by Holly Jacobs
But then she’d never have met Max. And could she honestly go on without him? It seemed too soon for him to mean so much to her, but he did. She didn’t know what to do about the kidnapping, or about Max.
“So what are you going to do?” she asked again. “You could just untie me, and I’ll jump out of the van.”
“Sorry, dear. Another fairy rule, we can’t rescue you.” Blossom patted Grace’s shoulder. “That’s the hero’s job.”
“You wrote the rules, you know. So there’s no one to blame but yourself for all these silly restrictions,” Fern said.
“The hero doesn’t know where I am, so how can he ride to the rescue?”
“There is that,” Myrtle murmured.
“So now what?” Grace asked.
Three voices chorused, “I don’t know.”
Poor, mild-mannered Grace MacGuire—romance author and flake. She was not only crazy, but she was kidnapped with no hope—at least not if she was relying on the fairies—of being recused.
Every second was taking her farther and farther away from Max. Every second was taking her one step farther from her sanity. Grace suddenly found she’d miss Max much more than her sanity. Sanity was a highly overrated commodity, while no rating in the world could go high enough for her Max.
Her Max.
It had a nice sound. One way or another, she was going to find her way back into his arms.
“We have to have a plan,” she told the trio.
“Like the plan we had for June and Darryl?” Fern asked excitedly. She had been the one to think of that particular “plan” after all.
Grace choked. “I was hoping we could come up with something better than that one,” she said when the spasms stopped.
“Well, it turned out okay,” Fern protested.
“Now Fern,” Blossom jumped in. “You know that the plan wasn’t without its flaws.”
“Well . . .”
Blossom cut her comment off. “The baby on the doorstep was a nice touch, but when June got arrested for kidnapping—”
“She got off in the end.”
“And had to spend three weeks in that jail cell with Rocky, that female pit bull—”
“She ended up having a heart of gold.”
“And that strip search . . . Well, let’s just say we need a better plan for our Grace,” Blossom finished.
“Humph,” Fern snorted, insulted that her plan was being ridiculed.
Grace was relieved the fairies didn’t have a strip search planned for her. Poor June hadn’t enjoyed it a bit. The character had had nightmares about it for the rest of the book.
“Now, girls,” Myrtle placated. “Our Grace is right about one thing. We’ve made a muck of this particular plan. Almost as bad as poor June’s incarceration.” She was quiet a minute. “Whose idea was this?”
“Fern’s,” Blossom tattled. Fern was silent.
“Well, the four of us had better put our heads together and come up with something better this time,” Myrtle.
WHERE WAS GRACE? Max’s gaze circled Leila’s guests one more time. He hadn’t caught sight of her since Mrs. Martin lost her wig.
“I just don’t know what happened,” the older lady said for the thousandth time. She had small bobby pins holding down what wisps of grey hair remained on her head.
“One minute I was quietly talking to Captain Ellis, and the next my hair was flying across the room. It felt like someone ripped it right off my head. But there was no one behind me, just the fireplace.” She continued to cry. She’d been almost hysterical, but was finally calming down.
Max did his best to soothe the elderly lady, but his mind was on Grace—and the fairies that no one except Grace could see. According to Grace, the fairies were doing the cancan on the mantle right behind Mrs. Martin, and then her wig flew into the punch bowl.
Maybe Grace isn’t crazy. Or maybe I’m going crazy.
He didn’t know anything anymore. He just knew he was worried about Grace. Where was she?
“Excuse me, Mrs. Martin. I have to find my fiancé. I just realized that I need to ask her something.”
The elderly lady smiled through her tears. “Ah, young love. You run along. Millicent is fetching me a handkerchief from her purse, and I’ll just wrap that around my head until we get home.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for being so kind to a silly old lady,” she whispered.
“Ah, but I haven’t seen a single silly old lady all evening,” Max said. “I did, however, run into this young, stone fox who was really into pink hair. Never did smell any hairspray that fine before, either. Smelled rather like champagne punch.”
