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Copyright ©2004 by Holly Fuhrmann




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Prologue 
The three fairy godmothers, somewhere between late middle age and early senior citizenship, all wearing crayon-colored cancan outfits, sat in a line on a stage. The fairy godmother in red had just taken off a shoe and was massaging her foot.

Bernie smiled. This was going to be the best time he'd had in months.

Well, not the best time. His new wife was the best time, but this was the next best time. His smile grew broader.

"Hello, ladies. What brings you to Fairyland?"

"We're between cases,” Fern, the brunette wearing the bright green cancan outfit, said. “So we thought we'd get in some practice on our dance."

"Yes,” said Blossom, the crayon-yellow haired fairy whose outfit was the same shade as her hair. “We thought we'd surprise everyone at the Beltane festival with a new dance."

"If we catch Grace in a good mood, maybe we'll even do it for her and the family,” Fern said.

"Don't count on it,” Myrtle, the red-haired, red-clothed fairy said. “Grace has a deep-rooted bias against our cancan dances."

"Well, she wouldn't if she could see this routine,” Blossom said.

Bernie cleared his throat. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, it appears you won't be doing a dance at this year's Beltane Festival. You won't be in Fairyland in May, you see."

Myrtle studied him a minute, and Bernie could see that she knew they were in trouble. “Just where will we be?” she asked.

"The exact where is up to you. But the answer to where you won't be is in Fairyland. You see, the Council has decided you need to spend more time with mortals. You've spent years working with them, but we worry you don't always realize how your—um, mishaps—yes, your mishaps affect them. In order to rectify the situation the Council has decided you will spend more time with mortals ... as mortals."

He watched as his meaning sank in. Their faces sank and Bernie's spirit soared.

"You, you can't be serious,” Myrtle sputtered.

"No, I'm not serious. I'm Bernie.” He laughed at his own joke, but the three fairies didn't even crack a smile, and that made him laugh even harder. “You see the three of you are about to find out what it feels like to have your life meddled with."

"Are you complaining?” Blossom asked. “I mean, I'm sure Fiona will love hearing that you're not happy with our work."

"That's not what I meant, I mean—"

This time Fern smiled. “If you think she was annoyed when she sued us for not giving her a happily-ever-after, just imagine how perturbed she'll be when she finds out her husband isn't pleased with our fairy-godmothering. After all, you did marry the girl and bring her here to Fairyland to live."

"That's not what I'm saying at all.” The three fairy godmothers had brought him and his new wife together in their usual roundabout, insane sort of way. It took Fiona suing them in a human court to get their matchmaking started.

"You know I adore Fiona,” he said loudly, just in case his wife was eavesdropping, “and I am happier than anyone that she likes it here and fits in so well. She's even talked about finding a job here in Fairyland."

"Then what are you saying, Bernie?” Myrtle asked. “Because you seem to be doing a lot of talking, but you don't seem to be saying much of anything."

"You three need to be quiet and let me finish."

How had he lost control? He always seemed to lose it when these three were around, which is why he'd approached the Fairy Council with this plan. After all, if he couldn't control them, no one would be able to.

"Finish?” Myrtle said. “You haven't even started."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I started yesterday by going to the Council with my plan, and they all agree."

"What's the plan, exactly?” Fern asked.

"Oh, now you want to listen, do you? Maybe I'll just sit here, and you three can continue to try to talk circles around me, if you like."

Blossom jumped off the stage and stomped her foot. “Bernie, you are the most obstinate, opinionated and—"

"And you're going to spend the next six months as a human, stripped of your powers and finding out what it's like to be one of the people you work your magic on."

Bernie finally achieved one of his lifetime goals ... Myrtle, Blossom and Fern were speechless.

"Ah, for the first time ever, I've managed to shut the three of you up. Six months. The Council agreed that your help—while it does bear results—is highly unorthodox and upsetting to the people involved. We decided it would be beneficial to have you all learn what it's like to be truly mortal."

"Bernie, you can lie to the Council,” Myrtle said, “you can even lie to yourself, but don't think you can lie to us. This is revenge, pure and simple. It has nothing to do with our disconcerting mortals, and everything to do with us disconcerting you."

"There's nothing I can say that will change your mind about my motives, but I thought it would comfort you to know that Berrybelle herself said this was the right course of action."

His mother was one of the high priestesses of the tribe. She had the gift of the sight. She rarely voiced an opinion, believing it was better to let things go as they should on their own, so when she did voice an opinion, everyone listened.

Even the three thorns-in-his-side fairies in front of him.

"Berrybelle?” Fern whispered.

"But your mother never agrees with you,” Myrtle said.

"You're the bane of her existence,” Fern added.

"And I wish that someday you have a child who worries you as much as you've worried your mother,” Blossom said.

"Blossom!” Myrtle and Fern gasped together.

Bernie didn't say a word, but he felt weak-in-the-knees, a decidedly unfairy and unmanly reaction to Blossom's wish.

"Take it back,” he gasped.

"Bernie, you know she can't,” Myrtle said.

"And you and Fiona have talked about having a child,” Fern added gently.

"In a century or two. Certainly not now. Why, we've hardly had a chance to be together."

A father? He couldn't be a father. Not yet. He'd barely adjusted to being a husband. He loved Fiona so intensely that the feeling frequently threatened to overwhelm him. The thought of sharing her love with someone else was disconcerting, and the idea of being responsible for a child was more than disconcerting, it was terrifying.

"Take it back,” he repeated.

"It's been almost a year,” Myrtle said.

"You've been hanging around humans far too long. A year is just a blink of the eye. A child? Blossom, how could you?"

"I—I—I—” Blossom stuttered and then broke down into tears. “You're going to have a baby ... a baby I wished on you. Oh, I'm so excited. Can I be her godmother?"

"That's it,” he said, still trying to adjust to this new wrinkle in the fabric of his well-plotted life. He needed to get the fairies out of Fairyland before they could create any more problems. “Six months. Pick a continent."

"We want a city. Erie,” said Myrtle. “Send us back to Erie, Pennsylvania."

"You think the Aaronsons will be able to help you? I know you feel close to them. After all, you brought all three of them together with their spouses.” He considered it a moment and then shrugged. “Well, they may keep you from starving, but they're not going to be able to help you replace your magic. And what are the three of you going to do without your magic for six months? I wanted six decades, but the Council said no. Then I tried for six years, but still they said no. But if you mess up too bad, maybe I can get them to reconsider."

"Bernie, you're truly a vindictive sort, aren't you? And after I just gave you a baby, how can you be so mean?” Blossom wailed.

"That's it. Go. Erie, here you come, and there you'll stay for the next six month. Oh, and when you get there, I have one other little surprise."

He waved an arm and the three women vanished. He'd check in on them later. But first, he had to find his wife and tell her they were going to have a baby.

A baby. A baby that Blossom wished them. In Fairyland wishes were as good as actions.

A baby.

The idea wasn't quite as terrifying.

Fiona would be a wonderful mother, and he ... he would be the best father in the world.

A baby.

Suddenly, all thoughts of Myrtle, Fern and Blossom evaporated as his heart was suddenly filled to the point of bursting.

A baby!

"Fiona,” he called as the fairies’ cancan hall disappeared and Bernie started off through the Fairyland forest looking for his wife ... the mother of his soon-to-be child.

Once he'd found her he'd check in on the fairly human trio.

Yes, he might owe Myrtle, Fern and Blossom a lot, but that wasn't going to stop him from enjoying their upcoming trials and tribulations.




Chapter One 
Myrtle 

"Bernie, you toad, come out and fight like a fairy,” Myrtle hollered as she landed rump first on cold pavement. “Blossom? Fern?"

"Here we are,” came a voice from a bush.

Myrtle climbed to her feet and walked over to the rustling bush just as two women emerged.

"Oh no, he wouldn't,” she moaned as her sisters climbed out. “Bernie, you troll, how could you?"

Not wanting to, but knowing she had to, Myrtle looked down.

Gone were her lovely old lady, sagging breasts and her small pot belly.

She held out her hand. No age spots and not a wrinkle in sight.

"Okay, girls, tell me the truth. Am I as beautiful and young as I think I am?"

The tall woman with the long, blond hair nodded slowly. “You're both gorgeous."

"So are you,” Myrtle said with a sigh. “Tall and gorgeous. I don't remember you being quite so tall."

"It's been a long time since we changed our appearance. I almost forgot that I wasn't an old lady,” Fern said. She was shorter than Blossom, with beautiful sable hair.

Blossom looked down and moaned. “Well, if he was going to turn us back into our original bodies, he could have done it right. Look, he forgot my bosom."

"Blossom, you never had a bosom,” Fern pointed out gently. “Now, I have a bosom. Always did."

"Of course I had one,” Blossom argued and thrust her decided bosom-less chest forward. “I remember beautiful, perky breasts. And what do I have? A clear view of my feet, that's what."

"Blossom, the beautiful, perky breasts you're remembering were Fern's. She always had a great bosom,” Myrtle said.

"Why, thank you Myrtle,” Fern said, smiling and standing a bit taller. “And you've always had a nice behind. Remember that leprechaun, Michael? He always liked to pinch it."

"That's enough Fern. Why I haven't thought of Michael in a few hundred years, and now is not the time to start thinking of him. Just imagine if he overheard my thoughts and decided to look me up? Why, as humans, we're powerless and would be at his mercy. And Michael always did have an odd sense of humor. It would be almost worse than being at Bernie's mercy. What we need to do is figure out what we're going to do."

"Are we in Erie, or did Bernie put us somewhere else?” Fern asked.

"I—” Myrtle looked around. They were standing in a park. “I think the courthouse is that way, which means Glory's isn't far. Let's go."

They started walking through the park, three beautiful women in gauzy fairy garb.

Myrtle didn't feel beautiful. As a matter of fact, she felt annoyed. More than that, she felt mad. Who did Bernie think he was? How could he still be looking for revenge? After all, they'd found him the love of his life, and Blossom had even wished him a baby. Why, he owed them.

And how did he repay their kindness?

Cast them out of Fairyland and turned them into humans.

Myrtle realized her feet hurt and looked at the dainty sandals she was wearing. “Hang on a minute. I think I have a pebble in my shoe."

Fern and Blossom paused and Myrtle leaned over to adjust her sandal.

Someone whistled.

"Who did that?” Myrtle asked, as she stood.

Fern pointed at a young man on a park bench. Myrtle marched over to him and stood, hands on hips. “Just what do you think you're doing, young man? Why I'm old enough to be your grandmother."

He scoffed. “Lady, if that's how grandmothers are looking these days, I'll take a dozen. Maybe your two friends would like to be my grandmother, too?"

She looked down and sighed. Oh, she was going to get Bernie back. She was going to turn him into a toad.

No scratch that, he was already a toad.

And speaking of toads, she looked at the smirking man on the bench. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? It's as dirty as your mind is,” she said and then turned and returned to her sisters.

"That's telling him, Myrtle,” Blossom said.

"That was inane and almost embarrassing,” Myrtle groaned as they again started walking toward what she hoped was Glory's. “What I wanted to do was turn him into a woman for a week and let him see what it's like, but I can't because Bernie's a twit."

"Let's hurry to Glory's. She'll help us out,” Fern said, picking up the pace.

"Yeah,” Blossom chimed in enthusiastically.

Glory Chambers Aaronson was the wife of their godchild, Nick. They'd set the two of them up, quite brilliantly, if Myrtle did say so herself.

And she never hesitated to say good things about herself.

Of all the godchildren they'd ever had, they were closest to the Aaronson family.

Maybe because Grace MacGuire Aaronson was the author of a series of fairy tale romances ... staring Blossom, Fern and herself. Or maybe it was because the family was just so darned nice. Either way, Myrtle loved them all, which is why she'd picked Erie, Pennsylvania, when Bernie asked. If she had to be human, she might as well do it where there were people she liked.

They'd started with giving Grace a happily-ever-after. When Myrtle and her sisters appeared, poor Grace had worried about her sanity, since she'd been writing a best-selling series of romance novels that starred them. When she sought psychiatric help, she'd met Dr. Max Aaronson. One kidnapping later, they were married and had a daughter, Charity. They called her CheChe.

Myrtle had never thought that was an overly dignified name, but when CheChe bit her fingers, she decided the child probably didn't warrant a dignified name.

After Grace and Max, they'd set out to find true love for Max's sister, Joy. They'd arranged for her to care for Gabriel St. John's daughter, Sophie. At first it hadn't appeared as if things were going to work out. Gabriel said he felt Joy was comfortable.

Comfortable? What woman wanted to hear that? But soon enough, comfortable turned to uncomfortable, and they'd found their happily-ever-after. They now had a lovely son, Zeke, as well as Sophie.

That left one Aaronson.

Nick.

Oh, he'd been tough. But they'd found him his perfect woman, an ex-corporate exec, turned restaurant owner named Glory.

Through many hours of plotting and planning, they managed to move Glory to Erie. Unfortunately, Glory had a prejudice against lawyers. More unfortunately, Nick was one. But when Fiona, another godchild, sued Myrtle and her sisters because they promised her a happily-ever-after and she wasn't happy at all, Nick and Glory were forced to work together. When Bernie, the toad, posing as a judge for the case, held them in contempt, their fate was sealed.

So was Bernie's, since Fiona's happily-ever-after was in his hands.

"There it is,” Blossom called merrily, interrupting Myrtle's depressing thoughts. All their godchildren were happily in love, and what were they?

Mortals for six months.

Darn that Bernie.

"Come on,” said Fern. “Hurry up."

They opened the door of Glory's Chambers, the restaurant they'd helped renovate and open. The bell jangled merrily, admitting them into a retro-looking diner.

Glory herself, her red hair in a ponytail and her smile as big as ever, walked over and said, “Hello, ladies. Please, take any table you want and someone will be with you in a moment."

"You don't recognize us?” asked Blossom, a shaky little burr in her voice.

Glory paused and studied them. “No, I'm sorry. Should I?"

Blossom broke down in tears. “That's it. We're totally lost and alone here in the cruel world. We'll probably end up sleeping on the streets."

"No we won't. Glory it's us, Fern, Blossom and me, Myrtle."

Glory burst out laughing. “Oh, that's a good one. Did Max put you three up to this? It's good, but not good enough. But you get a free piece of pie for the effort. Now, take a seat and I'll be with you in a minute."

Myrtle led her sisters to a booth.

"Now what?” Blossom wailed. “She doesn't believe us. We'll be forced to wander the mean, cold streets of Erie."

"It's not cold at all, Blossom,” Myrtle soothed. “Why it's almost balmy for an April day in Erie."

"Still, I'm sure it will be cold tonight. We'll be huddled in some dark alley, freezing to death. Humans do that sort of thing, you know. Why, we're sitting here at Glory's table and don't even have money to pay for food. Humans have to eat food. So maybe we'll starve to death long before we freeze to death,” Blossom moaned.

"Now, Blossom, I'm pretty sure we'd freeze long before we starved. I think it takes a while to starve,” Fern soothed.

"We're not freezing or starving,” Myrtle said. “We'll simply convince Glory that we're not a joke."

"How? Looking like this?” Blossom wailed. “Why, how will she ever recognize me without a bosom? I always had a bosom before."

Glory appeared at their table. “Now, what can I get you ladies?"

"You can take a seat and listen to us for just a moment, Glory Chambers Aaronson,” Myrtle said in her sternest voice.

Unfortunately, in this body, stern came out sort of breathy.

She hated being a sex-kitten. She longed for her older body. But she couldn't have it, at least not for six months. Realizing she'd have to be stern despite her breathiness, she finished, “We can prove we're who we say we are."

"Ladies, you can stop the charade now. It won't work,” Glory laughed.

"Sit down,” Myrtle barked.

Glory sat.

Well, at least she hadn't lost her touch, Myrtle thought with a touch of relief. She could overcome her sex-kitten status and still get results.

"Now, if I've kept my Earth time properly, you and Nick have been married for almost a year,” she said. “You met because of us. He rushed in and put out a fire. We were sued, and you convinced him to defend us."

Glory shook her head and laughed. “Max could have told you all of that."

"Ah, but could he have told us about what happened in the judge's chamber?” Blossom asked.

Fern smiled and added, “You know we don't approve of premarital sex—"

Blossom interrupted. “But this time we made an exception—"

"Since we knew you'd be getting married soon,” Fern said.

"And no, we didn't watch you,” Myrtle said, hoping to calm the frantic look on Glory's face.

"Myrtle, you can still read minds?” Blossom asked. “Bernie left you that much?"

