by Saxon, K. E.
* * *
Sam met Chas outside the door of the ballroom. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” Chas said.
“No. Just running late,” Sam said as he walked into the ballroom behind Chas.
“The meal’s just being served. Our table’s up front in the V.I.P. section.”
As they came closer, Sam zoned in on the redhead in pale blue. Isadora. And the woman next to her,—black hair with skunk streaks of white framing her face—Eudora Perrault, her mother. Great.
“Here he is,” Chas said. “My surprise number ten. Better late than never.” He turned to Sam, who, no matter how hard he tried, could not take his eyes off Isadora. “We put you between Delilah and her sister.”
Isadora turned her gaze to him then and for a split second, she looked as if she’d swallowed a goat.
“Absolutely not. You’ll sit next to me,” her mother said. “Move, Isadora.”
“Oh, but that will destroy the symmetry,” Sam said. He dashed around to the vacant chair next to his runaway lover and sat down before she could get there herself.
For some reason, now that he knew how much his presence here disturbed her, he felt impelled to torment her more.
* * *
“Come to the powder room Delilah, your coiffure needs touching up,” Eudora Perrault said and stood up. “You must come along, too, Isadora.”
“No thank you, mother,” Isadora said. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.
“Hmph.”
“I’ll be right back, darling,” Delilah told Chas, and then rose to her feet and followed her stepmother across the ballroom to the exit.
“So Chas,” Sam said as he wiped the side of his mouth with his napkin, “You and I should compare notes sometime.”
A creepy feeling crawled up Isadora’s spine.
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
“Why, our Izzy, of course. She’s a real wildcat in bed, don’t you agree?”
“I see a friend I need to speak with.” Isadora nearly knocked the chair over in her hurry to flee. The balcony! Air!
She rushed to the railing and took in several ragged breaths. Okay, so she’d hurt him and he wanted a little payback. Understood.
“If it’s any consolation,” Sam said from behind her, “Chas came real close to clocking me one good in there.”
Isadora shrugged.
“So we’re back to that again, huh?”
“Go away, Sam.”
“I can’t. I can’t go away until I know why you made me admit that I still loved you and then you left.”
She turned and looked at him then. The pain she saw reflected in his eyes mirrored the pain in her heart. “I was cursed by a fairy, Sam.”
His jaw visibly tightened. “Stop bullshitting me and tell me the fucking truth for once.”
“My family has a long history with the fey folk.”
“Bullsh—”
“This is not bullshit, I swear. They followed us here from the old country. My family is forever entwined with them. An ancient oath or something. Ask Delilah. You’d believe her, wouldn’t you? She’s a saint.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her for a minute. Then he said, “Okay. I’ll play this little game with you a while longer.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You were cursed by a fairy. What exactly does that have to do with you telling me you wanted me to love you?”
“It was the curse.”
Sam flinched.
She put her hand on his arm but he jerked away from her touch. “Whatever I meant to say and what I ended up saying were two different things.”
“And what did you mean to say?”
Nope. Not going there. She shook her head. “I can’t remember now.”
“So…the curse, it was somehow miraculously lifted while I was gone to the store?”
Isadora crossed her fingers behind her back. “Yes. I’m not sure why.”
“That’s what was going on the other night when I picked you up, right? Let’s see, you had to—what again? Un-puzzle something or other?”
She shrugged. “I guess I did it without realizing it. Anyway, I’m not under the influence anymore, thank God.”
Sam leaned out over the railing. He was quiet for a long time. So was she. She had no idea what more she could, or should, say to him. She just knew it was for the best to make as clean a break as possible with him. Painful, but clean—just as she’d done the last time—so they could get on with their lives.
“You never loved me, did you?” he said at last.
Oh Sam! Don’t make me do this. “No.” The word left a heavy, bitter taste in her mouth.
He swung around and grabbed hold of her arm. “Then why did you agree to marry me?”
That was the question. “I wanted to make Chas jealous.” The acrid taste of that lie burned her tongue.
“And yet, Delilah’s his bride-to-be, not you. Was it because he couldn’t make you come?”
She slapped him hard across his face. “That does not qualify an answer,” she said, and stepped around him to go back into the ballroom.
He stopped her with both hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t go. Not yet.”
“I think we’ve said enough. Don’t you?”
His fingers gripped her tender flesh, but only for a mere second, before they slackened and fell away. “Yeah, I guess we have.” Then, in a more stiffly formal move, he placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “I’ll escort you back inside.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Sam walked back out onto the balcony. He didn’t know how much more torture he was willing to put himself through. Isadora was now knee-deep in men eager to get a taste of what he’d partaken of the night before and he was having a hard time keeping himself from whaling on them.
Plus, his pathetic attempt at revenge had backfired. He guessed he just wasn’t the vengeful sort. He’d always been more of a lover than a fighter when it came to women.
And a woman he was in love with? Well, she pretty much had him wrapped around her finger. Case in point: She almost had him believing her about that crazy fairy stuff. Almost.
No, it was more likely that her ego had needed a boost after that humiliating fiasco with her mother, coupled with her discovery of his memoirs, which no doubt made her think he could ‘fix’ her sexual problem.