They both laughed.
“See you later,” he called as he hurried from the room. “Leila, have you seen Grace?” Max asked, interrupting Grace’s stepsister’s frantic direction of her staff as they tried to clean up the pink mess from her white carpet.
“No,” she shouted. She turned around and saw who was speaking and began to simper. “I mean, no I haven’t seen Grace. Why don’t the two of us go look for her?”
“Why don’t I go look for her, and you go find your husband,” Max countered. “It occurs to me that I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet. Since we’re going to be related by marriage, we might as well get to know each other.”
Leila brushed up against Max. “You can meet Leo later. Don’t you think we should be looking for Grace?”
“I’ll look for her myself. Thanks. You just take care of your mess.” Max beat a hasty retreat.
Grace had been right about Leila. She was sending out signals that flashed like a lighthouse on a foggy night. She wanted him. But she was bound to be disappointed, because the only woman Max wanted was one slightly sanity-challenged author.
And he wanted her now.
Max searched the grounds, and then he searched every room in the house. The only thing he found was the missing Leo.
“Oh, excuse me,” Max said as he poked his head into an occupied room. A man was sitting on the bed in his stocking feet and a tux, watching TV. “Do you know Grace MacGuire, by any chance?”
The man jumped from the bed. “Sure. She’s my sister-in-law. Why?”
“You must be Leo,” Max said, extending his hand. “I’m Max Aaronson, Grace’s fiancé. And I seem to have misplaced her.”
The two men shook hands, and Max decided he liked the looks of Leila’s husband. Leo was shorter and slightly rounder than Max, but he had a firm grip and honest eyes. Max always held that he could tell a lot by a man’s eyes. Not necessarily the most scientific measure of a man, but it worked for him.
“Pleased to meet you. I didn’t know Gracey was engaged. If I’d known she was bringing her fiancé to meet us, I’d have been downstairs.” Leo’s voice dropped. “I always try to hide when Leila and Doris throw these damn things. Crowds make me nervous,” he admitted. “But Gracey’s always been the nicest member of this family.”
“I kind of like her,” Max replied with a grin. “Now, if I could only find her.”
“How about I put my shoes back on and lend a hand?” Leo asked, already retrieving his shoes from under the bed. “We’ll track her down in no time.”
No time turned out to be quite some time later. Leo and Max searched high and low, and still no Grace. At first no one else had been overly concerned, but the more time that passed, the more people who joined in the search. Two hours later, Max finally admitted defeat. “She’s just not anywhere.”
The car was still here.
“Leo, do you know Grace’s phone number?”
Leo’s eyebrow lifted, but he made no comment on the fact Max didn’t know his fiancé’s phone number.
“Hi, this is Grace and I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m either out, or I’m swooning in my latest
hunk’s arms. Either way, I’m not answering, so tell me who you are and I’ll get back to you.”
“Grace, if you get this and went home for some reason call me at Leila’s. I’m going crazy,” Max told the machine, hoping she’d pick up, but she didn’t. He hung up frustrated and a little afraid.
“Maybe it’s time to call the police.” Leo’s expression was a grim line of concern.
“Yes. But I’m not sure they’ll be able to do anything,” Max said morosely. “Why don’t you call them? I’m going to her house to see if she just went home. She’s been having a bad time of it lately. Some characters in that new book are giving her trouble. Maybe she’s got the machine turned down and can’t hear me.” He was grasping at straws and knew it.
Max hadn’t lied to Leo. The godmothers were her characters, and they certainly were giving her problems. They were giving Max problems, too, for that matter. “I’ll stop at my place on the way to Grace’s, just in case she went there.”
Max handed Leo a card. “Call me if you find something here. I’ve got my cell phone, and I’ll carry it with me.”