"No, it simply didn't take a mind reader to know what Glory was thinking."

"Bernie?” Glory said weakly.

"He's still miffed over the whole trial thing, and he went to the Council with a new proposal,” Myrtle said.

Bernie didn't know the first thing about being miffed, but he would. Why as soon as she got her powers back he'd find out just what annoyed truly was.

"He made us human,” Blossom said.

"Human?” Glory asked.

Fern sighed. “No fairy powers at all, which means we reverted to our natural forms."

"Not me,” Blossom added. “That awful Bernie kept my bosom."

"She doesn't have a bosom, she just likes to think she does,” Fern said in a mock-whisper.

"This is your natural form?” Glory asked weakly, studying all three of them intently. “Why you're all gorgeous. Why on earth would you have gone around like three old—"

Myrtle cleared her throat.

"Older,” Glory corrected herself. “Older ladies if you looked like this?"

"When we first started working as fairy godmothers there were problems,” Fern said. “Big problems.

Blossom nodded her agreement. “You see, men took one look at us and fell in love."

"Which made it hard to get them to fall in love with the proper girl,” Fern said.

"So we decided to change into a more appropriate fairy godmother form,” Myrtle said. “Because we looked older, people took us more seriously."

"And men don't fall quite so easily for women with saggy breasts,” Fern said sagely.

"Not that they fall for women with no breasts,” Blossom said morosely. “I mean, did you notice that I'm practically concave, Glory?"

Glory looked startled. “I'll confess, I wasn't really studying your...” She let the sentence trail off, obviously unsure how to finish it.

"Well, if you were it wouldn't take long to study since there's nothing there. Darn that Bernie."

"Anyway, when he asked where we wanted to spend our time, we picked here because you and everyone else we love is here,” Fern said.

"How much time?” Glory asked.

"Six months,” Myrtle said.

She knew that six months for humans was a rather finite concept, whereas in Fairyland six months could stretch into six years worth of living, or conversely, six days. Time worked differently in Fairyland. It stretched and shrank at will. Here it was what it was.

Six months.

She shook her head, wondering how they'd last that long.

"Anyway, as I said, when Bernie asked where we wanted to stay, we said here in Erie where we know people. And so here we are, human, powerless, penniless—"

"And boobless,” Blossom added.

"Speak for yourself,” said Fern, thrusting her chest out.

"Girls, that's enough squabbling. We have more important matters at hand than bosoms,” Myrtle scolded.

She took a certain amount of comfort that though their world had turned upside down, her sisters remained the same.

"Sure you can say that because you have one,” Blossom muttered.

"Okay, I believe you,” Glory said with a sigh. “It's not what you know, or the story you told. It's the talking in circles. No one can do it like the three of you. Let me call in reinforcements and we'll see what we can do."

She slid out of the booth and stood. “But as for homeless and starving, I think I can handle that. The apartment upstairs is still empty. You can stay there. And you know where the food is kept."

"Thank you,” said Myrtle.

One obstacle down. They'd have roof over their head. A small roof, but a roof.

What were the three of them going to do for six long months of humanness? The only thing Myrtle knew how to do was be a fairy godmother. Solving people's problems, finding a way to make their lives a little better. Maybe even teaching them a thing or two along the way. She wasn't trained for anything else. She didn't want to do anything else.

"Let's go upstairs and see just what we have to work with,” she said to her sisters.

"It's got to be more than I have to work with,” Blossom muttered, looking at her chest.

Myrtle had had enough breast talk. “Come on, Blossom, get your breasts—"

"Or lack there of,” Fern added.

"—off your mind. We have a lot of work cut out for us."

They plodded up the stairway off the kitchen that led to the apartment upstairs.

"No we don't,” Fern moaned. “We don't have anything to do. Bernie's exiled us. No couples to fix up. No problems to solve. No happily-ever-afters."

"And no havoc to wreak,” said a new voice.

They all turned and saw a stately brunette fairy standing behind them on the stairs.

"Fiona!” Myrtle said. “What are you doing here?"

"Well, I heard what my husband did.” A splash of color tinged her pale complexion.

Fern smiled, “Fiona, we love you dearly, and once upon a time would have said we loved Bernie, too—"

"Despite his overbearing, egotistical, thinks-he's-always-right attitude,” Blossom added.

Fiona sighed. “Bernie's never quite got over your interference. Not that we're unhappy. We're blissfully happy. I think that's what nettles him the most—that you all knew what he needed before he did. Bernie likes being right."

"Well, this time he's not. Look, just look, what he's done to us,” Myrtle said as she opened the apartment door.

A small, boxish room that was sorely in need of ... everything, greeted them.

Six months? They had to live six months in this? Myrtle groaned. “We're not only human, we're babes. And we're living in a one bedroom apartment that's barely the size of our bathroom at home."

Myrtle was ever so proud of their fairy-house. She'd designed it herself. It was basically three separate houses connected by one large common great-room. For Fern she's used a lot of natural products, gnome-polished mahogany, troll harvested marble and...

She sighed as she looked at the small drab square that would be their home for the next half a year. Maybe she could convince Glory to let her at least add some color to the walls.

"Listen,” said Fiona, “I don't agree with what Bernie's done, but I can't undo it. I don't have any clout with the Council, so I doubt I can sway their decision, especially since Berrybelle is in favor of it. But I can help. You see, it's been a year and I've studied hard and have finally been appointed my first godchildren."

"Oh, Fiona, I know that's what you've wanted. Tell us who. Maybe we can help,” Blossom gushed excitedly.

"After all, we do know a thing or two about godmothering,” Myrtle added.

Fiona smiled and said, “You."

"You who?” Myrtle asked.

Blossom chuckled. “There was a drink named that. Oh, how I loved it. It's been a long time since I had any. Do you think Glory will know if they still make it and where I could buy it? Not that I have money. But if I ask real nice, maybe she'll buy it for me."

"You who?” Myrtle repeated, ignoring Blossom's prattle.

"You three,” Fiona said with a grin. “You're my first godchildren."

"Now, Fiona, we're you're godmothers, so there's no way we can be your godchildren,” Fern said. “That would be ... Well, it's just not done."

"Ah, but I got special dispensation. I'm pregnant—by the way, thank you Blossom for the wish. Bernie wanted to wait, but I wanted a baby so much—and you know how Council likes to humor pregnant fairies. We're not an overly prolific race."

"Which is a good thing since we're immortal except for accidents,” Myrtle said. “Too many babies would severely overtax Fairyland's resources."

"Right. But since I'm going to have a baby, they're pleased to humor me. They caved with barely a whisper of a fight. So here I am, you're newly appointed godmother. And I can't give you back your powers, but I can do everything in my power to make things more comfortable. Let's start with this apartment."

Fiona waved her wand and they were standing in the middle of their Fairyland living room. Myrtle recognized every piece of fabric, every carefully placed crystal ... everything. For the first time since Bernie's visit she felt at home and began to relax a bit.

If she had her home, she just might make it through the next six months.

"Fiona, how did you get us back in Fairyland?” Blossom asked. “I thought we were banished for six months. Oh, I'm so delighted. I—"

"She didn't,” Myrtle said, hating to see Blossom's hopes dashed.

"Myrtle's right, I didn't,” Fiona said. “The Council is quite firm on your staying the full six months. I simply brought your house to you."

"You don't think the mortals are going to notice a huge house suddenly appearing in the middle of the city?” Fern asked.

Keeping mortals from noticing was an important rule.

"Oh, no. I just squeezed it all into the apartment Glory said you can use. For the next six month, your house will be here, you'll have all the room, all the comforts, but no one will be able to tell from the outside."

"What about from the inside?” Myrtle asked. “Why this living room alone takes up more space than the entire apartment did. You don't think a visitor would notice that?"

"I guess you'll just have to make sure you don't have any visitors. Oh, and when you look in your closets, you'll notice I replaced all your clothes with ones more fitting for your new appearances."

"Not our new appearances, our real appearances,” Fern said.

"Whatever. I think my work is done, for now. Bernie doesn't want me overtaxing myself, and I'm probably in enough trouble without having him bellow about that, too. He's making me dinner. Did I tell you what a great cook he is? Fern, I can't believe the two of you never considered that common ground."

"I can't picture Bernie cooking.” Fern closed her eyes. “Nope. I can't picture it at all."

"Well, he does, and quite nicely, too."

"So, he knows you're here?” Myrtle asked.

"Not yet. But he will. I'll tell you all about the fight.” Fiona nodded her head and was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Now what?” asked Blossom, flopping onto the overstuffed couch and putting her beautifully shaped legs up onto the coffee table. “What are we going to do with ourselves for six whole months?"

"Well, we've obviously got a comfortable place to stay, that's a start,” Myrtle said, sitting in the leather winged-back reading chair she'd picked up in Italy just a few months ago. “Now all we have to do is figure out something to keep us busy. I can't imagine just sitting around doing nothing."

"We could go back and work at Glory's, I bet,” Blossom said, sitting next to Fern on the couch. “You know we were great at the restaurant. It would be good to see some of our old friends."

"But they wouldn't know it was us, and we couldn't tell them,” Fern said. “That would be so hard, and if we're there every day, one of us might slip and say something to make them suspicious."

Myrtle and Fern both looked at Blossom.

If any of them was the one of us who might slip, it was Blossom.

Glory came hurrying into the apartment. “Oh, my. What did you do?"

"Not us,” Fern said. “We're not going to take the heat on this one. It was Fiona, our godmother. She thought we'd be more comfortable in our own house."

"I thought you three were her godmothers,” Glory said as she walked over and joined the group, sitting in the chair next to Myrtle.

Fern said, “We are. And she is our godchild, as well as our godmother."

"Which is highly unusual,” Myrtle added.

"And she wanted us to be comfortable, so she brought our house from Fairyland,” Blossom added. “You have to admit this is ever so much more comfortable than that apartment."

"Not that we weren't grateful for the offer of the apartment,” Fern hastily added.

"Oh.” Glory looked around the room. “I can see why you prefer your own home. This is absolutely lovely."

"Thank you,” Myrtle said, swelling with pride. “I designed it myself."

"Grace and Joy will be here soon,” Glory said.

"What about the men?” Fern asked.

"We thought this was a time for women to pull together,” Glory said. “We'll clue the men in tonight. We just told them we were having a family dinner here."

"So they don't know about our circumstance?” Myrtle asked.

"Not yet."

"Oh, this is going to be...” Myrtle paused a pregnant moment. “Interesting."




Chapter Two 
Blossom 

"Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Blossom muttered as she set out on her own the next morning.

She felt a little guilty. After all, she knew Myrtle and Fern would be upset about her going out on her own, especially since she'd slipped out before either of them were out of bed. But she figured if she was already gone, they couldn't try to argue her out of going.

"They don't think I can handle myself,” she muttered again.

That had seemed to be the theme of last night's dinner. Everyone worried that she would somehow slip up and give away their fairy status.

According to Max, who was a psychiatrist, if you were a human who thought you were a fairy, there were all sorts of ramifications. Ramifications that could mean being tossed into a padded cell and locked away.

Of course, Max would testify she wasn't nuts, but Blossom knew they all wanted to avoid that—because after all, he'd have to testify that fairies had introduced him to his wife and arranged their happily-ever-after. Once he'd done that, his medical opinion might not mean very much.

They were all worried about keeping her in line.

"Well, I'm not anyone's problem,” she muttered.

Although, muttering to yourself couldn't be a good sign of mental health, either.

Maybe she should make that appointment with Max. This might be the first step in losing her mind. Not in a fairy-thinking-she-was-a-human sort of way, but in a fairy-trapped-in-a-human-existence sort of way.

Blossom put away worries about fairy-sanity and walked through the city simply enjoying ... everything.

She spread out her arms, wishing she could simply embrace the whole city at once. She felt alive. So totally, absolutely in sync with everything. The city bustling with early morning traffic. The buildings, tall and stately or small and cozy. The smells and sounds of spring, warm and moist, bursting with new life.

It was breezy and a little cool.

Cool.

That was something she rarely noticed as a fairy. Fairyland was always a perfect temperature, always a perfect blue sky or starry night. She looked at the dark gray clouds blowing in over the lake and thought she rather enjoyed a little less-than-perfect weather.

Blossom thought she'd enjoy a less than perfect life, at least if this morning was any indication.

Ah, now that was something to think about. Living as a human meant dealing with things as they came. No fairy-fixes, no magical solutions.

Being human.

She breathed deep and would have sworn that just the air smelled different to her human senses.

So what was she going to do with her humanness?

What was she going to do with the next six months?

She wasn't a fairy godmother anymore, and there were no happily-ever-afters to find for godchildren. Heck, there were no godchildren to worry about.

So maybe she needed to find her own happily-ever-after. That thought had kept her up most of the night, though she didn't feel the least bit tired this morning.

What would make her happy?

What would make her happy? She repeated the question over and over, but no answer magically appeared.

Maybe that was part of being human as well, finding the answers without magic, finding them on your own.

As a fairy, making other people happy had always been her job. So, now that she was human it stood to reason she should try to make herself happy as well. Not that Myrtle or Fern thought she could handle herself.

"Of course you can,” said a voice.

"Fiona?” Blossom said to her fairy friend walking beside her. “You're here."

"In the flesh—the fairy flesh. No one else can see me though, remember? So be careful. You don't want them to think you're crazy, walking around town talking to yourself."

Blossom walked toward a quiet corner of the park. “What are you doing here?"

"Going for a walk with you. I just wanted to thank you again for wishing us this baby,” she laid her hand gently over her flat abdomen.

"I was rather in a huff when I did it, and ... Well, if Bernie hasn't told you, I wished this baby to be just like him."

"Well, despite his occasional flaw, I happen to like him just fine, so that's okay. Plus, Berrybelle handles Bernie well enough. If I have problems with the baby, she'll pitch in and show me how to cope.” Fiona paused and added, “But as thankful as I am about the baby, that's not why I'm here. I wanted to see if you're okay."

"I just need to figure out what I'm going to do. Myrtle and Fern will simply take over and find me something, if I'm not careful, and I rather think I'd prefer finding something on my own."

What would make me happy? she asked herself again.

"What kind of something are you thinking of?” Fiona asked.

"Something that's just mine."

She'd never said that to anyone before, but it was a quiet little dream she sometimes allowed herself to think. She'd never share it with her sisters for fear she'd hurt them, but it was there, and this was a time that she could explore it.

"Something's that's all my own,” she continued. A man approached them, and she was silent until he passed. “My whole life I've been part of a trio. For these six human months, I'd like to try something new, something ... Well, something solo. I'd like to find somewhere that I can fit in, where I'm not the one who always goofs up."

Fiona laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Blossom, do you trust me?"

"Trust you?"

"Yes, I mean, I know I sued you and everything, and I realize that my husband is the one who got you into this situation. But you did come through on your bargain and gave me a happy-ever-after with Bernie, and now you've helped give us this baby. So, do you trust me to do the same for you?"

Myrtle and Fern would caution her not to entrust her happily-ever-after to a fairy godmother. Goodness knows they'd made the journey for their godchildren frequently long and somewhat painful. But Blossom wasn't like her sisters.

"Yes,” she said with a smile. “I trust you, and believe it or not, I trust myself. Fern and Blossom might not be happy about this situation—with us being human—but I'm beginning to think I am, very happy. It's exciting. And I trust you'll help me make the most of it."

"It's that simple for you?” Fiona asked.

Blossom remembered a time not that long ago when Fiona didn't trust anyone, especially not her fairy godmothers.

"Yes,” she answered softly. “I've always followed my heart, and my heart says you won't let me down."

So many things had changed with this new human existence, but Blossom knew her heart hadn't changed at all—that it could be depended upon.

Fiona smiled. “All right then. Your wish is about to come true.” With that pronouncement, she was gone.

"Fiona?” Blossom called, scanning the park for some sign of her fairy goddaughter turned godmother.

"Umph,” she grunted as she bumped into something—someone—and landed right on her bottom, which had lost most of her padding, so it hurt.

"I beg your pardon,” an elderly gentleman said, offering her a hand up.

Blossom rubbed her injured backside. “It was my fault. I ran into you."

"No, it was my fault. I was in a hurry. The tryouts are this morning and I was worrying about my lines—Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Joy, gentle friends, joy ... “ He paused, obviously stumbling around for the next line.

"...and fresh days of love accompany your hearts," Blossom finished for him.

