The Emerald Hills Collection

by Judith Post

  His dad's sly tone bugged him, but he'd learned early in life that it was impossible to pry a secret out of Dad. His mom? That was another story, but mom wasn't a part of this.

  They talked about small things before his dad said, "Gotta go, kid. Try to be good."

  Gino laughed and pushed Evelyn out of his mind. If his dad said everything would work out, then it would. Dad had worked with their family's magic lots longer than he had.

  The next two weeks flew by. It would be Halloween soon, and Bridey changed her mind every other day about what costume she wanted. Finally, it was the Saturday for them to drive to the city to watch Evelyn's students perform. Bridey was so wiggly in the car, Gino threatened to duct tape her in one spot, but the upcoming performance, combined with trick-or-treating, was too much for her. She couldn't sit still.

  "If you don't have good manners during the program, I'll drag you out of there," Gino warned.

  Bridey huffed. "I know how to behave in public."

  He had to grin. She'd heard that lecture a million times, but sometimes a bribe was better than a threat. "If you're good, I'll take you out for a late snack afterward."

  "To a big city restaurant?" Awe filled her voice.

  "You can even order dessert." He glanced in the rearview mirror and knew he had her. He could almost watch thoughts of decadent chocolates skip through her mind.

  They made it to the dance studio fifteen minutes early, but almost every seat was taken. Gino stood, trying to find a spot where Bridey could see, when Evelyn rushed to them. "I reserved two seats for you in the first row." And she led them to the front of the audience.

  Bridey walked with her chest puffed out, as though she were a flower girl in a big budget wedding. Evelyn surprised him by bending down to kiss her forehead before leaving them. "I have to be backstage during the performance, but I hope you enjoy it."

  Enjoy was an understatement. The theme of the program was animals in dance. The youngest students performed as mice, dressed appropriately and scurrying from one end of the stage to the other, looking for cheese and hiding from a cat—performed by a student who was obviously older. The mice routine was followed by more cats, chasing string and frolicking on stage. The cats were followed by tap dancing turtles, dressed in felt shells. When the turtles exited stage left, ponies entered stage right. A girl dressed as a cowgirl tried to rope them and train them until lions roamed onstage. The girl and ponies fled, leaving the oldest students to perform a truly brilliant jungle routine. By the time the program ended, Bridey's eyes were as large as saucers, and she'd clapped so many times, her palms looked sore.

  Finally, Evelyn stepped onstage, wearing the crocheted top she'd bought in Emerald Hills and the heels she'd found in Gino's shop. She introduced each group of dancers to another round of applause, and then she took a bow herself. Parents clammered forward to claim children, and Gino and Bridey waited until most of them left. Then Evelyn came to greet them.

  Words tumbled from Bridey's lips—how much she'd loved the show, how wonderful the animals looked, how pretty Evelyn was—until Evelyn said, "Halloween is only a few days away. I could loan you one of these costumes, if you're interested."

  That's all it took. Five-year-old heaven. The search was on. Evelyn was tugging a mouse costume over Bridey's head when a man, who'd been waiting at the back of the room, finally walked toward them. Evelyn glanced up to see who he was, and her face went ashen white. She put out a hand to steady herself, and Gino quickly placed a hand on her shoulder to help brace her. Bridey sputtered inside the costume, and Evelyn quickly pulled it into place, but she looked so brittle, so fragile, that once Bridey was freed, she reached for her.

  The man smiled. "It's been a long time, Evelyn."

  "Why are you here?"

  "Why else? I missed you." His expression looked smug. Gino had an unreasonable desire to rearrange it. The man stood six-feet tall, like he did. They had similar builds, but whereas Gino worked out, this guy looked soft. Gino and Mario had wrestled and bloodied each others' noses frequently while they were growing up. Gino guessed this guy would crumple at the first blow.

  Evelyn straightened her shoulders. "It's a little late for that. You walked out on me."

  "You wouldn't get rid of the baby."

  Gino felt heat build inside him, flow through his veins. This creep had gotten Evelyn pregnant and then given her an edict—abort or face her pregnancy alone.

