtle said, glaring at Blossom, who blushed and seemed to sink a bit into the booth. “We're here for Nick and his happily-ever-after."

  "I'd be happy-ever-after if you all just left me alone,” he promised.

  "Sorry, Nick. You're stuck with us until you and the love of your life are united."

  "I don't want—"

  "Who is the love of his life?” Glory asked. Not that she cared. Nick probably deserved what he got. He was an attorney, after all, and—

  Glory stopped mid-thought, unsure she'd heard the blonde “fairy” correctly. “What did you say?"

  Nick just sat looking thunder-struck as Blossom happily repeated. “You."

  "You who?"

  "Yohoo? Oh, Glory it sounds like you're yodeling.” Fern giggled. “Did I ever tell you about the time I took yodeling lessons from this really foxy gnome named Gunther? It was a couple years—or maybe it was centuries—ago. I always get time mixed up. Anyway—"

  "Forget Gunther,” Glory snapped. “I want to know what you meant."

  "I wish I could forget Gunther but—"

  Just when Glory thought she might scream in frustration, Myrtle said with an amazing amount of calmness, “You, Glory Chambers. You're the love of Nick Aaronson's life."

  Chapter Four

  "The love of Nick's life?” In addition to the sense she'd lost her sanity, Glory felt the raw edge of panic building in her chest. “I hardly know the man, and what I do know I don't especially like."

  Realizing what she had said, and that the man in question was sitting right across the table, Glory mumbled a hasty, “Sorry, Nick,” and then jumped back into her reasons why she couldn't possibly ever love Nicholas Aaronson. “Nick's an attorney. I was married to an attorney, but then I caught him in bed with Cynthia, and then I wasn't married anymore. And then there were the attorneys who handled our divorce. Despite the fact that Garth was the one who had cheated, they tried to blame all our problems on me. They tried to make me pay that slimeball alimony. They were brutal. I don't like brutal. I don't like attorneys, and I don't plan to marry again, either, especially not to another attorney."

  "You like his eyes,” Fern teased.

  "Whose eyes?” Glory asked, feeling a headache hit her head with the force of a freight train plowing into a wall.

  "Nick's eyes,” Fern said.

  "How do you—"

  "We can read minds,” Myrtle said. She shook her finger at Fern and Myrtle. “Though you both know Grace hates it when we let people know. She says it's rude."

  "Pardon?” Glory asked weakly. She wasn't just losing control of the situation. She was also losing what little there was left of her mind.

  "Oh, we don't read your deep, innermost thoughts, just those at the surface,” Fern soothed. “And all three of us have heard your surface thoughts about Nick's eyes. You're right—they are so dark that it's hard to tell where the iris ends and the pupil begins."

  "Nick, say something,” Glory said. She wasn't losing her mind—she'd lost it. The process had started when she walked in on Garth and his bimbette. She'd quit her job—a job she loved—picked up and moved to a new city to start a new life. From corporate exec to waitress ... yep, she was crazy all right.

  "No you didn't,” Fern said.

  "Didn't what?” Glory felt lost.

  "Love your job."

  Glory squealed, “Nick!"

  Shaking his head, as if awaking from a stupor, he said, “I don't know what the three of you are up to, but I don't care. You're not fairy godmothers. I'm not your fairy godchild and neither were my siblings."

  "Actually, Max wasn't a godchild, Grace was.” Myrtle just grinned up at him. “You can call them and ask them about us."

  Nick totally ignored her and continued, “And I am not, and never
will be, in love with Glory.” With that, he stood up and stormed from the building.

  The coward, Glory thought as she watched Nick flee. He'd just left her with three certifiably nuts, middle-aged ladies. That would teach her to trust an attorney. Even one with sexy eyes.

  "What on earth are the three of you up to?” She scowled at her employees.

  "Like we said, we're Nick's fairy godmothers. Fiona's too,” Myrtle said. “Her case is especially difficult, and we're working on it as fast as we can, but obviously not fast enough for her."

  "The reason you didn't fill out job applications is because you've all escaped from some nut-house, right?"

  "Glory,” Fern tsked. “Have we ever done anything that hurt you?"

  "You mean other than the time Blossom's staple gun missed the upholstery and caught my finger?"

  "Glory.” Blossom's voice sounded watery, as if she were on the verge of tears. “You know that was an accident. Nick might be our godchild, and we do love him, but we love you, too."

  "I just think—"

  "Don't make any rash decisions,” Myrtle ordered “You know when you worked for Michaelson's you always tried to sleep on major business matters before deciding. Well, we're part of your new business, and you shouldn't say or do something until you've had a chance to think about it."

  "I don't need—"

  "But you do. You need us helping in the restaurant, and you need Nick. You just don't know it yet."

  "But—"

  "Go home and go to sleep, Glory."

  She didn't intend to obey—she was the boss after all. But she found herself home in bed before she knew what happened. If she didn't know better than to believe in fairies, she'd almost say they'd cast a spell on her.

  No, she thought sluggishly as she drifted off to sleep. Fairies, magic and especially happily-ever-afters only existed in books.

  * * * *

  Glory Chambers was taking charge of her life and her business. Her first charge was going to be against three supposed fairies. She was going to ship them all back to “Never-Never Land."