"Ah, you know the Bard? Well, good for you. Most youngsters don't. I do wonder just what it is they teach in the schools these days. I mean, I wish I knew him better, but I do know him. Kids today don't have a clue. They think the vocabulary is too off-putting."

"That's sad. Shakespeare was a peoples’ man. His plays were meant to reach regular people ... and those regular people loved him."

"And the ladies at the retirement community would just love it if I got the part. They all have a thing for actors. And I have a thing for them. So, I'm not only trying-out, I'm determined to get a part."

He chuckled, and then said, “First I accost you physically, then mentally. Again, I'm sorry."

"Try out?” Blossom asked. What was he trying and what was a retirement community? Retire, that meant to sleep. Was it a place where people went to sleep? Maybe. She'd have to ask Glory to be sure.

Maybe if her sisters became too distraught about her going out on her own, she could find a retirement community to sleep in and escape Fern and Myrtle's incessant nagging.

Not that they'd started nagging yet. But Blossom had known them too long not to know that as soon as she returned home the nagging would commence.

And, oh, what a nagging it was bound to be. They were bound to be put out that she'd snuck out.

"The tryouts for Shakespeare's A Midsummer's Night Dream are today. Are you a fan, perchance of that particular play?"

"A fan? Why I'm friends with—” She realized what she'd been about to say and stopped short. “I mean, I know Shakespeare's work so well that I almost feel as if I knew his characters personally and that we were friends."

"I could tell by the ease you quoted the play. Are you trying out as well, then? Why, I can see you as Titania herself."

"Titania? Why that's a lovely compliment. Titania is a beautiful lady. Of course, Oberon still gets a little put out with her from time to time, but...” Blossom realized Titania and Oberon were supposed to be just fictional characters in this world and chuckled, hoping to cover up her error.

Oh, these morals did tend to get things mixed up ... more mixed up than she ever had.

Hurriedly, she went on, “I wasn't planning on trying out.” The words, something that's all my own, played in her head. “But now that I think about it, that might be just the thing."

"Well, then come along.” The gentleman offered her his arm, and Blossom wrapped her own in it. “I'm Herbert, by the way. Herbert Henry."

"And I'm Blossom. Blossom...” she paused. After all these centuries she'd never used a last name. Never had need of one. “Blossom Trey."

She was one of three, but she planned on putting the emphasis on the one for the next few human months.

* * * *
The small theater where Herbert led her could use a bit of sprucing up. The paint on the sign proclaiming it Oliver's Theater was weathered and fading. The paint on the trim was peeling. The bricks ... Well, they looked okay. After all, what could go wrong with bricks? If the paint was touched up the old building would look much better. As it was the only better part about how it looked was the realization that it had seen better days.

"This is it?” she asked her escort, eyeing the worn looking building with a sense of disappointment. She wanted the Palace Theater and she got Oliver's.

"Oh, yes. The outside isn't anything to write home about, but the inside has been renovated. They're starting work on the outside this summer. Let's go.” He took her hand and pulled her toward an alley that ran between the theater and the next building over.

"Have you ever done this before?” Blossom asked as they walked in a side door.

"Well, I've tried out, but I've never landed a role. But I'm hopeful this time I'll get something."

"Because the women at the bed place would love it?” Blossom asked.

The older man had a certain twinkle in his eyes that told her the women at the home probably loved him without him being an actor.

"Bed place?” Herbert asked.

"Retirement home,” she corrected.

There, she'd already made a mistake.

If Fern and Myrtle were here, they'd have something to say about that, and she knew what they'd say wouldn't be good at all. She was going to have to be more careful.

"Right,” Herbert said. “The women love an actor."

The theater was dimly lit. They entered backstage. Though she couldn't see through the curtains onto the stage, Blossom could hear a man, ” ... let the audience look to their eyes. I will move storms..."

There was a table against the back wall.

"This way,” Herbert said, leading her toward it.

The woman was at a desk. “Part you're reading for?” she asked.

"Theseus,” Herbert said.

"And you?” the woman asked Blossom.

"I...” Blossom hesitated, not sure how to respond.

"Titania,” Herbert said for her. “She's reading for Titania."

"I don't know, Herbert."

Playing Titania? That might be too much of a stretch.

And heaven forbid Titania ever found out. She was just a bit vain about the play, though Blossom had never seen why. After all, her play counterpart had fallen in love with an ass. But then, Titania was still with Oberon after all these centuries and he was an—

"I do know,” Herbert was saying, giving her hand a squeeze. “She's reading for Titania.” He turned to Blossom and added, “You're perfect for the role."

Perfect?

She didn't look a thing like the fairy queen. Titania was ... Well, voluptuous was the word.

Blossom looked down and sighed.

No one would call her voluptuous. Not now anyway. Back when she was an older woman—not that she really was an older woman, just that she'd looked like an older woman—she'd been very well endowed. Back then she might not have had Titania's beauty, but at least she'd had the chest for the role.

The woman at the desk was still looking at her, studying her.

"Titania,” she echoed Herbert.

If the real Titania complained, she'd simply blame Herbert.

The woman handed them each a number and a sheet with their character's lines.

"So now what?” Blossom asked.

"We wait. We study our lines and simply wait until they call our numbers."

"Then?"

"Then we tryout."

They found a deserted corner in the backstage room where a number of people were waiting and studied the lines the woman had handed them. About a half hour later, Herbert's name was called.

Blossom was stuck in the back room waiting with a bunch of other strangers. She'd glanced at the scene, but didn't require much more than a glance. She knew the play by heart, after all.

"So, how's it going?” Fiona said. “And remember, no one else sees me, so answer carefully."

Blossom opted to quote the play, knowing anyone who overheard her would simply think she was practicing. "Let me play the Lion too. I will roar that I will do any man's heart good to hear. And I think I'll love the roaring,” she added softly.

"Oh, I thought you would.” Fiona gave a small clap. “I overheard your gentleman friend say you were trying out of Titania. Maybe I'll get her front row center tickets for opening night."

"The most lamentable comedy ... “ She dropped her voice to a whisper, “...will be when Titania hears."

"You do know this play inside out, don't you?” Fiona said.

"I know a trick or two of that," Blossom answered.

"That's not Midsummer's Night," a new voice said.

Blossom turned around and found a lovely looking man standing behind her.

Tall, dark ... If she added handsome to the mental list, it would sound clichéd even to her. But there it was. This man was a beautiful piece of maleness. Tall, dark and handsome was a very accurate description.

More than lovely, he was ... What was the word Grace had used when she first spied Max? Hunk. Yes, this man was every bit as much of a hunk as Max was. Maybe more of a hunk.

What would you call someone who was more of a hunk?

"And if you can't keep Shakespeare's plays straight, how do you expect to get a role?” the man asked. “I mean, anyone who confuses A Midsummer Night's Dream with King Henry the Fourth, Part One, well, someone like that shouldn't have a role in any of Shakespeare's plays."

Lump.

That was another word for hunk. And lump described this man quite aptly.

She took back her hunkish appraisal. He was a cloddish, rude lump of humanity.

"You try my patience," she said. “That's from Henry, too. And for your information, I knew exactly what I was quoting when I said it. It's a—” she paused trying to think of a plausible excuse.

"Don't tell him about me,” Fiona warned. “Myrtle and Fern will be furious with both of us if you're locked up in some insane asylum the first day."

"I was simply trying to relax. Quoting Shakespeare, any play, works for me.” She paused a moment, trying to remember just the perfect line and finished with, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: The all have their exits ... That's As you Like It, Scene two, Act seven. It's also a subtle hint. It's time for your exit."

"You think you're smart?” the man asked.

"No, I know I'm smart. Do you not know I'm a woman? When I think, I must speak. And I think you've definitely overstayed your welcome. Good-bye."

The rude lumpish man started to leave and Blossom called out, “Oh, and in case you're worried, I'm confused again, that was Scene three, Act two."

He turned and glared, then walked away.

"Farewell, Monsieur Traveler," she called after him, more for Fiona's benefit than anything else.

The others in the room stared at her, a few with open mouths. Then, as if she'd turned invisible, they all looked somewhere, anywhere, else.

"Well, you certainly hit it off with him,” Fiona said, laughing.

"Greatness knows itself, and I think that one knows himself better than most and thinks of himself as better than most.” Blossom's voice dropped to a bare whisper. “I'm tired of everyone thinking I goof up, even strangers who think I don't know one Shakespeare play from another."

"Blossom, it doesn't matter what a stranger thinks. It doesn't even matter what Fern and Myrtle think. The question is what do you think?"

"I think I dote on his absence, whoever he was.” The annoying, lumpish man. “And I also think I can do more than anyone suspects."

"Even you,” Fiona added. “You can do more than you suspect you can. Because I don't think you have even the merest inkling of just how much is possible. This is going to be fun. But if I'm not mistaken, they just called your number."

Blossom listened as the woman at the door repeated the number—her number.

"That's me. I'm off."

"Good luck,” Fiona called as she began to fade.

Blossom thought she heard her godmother add, "You're going to need it," but she wasn't sure, and she wasn't going to ask. She wasn't going to even worry that Fiona had wished her luck instead of telling her to break a leg.

Everyone knew that wishing someone luck in a theater wasn't good.

Not good at all.

Well, Blossom refused to worry about what Fiona had or hadn't said. She had something to do, something to accomplish. She got up, straightened her back and tried to move with confidence toward the stage.

It was lit, and Blossom couldn't make out the seats in the audience.

"Are you ready?” asked an eerily disembodied voice.

Blossom squinted, wishing she could see just who and how many people sat in the murky audience. If she was still a fairy she'd be able to. But she wasn't. She was a human, with all of a human's weaknesses.

Including a case of nerves.

She drew in a long breath and said, “Yes, I'm ready."

"I'll read Oberon from out here. Begin."

"What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence. I have forsworn his bed and his company." 

"Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy lord?"

"Then I must be thy lady ... “ she continued, falling into the role, losing herself in the rhythm of Shakespeare's poetry.

She forgot to be nervous.

Though fairy-language had changed and evolved alongside human language in the years that separated Shakespeare's writing and this, there was a beauty in his words that touched Blossom, and she felt it pulse within the words she no longer read, but felt.

"...and for her sake do I rear up her boy; And for her sake I will not part with him." 

There was a silence from the dark expanse that held the reader of Oberon's part.

"Is there anything else? I—” Blossom started to ask.

The voice that had been reading Oberon's part, interrupted. “We'll be in touch."

That was it? She was dismissed so easily? It was over?

The passion she'd felt, that had blocked out all her doubt and nerves, disappeared. Blossom walked from the stage, sure that she'd made a muck of it. She'd thought she'd done so good, but maybe she was wrong.

"How was it?” Herbert, who was obviously waiting for her, asked.

"I don't know,” Blossom answered honestly. “When I was reading, it was like ... Well, like magic. But now that I'm done, it feels like a dream and I can't tell if it was any good or not."

Herbert gave her hand a squeeze. “Don't worry dear, we're both going to make it, I'm sure."

"And how is it you know?"

"I have magical abilities, don't you know.” He wiggled a busy gray eyebrow at her.

Blossom laughed. “I wish I did."

Oh, how she missed her powers, but if she hadn't lost them, she wouldn't be here. “I'm so glad I met you."

"And I you, dear, and I you."

If only she was back to her comfortable fairy godmother persona, she'd make a play for this man. He was kind and funny. Unlike the big lumpish clod she'd met earlier. She hoped he didn't get whatever role he was reading for.

Since she was human she was prone to their ailments, and having that man around would probably raise her blood pressure, which Blossom knew was bad for humans.

No, she hoped he didn't get a part.

Thinking of parts, Blossom realized she had to go home and play one more part today. The role of competent, independent sister.

It was a role she didn't think Myrtle and Fern were going to buy.




Chapter Three 
Fern 

"Now, Myrtle, I'm sure she's fine,” Fern tried to soothe her sister.

Soothing Myrtle could occasionally be considered an almost full-time job.

As the oldest, Myrtle liked to be in charge, and since the world—fairy or human—seldom went just the way she wanted, she was frequently more than a bit frazzled.

Blossom leaving without telling them where she was going had left Myrtle's frazzledness at an all-time high.

"You're sure she's fine?” Myrtle repeated. “Why she's out on her own, no sisters to help her, no magic. She's just a mere mortal woman in a cold, cruel world. Imagine how much trouble she could get into. She could be hurt, she could be lost."

"I don't think I need to imagine anything. You're obviously imagining enough for both of us."

Fern suspected that Blossom could more than handle herself. If she was going to worry about anyone, she was going to worry about the humans Blossom met, not her sister.

"Why, Fern, you know as well as I do that Blossom can't take care of herself."

"I know no such thing. She's a perfectly capable fairy—"

"Human, at least for now,” Myrtle corrected.

"—and she's more than old enough to go out on her own if she likes."

Fern looked at Myrtle and felt a small tug of pity. She was about to add to Myrtle's worries. But she didn't feel enough pity not to go ahead and say, “And speaking of going out on our own, I'm on my way out now."

"To look for Blossom?” A look of relief swept over Myrtle's face. “See, I knew you were as worried as I was."

"Oh, no. I'm sure Blossom is having a wonderful time and is fine. Why, she'll be home tonight telling us all about her adventures. No, I'm off to find a job."

"A job?” Myrtle asked and slumped onto the couch. “A job?"

"Yes. We're human, and that means we need money, so I'm off to earn some."

"Doing what? The only job you've ever had was that of fairy godmother, and I don't think you're going to find many job openings for a fairy godmother that doesn't have any magic."

"You're right about that. But Myrtle, we've been fairy godmothers for a very long time. I think maybe it's time for a change ... at least for me."

"Change?” Myrtle asked, the word sounding more like a curse than a precursor to new adventures.

"Change. I think Bernie might have done us a favor. I'm looking forward to trying something different. Something I love."

"What?” Myrtle asked. “Just what is it you love so much here in the human world? What is it you think people will pay you money to do? Because I can't think of a thing myself. I've been wondering just what I was going to do with myself for the next six months, and I haven't come up with a single, solitary thing. So I'd really like to hear what you're thinking you're going to do."

"I'm going to be a cook."

Fern had lain awake half the night thinking about what to do next, and when the idea of cooking hit her, there'd been a feeling of rightness. This is what she was meant to do.

She'd spent centuries preparing for it, taking lessons from the greatest chefs. She cooked for relaxation. She cooked for the sheer joy of cooking. What a lovely way to spend the next six months.

"You're cooking for Glory at the restaurant?"

"No. I talked to her last night after dinner. She'd have me back, but I want something different. She said she'd give me references and told me about this new place that's opening down on the bay. Les Magik. Doesn't it just sound perfect? Les Magik. I just love saying it. I loved working at Glory's Chambers, but it's not the haute cuisine I dream about preparing. Les Magik is catering to that more sophisticated palate."

"But Fern, what about Blossom?"

Fern realized that her sister was really saying, What about me, and again felt a stab of pity. She patted Myrtle's arm. “She'll be fine, dear. We'll all be fine. What you need to do is figure out what it is you want to do."

"But—"

"I'll be back this evening sometime. Don't wait up."

Fern hurried from the apartment and breathed deeply as she hit the city street. She'd traveled all over the world, but of all the places she'd visited, Erie felt most like home.

It was big enough to jostle and vibrate with energy, and yet small enough to feel like home.

Bernie might want to think he'd punished them, but Fern was looking forward to this time. She couldn't remember the last time there wasn't some fairy godchild waiting in the wings for their own happily-ever-after. She'd spent so long focused on what would make her godchildren happy that she'd forgotten to wonder what made her happy. But last night, lying in her bed, she'd wondered, and the idea of being a chef—not just a cook, but a true chef—was the answer she'd come up with.

"Well, you certainly have a way with food,” Fiona said.

Fern wasn't the least bit surprised to find Fiona suddenly materialize next to her. She'd spent so many years popping in on others, that it felt rather comforting.

"So what do you think of the fairy godmother-biz so far?” she asked her fairy goddaughter, turned godmother.

"Well, after years of being totally wrapped up in my problems, I think it's almost therapeutic being wrapped up in someone else's."

"Ah, you should be with Myrtle then. She's not taking this whole human thing very well, and she's especially not happy about Blossom and I being out and about on our own."

"I'm on my way over to see her next. But first, I wanted to drop this off to you.” She handed Fern a large envelope. “Resumes and letters of recommendation. Glory's a fine reference, but I think you might find you need a little more to get a position at Les Magik."

Fern turned the envelope over in her hand and grinned at her newly appointed fairy godmother. “Why, Fiona, you certainly do have the knack of this."