“Sure,” Leo said. “And don’t worry about Grace. You’ll find her, and everything will be fine. We’ll probably all laugh about this tomorrow night.”
“Yeah,” Max said, not really believing it.
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“SO, WHAT’S GOING on?” Grace hissed at the fairy godmothers. They’d gone to see what was happening back at Leila’s and had just winked back into the van.
“Well, there appears to be a problem,” Fern said tentatively.
“Problem?” Grace laughed then. She saw Clarence glance at her. He was giving her more and more questioning looks, not that she cared. She was crazy, she was falling in love, and she was kidnapped. Why would she care what her kidnapper thought?
“Of course there’s a problem. There’s always a problem when the three of you start meddling. Remember in the book with May? You put her and Julian on a ship and shipwrecked them, thinking it would be romantic, and they’d see how much they loved each other.”
“It was a good idea,” Fern protested.
“It would have been if they hadn’t ended up on different islands!” Grace had once seen humor in all her character’s mishaps, but suddenly they weren’t quite so funny.
“Now Grace,” Blossom protested. “It turned out all right in the end. They found each other when everything was over, and that time apart convinced them they couldn’t live apart any longer.”
Fern interrupted. “And now they have a lovely little family. Two children, the last time we checked in. And May was expecting her third.”
“Why, Julian even bought her that St. Bernard she wanted, even though he does complain about all MacKenzie’s drooling,” Blossom finished.
“Oh, that’s so nice to hear. I’ve always wondered what happened to them after—”
Grace cut herself off, remembering they were discussing fictional characters. Actually, Grace was discussing two of her fictional characters with three of her other fictional characters. Going crazy was hard work. She practically needed a scoreboard to keep track of all her delusions.
“Are you telling me that you can guarantee things are going to work out for Max and me?” she asked the godmothers. “That I’m not going to end up married to Clarence—who only wants my money—and committed to some asylum? Can you guarantee that Max and I will live happily ever after?”
Grace was beginning to feel hysterical again. She was still tied up, cruising in the back of a van on her way to an airstrip. Then, if Clarence had his way, they’d have a quick marriage in Vegas, while the man she loved had no idea where she was, let alone that she needed rescuing.
“Just go tell Max where I am,” she begged the fairies.
Myrtle just shook her head sadly. “You know that’s not how it works. You wrote the rules, remember? Even if we wanted him to, Max can’t see us or hear us. Only you, our duly noted and certified goddaughter can see us, no matter what we want. I’m sorry, Grace.” Myrtle actually sounded contrite. “I just don’t know what else we can do.”
“I’m sorry, too, and I don’t have a clue as to what to do, either.” Grace’s spirit sank, and she stared at the sky through the van’s side window. Every second took her farther and farther from the man she loved, and there was nothing she could do about it.
MAX FELT LIKE he was going crazy. He paced through Grace’s house. When he’d arrived, the door was locked. But instinct told him Grace would hide a key somewhere. He found it hidden in the garage, tucked under the mat in front of the door leading from the garage into the house. Real original, that was his Grace.
His Grace. It sounded like a regal title. Max liked the sound of it. He wished she was here with him, even with her fairy godmothers chaperoning. He wanted to hold her, to tell her he cared about her.
No, the feeling was more than caring, he admitted as he continued to pace. He felt as if Grace was a part of him. It had happened too quickly, but that didn’t seem to make a difference. Having her disappear, knowing he couldn’t talk to her or hold her, left a hole in the center of his being.
Yes, he more than cared for her. He loved her.
He explored the feeling a moment and savored it. Dr. Artemus Maxmillion Aaronson loved Grace MacGuire!
There was so much he didn’t know about her. What was her favorite food? Did she wear braces when she was little, or was that perfect smile a gift from nature? She was a writer, but what authors did she enjoy reading?
He wandered about her living room. There was a small wooden box on a bookshelf. GKM. Her initials. He realized he didn’t even know her middle name, and he wanted to. He wanted to know everything about her. From what kind of ice cream she liked to what season was her favorite. Everything.