  Evelyn clenched her fists. "You left. I coped. I couldn't teach in my final months. I lived off my savings. But I'm fine. I don't need you."

  "And the baby? Our baby?"

  "You walked out on her. She's not yours."

  "The baby?" he persisted.

  "Died before I gave birth."

  His smile turned mean. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you? You didn't sign her over for adoption without my permission, did you? Or sell her to the highest bidder for a shit load of money?"

  "Get out." Gino had heard all that he wanted to. If this man opened his mouth one more time, he wouldn't have teeth.

  The man's eyebrow raised and his mouth went nasty. "And who are you?"

  "A person with some integrity. You wouldn't know about that." Gino's stance changed to a fighter's and he motioned toward the door.

  The man hesitated. Bridey stepped between Evelyn and him. "You're a bad man. I don't like you."

  He was going to respond, and it wasn't going to be nice, when Evelyn finished it. "Call the hospitals. Ask about the daughter you abandoned. She'll have my last name, not yours. Talk to them. I don't want to see you again."

  "I can't do that, and you know it."

  "Then look up death records. They're public."

  He stared. "I thought we had something special."

  "No, you didn't. I was the only one stupid enough to believe that." She turned on her heel and walked away from him. He made a motion to follow until Gino moved toward him. The man finally turned and left.

  When the door closed behind him, Evelyn sank, like a deflated balloon, to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

  Gino knelt beside her. "I'm sorry. This was none of my business. I butted in on something private."

  Evelyn gripped his arm. "No, don't you understand? You did it again. Rescued me again. And this time, it was from my own mistakes, the mess I made of my life."

  Gino pulled her close, let her cry until she was cried out. Bridey kept patting her head, leaning into her. When the shakes finally stopped and the sobs subsided, Evelyn let out a long, shaky breath.

  "Well, now you know why I'm on such a strict budget. I couldn't earn any income for over three months. I carried a dead child, and then I had to bury my daughter." The words caught in her throat. She gulped for air. "Any man with a brain should stay away from me. I'm a financial disaster."

  Gino pushed her away so that he could study her face. "You've been through hell. Are you all right?"

  She shook her head. "No, but I'm getting there."

  Bridey's voice was soft, nervous. "What were you going to name your little girl?"

  "I did name her. Jo, like the heroine in Little Women. I loved that damned book."

  Gino smiled at the tame curse word. Mario would have left a "damn" in his dust. "Do you visit her gravesite?"

  Evelyn nodded.

  "Want to visit her grave before we go out for something to eat?"

  Evelyn blinked at him. "I've already ruined your night. I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about me. I'm over the worst."

  Gino shook his head. "You don't understand the Italian rules of etiquette. I cooked you supper. You invited us to your show. That made us even. You're loaning Bridey a costume. That means we have to do something in return."

  "You were here for me when I needed a friend."

  "Friendship's what Italians are all about. We might curse and fuss, but we're always there. No, the costume's a favor. That's different."

  She stared. "Look at me. My eyes are swollen. My makeup's a mess. I can't go
out to eat."

  He shrugged. "I didn't take you for one of those girls who only cared about how she looks."

  "Not only, but I look like crap."

  "I think you're pretty," Bridey said. "You're always pretty."

  "See?" Gino smiled. "Lock up and let's go. We'll buy some flowers along the way."

  Evelyn went quiet. "I've never taken anyone to Jo's grave."

  "Then it's time you did. It's time to celebrate what Jo was for the short time you had her."

  Evelyn sniffled and wiped a hand across her eyes. "What do you know about losing someone?"

  Voice serious, Gino said, "I lost my brother. Bridey lost her father. We know."

  Evelyn pushed herself to her feet, too tired to argue. Italians had that effect on people. "All right then, let's go."

  He hadn't won because she agreed with him, Gino could tell, but a victory was a victory. He stopped at a grocery store and bought an expensive bouquet of flowers—the only ones left—and drove to her daughter's grave. He carefully placed them on her stone.

