Under the cover of sleep, in the guise of a dream, I’d come face-to-face with Miranda, Scot’s great-great-great-grandmother’s ghost. I was as sure of that as I was of the power of the journal. But what had she wanted? What had she tried to tell me?
“Miranda,” I said in a loud and clear voice. “I’m not afraid. You’re welcome to be here. If there is something you want me to know, please come back. Please try again.”
I waited and watched, wondered and hoped. But she didn’t miraculously appear before me, and after a while the scent of roses disappeared. I was alone again.
With a sigh, I hugged a pillow to my chest, breathed slowly in and out, and concentrated on relaxing every muscle in my body. Maybe Miranda needed me to be asleep to show herself. Maybe our connection was stronger then. I didn’t know, but it was worth a shot. I desperately wanted to hear what she had to say.
The next day, I yawned and rubbed my eyes while staring at nothing out my office window. Miranda hadn’t delivered an encore performance. Though maybe that was because I hadn’t fallen into a deep sleep again. Or maybe my dream had been just that—a dream. I probably hadn’t really seen Miranda. In all likelihood, I was looking so hard for signs that my subconscious gave me one.
Especially since the woman in my dream resembled Elizabeth and Alice. She had the same dark hair and eyes as both women, though her willowy frame reminded me more of Alice than Elizabeth. Still, if my brain wanted to conjure Miranda, then who else would she look like than her great-great-great-granddaughters?
But even if Miranda hadn’t tried to connect with me through my dream, she had been in my room. The roses were not figments of my imagination. I was sure of that.
I pushed away the hope of what a visit from Miranda might mean. The facts hadn’t changed. Scot and I weren’t real—on his end of the equation, anyway. On some level, he’d recognized that, and I had no choice but to respect his decision.
Swiveling in my chair, I returned my attention to my computer monitor. I was still trying to narrow down what I would do when Introductions closed. So far, besides the vague decision of finding a food-related career, the only thing I knew was that I had no desire to run a business. I wanted to go to work, do something I enjoyed, and clock out at the end of the day and come home.
The business line rang. Diane was at the post office, mailing my end-of-the-company letters, so I picked up. “Introductions,” I said. “This is Julia.”
“Julia! This is Zita Hildebrandt.”
Ack. I’d never checked in with Zita or Darryl about their second date. “I was just about to call you,” I lied. “To see how your date with Darryl went.”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling,” Zita said, her tone hesitant.
“It’s okay, Zita,” I said, thinking of Jameson. “Sometimes what looks good on paper is anything but good in real life. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go out with Darryl again. If it isn’t right, it isn’t right.”
“That’s just it. I’m glad you pushed. We . . . ah . . . had a terrific time. Just not with each other. I like Darryl, and he was definitely more relaxed, but we don’t zing, you know?” Zita rushed on to explain that she’d set up a double date, hoping that another couple would help Darryl relax. She’d brought a friend of hers, and Darryl had brought a friend of his. “We were totally with the wrong people.”
I blinked in confusion and tried to keep up. “Wait a minute, Zita. You’re telling me that you and Darryl’s friend hit it off, and Darryl and your friend—”
“Yes! Through Darryl, who you matched me with, I found a guy I really like. We have a ton in common, too. He’s a single father, completely devoted to his daughter, and I . . . I looked into his eyes and something clicked. So I wanted to thank you for setting me up with Darryl.”
I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. My matchmaking skills—for the past year, at least—were crap, but somehow two of my clients were walking away happy. I’d take it. “I’m glad for you, but no thanks are necessary. This was your doing.”
“It is because of you! Fate led me to Introductions. You led me to Darryl. And Darryl led me to Adam,” Zita said. “But I think I’m done with Introductions for now. I want to see what happens with Adam before going out with anyone else.”
“It’s funny you say that.” I explained that Introductions was closing its doors. We talked for a few minutes before I wished Zita luck and disconnected the call.
Fate again. Only for Zita, it had worked in her favor. I went through my chain of fate once more and came up with the same answer, the one that had led me to cast the wish for Leslie and Scot. But if that were the case, then why would I have fallen so hard and fast? I looked at all the pieces and parts again, trying to find a loophole that would give credence to my hope, to the love I felt for Scot.
Introductions failing led me to Kara and Leslie for help. That led me to Magical Matchups, which brought me to Verda, who led me to Scot, which then led me back to Leslie and her feelings for him. So yeah, this, as much as I wished otherwise, seemed to be about Scot and Leslie. The trail was solid.
“That’s that. Stop obsessing.” Easier said than done, but I tried. Really, I did. But something sat there on the edge of my consciousness, distracting me from everything else I needed to do.
Shortly after two o’clock, I gave up all pretenses of work, told Diane we were closing for the day, and took off. I drove aimlessly for a while, my brain still attempting to work out the impossible. I knew the answer I wanted to reach, but couldn’t get there. Two plus two doesn’t equal five, no matter how often you add the numbers. The answer is four. The answer is always four.
“But I want it to be five.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I need it to be five. Why can’t the freaking answer be five?”