He’d remedy that soon enough. Once he found her, he’d never let her go. He’d marry her, and maybe then those fictional godmothers would disappear. Grace could write about anything she liked in the future—anything but fairies, especially godmother ones. Of course, if the fairies remained, that would be okay. He wanted Grace, even if she was fairy phobic.
Books by Grace MacGuire lined the shelves. He picked up the first book and turned to the back cover. Fairy tales can be delightful, until you find yourself in the middle of one. Nettie wakes up one morning to find three fairies are determined to find her a truelove of her own. The problem is, Nettie doesn’t believe in fairies . . . or love.
He concentrated on the words, trying to keep his mind off the author of those words. But his mind was on Grace. He reread the first page a second time and was saved from trying it a third time by the phone.
“Hello. Grace MacGuire’s house.”
“Max, it’s Leo. Grace isn’t here. The police say they can’t do anything for twenty-four hours.”
A lot could happen in twenty-four hours. In twenty-four hours Grace had affected him more than any other woman had in a lifetime. “She’s not here, either.”
“Something doesn’t seem right, though,” Leo whispered.
Max pounced on Leo’s concern. “What doesn’t seem right?”
“Well, Leila and Doris seem to be taking this all very calmly. Too calmly, if you ask me.”
“So, ask them what’s going on.” Max genuinely liked Leo, but Leila was another story. It was evident she didn’t like Grace any more than Grace—or Max, for that matter—liked her.
“I’m working on it,” Leo said. “I just thought it might ease your mind a bit to know they aren’t worried. I’ll call if, no, when, I find out what’s going on.”
“You do that.” Max feared that Leo wasn’t going to be much help.
The characters in Grace’s book, Nettie and Augustus, captured Max’s attention and kept him from worrying about the storm that was starting to brew. The t
hree fairy godmothers held particular interest for him.
He thought about what he knew. Myrtle was the eldest. More level headed than her sisters, which wasn’t saying much. She was fond of the color red and wore it exclusively.
Blossom was next in line. Her hair was yellow, not blond, and she dressed exclusively in that color. She followed Myrtle’s lead and fought constantly with her youngest sister.
Fern. Brown hair and the least garish of the three. She dressed in greens and often set out on her own adventures. In this book, Fern tried hang-gliding, which she claimed wasn’t as dangerous as her sisters seemed to think. They could all fly, after all. It was Fern who was responsible for the plan that went very awry in Nettie’s and Auggie’s story.
As worried as he was, Max couldn’t help laughing at the three fairies’ banter. He chuckled at the scrapes they led poor Nettie into, and it was all in the name of true love.
Nettie complained that Auggie thought she was nuts because he couldn’t see her three guardians. The godmothers explained that only the godchild could see and hear them.
Maybe they’ll make an exception this once, Max thought. And he was sure they could tell him . . .
He caught himself mid-thought. He was a man of science. How could he entertain the possibility of fairy godmothers? Last week he would have scoffed at the idea, but that was before he met Grace. Because of her, he would entertain any idea, no matter how crazy it seemed.
That gave him an idea, and he yelled, “Hey, Myrtle, Fern and Blossom. I seem to have misplaced Grace. If the three of you are real, then you know where she is. I’m worried. Not that I think she’s crazy. I mean I’d be worried if she was a normal person. I mean, Grace is a normal person. Well, not exactly normal, or I wouldn’t care for her.
“I don’t just care for her,” he continued out loud. “I love her.”
It felt so right to say the words. The only thing that would sound more right was saying them to Grace. It might be crazy to fall in love with someone so fast, but crazy or not, Max knew loving Grace was what he was born to do.
“Anyway, I’m worried about her. I think there’s something very wrong here. She wouldn’t just leave the party and disappear without telling me where she was going. Besides that, I drove. She didn’t even have a car.”