"Why, thank you. I'm trying. Having my first assignment involve three people is a bit taxing, but I'm doing my best. No matter what happens, please remember that."

"Oh, I will, don't you worry, and I have every confidence in you."

"Why thank you. Now, I'm off to see Myrtle. Good luck with the interview.” Fiona disappeared and Fern almost thought she heard her add the words, "You'll need it," but wasn't sure.

No, she must being hearing things. Armed with her new resume and her cooking skills, there was no way she needed luck. She was totally set.

* * * *
"What thunder-footed beast flattened my soufflé?"

Fern heard the loud voice through the door and decided discretion would indicate she wait a moment before entering.

"I...” came another voice, softer, though still male.

"You?” the booming voice asked. “You don't know how to walk softly in a kitchen when there are soufflés in the oven?"

"I did, boss. It's just that..."

"Just what, Puffy?"

"I dropped the pans."

The softer voice sounded close to tears, and knowing that men didn't like to cry, Fern decided that this was her cue.

She might not be a fairy godmother at the moment, but she still liked to help people, and maybe she could save this man from any more yelling.

She rapped on the door and pushed it open. “Pardon me?"

"Who are you,” came the booming voice.

She turned and got a good look at the man attached to the voice.

He was huge.

For a woman who spent a great deal of time just under the five foot mark, he was gigantic. Even though she'd moved closer to midway between five and six feet in her new human status, the man was still huge.

Towering.

He must be at least six and a half feet. With dark hair, that was on the cusp between black and brown. Wild hair that went every which way, as if it was trying to get away from the yelling, wild man, just like the small blond man apparently wished he could escape as well.

She extended her hand and smiled, trying to exude a confident air. “I'm Fern and I'm here to apply for a job."

He ignored her hand and crossed his arms over his chest. “We're not hiring."

"I heard you were looking for a chef.” She was sure that even though Fiona was new, she wouldn't send her out for a job that didn't exist.

"Yes we're looking for a chef. A chef,” he repeated with heavy emphasis. “Not a little girl playing kitchen."

"That was a very sexist thing to say. You don't know a thing about me, or my qualifications.” She set her resume and letters of recommendation on the counter, and shoved them toward him.

He blatantly ignored them. “Yeah? Keep your resumes and sue me."

"I could,” she muttered.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd been involved in a law suit. And she rather thought she'd enjoy being the suer rather than the suee.

"What?” he asked, his voice deep and dark.

He probably thought his tone would be enough to intimidate her, but Fern wasn't easily intimidated. And if they were going to work together—and they were going to work together—then he'd better learn that fact going into their relationship.

"Have you ever heard of sexual discrimination?” she asked. “You can't refuse to hire someone who's highly qualified based on their gender."

"It's my restaurant and I can do whatever I want."

"Well, sir, you'll be hearing from my lawyer."

She picked up her papers and turned toward the door. She felt a twinge of sorrow for the small blond man, who must be Puffy. He was hiding in the corner, looking as if he was hoping the big bully would forget about him.

"You wouldn't sue me,” the bully said, confidence in his voice.

Fern whirled back around and plastered a smile on her face.

"Want to bet?” she asked in her sweetest voice.

"You wouldn't want the job anyway. I'd be a miserable boss. You heard the way I was yelling at Puffy. I'd yell at you like that."

She shrugged. “I'd yell back."

"No you wouldn't. You'd break down in tears, like all women do. The minute I raised my voice you'd be sobbing."

Fern laughed at the absurdity of his comment.

She was a fairy godmother. She didn't cry. Even when things looked as if they'd never work out, she didn't cry. She toughed it out, knowing that things would be fine in the end.

And she wasn't going to tell her future boss, but she knew this was going to work out as well. Les Magik was the perfect place for a has-been-fairy-godmother, wanna-be-chef to work.

"I don't cry,” she said. “You may not have noticed, but you're raising your voice now and there's not a tear in sight. I live with a bossy sister who could out yell you any day of the week."

"I doubt that. This isn't yelling. This is loud conversation. I can show you yelling, if you like."

He looked her up and down in that way men have of checking a woman out. That type of look was the reason she and her sisters had adopted their old lady personas. It's hard to be taken seriously if men were ogling you. And this man was ogling her.

He might not want her to cook for him, but he was interested in her physical attributes.

The unfairness of being judged on her physicality, rather than her ability, infuriated Fern. “No thank you. I'd simply like you to look at my resume and letters of recommendation rather than looking at my chest."

"I never looked at your chest,” he denied quickly.

Too quickly.

"Sure you did. You did one of those full-body appraisals the moment I walked into the room and made a closer study a moment ago. That study seemed centered on my chest. It's been years since I've had to deal with it, but I do recognize an appraisal when I see one."

"Babe, the only way you've gone years without men looking at you is if you lived in a convent, or wore a disguise. And it would have to be a good disguise to hide your physical charms."

"It was."

How she wished she had it back right now. Nice, sagging breasts never garnered much male attention. “Now, if you can forget my breasts, I'd like you to read my resume."

She pushed the papers toward him again.

He pushed them back. “I don't care what these people have to say. I just care about how you cook."

She let them remain on the counter and said, “Good."

"What?"

"I said, good. I'm a good cook. I'm a better chef. I'd be happy to tell you all about my specialties, but I'd prefer showing you what I can do. When would you like a demonstration?"

"Who said I wanted one?” he asked.

"You just did. You said you prefer seeing how I cook. I'm saying, when?"

"I didn't mean you should cook for me."

"But I'm going to. How about now?"

It wasn't as if she had anything else to do. She didn't like being idle. And if she couldn't godmother, then cooking was her second choice.

"Get out of my kitchen,” he yelled, his voice louder than before. “I'm making soufflés."

"If your bellowing earlier is to be believed, you're not. Rumor has it they fell."

She regretted reminding him because he turned toward poor Puffy, who visibly shrank further into the corner.

He turned back. “I'm going to have to remake them, I guess."

Fern brushed her hands together, ready to work. “No. I am."

"Don't be pushy,” he said. But there wasn't much heat in the words. Instead, he looked as if he was considering her offer.

"I don't think you'd understand subtle, so I'm opting for pushy,” Fern said. “I'll make the soufflés. How many?"

"Five,” he said, his expression saying that he doubted she could do one, much less five.

"Any particular type?” she said.

"Surprise me."

"Fine.” She hadn't come expecting to start so soon, but this was better. Rather than sitting around waiting for her job to start, she could just dive right into her human life and profession.

She noted the man was still standing there, staring at her.

"Fine,” she repeated. “You can leave now."

"What did you say?” he asked, visibly bristling as he ran his fingers through his wild hair in a frustrated gesture.

Fern tried to hide her pleasure at frustrating the man. She had a feeling he wasn't use to it.

"I said get out,” she repeated slowly and succinctly. “Puffy and I have work to do, and we'd prefer doing it without you glaring at us."

"You can't order me around."

"Sure I can. I'm the chef, this is my kitchen and I want you out."

"You're not the chef yet,” he reminded her.

"Once you taste my soufflés, I will be. And I plan to begin as I mean to go, and that means you need to leave ... now."

"Listen, there's no way I'm hiring a bossy tyrant for my kitchen."

"Out.” She reached out her hands, as if she was going to physically push him through the door, if he didn't move on his own.

"You wouldn't dare,” he said, no longer bellowing.

No, his voice had gone soft and dangerous.

"Try me.” She advanced.

He stood a moment, as if he wasn't sure what to do, then simply shrugged. “Whatever. Have your fun, but I doubt anything you do will impress me."

"You just wait and see."

The man pushed the door, ready to exit, and Fern called out. “I told you my name. What's yours?"

"Nico,” he said. “Nico Starson.” He walked through the door which swung to and fro a few times before settling back into place.

Fern turned around and faced the small, blond man. “Hi, I'm Fern. Do you have something you'd prefer I call you?"

"No. No. Puffy is my name.” His voice was soft and not nearly as nervous as when he'd been speaking to Nico.

"Well, then Puffy, since I don't know where everything is in the kitchen, do you suppose you could show me around?"

"Oh, yes, yes, I could,” Puffy said.

Now that Nico—she mouthed the name and liked the way it felt—had gone, the small man didn't seem so small. Fern realized he was actually taller than she was.

"You saved me from the boss. He was mad,” Puffy continued.

"It seems to me that your boss is the type that's frequently mad about something."

"Oh, it's his nature. He doesn't mean anything by it. No, not at all. He likes me.” The man straightened, as if the fact that Nico liked him was somehow a compliment.

"If that's how he expresses his fondness, he can just keep not liking me—as long as I get this job. And speaking of jobs, let's get started."

Fern set to work, ready to dazzle the short-fused, wild-haired man she hoped would be her boss. After all, she could handle him.

Puffy knocked against a pan and it clanged to the floor. He looked at her warily, waiting for her reaction.

She just smiled.

Yes, she could handle her new boss and she could even handle Puffy. After all, she'd spent centuries dealing with Myrtle and Blossom.

Nico and Puffy couldn't hold a candle to her sister's orneriness or clumsiness.




Chapter Four 
Myrtle 

Unnecessary.

Superfluous.

Outdated.

Unnecessary.

Oh, she'd already said that.

Repetitive.

Yep, she was all those things and more.

Myrtle sat on the couch in the living room, morosely making a mental list of all her qualities. None of which seemed very promising in the job-market.

"Hey, Myrtle!” Grace MacGuire Aaronson called as she let herself into the apartment, followed by Glory. “Wow, this is so totally awesome. Do I get a tour?"

"Sure. If you like."

Myrtle felt both women staring at her, then, rather than waiting for their tour, they sat down on either side of her.

"Maybe you can show us around in a few minutes. But first, what's wrong?” Glory asked.

Grace nodded. “And where are Fern and Blossom?"

"Now, that's a question, isn't it?” Myrtle said.

She pulled her long, unwrinkled, unvaricosed legs up onto the couch and wrapped her arms around them.

"What do you mean?” Grace asked.

"Blossom left before I got up, and Fern left with some addlepated notion of being a cook. No, I take that back. Being a chef at some new restaurant. Why couldn't she just work for you?"

Glory smiled, “Well, she could have, but I think Fern wants to try something new and I say good for her."

"Et tu?” Myrtle moaned.

"Myrtle, are you all right?” Grace asked.

"I don't know. I mean, in just a day everything's changed. Now, Fern and Blossom are gone and I'm not."

She was here. Alone. Oh, there were two women, two friends, here with her, but it wasn't the same as having her sisters. She missed them both terribly.

Of course, they didn't miss her at all. They didn't need her.

Superfluous.

Unnecessary.

Nuts, she'd already used both of those terms on her list.

"Where would you like to be?” Fiona asked as she appeared suddenly.

"Fiona,” Glory and Grace said together. “Sit down and visit."

"Myrtle, where would you like to be? You don't have to be here. You do realize that, don't you?” Fiona took the overstuffed chair across from them and simply waited.

"Well, I hadn't thought. But ... No, I mean, of course I need to be here. Fern and Blossom need me, despite the fact they seem to have forgotten that."

Yes. They might think they didn't need her, but they would. Blossom would start something on fire or kick someone or ... Well, with Blossom you could never tell what she was going to do, but odds were she'd d something soon and need Myrtle to straighten it out.

And Fern. She might not have as many mishaps as Blossom, but she wasn't used to being on her own. Cooking. No, scratch that. Chefing. For humans. With no fairy powers. No magic.

Ha! She'd be crawling to Myrtle for help and comfort soon.

"Despite this new bid for independence, they need me.” Saying the words again made her feel better.

"Oh, they didn't forget,” Fiona assured her, as Grace and Glory murmured their assent. “They do need you. But they also need to spread their wings a bit."

"We don't have any wings. Your husband took care of that."

Bernie.

Bernie the rat.

One day Myrtle would have her powers back and she was turning him into a toad. She looked at Fiona, glowing with happiness, and relented a bit. Okay, she'd wait until Fiona had her baby, but then Bernie was toad-city.

"Yes, he did take your wings, didn't he?” Fiona agreed. “So, we've settled that you're staying here, but the question remains, what you're going to do while you're here?"

"I—"

"Yes,” said Grace. “What is it you'd like to try?"

Glory nodded. “You can do anything you want. You're one of the strongest, most together ladies I've ever met."

"I've lived, well, our time is different than yours, but let's say I've lived long enough to try everything I've wanted to."

"Not true. You've always been a fairy and tried things from a magical point-of-view. You're human now, and you can try anything you like as a human. So what would you like?"

"To be left alone."

There was sympathy in Fiona's face as she said, “That's fine, dear. You just call me when you want me."

Fiona blinked out of sight.

Grace and Glory rose.

"I guess that's our cue, too,” Glory said.

"Is there anything I can do for you before we leave?” Grace asked.

"No.” Myrtle, hesitated and said, “Well, maybe."

"Shoot,” Grace said.

"Well,” Myrtle hesitated then simply blurted out, “When you wrote our books—not just our books, any books—how do you decide what occupation suits what character?"

"Hm. Well, sometimes I chose an occupation based on the needs of the story, or sometimes I use the occupation to add depth to an aspect of the character I want the reader to pick up on or—"

"Wait, let's change this question. Look at me,” Myrtle waved her hand, indicating her body. “I'm a gorgeous young woman, trapped in a place I don't belong. My family is falling apart and ... If you were going to write an occupation for me, what would it be?"

"Kids,” Grace said.

"Pardon?” Myrtle asked. She was already gorgeous and young looking. Grace thought she should be even younger?

"You'd be very good with kids, I think,” Grace said. “I think you have a big need to mother people. Look at the way you've always taken care of Fern and Blossom. And, you like to be in control."

"That's what they say ... I'm controlling."

"No,” Glory jumped in. “That's not what Grace is saying at all. What's she saying is that you have a big heart that needs to be filled. Kids would do that for you."

"Oh, and Myrtle,” Grace said. “I know you're worried about Blossom and Fern, but they'll be fine. You've done a great job looking out for them all these years, but maybe it's time they learn to look out for themselves?"

"Maybe."

Maybe they would be fine, or maybe they'd end up trusting the wrong person and be tricked into doing something they shouldn't. Maybe they'd be lost without her. Or maybe, a little voice whispered, they'd do just fine on their own.

Myrtle wasn't sure which option was worse.

If Fern and Blossom didn't need her anymore, what would Myrtle do?

* * * *
"Where were you?” Myrtle hollered before Blossom had even made it through the door and into the house.

She'd spent her day pacing the confines of her house. It was feeling more like a prison than her home.

"I was out,” Blossom said, with a shrug.

"That's it?” Myrtle said, rushing over and standing directly in front of Blossom, blocking her in the foyer. “I've been worried all day, and all you have to say for yourself is, I was out?"

"Why on earth would you be worried, Myrtle? It's not as if I have to answer to you. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Ha!” Myrtle wished she had her far more intimidating, middle-aged fairy godmother body. She knew her true form was gorgeous. And a gorgeous redhead's scowling didn't have the same air of authority as an older, not so beautiful woman's scowling did.

"Ha?” Blossom repeated. “Don't you dare 'ha' me. I'm a full grown fairy—"

"Actually, Blossom, dear, you're a human. At least you are for five months and twenty-nine days,” Fern pointed out as she joined them foyer. “But Blossom does have a point. She doesn't have to answer to you, Myrtle, or to me."

"You're just saying that because you snuck out as well,” Myrtle said.

"I didn't sneak out,” Fern protested.

"And neither did I,” Blossom said.

"I told you I was going out, and it's not Blossom's fault you slept in.” Fern moved closer, edging Myrtle over slightly so the sisters all stood in a circle.

"I didn't sleep in,” Myrtle said. “I barely even slept. I tossed and turned all night, worrying about what was going to happen to us. Neither of you are prepared for what it means to be human. You're going to get into trouble."

"And you're prepared for being human?” Fern asked.

"Well, I—” Myrtle stuttered to a halt.

"You were snoring like a trucker while you tossed and turned,” Blossom pointed out. “I could hear you in my room."

"That's a lie. I don't snore."

"Myrtle, I might not be a fairy at the moment, but I don't lie. And if I had been a fairy, I would have put a spell on the walls so I couldn't hear you,” Blossom said.

"Well, I never..."

"Yes, you have. Every night. Only I'd forgotten about it until I couldn't zap the wall with a spell anymore."