I blinked against tears. No more crying. I’d had enough of crying. Instead of giving in to my urge to go home and crawl into bed to sob like a love-struck teenager, I aimed my car toward my parents’ house.
I used my key to let myself in. My mother was in her office with a large map spread out on her antique desk. I didn’t see Dad, but it was a little early for him to be home.
“This is a surprise, Julia,” my mother said, glancing up from the map to see me hovering in her doorway. “Did we have plans I forgot about?”
“No, Mom. I . . . didn’t mean to interrupt. Do you have a minute to talk?”
She tilted her head to the side and appraised me. I wondered what she saw, if my misery was written on my face and in my body language. “Of course I do. Would you like some tea? I can have Rosalie—”
I started crying then. Loud, engulfing sobs that shook my body. She froze, shocked by my sudden show of emotion. In two beats of my heart, she was up and to me, urgently patting me down. As if she were a cop searching for a concealed weapon.
“What is it? Are you okay?” Her hands stilled on my arms. “Are you hurt?”
“No . . . yes . . . Not like you mean, but yes.” Another sob wrenched out from a raw place deep within. “Yes, I’m hurt. And afraid. And confused.” I hiccupped. “And angry. I have just about every emotion going here, Mom.”
Understanding and concern coated her expression. “I see. Well then, darling, let’s get you calm so you can tell me what’s going on.”
I let her lead me to the small sofa in her office. We sat down and she patted my knee, a small, uncomfortable action meant to offer me comfort. I laughed through my sobs. The magic hadn’t changed her so much after all. She raised her eyebrow in question.
“I’m in love,” I said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. “With a man I can’t be with. With a man I shouldn’t even love.”
“Scot?” she guessed, handing me a tissue. I nodded and blew my nose. “Why can’t you be with him? He isn’t married, is he?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then tell me what it is like.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Why can’t you and Scot be together?”
&n
bsp; In a halting voice, I told her as much of the story as I could. Meaning, everything except for magic and ghosts. I even admitted how I’d entered Magical Matchups in my desperation to find a fix for Introductions. By the time I was done, I felt calmer than I had for days. I shrugged. “So you can see how impossible this is. I probably don’t love him, right? I mean, you’re the one who told me never to trust my heart.”
A startled expression flitted over her. “When did I tell you that?”
“When I was twelve and Ricky Luca broke mine.” God, it was so long ago, she probably didn’t even remember.
She surprised me.
“Oh, that? Honey, you were just a baby. I wanted you to focus on your schoolwork, on being a girl and enjoying your friends. Love is such a sticky thing.” She shook her head. “I hated seeing you so upset when you had your entire life in front of you. And I guess I wasn’t ready to see you grow up. Falling for a boy was a sure sign you weren’t my little girl anymore.”
Confusion welled inside. “So I should trust my heart?”
“There isn’t a yes or no answer, my dear.”
“Great. That helps a lot,” I said in a semisarcastic tone. “How do I know if I love him or not? And why did it take me so long to feel this way about someone?”
“Oh, you love him all right. You’re a perfectionist, Julia. It doesn’t surprise me at all that you waited for the right man to sweep you off your feet.” Mom squeezed my hand in both of hers. “The question is, what are you going to do about it now?”
“Leave him alone. There is nothing else I can do.” She snorted in a very unladylike way. “Scot walked away from me, Mom.”
“Then you need to find out why. He has feelings for you. Your father and I both saw that clear as day. We were quite impressed by him.”
Well, yeah. That was when my spell had been going strong. “I don’t think he does. I think he . . . got carried away by spending the weekend together.”
“Men do not work so hard to impress a girl’s father unless there are serious emotions involved.” Mom offered me another tissue. “Blow your nose, darling. Why can’t you see what we saw? Why, your father even admitted he was wrong about you and Jameson.”
And that reminded me of the bet. “Did you know Dad made a bet with Jameson to come into Introductions pretending to be someone else? Just to see if I could figure it out?”
“I did, and I scolded him for it. But he wants you to be happy. We both do.” My mother’s blue eyes softened in emotion. “You’ve always been so focused. We wanted to see you loosen up and have a little fun. Jameson seemed like a—”
“Good match,” I said, finishing her sentence. “And I agree. It would’ve been a heck of a lot easier if I could’ve fallen for him.”
“Love isn’t about easy.” Mom sat back and crossed her legs. “Your dad and I had to conquer serious opposition from our families to be together.”
“Did Grandma and Granddad really dislike Dad that much?”
“Yes, but his parents weren’t that fond of me, either. You see, they both had ideas of whom their children should be with, and our fathers were often on opposite sides in business. Your father felt the weight of my father’s dislike, so Gregory worked himself to the bone to prove that he was a good provider.” Emotion made my mother’s voice waver. She coughed to clear her throat. “And I . . . Well, let’s just say that Mother Collins never believed I was good enough for her son.”
“That sucks.” Ineloquent, but true. “How did you and Dad manage?”
“It wasn’t easy, and for a lot of our years, we became so bogged down in doing everything we were supposed to do that we forgot to enjoy our life together. We forgot to enjoy you.”