And once he was firmly under her thumb and the lock on her box had been jimmied wide open, she was off on her next conquest.
He looked at his watch. Ten-twenty. Late enough to head home.
A couple came through one set of doors, laughing. As he turned and looked at them, he saw the top of Chas’s head through the crowd inside. He’d surprised him earlier when he’d asked Sam to be his best man. But he’d be a liar if he said it hadn’t pleased him, too. He’d missed their friendship over the years. ‘Course, he’d nearly blown it with that vulgar outburst earlier, but thankfully, that was all water under the bridge now.
So—just Chas and Delilah’s wedding next year, and then Isadora would be a short, painful blurb in his life’s history book.
He turned and went back inside the ballroom. He’d say his farewells, then get the hell out of here. As he approached the table, he saw a middle-aged society matron speaking to Isadora and the two sniping girlfriends of hers that had seated themselves at their table a few minutes ago.
After the woman moved off to greet another table of guests, Isadora said to her friends, “So she had cancer—big deal. Must we hear her drone on and on about it, for Christ’s sake?”
Her friends tittered. “Good heavens, Isadora, it is so good to have you back!” the dark-haired anorexic one said.
“Yes,” the one with the fire-engine red lips and loud perfume said, “we thought you’d lost your mind, like your father—or gotten Tourette’s or something. Didn’t we Missy?”
In that instant, he decided he’d dance with Isadora first, and then he’d leave.
; He swept her up onto her feet and led her to the floor without saying a word. They’d only danced a few steps before he said, “You know, I prefer the real Isadora. This society bitch façade doesn’t fit you well.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the fact that I’ve seen you nearly drop from weariness for lack of sleep when we worked forty-eight hours straight to get donations to the Red Cross. I’m talking about the fact that I’ve seen you neck-deep in clothing and supplies for the rescue workers.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ve seen you cry, Iz. Like a baby, when you read all those thank-you letters from the victims. It’s what made me fall in love with you.”
“That’s not me. I was doing that as part of my extra credit grade for Contemporary History. You know that.”
“So the real you is this hard, brittle bitch?”
She tossed her head. “I guess it is. Just like the real you is a two-bit man-whore.” Her short, derisive laugh exploded from her throat like a gunshot. “I’m trying to envision Jacinda James, that old cow, bouncing on top of you like thread on a bad spool pin.”
“Believe me, she didn’t take nearly as long to prime.” Isadora stiffened in his embrace but her expression remained smooth. She didn’t need to know he’d made that part up—how would he know about old Mrs. James? His clients had been younger, his mother’s friends. And, technically, he hadn’t been a gigolo in the strictest sense. He’d been a nineteen-year-old guy enjoying the amorous attentions of a few forty-something socialites. It had been the publishing house who’d thought up the title.
A couple danced past them and the man said, “Good evening, Isadora.”
She turned her head and nodded, and as she did so, the scent of her hair crowded his senses. For a split second, he was transported back to last night, to this morning. “Come away with me, Izzy,” he said in a rush. “I’m leaving on a private expedition soon to Micronesia. Tomorrow, I’m heading back to Hawaii—I’m a marine biologist there, did you know that?—Go with me.”
For a moment, a spark of wild enthusiasm flared in her eyes, and her bosom rose and fell with excited breaths. Then her eyes shuttered once again. “Not a chance,” she said. With a laugh, she shook her head. “Live with you on some nautical motel? On sea rations? Are you insane?”
His ears burned with the heat of self-castigation. Dropping his arms to his sides, he stepped away. “Well then, I guess this is goodbye. Have a nice life.”
He turned and strode away.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY
Isadora’s smile was brittle as she walked, with tunnel vision and as much nonchalance as she could muster, back to her seat at the table. Being abandoned on the dance floor was humiliating to the nth degree, but she couldn’t blame Sam. Not really. She’d been ruthless; she’d had to be. And what she’d said, how she’d behaved, was nothing compared to what he’d have endured had her mother gotten wind of his scheme.
“How rude!” her mother said as Isadora sat down. “Whyever Chas wants him for a best man, I shall never comprehend!”
Isadora lifted an eyebrow and floated down to her seat. “Yes, well, Chas always has had an affinity for the eccentric.”
Her mother nodded and changed the subject. “Tomorrow you must go back to the library and find that fairy.”
Isadora’s heart leapt into her throat. She’d been trying to think of a way—or at least wait for the right time to present itself—to tell her mother what had really happened. But fear of being once again in the woman’s bad graces had stifled her tongue.
She took a deep breath and swiveled around on her seat to face her mother. Then she leaned in and whispered, “I found her, Mother.”
Her mother beamed. “Excellent, child. Whyever did you not tell me!” She leaned in even closer to Isadora. “What ability did she bestow upon you?”
Isadora opened her mouth to speak, but her mother cut her off. “Whatever it is, we’re sure to be back on the society rolls in no time. Good work, good work.” Clearly, her mother’s excitement over the news had made her forget to continue her speech affectation.
“Mother! Listen.” Isadora took hold of her mother’s chilled, bejeweled hand and squeezed it. “I was cursed, not blessed.”