Blossom stood straight, looking confident—a totally unBlossomlike sort of confidence. “And furthermore, I'm not your responsibility. I'm not the albatross around your neck. I'll be going out every morning and will be back for dinner. If not, I'll pop in and tell you."

Fern nudged Blossom. “You can't pop in, remember?"

"Then I'll use a phone."

"You don't know how,” Myrtle said.

"I do. I even know Glory's number. She showed me when we worked here before. I'll use a phone and call her so you'll know if I won't be home for dinner."

"But where were you?” Myrtle demanded. “What were you doing?"

"I was...” Blossom hesitated a moment before saying, “It's a surprise. I'll tell you when the time is right."

"But, but...” Myrtle sputtered.

Not only did her sister sneak out, but she was keeping secrets. They'd never kept secrets from each other before. They were close.

Best friends.

Sisters.

The thought of that relationship faltering broke Myrtle's heart.

But Blossom ignored the sounds of Myrtle's heart breaking in two and continued, “So, Fern, what about your day? Where did you go?"

"I didn't go anywhere,” Myrtle stated. “I just sat in this cold, lonely house and worried."

Fern ignored Myrtle as well and said, “Well, I got a job. A real job. For money even."

"A job?” Blossom asked, excitement for her sister in her voice.

"Yes. I'm a chef—not just a cook—at Les Magik. The owner, well, he's a bit of an ogre. He thinks he rules the world and not just one corner of it, but I can deal with him. And there's another, nicer man who's to be my assistant in the kitchen. When Nico—that's the owner's name—isn't around he's wonderfully witty and quite a help. It's just Nico's bellowing—and bellowing seems to be his normal mode of communication—makes Puffy nervous. Oh, but you just wait. Pretty soon restaurants from all over the world will be clamoring for my services."

"And I'll just sit here all alone and worry about you both,” Myrtle said, with an audible sniff punctuating her comment.

Blossom and Fern continued ignoring her.

Didn't they care that she'd spent the day all alone worrying about them?

Obviously not.

"So when do you start?” Blossom asked Fern.

"Tomorrow. I'm the luncheon shift at first, but soon I'll be dinner. And next week, I'll have a chance to plan my luncheon menus. Oh, Blossom..."

Fern went on rhapsodizing about the world of fine chefing, and Myrtle went on sniffing, becoming more and more put out that no one seemed to notice.

Being human sucked.




Chapter Five 
Blossom 

Blossom was on cloud nine, without any magical assistance, the next morning. She'd dreamed of acting. Of the play.

Occasionally, the dark lumpish man from yesterday wove his way into her dreams, but she quickly chased him out. She didn't want to waste the time and energy thinking about him. She had other, more exciting things to be thinking about.

She tiptoed out of the house before nine and went down the back stairs that led to the restaurant's kitchen.

She smiled, remembering working here.

She loved the Aaronson's. But it was here, in this restaurant, that she'd got her first taste of being human. Oh, she'd been a fairy pretending to be human as she tried to set up Glory and Nick, but she'd liked it.

She thought maybe Bernie had done her a greater favor than he would ever know by allowing her to be really human, if only for a six months.

She slid into a booth.

She'd order breakfast and then go explore the city.

Glory hurried over and poured coffee into Blossom's cup as she said, “You left my number with someone?"

"Yes."

She'd left it at the theater. Oh, did that mean—?

"Well, some man named Rom called.” Glory eyed her, as if she was trying to read what Blossom was thinking. “He said you were called back and that you were to be there are ten today."

Blossom glanced at the clock over the breakfast counter. “Oh, my gosh, it's almost nine now."

"He just called. I was going to come get you when you walked in."

Blossom didn't have to have magical powers to see Glory was waiting for some explanation. But she didn't want to share, not with her sisters, not even with her friend.

"Thanks for the message. I hope you don't mind I gave your number."

"No problem.” Glory paused. “So you're not going to tell me what it was about?"

"Sorry, but no.” Blossom wanted to hold onto and savor this one special thing that was all her own, at least for a while. “Not yet anyway. I'll tell you soon, though. I promise."

"I guess that has to be good enough."

"Listen, tell Myrtle I'll be back for dinner, would you? She's still sleeping and I'd like to avoid her questions for now."

Questions.

That was a generous description of what Myrtle had subjected her to last night. The third-degree was more accurate.

"She was worried about you yesterday,” Glory said softly. “You and Fern."

"I can take care of myself.” Not that anyone believed she could.

"Yes, you can."

Glory's agreement surprised Blossom. “You think so?"

"Yes. So can Fern. But I don't know if Myrtle can. Truly, she was a wreck yesterday. She must have come down here a dozen times asking if I'd seen you."

"Myrtle not able to take care of herself? Are you kidding?” Blossom laughed. “She specializes in taking care of everyone."

"But I don't know if she's ever been forced to take care of herself. There's a difference."

Blossom shook her head. “She'll be fine once she gets used to the idea of Fern and I finding our own interests."

"I don't know,” Glory said.

Blossom wasn't worried about Myrtle. Everyone knew she was the strongest, most self-reliant of the three of them.

No, what she was worried about was containing her excitement. She was practically bubbling over with laughter that was so big and enormous she was amazed that every customer in the store wasn't laughing too. “I'd better be going."

"I'll tell Myrtle,” Glory said, worry still etching her face.

Blossom gave her a quick hug. “We'll all be fine. You'll see."

* * * *
Less than an hour later Blossom arrived at Oliver's Theater. She once again waited in the small back room for her name to be called.

Oh, she could just imagine opening night. Standing in the middle of the stage, wowing the crowd with her ability to play Titania.

Smiling as she daydreamed, it took Blossom a minute to realize when a woman called her name.

"Blossom Trey?"

"Sorry,” she said as she followed the woman down the hall and into another room, rather than onto the stage.

There was a lone man sitting at a table. He was turned, looking out the window. As he pivoted and she saw who it was she cursed. It was the know-it-all from yesterday. The gorgeous, full-of-himself, pompous man.

"You,” she said.

"Yes. Rom. Rom Johnson. And you're Blossom Trey."

She stood in the entryway, staring at him.

Of all her luck. No kind, sweet director whom she could admire and learn from. No, she got him instead. Drat the luck. Some of her bubble of happiness deflated.

"Are you going to come in or you just going to stand there?” Rom asked.

Blossom straightened her spine and walked into the room. He'd called her back, so obviously the windbag knew talent when he saw it.

She took the chair opposite him and waited for him to speak, to tell her she was brilliant, to apologize for being a jerk yesterday.

"Blossom,” he started.

"Yes?” she said, waiting for that apology.

"Well, you must know you don't look very fairyish,” was what he said.

No, I'm sorry for yesterday.

No, you're brilliant.

Just, you don't look very fairyish?

Oh, what she wouldn't give for just a pinch of magic. She'd show him how fairyish she was. She'd turn him into a snake.

No, a snake was too good for the likes of him.

A worm.

Yeah, she'd turn him into a worm. Then she'd put him in the middle of the park and hope some bird ate him. Although the poor bird would probably end up with indigestion.

"Titania,” he continued, “should be dazzling, shining like some incandescent light, drawing the audience into her magic spell."

"Are you saying I don't dazzle?"

"I'm saying that you aren't Titania."

"No, I'm Blossom. But I can act, which means I can act like Titania. After all, who'd want to really be her? Not me. Oberon is an overbearing, control freak. Imagine, turning Bottom into an ass. Why no one had to cast a spell on Oberon to make him an ass. He did it all by himself. If this was an isolated incident, well, maybe I'd say he wasn't so bad, but no, he's been at this nonsense for centuries. If I were Titania, I'd leave his skinny little butt."

"Pardon?” Rom asked.

Realizing what she'd just spewed forth, Blossom stopped mid-tirade. “You see, I'm already so far into Titania's character, it's almost as if I've become her."

There was something in Rom's eyes that told Blossom he wasn't quite buying her explanation, but he didn't voice his doubts.

Still giving her an odd look, he continued, “Listen, like I said, you wouldn't be my first choice for Titania, but unfortunately, you're the best there is, so the role is yours."

"Your enthusiasm overwhelms, sir."

"And your sarcasm underwhelms, Miss."

He'd Missed her. Some of Blossom's annoyance faded. For so long, in her old lady guise, she'd been Ma'amed. To be Missed again ... Well, she'd almost forgive the oaf for his nastiness.

Almost, but not quite.

He handed her a script. “Be here tomorrow at five ready to read the play through. Don't be late."

"Herbert?” Blossom suddenly remembered her friend from yesterday. He hadn't been in the room. “Did Herbert Henry get a role?"

Rom scanned his list. “He's Theseus."

Blossom grinned. Despite the oafish director, Rom Johnson, it was going to be a very good week and it was going to be a fantastic play!

She was Titania.

Oh, life was so good.

And being human? It was wonderful!




Chapter Six 
Fern 

"What do you mean, you don't like it?"

Fern had started the day full of high spirits. She was a chef at Les Magik, after all.

She was living out her dream that she hadn't even known she'd had. Oh, maybe she was working the lunch shift, but she was working, and that's what mattered.

She was a chef.

Why, she was so high with excitement she could almost fly, even though she was a human and not a fairy.

It had been a glorious start to the day.

Then Nico arrived and burst her bubble, leaving her to hit the floor with a thud.

"How can you not like my Chicken Creole? It's perfect,” she said as he set down the bowl and took a drink of water as if he had to clear the taste from his palate.

Not that the man had a palette if he didn't like her chicken.

It was perfect.

It was exquisite.

"It just isn't to my taste. And I didn't say I don't like it, I just said it's too spicy for me,” he said with a shrug of his well-sculpted shoulders. “I'm sure that some of our customers will eat it."

Eat it.

Not enjoy it.

Not rave about it.

Eat it. 

Eating made Fern think of biting, which made her think of a phrase she'd heard Joy's daughter, Sophie, use. Bite me.

Bite me.

She let the phrase rattled around in her head.

Nico Starson could bite her.

The man had no taste if he was criticizing her dish.

"Anyway, I'm opening the doors soon. We've got some reservations, so I know we'll have some guinea pigs for you to try your chicken on."

"And they'll love it,” she promised.

"We'll see,” he said, shrugging again.

She'd like to stick some weights on those shoulders. They were broad enough to put any number of weights to keep them down. Oh, some women might enjoy his broad-shouldered good looks, but not her. As a matter of fact, if he shrugged at her again, she'd ... she'd...

She couldn't think of anything vile enough to do to the man. Oh, if she still had her fairy powers, she was sure she could think of something, but she didn't and she couldn't, and so she simply stomped her foot.

If she was still a fairy, she'd have at least made a hefty thump. She'd given her older persona sturdy, thwamp-producing feet. But her real feet were tiny and slender and barely made a small thwap.

She wished she had big, hefty feet to kick his shoulder shrugging, tasteless body.

He was—

"He liked it,” Puffy said in a soft, happy little voice.

"Pardon?"

"I said he liked it. Only the boss never comes out and says he likes something. He likes to believe he's ornery, but he's really not. And he really did like it. If he didn't he wouldn't let you serve it."

"Oh, yes, he would. He'd just hope that all the customers sent it back and complained. He'd like to have a reason to fire me."

"No, no. Les Magik is his baby. It's new. He's proud. No. He wouldn't let you serve it if he didn't like it. I know him. He wouldn't."

"How well do you know him?” Fern asked.

She'd almost finished out her first week at the restaurant and was still no closer to understanding her enigmatic boss.

"Oh, I've known him for centuries. Since we was boys."

Fern laughed. “Yes, I imagine if you've been around him that long it could feel like centuries."

"He's here because of me. Because—” The blond man stopped short. “Never mind."

"No, please, tell me,” Fern asked softly.

Soft was the way to go around Puffy. He seemed to be a little out of sync with the rest of the world and startled easily. His speech was a little different, as if English wasn't his first language, but when she occasionally dropped a phrase in another language, he didn't respond. Puffy was almost as much of a mystery as his boss.

Just a more likeable mystery.

"My family...” He hesitated. “Well, they didn't know what to do with me, not since I was little. But then something happened and I had to leave home, leave for a long time. And I would be all alone. No home. No friends. No family. But Nico, he said, if I go, he goes. And he did. Just packed up his stuff and came with me. He started the restaurant, gave me a job, found me a house. He teaches me."

"And yells at you,” Fern pointed out.

"No, no, you don't understand. Yelling from Nico, well, that's just his way."

"It's not a very nice way."

"If you knew, you'd know. Nico is—"

Whatever Nico was would have to wait until later because at the moment, the man in question opened the door and scowled. “Puffy, you're supposed to be waiting on tables. I just seated three. You're already behind."

Puffy waved at Fern and dashed through the door.

Nico studied her a moment, and then said, “Don't grill Puffy."

"Pardon?"

"If you want to ask me something, ask me, not him. He gets confused and frightened easily."

Did Nico think she could have worked here more than a few hours without noticing that? She wasn't like him and didn't get her jollies by intimidating others. “Did he look confused or frightened?"

"That's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"Leave him be.” Nico advanced and stood just inches away, looking down at her. Rather than his normal ear splitting decibels, his voice was soft as he added, “He's had it hard and doesn't need any more grief from you."

Fern refused to let his height intimidate her. She stood as straight as possible, looked him in the eye and said, “The only one who's given that man grief is you."

Nico's voice rose. “Me?"

"That first day when I came in you were bellowing at him,” she reminded him.

"Puffy knows I don't mean anything by it."

"Maybe, or maybe not. But even if he does know, your words can still hurt him. He seems like a sensitive soul."

"He is, which is why I'm saying don't grill him."

"Fine. I'll come to you with my questions. But if I'm not grilling him, you have to promise not to bellow at him."

"Like I said,” he said, his voice rising, “bellowing is what I do."

"Not to Puffy. He doesn't like it."

"He doesn't like it?"

Fern would have testified in court—in front of Bernie—that the dishes were rattling with the intensity of Nico's voice.

"I don't like it, either, to be honest. But if it makes you feel better, bellow at me to your heart's content. It doesn't intimidate me at all. But if Puffy's off limits to my grilling, he's off limits to your yelling."

"Do you remember who the boss is here?” Nico asked.

"Yes. Do you remember my rule about when I'm cooking?"

"What rule?"

She extended her hands, as if she was going to push him, but stopped short of actually touching him and simply made a shooing motion instead. “I like to cook in privacy. Out."

"Are you kicking me out of my own kitchen, again?"

"It appears that I am. When you scowl like that, you curdle the food. So go on, find something to do with your patrons."

Since shooing didn't work, she gave him a gentle little push toward the door, opened it with her foot and guided him through it. “Oh, and Nico?"

He was sputtering something, something she couldn't quite make out, and didn't want to make out.

"I'm going to assume that long string of syllables was you asking what, so I'll tell you what. I have some experience in the restaurant business, and I can tell you bellowing isn't good for business. It tends to give people acid indigestion, and people with sour stomachs don't come back to eat. So I'd keep the hollering to a minimum out on the floor."

"Fern,” he said.

Just that. Her name. Nothing else. It was soft. Definitely not a bellow. But it was even more dangerous sounding.

At least it would be dangerous sounding if Nico intimidated Fern, but he didn't, so she just laughed and said, “Yes, Nico?"

"Don't push me."

"Ah, but Nico, I've discovered that I do enjoy pushing you, almost as much as you enjoy bellowing."

"I'll see you after the lunch crowd."

"They'll love my Chicken Creole, you'll see."

* * * *
"Say it,” Fern prompted at three-thirty, after the lunch crowd had died down.

Nico scowled. “No."

"Come on, Nico, say it."

"I'll say it,” Puffy said, a breathless quality to his voice. “Nico doesn't need to, I will. They loved your chicken. Raved about it even. I had a bowl before it was all gone, and it was the best I ever had."

"Thank you, Puffy. You're truly a gentleman.” Fern smiled at the small man, then turned to look at his boss, frowning as she added, “Unlike some people."

"You're pushing again,” Nico said in a low voice.

"Why, Nico, I haven't laid a hand on you.” She held up her hands, palms out, to emphasize the point.

"You can lay a hand on me any time you like, lady, but you know what kind of pushing I'm talking about, and I don't like it."

"What do you like?” she countered.

"What?"

"What do you like? Granted, I haven't even known you quite a week, but I've yet to find anything that you like. Even my chicken that everyone else raved about, you didn't like. So what is it you do like?"

Nico was silent.

After an awkward couple of seconds, Puffy said, “Oh, Nico likes many, many things. He picked here for the restaurant because he can see the water. Nico likes the water. His family likes the trees and forests, but not Nico. He likes the water. The waves. He says we'll get a boat soon and sail all over the water."