  Evelyn put out her hand, and he took it. He liked the feel of it, the feel of joining together to face the tough parts of life. Actually, and it came as a surprise to him, he liked her far more than he thought possible. They stayed at the cemetery until Bridey grew restless. Then they drove to a café Gino knew.

  "This is a celebration," he said. "A celebration of new beginnings, new friendships, and overcoming tough times." He ordered calamari, stuffed mushrooms, and fried ravioli. He and Evelyn drank wine and talked while Bridey decided on the chocolate dessert that he'd promised her. By the time he drove Evelyn to her apartment, it was much later than he'd expected. On the trip home, Bridey slept in the backseat of the car.

  Carrying his little niece upstairs, Gino made a decision. He was going to muster all of the skills in his arsenal, and Evelyn was going to be his. He'd start his campaign immediately.

  It took three months, but finally, Evelyn drove to Emerald Hills every weekend and stayed at his apartment. The three of them attended church each Sunday, and Dad often talked to Evelyn longer, when he called, than he talked to Gino. And once he'd weakened her enough, he got down on one knee and offered her a small, velvet box.

  He could hear her breath catch when she opened it, but she shook her head. "I can't. I know you. You love children. When I lost Jo, the doctor told me I'd never have another baby. I'm older than you are. I'm thirty-seven. What are you? Younger than I am."

  He tried to sort out all of her objections. He'd expected them. So he answered one of them at a time. "I do love children. So do you. But we have Bridey. She's enough. I'm twenty-eight, mature for my age. Men always die first. You're being smart. With me, you might not be a widow for years and years. All women should marry younger. And I love you."

  She stilled. "You live in Emerald Hills and I live in the city."

  "You have a car. You can drive. It's an hour commute, but maybe you can set up a studio here eventually. It can work."

  She bit her bottom lip. "I screwed up. You haven't."

  "Did you love him?" Gino asked.

  "Yes."

  "Did you think he loved you?"

  "Yes."

  "He screwed up. I got lucky. I get to keep you."

  Tears falling, she slid the ring on her finger. She gazed at it and sighed.

  That's when her luck changed. Gino's magic brought a filmmaker who paid to make a short film, featuring her dance program with the animals. He'd heard about it at a cocktail party. A building went up for rent in Emerald Hills where she could teach classes. She still drove to the city two days a week, but lots of people commute. And she married Gino, who really, truly loved her.

  "We'll never be rich," Gino told her, "but we'll always be comfortable."

  "And happy," she said. "You can't put a price tag on happiness." Bridey was asleep in her lap after watching Cinderella…again. Empty bowls of popcorn sat on the coffee table. And after she put Bridey to bed, Gino waited for her in their room.

  Evelyn smiled as she snuggled against him. "You told me the truth. You do have magic. And for me, the magic is you."

  Gino thought of his dad's words. Magic has a way of making things happen. One new set of soles hadn’t been enough. Not even two or three. Because the real magic was for them to find one another.

  LOLITA'S MIRRORS

  Early summer in Emerald Hills meant flocks of tourists, jostling in and out of Tana's candy shoppe, Mallory and Leigh's Nature's Bounty, Gino's Imported Shoes, and every other specialty store that lined the streets of their small town. Petunias and geraniums overflowed from window boxes and hanging baskets. Awnings peppered the street with bright stripes and cheerful colors. And people sat and laughed at outdoor tables of small ice cream shops and specialty cafés.

  In Lolita's Shop of Mirrors, customers queued at the cash register. Lolita smiled and waited on them as she stole glimpses of the woman who kept circling her shop. The woman returned to the same mirror over and over again. She'd stop and crane her neck to see the big, oval with gilt edges that hung higher than the smaller mirrors on the walls. She'd glance at the price tag and move on. This round, she squinted at a more modern mirror hanging beneath it. With beveled edges and etched hummingbirds at each corner, it was lovely and more affordable. But the ornate, gilt framed piece pulled her back to it once more.

  All of the bigger mirrors hung above a wide variety of smaller styles. Not just so that customers would notice the less costly products, but because the bigger mirrors were special, unique. Lolita's magic infused itself into each of them. The big mirrors were overpriced, too. On purpose. Only people who were called to the mirror would even consider buying it.