“Wha—what are you saying?”
Isadora’s throat constricted. Moist, clammy heat suffused her armpits and palms. She released her mother’s hand. “That day at the library—I found the fairy and I…I made her angry.”
Her mother sucked in a breath. “Nooo!”
Grasping her mother’s wrist, she said, “But, Mother, she didn’t look the same as when Delilah met her! She looked like one of those uptight tax attorneys that had our family’s estate auctioned off after Papa’s downfall.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she scanned Isadora from head to waist. “And this curse—it was the reason for your strange behavior these past days?”
“Yes.”
Her mother yanked her wrist from Isadora’s light grasp. “Idiot.”
Isadora gripped her hands together in her lap. “But—but Mother! I’m not cursed anymore! The fairy lifted it.”
“Is there any chance of a blessing from her now?”
“No.”
“I shall never, ever, forgive you this. NEVER! As much as Delilah’s ability and engagement has aided our cause, we are not returned to our prior position. You were our last chance to regain our standing and now you’ve lost it forever.”
The level of force it took to maintain her cool, unexcited expression was almost more than Isadora could bear, but somehow she managed it. “It was the phone. If only I’d given her that damned phone back when it fell at my feet, she would have blessed me. I just know it.”
Her mother sat up straight. “Phone? Are you saying you have her phone?”
“Y-yes. Why?”
Her mother’s eyes glittered with glee. She took hold of Isadora’s hand and encased it between her own. “Don’t you see? That phone contains magic.” Her eyes darted around the room and then settled on Isadora again. She came in closer. “It’s not as good—not nearly—as a blessing would have been. But, my girl, all is not lost!” She looked Isadora up and down. “Now, where is it? In your clutch?” Her hand flew toward it, but Isadora shook her head.
“No, Mother. The phone’s at home.”
“We must leave! Isadora, go tell your sister and Chas that I have a sudden migraine and we have to leave. Make haste! Make haste! I’ll be awaiting you in the limo.”
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, her bedroom, bathroom and closet a shambles, Isadora plopped onto the edge of her bed and gnawed on her thumbnail.
“Where is it, Isadora!?”
“I—I don’t know! I’ve looked everywhere, Mother.”
“Tell me you didn’t leave it at that scuba diver’s house. I shall die on the spot of heart failure. I swear it.”
Isadora’s face crumpled. “Yes. I—I think I did.” She leapt to her feet. “But I’ll go get it. Right now. Don’t worry and please, just…just don’t be mad. Okay? I won’t fail you again. I promise.”
Her mother crossed her arms over her chest and regarded Isadora for a long moment. “Fine. But don’t dally. Time is of the essence. We have no idea how long the magic will linger in that phone.” She swirled around and walked toward the door. “I only hope the fairy doesn’t decide to take it from you.”
“Me too, Mother. Me too.”
* * *
Isadora slid her shoes off and stepped onto the houseboat. If the blasted phone was somewhere on the deck, then she wouldn’t have to face Sam again tonight. A thing she was pretty sure would send her into his arms and out of her mother’s good graces forever should she give in to the impulse.
Please, fairy phone. Be here. She looked on the table, under the table, on the chair cushions, but no luck. She’d have to start an inch-by-inch search of the deck—in the dark, and with only the glow of the inside lights to guide
her.
She began at the railing, with the idea of working her way from one side of the deck to the other. As she glided her hand over the wood, it snagged on something that felt awfully like the object she was looking for.
Leaning her pelvis against the railing, she held her discovery up to the light. Eureka!
All at once, a brief scent of patchouli invaded her nostrils and two hands splayed on her back and pushed. “Eek!” The phone clattered onto the deck as Isadora tumbled over the side of the boat into the cold, cold, cold, icy cold salt water.
* * *
Sam shoved his bound galley and his laptop into his suitcase. By this time tomorrow, he’d be on a plane bound for Hawaii, and then a few days after, on his way to Micronesia. In the morning, he’d be pulling out of the dock and sailing the houseboat up the Gulf a ways to his friend’s marina. As a favor, he’d offered to dry dock it while Sam was away, but the boat would eventually be shipped home to Hawaii.
It was going to be expensive to do, but the vessel had been willed to him, along with a sizeable inheritance, by his Grandmother Slade and, after flying here for her funeral last month and reading the letter she’d written him before she’d passed as well, he couldn’t bring himself to sell it. He glanced around. Besides, the old thing had an ambience of an earlier era that he kind of liked.
He shook his head and went back to packing. He’d take care of getting the vessel shipped when he returned in fourteen months for Chas’s wedding. Which also gave him plenty of time to get most of his initial diving expeditions in Micronesia completed.
He was just walking back into the living room when he heard his name shouted, followed by: “Help!” A short silence. Then: “Help!” again.
“What the—? Izzy?” He took off toward the sliding glass door and nearly busted it off its track as he slammed it open. He heard splashing and gasping coming from the starboard side of the deck. He looked over the railing into the pitch of night and Gulf sea water. “IZZY!”
“Here! Help me!”
He saw her then, tossed out a life preserver, and then dove straight for her.