"You like the lake?” Fern asked.

Nico scowled at Puffy and said, “That's enough."

"Oh, no,” the little man said, “there's more. He likes sunsets and women. Oh he likes women. Lots and lots of women. He likes to—"

"Puffy,” Nico said, his voice sounding strained, “I think you should set the dining room up for dinner, okay?"

"Sure thing, Boss,” Puffy said with a smile.

The little man practically skipped out of the kitchen.

"You didn't bellow at him,” Fern said, allowing Nico a smile.

It was just a small smile, as not yelling once didn't deserve too many accolades. But it did deserve some acknowledgment, and a small smile was sufficient.

"But you did push me,” Nico said. “I said if you have questions ask me."

"I did. You didn't answer, so Puffy did. Water, sunsets and women. The last one I might have guessed, but the first two ... Well, they do show a depth of character I might not have anticipated."

"I like trying new things, too,” Nico said softly as he advanced a step toward her.

The dark, wild haired man hadn't intimidated Fern before, as he ranted and raved, but suddenly, his voice, all low and almost seductive ... Well she was more than slightly intimidated.

"Why, that's nice. So do I,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage.

"That's good because there's something new I've been dying to try, but it requires you to try something new as well."

"What's that?” she asked, though forcing the words out took effort. A lot of effort.

Her mouth was suddenly dry. Her palms were wet. She felt breathless and her heart was racing.

She hadn't been human for long, but she didn't think any of those symptoms were good. Maybe she had a disease? That would be just like Bernie to make her human and give her some horrible mouth-drying, hand-wetting disease.

Speaking of horrible, Nico had eased his way right in front of her. So close that if she leaned even a hand's span forward, she'd touch him.

He was huge. A giant of a man. She hadn't fully appreciated that before. Oh, she'd noticed it, but now? Here? With him right in front of her, she not only appreciated but she also felt a bit apprehensive.

"Fern?” he asked.

There was no bellowing this time. As a matter of fact, his voice was just the barest of whispers. Soft. Seductive, even.

"Yes?” she asked, surprised by how soft her own voice was.

"Are you ready to try something new?"

"Like what?"

"Like this..."

If someone had asked her what Nico had in mind, Fern wouldn't have had a clue, but in her wildest imaginations, his lips meeting hers wasn't even a glimmer of a thought.

He leaned down, and his lips, firm yet gentle, grazed hers. A taunting, tantalizing introduction. He pulled back and studied her for a moment.

Fern wondered what he saw as his dark eyes locked with hers. She felt captured by his gaze. And the longer they stood, locked, the shorter her breath became. She felt as if she'd been dancing the cancan for hours, as she practically panted, trying to draw in enough air to keep breathing.

Then she noticed that his eyes, which were such a dark brown they almost looked black, had tiny green flecks in them. So tiny in fact, that she doubted many people had ever noticed the green, but it was there.

It was a secret discovery that was all her own.

"Fern?” he said, breaking the silence.

He didn't need to say more. She knew what he was asking, and she gave a small nod.

This time his lips pressed to hers with a sense of urgency, a sense of raw, hot hunger. He didn't merely kiss her, he devoured her. And she clung to him, needing the support because she seemed to have lost all power in her legs.

With amazing gentleness, he parted her lips and continued the kiss, only deeper and more intimately.

Fern wasn't just clinging to him any longer, she was pressing against him, wanting, no needing, to be closer to him, to be a part of him, to—

Suddenly, he pulled back, breaking their connection.

"Don't do that again,” he said.

"Me? You don't want me to kiss you again?” She wished again for bigger feet, nice big hefty feet that could kick the arrogant man right in the butt. “You kissed me."

"Well, you let me, and you shouldn't have. Don't let it happen again."

"Like I'd want to kiss you again. Ha! I'd rather kiss a toad. Any toad would have more of a chance of becoming a prince than you. You're totally prince-proof."

"I'm sure you'd make a good match with whichever toad you choose. Just leave me totally out of the picture."

"Oh, you're so out that...” She couldn't think of anything particularly brilliant to say, so she simply said, “Get out of here, I've got work to do."

Nico didn't say another word. He just turned and left without an argument.

Fern watched him go and wished he'd fought. Because if he'd fought she could have fought back. And she was angry enough that she knew he didn't stand a chance. She'd have won hands down.

"Men,” she muttered as she turned back to the counter. She needed to finish her marinade for tomorrow.

Men.

She'd never realized how hard her goddaughters had had it.

Men were totally incompressible, fickle, annoying creatures that no woman—human or fairy—should have to deal with.

Ever.

Well, Nico Starson didn't have to worry. She wouldn't let him kiss her again even if it turned out he was a prince instead of a toad.

She'd prefer the toad.




Chapter Seven 
Myrtle 

It was Sunday morning. Myrtle had been a human for seven full days and was starting on her eighth.

Eight days, she thought as she walked through the quiet city. Sunday mornings were obviously the quiet time in downtown Erie. Hardly any cars were on the road. The businesses were mainly closed. Normally, Myrtle might enjoy the solitude.

But it seemed she'd had way too much solitude lately.

Eight days worth.

Eight days and still she'd found nothing useful to fill up her time.

Fern was bubbling over with enthusiasm about her new job, going through cookbooks, pulling out old recipes to use. She practically radiated satisfaction all week long. She was off today and sleeping late.

Myrtle wished she could sleep. She tossed and turned every night worrying about Fern and Blossom.

And Blossom?

Blossom left every day at varying times to go do who knew what.

Oh, Fiona knew, but she wasn't telling.

When Myrtle asked—and she'd asked numerous times—all Fiona would say was, “She'll tell you in her own time. But she's okay, Myrtle. She's doing fine. You don't have to worry."

Don't have to worry?

Why of course she had to worry.

She'd spent centuries worrying about her sisters, worrying about godchildren. Worry about ... Well, just worrying.

She was good at worrying.

As good at worrying as Fern was at cooking.

Everyone encouraged Fern to cook, but no one was encouraging Myrtle to worry. No. Don't worry, they said.

"Well, worrying is what I do,” she muttered.

"Oh, Myrtle, I'm sorry this is so hard on you,” Fiona said.

Myrtle wasn't surprised to see Fiona. If she wasn't flittering about, then Joy or Grace or Glory was. Yes, the four of them were always underfoot. But her own sisters? They didn't flitter around at all.

The flittered away.

"Myrtle,” Fiona said sadly.

"Don't go snooping in my mind. I won't have it. You may be my fairy godmother, but you're making a muck of it, because I'm not happy. Not happy at all. Maybe I should sue you this time?"

"Would that make you happy?” Fiona asked softly.

Myrtle sighed. “No. Getting back to myself. Being a fairy again. A fairy godmother again. Having a case, having my sisters at my side, and finding a couple their happily-ever-after, that would make me happy."

"But things have changed."

"Only for six months. After that, why Fern will forget about her cooking, Blossom will forget about doing whatever it is she's doing, and we'll all go back to living our lives as fairy godmothers. We'll be happy again."

We'll be happy. That's what she said, but Myrtle was honest enough with herself to realize she meant, I'll be happy.

She needed to be needed.

And right now, she wasn't.

"Myrtle, what if things don't go back to the way they were?” Fiona asked gently.

Myrtle didn't say anything, didn't want to acknowledge that this was her secret fear. That maybe, just maybe, Fern and Blossom would learn to like being on their own. Maybe they'd realize that they didn't need her.

She'd be useless and obsolete forever, rather than temporarily.

"Myrtle?” Fiona prompted.

"That won't happen. Blossom and Fern will come to their senses and realize that no matter what they're doing now, there's nothing that can fulfill them like godmothering can."

"And in the meantime? Until you're all fairies again, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. It's been a week, and I still don't know."

"Myrtle, as a godmother, have you ever done something for a godchild, something they weren't too pleased about, but something you knew would make them happy in the end?"

"Fiona, don't you dare—"

"But have you?"

When Myrtle didn't respond, Fiona said, “You know I'm new at this, and I really could use your advice. Did you ever do something for a godchild that they didn't think they wanted, but you knew would work out for them in the end?"

"Yes,” she admitted.

She thought of the Aaronsons.

Why, they'd sent Grace running to Max, thinking she was crazy. They'd sent Joy to live with Gabriel, a man who thought she was comfortable and what woman wanted the man she adored to think she was comfortable?

And Glory?

Why they'd seen to it that she was the owner of one rather broken-down restaurant, and they had put her in the vicinity of Nick, a lawyer. Glory had had a bias against lawyers back then.

No, none of them were particularly happy about what the fairies did for them ... to them.

"But, just because we've done it in the past, doesn't mean you need to do it now.” Myrtle eyed Fiona who was looking far too pleased with herself. “I mean it, Fiona. I don't want you meddling with my life."

"Ah, but I'm your fairy godmother. Meddling is in my job description."

"Fiona...” Myrtle said in her most intimidating voice.

"Sorry, Myrtle. I let you mope around for a week, but it's time to do something drastic. Something that will prove to the Council that I'm a godmother prodigy. If they're not convinced, I might have the shortest godmothership in the history of fairies."

"You're using me to ensure job security?” Myrtle looked offended. “Call it off."

"I'm sorry, Myrtle, but it's too late."

"When will it happen?"

"Not today, but soon. Enjoy your peaceful, quiet day,” Fiona said, fading out of sight.

Myrtle thought she heard her add, "It might be the last one you have for sometime to come," but chose to ignore it.

If she couldn't be a fairy, couldn't serve some useful purpose, then she wanted to be left alone.

Whatever Fiona was planning wouldn't work if Myrtle wasn't around to have it work.

She turned and headed home. She'd simply hide out in the house.

Myrtle wasn't normally the type of fairy to hide from her problems, but this once, she was making an exception.

She wasn't going to be happy, and no fairy goddaughter turned godmother could make her be.




Chapter Eight 
Blossom 

Sunday night, Blossom was in front of the theater for rehearsals with ten minutes to spare.

"You're Titania. I told you that you were perfect for the part,” said a voice.

"Herbert!” She hugged the older man. “I asked about you and was so thrilled to hear that you're Theseus. I'd hoped to see you sooner."

"Rom likes running various groups through before throwing us all together."

"I'm so thrilled to finally get to meet the entire cast."

"Oh, speaking of thrilled, you should have heard the ladies at the home. They're already fighting over me. All except one.” He held open the stage door for her.

"Oh?” Blossom had been a fairy godmother for so many years that she'd picked up some radar about matters of the heart. And that radar was telling her the one who wasn't fighting was the only one Herbert wanted.

"Stella. She just laughed and said it couldn't be much of a production, if I was in it."

"That wasn't nice."

There was a group of people, but Blossom hung back, sensing Herbert needed to talk to someone.

"Stella's still rather new to the home and just a little bitter. Her family made her sell her house after she fell and broke her hip. She's getting around okay, but she's still angry at the thought of having to rely on others."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"So am I. I think, despite the fact she's slowed down a bit, she still has a lot of living left to do, but she won't see it. She sits there, day after day, saying that it's obviously all she's good for."

"Maybe we can think of something—” Blossom started to say, but was interrupted.

Rom sauntered onto the stage and hollered, “People. People."

The crowd shifted from the fringes of the stage towards Rom, making a semicircle around him.

"I'd like to congratulate all of you. I think this is going to be a fantastic rendition of Midsummer's Night ... with work. A lot of hard work. And that's just what I'm here to give you, a hard workout. I'm not here to be your friend or your buddy. I won't coddle you. I'm here to make you work harder than you've ever worked before. This last week I've run groups of you through your lines, but from now on, we'll all be here every week night from five until nine. Saturday afternoons we'll be here at one and run as long as we need to. I'll give you one hundred percent, and I'll expect you to give me the same. No excuses. No whining."

He paused and studied the group. Blossom wasn't sure what he was looking for, or if he found it, but when his eyes met hers, she thought they narrowed, as if he was thinking she was going to be the one not to live up to his ideals.

Well, she'd show him.

"Fine. Everyone grab a chair from the wings, and come up here. Today we're just reading through the entire play."

Blossom thought the practice went good—better than good—that it had gone great.

When they'd finished, and Rom said, “That's it. Not bad. Not good, but not bad. See you tomorrow. Blossom?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like you to stay.” He grimaced, as if her staying behind was not the highlight of his week. Not even mid-light.

No, his look said the prospect of her staying was definitely a black mark.

"Why?"

"Like I said when you got called back, I don't think you're really meant for this role, and though I didn't say it in front of everyone else, you're going to require extra practice. Starting tonight. I'd like you to stay and run through your scenes again."

"I wasn't any worse than anyone else,” she said.

As a matter of fact, she was better than most.

After all, she knew her lines, hadn't used the script at all, and hadn't missed one cue.

She studied the dark haired man who was still grimacing. Why, she'd like to—

"Yes, you were worse. I'm in charge, and I say you're staying. You can either say yes, or you can quit now and I'll find someone to replace you."

He'd like it if she quit.

Blossom wasn't sure what it was about her that set Rom Johnson's teeth on edge, but something certainly did. He'd be relieved if she quit. Well, Rom obviously didn't know her if he thought he could scare her away.

"Yes,” she said, through gritted teeth.

"Fine. I'll be back in a minute.” He walked off to talk to some of the other members as Blossom just stood there fuming.

Herbert approached her right after Rom left. “Would you like to walk home together, sweetheart?"

"I would. Unfortunately, I'm being kept after class."

"Why?” the old man looked puzzled.

"Rom feels I need extra work. That I'm going to have to work harder than everyone else to pull off my role."

"Why, I thought you were splendid."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I wouldn't go as far as splendid, but I thought I did okay. Unfortunately Rom doesn't, so I'm staying. But maybe next time we can walk together?"

"I'd like that. I'll see you tomorrow then.” He started to walk away.

"Oh, Herbert?” Blossom called after him.

He turned. “Yes?"

"Maybe together we can think of something to help Stella."

She'd thought about Herbert's friend on and off throughout the rehearsal. The woman was special to him, and Herbert was special to Blossom. She needed to do something for them.

He smiled. “I'd like that, dear. I'd like Stella to be happy."

"Then I'll think about it,” Blossom promised. “Good night."

She watched him go. Watched as everyone put away their chairs and gathered their things, as she stood to the side, waiting. She felt as if she were back in school. She, Myrtle and Fern were always in trouble for one thing or another, and it wasn't all that rare that they had to stay after. But then they'd been together.

Three against the world.

Now she was all alone.

Oh, that's what she wanted. She wanted a chance to shine on her own. But still, it would be nice to have some company. Someone to complain to about Rom, the dictator director.

"I'm back. Are you ready to get started?"

He'd startled her.

Blossom turned and forced herself to look him in the eye. She wasn't going to cower in the face of his less-than-pleasant disposition. She wasn't going to pout about the way he was unfairly singling her out. She was going to be professional.

"Yes, I'm ready. Let's just get this over with."

"Take a seat. This could take a while."

It was eerie sitting alone with Rom on the deserted stage. Blossom wished she'd suggested they practice somewhere else, in one of the smaller back rooms, maybe. But she hadn't and couldn't think of any way to rectify it now, so she read her lines, and Rom read all the rest.

"Sleep thou and I will wind thee in my arms—" 

"No, no, no,” Rom—the dictator, the annoying, the nasty—yelled. “Blossom, Titania's supposed to be oozing sexuality, not laughing. She's in love with Bottom."

"He's an ass,” Blossom pointed out. “And Titania isn't really bewitched, she's just pretending to be bewitched for Oberon's sake. He'd be hurt if he thought his spell didn't work, so she pretends it does, but all the while she's laughing at him more than laughing at Bottom."

"No, she's not pretending.” He stalked up onto the stage and ran his fingers through his hair. “You can't just rewrite the story. Titania's bewitched and in love with the ass."

"You know, some of us don't have to be bewitched to know an ass when we see one."

The words slipped out before Blossom thought about it.

If it had been anyone other than Rom Johnson, she'd have hastily apologized. But she wasn't apologizing to him ... not ever. He deserved anything she dished out.

"Casting you as Titania was a mistake. You're nothing like her."

"I have to agree, dear,” a new voice said.

Titania herself was standing next to Blossom.

Dainty, voluptuous and brunette, the fairy queen was the antithesis to Blossom. She was shaking her head and tsking. “I can't believe even a mortal would think you could play me."

"Oh, no,” Blossom murmured.