  If a person bought one and looked into it, he didn't see a reflection of himself. He saw what he could be if he followed his true Life Path. Only the owner saw this. Other people could gaze at themselves to straighten a tie or smooth down their hair with no idea of the magic the mirror held.

  "Mirror, mirror on the wall" had special meaning in this shop. And all because of Lolita.

  The woman finally sighed and opened her purse. She pulled out her credit card and headed to the counter. "I can't resist that mirror. I have to have it."

  Customers had thinned out. Lunch time beckoned them to the many restaurants and eateries that lined the streets.

  "It's expensive," Lolita said.

  "I know. I'm going to have to budget for a while, but there's something about it."

  Lolita motioned to the two people in line behind the woman. "I'll help them, if you don't mind, and then fetch the ladder to get your mirror."

  "That's fine." The woman stepped aside and her gaze returned to the oval, looking glass.

  When Lolita moved the library ladder—attached to the wall at the top and on wheels—she'd installed to reach the mirrors, she smiled. "This is meant for you. I can give it to you for 50 percent off. I need to make room for something new."

  The woman's eyes went wide with surprise. "But I was going to buy it anyway."

  Lolita shrugged. The outrageous price on the sticker was only to ensure that the right person found the right mirror. "You and that mirror belong together. It's meant to bring you happiness." Lolita carefully removed it from the wall. When she held it up in front of the woman, her customer's jaw dropped. She stared. Lolita could see the image, too. After all, it was her magic. In the mirror, the woman wore nursing scrubs, and a stethoscope circled her neck.

  The woman blinked. "That's me in there, isn't it?"

  "Does it look like you?"

  Distracted, she said, "Yes, but I'm different."

  "Have you always wanted to be a nurse?"

  The woman turned to her. "How could you know?"

  "The mirror, it shows you at your best, what you're meant to be."

  "And I'll pass? I can make it through nursing school?"

  "You must. The mirror doesn't show you dreams. It shows what can be."

  The woman blinked, thinking. "Wi
ll I see myself as a nurse every time I look into it?"

  Lolita shook her head. "No, life changes, doesn't it? So do your goals. So does the mirror's images."

  The woman waited while Lolita rang up the transaction. Then she and Lolita carefully carried it to her car. Before she drove away, the woman asked, "Is it the mirror, or you?"

  "A combination." Lolita bought the bare frames from a wood worker in town who had his own special magic. The garden gnomes he carved chased unwanted rabbits and moles out of the beds they watched over. She took Jackson's frames and stained, painted, and finished them. Then she cut glass to fit them, polished it, and coated it with silver nitrate so that it would reflect. As she worked, she infused the mirror with her magic.

  "Thank you." The woman's voice quavered with emotion. Lolita was used to that. It could be a bit unnerving for a mirror to change your life.

  Lolita waved the woman on her way, then returned to the shop. Tourists browsed between the two rooms of the big, old Tudor she used for her business. Like most shop owners in Emerald Hills, she lived on the second and third floors, above the storefront.

  Customers kept up a steady flow until Lolita turned the sign in the front door to Closed at six p.m. Almost every shopkeeper in town did the same thing. There were no chain stores in Emerald Hills. Owners and their families or staff worked long hours during the good weather months of each year. If the shop was open, the owner was almost always there. By six, everyone was tired. Time for supper, restocking, and some well-earned rest.

  Lolita was turning to the stairs that led up to her apartment when someone banged on the front door. She sighed. What now? She opened the door a crack and pointed to the Closed sign. "Sorry, you'll have to come back tomorrow."

  A tall, lanky man, dressed in dirty jeans and a dirtier T-shirt, nodded to his pickup truck. "Sorry, but I work construction, and I can never get here before you close. My sister asked me to bring you this mirror to see if you can repair it."

  "Repair it?" Lolita's customers usually took good care of their mirrors.

  The man sighed. "She has two boys, and the five-year-old threw a ball at his brother's head. He missed…."