Okay. Well, that explained a lot. “Do you ever regret following your heart? I mean, with all the problems and—”
“Not even for a second. After thirty-plus years of marriage, I can tell you that every minute of difficulty has paid off in spades.”
“But wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d followed your parents’ wishes and—?”
She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Easier, maybe. I have regrets, but none of them have anything to do with marrying your father.” She was silent for a minute, and then asked, “You love this young man, correct?”
“Yes,” I answered instantly. “But—”
“That’s all you need to know to move forward. Maybe I’m wrong and Scot doesn’t have feelings for you, but what if he does?”
Well, she had a point there. Partially, anyway. “You’re right. But there’s more to this.”
“There always is, but that doesn’t matter. Even if it’s all complicated and messy, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t try.” Mom opened her arms. I scooted into them for one of her rare hugs. It was nice. Maybe I wasn’t the touchy-feely-phobe I thought.
“Thank you,” I said when we separated. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but just talking about it helped.”
“You’re welcome. I’m always here if you need me.” She twisted her fingers together nervously. “You’re such a contained, capable young lady. You always have been. I’m sorry you’re going through this, but I am . . . pleased you came to me.”
Tears sprang to life again, albeit for a different reason. “I thought you wanted me to be contained and capable. Perfect. I didn’t think I could come to you.”
“And I thought you didn’t need me. I looked for ways to insert myself into your life.” She shook her head in disbelief, and humor danced into her eyes. “God forgive me, but I became my mother.”
I started laughing. “Lamb, Mom. You do know I hate lamb, right?”
She blinked several times, but then she laughed, too. “Well, I never had Rosalie prepare lamb for the sole purpose of upsetting you, but . . . yes, I am well aware of your dislike.”
“I knew it!” I wiped away tears of laughter. “There’s something else I need to tell you. Two things, actually.”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Nope,” I said lightly. But Verda’s proclamation of three boys whisked into my mind. I glanced at my mother’s desk, at the spread-out map, to center me. “When did you and Dad decide to do the RV thing?”
“What a strange question. Traveling the country has always been our plan. I began to doubt if it would ever happen, what with your father’s love for his work.”
“Okay. But when did you make the decision to go ahead with that?” It was imperative that I find out how much of my parents’ behavior was natural, and how much was magical.
“Several months ago. Your father came home one night and said he was ready.” Curiosity edged into her voice. “Why is this important?”
“I . . . um . . . just wondered. You never mentioned it before.” Several months meant their vagabond decision had zip to do with my spell. Huge relief, there. “How have you been this last week or so? Feeling any different? Better or worse?”
“Better, I suppose. Less tense.” She tipped her head to the side, watching me. “Now that I think about it, there was a change in your father and me. We seem to have found our rhythm again . . . something we’ve both tried to recapture for years. But somehow, it suddenly became effortless.” She shrugged. “We’re both happier, less inclined to fill our days with silly social functions. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Yes. And you still feel like yourself?” I asked.
“Who else would I feel like?”
“No one. I . . . well, I’ve been worried about you and Dad. He’s doing okay, too? You haven’t noticed anything weird with him, have you?”
“Nothing weird. We’re both looking forward to retirement.”
Whew. So my spell had helped them. How cool was that? “Good. I’m glad. So . . . ah . . . if given the choice, would you change anything about the past couple of weeks?”
“Absolutely not.” Then, obviously deciding she’d had enough of my odd questions, she returned to her desk. “I’ve already started mapping out our journey. We
plan on traveling through the summer and fall. We’ll return here for the winter, and head back out in the spring.”
“I thought you were selling the house.”
“We are, but we’ll buy a smaller home. Maybe a condominium. We always want our home base to be near you.”
“What if I don’t stay in Chicago?” Not that I’d given any thought to moving.
“Why wouldn’t you?” She highlighted a section of the map. “Your father’s firm is here. I expect you’ll find it easier to continue living in or near Chicago.”
“That’s the other thing we need to discuss.” I steeled myself the best I could. “I have no intentions of taking over Dad’s firm. I don’t mind helping out for a while. I can even stay on long enough to look for and train someone, if that’s necessary. But I—”
This snagged her attention. “So, you’ve found a way to save Introductions?”
“No. I’ll be shutting down in the next month.”
“Introductions is closing and you’re not going to work in Gregory’s company, even though that was the agreement you made?” she clarified.
I pulled myself straight. “Yes, Mother. That’s right.”
“Well,” she said calmly. We could’ve been talking about the weather. “That is good news, darling. It’s about time you came to your senses. Your father will be pleased. Stay for dinner so we can tell him together.”
“What? I thought you said . . . He said . . .”
“Yes, we did. But we had to do something to push you out of your comfort zone.” Mom tipped her chin, and I saw so many things in her gaze: pride, concern, love . . . relief? “You haven’t been happy for a long while. Your father believed if we pressured you, if we made you think we were going to hold you to our agreement, you might push back. And now you have.” She tossed me a smile of satisfaction. “Yes, this is very good news.”
Well, hell. That was unexpected.
Chapter Nineteen
By Magic Alone Page 28