"Don't worry, humans can't see me,” Titania said. “I'm just going to sit down over here at the sidelines and watch the rehearsal. Why, when I heard what Bernie had done to the three of you, I was furious. It's too bad Fairyland went democratic and I have to live by the Council's decision. I hate being just a figurehead, because if I still ruled the kingdom, I'd turn you back into a fairy this instant. But since I am bound by the Council's decisions, I'm as helpless as you are. And since you're playing me, I'll just watch and see how you're doing. Maybe I can give you pointers. Now, get that worried look off your face. You know better than any mortal that no one else can see me."

"But I can,” Blossom said.

She realized that Rom had been standing there, watching her as she listened to Titania.

"You can what?” he asked, looking confused.

Well, confused was better than arrogant, at least in Blossom's opinion.

"I can play Titania,” she said, infusing as much certainty as she could into her voice.

"I don't think so,” he muttered.

"Neither do I,” the fairy queen said.

She was about the size of a robin and perched on the top of the chair off to stage right.

"Shh,” Blossom told her.

Rom scowled. “Don't you shush me, Blossom. I'm the director. You're the one who needs to be quiet. Unless you're reading lines, be silent. You're going to need a lot of work to become a fairy."

"Less than six month's worth,” Blossom said.

Titania laughed.

Rom frowned. “Well, we don't have six months until the play opens, so you're just going to have to work hard."

"Oh, you're such a..."

Titania shook her fairy-sized finger at Blossom. “Tut, tut, tut, dear. You know the fairy rules on swearing."

"A what?” Rom asked, softly.

"An ogre,” she said. “You're an ogre, Rom Johnson."

"An ogre?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

"Yes,” she said, nodding her head. Ogre wasn't a swear word, not really, even though everyone knew Ogres did like to swear and ... “Everyone knows that they are fairies who are so grumpy, so big, brutish and such know-it-alls that they became a distinct subspecies. That describes you to a T."

"I don't think you're going to be able to pull it off,” Titania said, grimly. “I'm a complex role to play."

"Just leave me alone,” Blossom said.

"I won't,” Rom said, a promise in his tone. “I'm going to keep after you until you have it right."

Feeling dangerous and frustrated, Blossom moved toward the edge of the stage and looked the overbearing director right in the eye. “Or else?"

"Or else, like I said before, I'll be looking for a new Titania."

"Do you think he'd consider me for the role?” the fairy queen asked. “I know I could play it perfectly."

"No,” Blossom said, answering Titania.

But Rom obviously thought she was talking to him. “Fine. Every night after practice. You and me. Alone. I'm going to work you until you'll forget you're not the real Titania. Beautiful, fair and able to read a love line to Bottom without laughing."

"Oh, my, that boy knows the real me,” Titania said, as she lounged on the chair. “Really, Blossom, I think I should assume mortal form and try out for the part myself."

"It's mine,” Blossom hissed. “Go."

The fairy queen stuck out her tongue in a very unroyallike way. “Fine. But I'll be back to see how you're doing."

* * * *
"Again."

A week hadn't mellowed Rom's personality at all. If anything it had made him more of a slave driver. A mean, horrible, slave driver. His goal was to drive Blossom insane with his unreasonable demands.

And he was succeeding.

Blossom liked to think of herself as a mellow individual, but she was feeling decidedly unmellow about Rom.

As a matter of fact, she'd spent the better part of the week fantasizing about what she'd do to him if she had her powers back.

"Blossom, I said, again."

"I know the part."

"Yes, you parrot it back just fine, but you're not feeling it. You're not Titania."

"And boy am I thankful for that. After all, who'd want to be stuck with Oberon?"

Oberon was overbearing, condescending, tyrannical. Come to think of it, he was an awful lot like Rom Johnson.

She glared at Rom. “It's not as if Oberon's anyone's idea of a prize."

And neither was Rom.

Why, she hardly noticed how dark his hair was. Or the way his eyes had a tendency to hold her gaze in an almost hypnotic way.

Hypnosis.

That was the only reason Blossom ever found herself staring at Rom. He hypnotized her. It wasn't as if she was attracted to him, or anything.

She didn't even like him.

"Oberon is Titania's lover,” he said for the thousandth time. As if she didn't know that, for some odd reason, Titania seemed to like Oberon.

Rom raked his hand through his hair. It should have given him a rumpled, mussed look, but instead, his hair just lay there, tantalizingly smooth and inviting.

"Oberon's a dork,” Blossom said.

Dork. It was a good word. Joy's stepdaughter, Sophie, had taught it to her. She was going to add, just like you, but didn't think it was wise given the menacing scowl on Rom's face.

Sometimes silence was the better part of discretion.

"Again,” he practically growled.

"Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be gone and be all ways away..." 

Blossom fell into the role, in a magical non-magic way.

It was these rare moments that made her forget she was human and let her believe, if only for a precious few minutes, that she was once again a fairy. For a moment, as Rom read Oberon's lines, she could almost believe she was Titania and this was Oberon, her love.

"...But first I will release the Fairy Queen ... “ he read.

Blossom reached out and caressed his cheek, and she gave herself a small shake, as if she was awakening from a dream. "My Oberon, what visions I have seen."

She studied this man. This annoying director. His hair was dark and longer than most men wore their hair. His eyes were the lightest blue, shining almost. Her finger trailed down his smooth cheek. Hard and smooth. The contrast delighted her.

"Methought I was enamored of an ass," Rom said.

Blossom dropped her hand as if it was weighted. “Pardon me?"

"The rest of your line. Blossom, you've got to pay attention. You forgot, Methought I was enamored of an ass," he repeated.

"Oh, my line."

What was going on?

Why on earth had her thoughts been so tangled up in Rom?

It must be that she was a better actress than she thought because there was no way she could be attracted to this man.

Why, after all her years as a fairy godmother, she knew that outside packages might be nice, but it was the inside that mattered. Rom had shown himself to be a tyrant with an acerbic wit. And secondly ... Well, despite her current human status, she was a fairy and would return to being a fairy in just less than six short months.

It wouldn't do to forget that. She'd seen what mixed relationships could do. Why just look at Bernie and Fiona and all the problems they had because of their mixed parentage.

No, she wasn't interested in Rom at all.

"Sorry,” she said and ran through the scene flawlessly.

"It was better,” he said. “Much better."

"Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.

Darn. She'd have preferred that he hollered at her.

Saying something nice? Why that didn't fit her mental image of him at all.

"I think it's time to call it a night,” he said.

"What time is it?” Blossom asked. She still hadn't gotten used to keeping time the way mortals did.

"After eleven,” he said. “Time really flew tonight."

"Yes, it tends to do that here.” Time was almost as elastic in the mortal world as it was in Fairyland. Expanding and contracting at will.

She headed toward the door.

"Hey, Blossom,” Rom called.

"Yes?"

"Wait up. I'll walk you out to your car."

"I don't have a car,” she said, and hurried to the door.

She didn't want him walking her out. Didn't want to spend another second with him.

But she realized he was right behind her.

"So how do you get home?” he asked.

"I walk.” Walking after a practice was a great way to purge some of her annoyance before she got home and faced Myrtle's accusing looks. Her sister had given up complaining, and instead had opted to wear a mantle of one abused.

She realized Rom was still right behind her.

"It's not that far,” she assured him.

She needed her solitary walk home more tonight than most nights.

"This late at night? Are you crazy? I mean, anything could happen to you."

Was that concern in his voice?

No. She must be tired if she was imagining things like Rom being concerned for her.

She almost chuckled at the absurdity of her thought.

"Ah, and if something did, then you'd have to go hunt up a new Titania for the play, is that what you're thinking?” That was much more likely.

"I'm thinking a beautiful woman like you should know better and have some common sense. You can't just go traipsing solo all over the city this late at night."

"Seeing as I'm more than of age, I guess I can.” She started walking briskly down the street.

Enough was enough. She needed to get away from Rom, to clear her mind.

"Hold on, I'll walk you home,” he said jogging up behind her.

"I don't think so."

He grabbed her shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to stop her in her tracks. “What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"Listen, Rom, you may be able to boss me around on the stage, but in the real world, in my real life, I'm in charge. This is my first true taste of freedom, of doing things on my own, and I won't give it up for you, or anyone else."

"Please."

She expected him to bluster, to bully, or even to throw up his hands and tell her to do whatever she wanted, he didn't care. But saying please? That was unexpected.

Rom Johnson wasn't the type of man who asked for anything.

"Pardon?” she said, sure she'd heard him wrong.

"I said, please. I'd like to walk you home."

"Why?"

Probably so he could go on nitpicking on how she played the role of Titania. How she did it wrong. How she'd never get it right.

"Because, if I didn't, I'd worry about you all night."

"I—"

"I was walking anyway, and you're on the way,” he said.

"How do you know I'm on the way?"

"I asked around. Herbert said you live in an apartment over Glory's Chambers. I've eaten there now and again."

He'd asked around.

Asked about her?

Blossom wasn't sure how that made her feel.

Unsettled. Yeah. Unsettled.

She'd been around Rom for two weeks, but tonight, there was something about him that left her feeling as if she wanted to run as far as she could, as fast as she could. She felt as if she wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

"It's a cute place,” he said.

Was that a compliment? “Thanks. My sisters and I helped renovate it."

"And the apartment?"

They were walking, Blossom realized. Walking down the street, next to each other. She wasn't sure how he'd managed it. She'd said no. She'd meant no. She didn't want him walking her home. And yet, he was.

"Did you renovate the apartment as well?” he pressed.

Was he really interested, or was he trying to start a conversation?

"Well, it is a lot different than it was the first time we walked through the door.” There that wasn't a lie.

"So you live with your sisters?"

"Yes.” She paused. “Do you live with anyone?"

"No. I'm on my own. I like it that way."

"Don't you get lonely?” Blossom asked.

Even now, even with this tiny slice of her life to call her own, she still saw her sisters every day. She still counted on them for a thousand little things. Even if it was just Myrtle moping around because Blossom had a secret.

She depended on them. Needed them.

To be all alone?

"No. It seems I've lived most of my life on my own. I don't really fit in with my mother's people and don't know my father, so...” The sentence faded to a halt.

Despite the fact she didn't like Rom, Blossom felt sorry for the lonely man. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something painful."

"It's not painful,” he said quickly ... too quickly.

"Yes it is,” said a feminine voice.

Fiona peeked around Rom and gave Blossom a little wave. “Yes, it is painful. He won't admit it, but it is. Rom Johnson has spent most of his life pushing people away. He doesn't know how to let anyone get close."

Rom was silent, but he looked annoyed. Probably because he'd said too much. Blossom knew the feeling. She frequently let her mouth run away from her. “Listen, I—"

"Look, here we are."

Blossom realized they had reached Glory's. Again, time with Rom seemed to move at its own pace—a pace different than the rest of the mortal world's. “Well, thanks for walking me home."

"You shouldn't be out walking by yourself. You never know what could happen. You're a beautiful woman, and that beauty could make a man forget himself and do this—"

Suddenly, Blossom was in Rom's arms, and his lips were pressing against hers. Not just pressing. No. They were devouring hers, kissing her with an intensity she'd never experienced.

Tasting.

Testing.

Probing.

She was drowning in his kiss. Her body melting into his.

And suddenly, it was over. He stepped away, as if kissing her repelled him.

"Why did you do that? To teach me a lesson?"

"The kiss you take is better than the one you give." 

"Don't you start quoting Shakespeare to me now, Rom Johnson. Answer my question. Why did you kiss me?"

"Yeah, make him tell, Blossom, because I'd like to know, too.” Fiona looked as if she was about to burst with ... It wasn't annoyance, it looked more like pleasure.

Blossom had been so flustered by Rom's kiss, she'd forgotten Fiona was flitting about. And despite the fact her little fairy godmother looked pleased, Blossom wasn't. Wasn't pleased at all. She was annoyed.

"Why did you kiss me?” she repeated, trying to infuse all her annoyance into the question.

"I don't know why,” Rom finally said. “But you can be sure, I won't let it happen again."

"Well ... good."

"Yeah. Good,” he repeated. “I've got to go."

"Good night."

He hurried off, down the block.

"Well, now that was interesting,” Fiona said.

"Don't you dare tell anyone.” Blossom warned.

"Who would I tell?” she asked innocently. Much too innocently.

"My sisters, your husband. Oh, I can think of any number of people you could share this with, and I'm telling you, don't do it."

"Fine."

"Your word of honor,” Blossom pressed.

Fiona held up a hand and crossed her heart. “Fairy Scouts Honor."

"Great. Now, I'm going in."

"Are you staying after and practicing tomorrow?” Fiona asked.

"Not if I can help it. Imagine, he kissed me. I mean, no man's kissed me in...” She tried to remember when the last kiss was and drew a blank. “Well, in a very long time."

"You seemed to like it."

"I did not."

"Yes. I think you did."

"I—” Blossom decided to stop while she was ahead. “I have to get in now. Fern and Myrtle will be wondering what happened to me."

"See you soon,” Fiona said as she faded.

Suddenly, Blossom remembered something.

"Hey, you were never a Fairy Scout,” she called, but Fiona had totally faded from sight, and the only response Blossom got was the soft sound of her laughter.




Chapter Nine 
Fern 

Fern was glad she didn't work tomorrow. She didn't want to see Nico. Didn't want to think about him, though he seemed to be where her thoughts kept falling. She sat on the couch, gazing out the window, trying to force herself not to think about him.

It didn't work.

So she'd settle for simply being glad she didn't have to face him. After all, he'd kissed her. How did you face a man after something like that? Especially given his response. Rather than saying, “Thank you, Fern, that was wonderful. That was toe-tingling, stupendous,” he'd said, “Don't let it happen again."

"As if,” she muttered.

As if she'd want to kiss him.

She didn't know him well, but what she knew she didn't particularly like. He was an overbearing, bellowing sort of man. Not the kind of guy she was looking for. Not at all.

She wanted a kind, considerate man. No, not a man, a fairy. Yes. She might like humans, might even be a human for a few more months, but she'd never want a relationship with one. She'd fixed up enough human couples to know that they tended to make love hard ... too hard.

Hard. Yep, Nico was a hard man, and Fern wasn't the least bit interested.

Of course, Puffy had told her that Nico had moved away from home because of him. That was kind. Some might even say considerate.

And he liked water and sunsets.

That was unexpected.

Not that it mattered to Fern. She didn't like Nico Starson, and never would.

"What are you glaring at,” Myrtle asked as she came into the room and sat next to Fern on the couch.

"I'm not glaring."

"Sure you are. You're sitting there practically burning a hole out the window with your glare."

"Myrtle, the only one glaring around here is you. You've been in a funk practically since we got here."

Fern felt sorry for Myrtle.

Her older, normally in-charge-of-everything sister seemed so lost, so alone. She wished she could do something to ease the adjustment for her sister, but knew that Myrtle was going to have to find her own way.

"I have not been in a funk,” Myrtle said, but her tone didn't carry any weight of conviction. Myrtle was in a funk and knew it, even if she wasn't prepared to admit it.

The front door opened and Blossom breezed in..

"Oh,” she said when she spotted them sitting on the couch. “You're both still up."

"And you're out late,” Myrtle said.

No not just said, but accused. Or maybe scolded. Fern wasn't sure which, but she was sure from Blossom's expression that she didn't like Myrtle's tone.

"You're not my mother,” Blossom pointed out.

Myrtle rose and looked Blossom right in the eye. “No, but I've spent years taking care of you."

Hands on her hips, Blossom faced her sister. “Maybe I don't need taken care of."

Myrtle laughed. “Ha!"

Blossom advanced. “Maybe you've spent all these years pretending to take care of me and Fern because you're afraid to live your life."

"Blossom,” Fern said, jumping to her feet, hoping to get between the two and stop this fight. And it was going to be a fight. She could sense it.

Blossom was hitting too close to home, and Myrtle wasn't ready to face whatever it was she was afraid of, at least not in such an in-your-face sort of way.

"Don't Blossom me, Fern. You know I'm right. You and I have both found something productive and exciting to do while we're here. And Myrtle? Is she happy for us? Is she looking for something of her own? No. She sits here day after day, giving us those sad looks, as if we've broken her heart—"

"Not broken my heart, broken the team. We've always been a team, working together, playing together. And that's all falling a part and that's what's breaking my heart. That we're falling apart."

"Myrtle,” Fern said softly, taking her sister's hand. “Blossom and I, we've found things to do, things on our own. But that doesn't mean that we don't love you. We do. But maybe this time as humans gives us a chance to spread our wings, more of a chance than when we had wings, if you know what I mean. There's so much to do, so much to try. I loved working with you two all those years—"

"Loved," Myrtle murmured. “Past tense. As if it's over. Is it over? Not just for now, but even once we're back to being fairies?” She sat back on the couch, as if the very idea of doing something without her sisters was too much to bear.

Fern sat back down next to her and patted her hand. “I don't know,” she said honestly.

She really didn't know. She loved her sisters and had loved working with them, but maybe it was time for something new, something of her own. Not just while she was human, but after she was a fairy again.

Blossom sat down on the coffee table, facing them. “Myrtle, maybe it is. I don't know. I don't think Fern knows. I just know that things have changed. And I don't think all those changes are for the worse. But no matter what changes, no matter if we are still working together when this is over, or if we've all gone our separate ways—that doesn't matter. What does matter is that we'll always be sisters."

"But it won't be the same if we're not together every day,” Myrtle said with a small sniff.

Fern took her sister's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Nothing ever stays the same. You know that. We all do. Things change. Even for fairies. Maybe it's time to think about what we want to do once we're fairies again. But no matter what, there's something that will never change. The way I feel for you two."

Myrtle suddenly gave a huge sniff.

"Now, don't you start crying,” Blossom said, her voice sounding watery. “Because if you do, I won't be able to tell you how much I love you both."

Fern would have laughed if she wasn't so choked up. The three of them sat holding hands and crying like three crazy women.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell us what you're doing?” Myrtle eventually asked Blossom.

"No.” The tears stopped and a small chuckled replaced them.

Before Fern could blink an eye, all three of them were laughing. Holding each other, laughing and suddenly connected again.

Fern thought maybe more connected than they'd been in a long time.

All those years, living in each other's back pockets, they'd shared so much, but right now, laughing with her sisters, Fern had never felt closer to them.

Fiona blinked into the room.

"What's going on?” she asked.

Fern met Myrtle's, then Blossom eyes, then they all three turned to Fiona and laughed even harder.

"Did I miss something?” Fiona asked.

"No, no, you didn't miss a thing,” Fern managed to get out.

No, Fiona hadn't missed anything, but maybe she and her sisters had.

And maybe, just maybe, they were rediscovering it.

* * * *
Monday morning came earlier than it normally did. Or maybe it just felt earlier. It had been a long weekend.

Fern had spent hours talking and laughing with her sisters. She'd told them about her job, something she'd avoided to date. She hadn't been able to stand Myrtle's sad looks. But now, her sister laughed about Puffy, and nettled at the thought of Nico's behavior.

"Want us to help you take care of them?” both Myrtle and Blossom had offered.

Fern smiled at the memory.

She knew—she'd known all along—that even if she was going her own way, her sisters were still there for her. All she had to do was ask.

She'd told them everything about her job ... Well, everything but the kiss.

It wasn't as if she was really keeping a secret. After all, the kiss was just a fluke. Nico didn't even like her.

A fluke.

An accident.

Yep. He'd accidentally kissed her.

And of course, she'd only kissed him back to be polite.

After all, it would have been rude to just stand there, stone-cold and let the man slobber all over her.

Not that his kiss had been slobbery.

Oh, no.

It had been perfect.

Or at least it would have been perfect, if it had been from some other man.

She was just going to forget it ever happened.

She got ready for work and kept nudging the thoughts of that kiss to the back of her mind. It didn't seem to want to stay put and kept creeping back out, causing her to flush with the warmth of it.

Darn that Nico Starson.

What did he think he was doing? Kissing her?

She entered the Les Magik kitchen, ready for ... Well, ready for whatever Nico dished out.

The one thing she'd make sure he wasn't dishing was kisses. No way did she want his lips on hers again.

Just think of the complications. She was a fairy. Okay, right now she was a human, but only for a while, and then she'd be a fairy again. Mixed romances never worked.

Not that Nico had mentioned romance.

Not that he'd mentioned anything.

Nope, he'd just kissed her and then had the nerve to act as if it were her fault.

"As if,” she grumbled, as she tossed her stuff in the closet and slammed the door.

"As if what?” asked Puffy.

"What?” Fern asked.

"You said, as if. And I said, as if what?"

"As if ... I'd let a gloomy spring day get to me. We're going to do something bright, something wild today."

"Like what?"

"A new dessert."

"What do I do first?” he asked.

Fern smiled at the slight man. “Get me some Hershey Kisses."

Puffy ran to the store and was back before Fern had scarcely gotten started.

She fell into the magic of creating food. Pretty soon she was laughing with Puffy, joking and carrying on as if Nico Starson hadn't kissed her, as if he didn't even exist.

But his nonexistence was too good to be true, she thought as he walked in and shot her a glare.

As if he was put out.

As if he was the injured party.

Fern pasted a smile on her face.

"Well, good morning to you, too,” she said in her brightest, most chipper voice.

Nico grunted his response as he walked past her toward the coffee maker.

"Where's my coffee?” he asked. His tone was brisk and hard.

"I suppose you'll have to make some,” Fern said, the smile still pasted on and feeling a bit brittle.

"I don't want to make it. I want you to make it.” He walked up to her and peered down at her from his higher vantage point. “Let's clear up a little misconception of yours. I'm the boss, you're the employee. And as your boss, I'm telling you to make some coffee for me."

"Well, I'm busy making a new dessert, so looks like you're on your own."

"I'll make it,” Puffy offered, his soft voice sounding nervous.

"No, I need you to whip those egg whites. Nico is more than capable of making his own coffee. Aren't you, Nico? Goodness knows there must be hundreds of things you're capable of, and I suspect coffee making falls into that category."

His expression was dark, as dark as his tone as he said, “Fern, I'm warning you. You don't want to start with me today."

"Oh, you're warning me. Well, I'm practically quaking in my shoes,” she said, uncharacteristic sarcasm dripping from her words. Who did he think he was, ordering her around like that?

"Fine, whatever,” he grunted and headed toward the refrigerator where Fern kept the coffee.

She knew she should just let it go. He'd capitulated. She'd won this round. But rather than accepting her small victory quietly, Fern continued to goad him. “Hm, what other things is Nico capable of?” she mused as she whipped some cream. “Making an ass of himself. Yep, that falls into your list quite nicely, Nico."

His back was towards her as he measured coffee into the filter. But she didn't need to see his expression, she could hear his annoyance in her name, “Fern."

Not just annoyance. Maybe a warning as well.

"Yes, Nico?” she asked sweetly.

"Don't push me. At least not until I've had my first cup of coffee."

"Why, Nico, I would never dream of pushing you. Why, someone with your world-renowned temper just might go into a tizzy, if I pushed you too far, and burst a blood vessel or something. I'd hate to have something like that on my conscience."

"Puffy, go set the tables,” Nico practically bellowed.

"But I—"

Nico turned around and faced the small man. “Go."

Puffy scrambled out of the kitchen.

The traitor.

Running from the soon-to-be-battle. Fern wasn't quite sure what she and Nico were fighting about, but she was sure they were fighting. She may have won the coffee battle, but she hadn't won the war.

Nico advanced.

Fern felt an overwhelming urge to take a step backward, but she held her ground.

"Now, you had something you wanted to say?” he asked softly.

She would have preferred that he bellow. Somehow his practically whispered words were much more intimidating than a good yell.

"Not particularly,” she said, trying to appear unintimidated. “But it appears you might have something you want to say."

"No,” was his monosyllabic response.

"Well, then we're both fine, right?” she said, even though she felt anything but fine.

She felt nervous. Not that she feared Nico would ever do anything to hurt her. No, her fear came from an entirely different direction. It came from the fact she was staring at his lips and wondering just what he'd do if she kissed him right now. Just took a small step forward, stretched up and placed her lips on his.

As if he could read her mind he said, “I'm totally fine as long as you keep your distance."

"Me?” Fern said. “Me? You're going to blame last week on me?"

"Ha! I knew you were upset about kissing me. Believe me, I was upset, too. It's not just employees who can be sexually harassed, its employers. And I think your kissing me could be construed as a form of harassment."

"You're blaming me? You kissed me. I most certainly did not kiss you."

He had kissed her.

She hadn't kissed him.

She might not be sure of any number of things, but of that she was positive.

"But you didn't fight me off,” he said. “You should have pushed me away."

"You're right, I should have pushed you away. More than that I should have fought you off. I would have, if I'd had anything handy to fight you off with.” She pictured giant tanks chasing this maddening man down and smooshing him.

Smooshed Nico.

She liked the mental image.

"So, you're saying if I was to kiss you again, you wouldn't allow it?” he asked, his voice was even softer than before. Almost a purr. Not a kitten's purr, but a great big tiger's purr. Deep, rumbling and dangerous.

"Are you kidding? If you try to kiss me again I'll.... I'll..."

"You'll what?” he asked.

She pivoted, grabbed the bowl of whipped cream off the counter, and took a spoonful and tossed it at Nico. It landed with a satisfying splat on his shirt. “That's what I'd do.

He stared at the whipped cream that sort of oozed down his shirt.

"You just threw food at me,” he said incredulously and took a half a step toward her rather than away from her.

"Yes, I did. And I'll throw more than whipped cream at you if you try to kiss me again."

Nico turned around, and Fern thought he was going to walk out of the kitchen. Instead, he walked to the counter and took a bowl of meringue, then moved back toward her.

"You wouldn't,” she said, staring at the bowl.

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

"Nico, don't you dare."

"You started this. And it would be wise of you to remember not to start something you can't finish. That goes for both kissing and food fights."

"You started the kissing,” she pointed out, taking a step backward in retreat.

"But you certainly participated. So when you start a food fight, it's only fair I participate as well."

There was some logic in his statement, not that she was going to admit it to him. No, she wasn't admitting anything. If she started telling him her secrets, she'd have to tell him that she'd almost liked the kiss. And hadn't liked that she'd liked it.

"Well, you're wearing the whipped cream, don't you think that's enough participation?” she asked, watching the white foam ooze down his chest.

"No."

"But—"

THWACK.

A huge glob of meringue stuck to her hair.

She reached up and scooped off the worst of it and said, “Nico, you know, what this means..."

"What?” he asked, looking as if he might laugh.

Nico laughing? The thought was absurd. No way would Mister Bossy-and-Controlling see the humor in a food fight.

"What?” he asked again.

"This means war."

Fern took cover behind a counter and lobbed the handful of meringue she's scooped out of her hair at him, and followed it immediately with another spoonful of whipped cream. Nico countered with another bunch of meringue.

The fight was on.

Fern was laughing as she took a direct hit to the head. And she heard something ... something foreign. Something that sounded distinctly as if Nico was laughing, too.

She peeked from her hiding place and caught a glimpse of his face.

Sure enough he was laughing.

She lobbed a spoonful of cream at him and took another hit.

But as she ducked back down, she knew the mess was worth it. For some strange reason seeing Nico not just smile, but out and out laugh ... Well, it was worth a lot more than the inconvenience of being covered with meringue.

"Do you want to call a truce?” he finally hollered.

"I do if you do,” she countered.

"If I were to call truce it wouldn't be that I was admitting defeat, it would just mean I'm the boss and realize we don't have time for this. We have a lunch to prepare."

"I agree,” Fern said, looking at her shambled kitchen. She didn't just have a lunch to prepare, but a kitchen to clean as well.

"Fine then, truce.” He stood and set the bowl on the food splattered counter.

Fern stood as well. She noted there was still a smile playing on Nico's lips.

"You know what this means, don't you?” she asked.

"What?” His voice was soft again, but not with anger. No it was something else all together that made him speak in such a hushed tone. Something that was even more dangerous than his anger.

Something that sounded very much like desire.

Fern moved closer. “A truce requires that we offer up a gesture of peace."

"What do you suggest?” he asked, closing the remaining space that separated them.

"Well, there's one age-old custom,” she said, unwilling to be the one to say it, to initiate it.

"A handshake?” he asked.

She shook her head.

"This?"

His lips met hers. They tasted sweet, and Fern suspected it didn't have a thing to do with the whipped cream and meringue they'd been tossing about. As she pressed her body to his, there was a warm feeling of rightness that encompassed her. She hungered for his touch, for more, for it to never end. Her lips felt as if they'd always been a part of his, as if she knew his every curve, every inch of his flesh.

She wanted more. Wanted the kiss to go on forever.

And suddenly, it was over.

Nico stepped back and glowered at her. “I've got to go. And you'd better figure out what you're serving for a dessert today. It appears whatever you planned is being worn."

He turned and left the kitchen.

Fern looked at the mess and realized the kitchen was the least of her worries.

What was happening between her and Nico? That was the biggest question at the moment.

What was she going to do about Nico Starson?




Chapter Ten 
Myrtle 

Two weeks.

They'd been human for more than two weeks. Sixteen days actually, but who was counting?

Myrtle was.

She resisted the urge to sigh. If she sighed Fiona might sense it and come see her, come to see what was wrong.

What was wrong?

That was a laugh.

If Fiona asked, Myrtle would have to confess that everything was wrong.

For centuries she'd thought she was important, that her sisters needed her. Now, in just sixteen days she'd learned the awful truth. They didn't need her nearly as much as she needed them.

They both were getting on with their lives.

Blossom still went, wherever it was she went, doing whatever it was she was doing. She was still holding onto that particular secret.

And Fern?

Well, she was working at the restaurant. And though she claimed she loved it, there was something bothering her. It didn't take fairy magic to sense it. She was holding something back. Why, she wouldn't even let Myrtle and Blossom or any of the Aaronsons come to eat at Les Magik. She insisted she wanted to settle in and perfect her craft before she had family and friends come.

Myrtle kicked a stone down the park's sidewalk. It bounced a few cement squares ahead of her.

She'd like to kick Bernie, that's who she'd like to kick. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been so mean and so vindictive she would still be a fairy, working her magic on humans, helping them find their happily-ever-afters. As it stood right now, she hadn't made any human happy in weeks, and she sure wasn't happy herself.

She reached the rock and kicked it again, her foot made a satisfying thwack noise against it and it flew forward and landed in a bush.

"Ow."

Now, bushes could occasionally talk in Fairyland, but as a rule they were silent in the human world.

Curious, Myrtle pushed aside the small branches and peered into the bush.

A small grubby face smiled at her.

"Aw, you found me."

Brilliant blues eyes, inky black hair, and dirt stained cheeks. The small boy was a mess. He smiled and she noticed two front teeth were missing.

"Sorry. I didn't realize someone was hiding in here. I only found you because you said ow. I wouldn't have kicked the rock in the bush if I'd known you were here. Did I hurt you?"

"Nah. I'm tough."

Myrtle smiled, despite her rather dark mood.

She realized she hadn't smiled much since becoming human.

It felt good.

"I can see you're tough,” she said as she sank down, eye-level with the small face. “But did I hurt you?"

"The rock bounced off my shin. But it's okay."

The branches rustled, making her think he was rubbing the injured area.

"Why don't you come out and let me take a look."

"Okay."

Myrtle backed up, and the bush rattled as a small figure emerged. The boy wore dirty jeans and a ripped t-shirt. He thrust out a muck-covered hand. “I'm Zak."

Despite the fact his hands were as dirty as the rest of his small person, Myrtle took his hand with no hesitation and shook it. “I'm Myrtle."

"Dad says I should call old ladies Miss and their last names. So what's your last name?"

She shrugged. “I don't have a last name."

"Everyone has a last name."

She hadn't given it any thought, but the boy was right, humans did have last names. She was simply Myrtle. One name that encompassed her identity. Actually, for a very long time she'd been simply a part of Myrtle, Fern and Blossom, a fairy trio. Now she was just Myrtle. No last name, no trio.

After the other night, she didn't doubt that her sisters still loved her, but she did doubt that their trio was going to exist again soon, even once they were back to being fairies.

The boy was looking at her, waiting for a last name, she realized. So she smiled and shrugged again. “No last name for me."

"I'm Zak Martinelli,” he said, as if to emphasize that everyone had a last name.

"Well, Zak Martinelli, I'm just plain old Myrtle. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Then I'll just call you Miss Myrtle,” he said, obviously having resolved the conflict in his mind.

"That's fine,” she said, wishing all her problems were so easy to work out. “Why don't you show me your shin."

He pulled up his pant leg and looked along with her. “See, it's just a little red."

She ran her finger lightly along the mark, but it didn't feel swollen. “I don't think it will even bruise, but I'm sorry that I hit you."

"It's okay. I'm tough, remember?"

She grinned. “How could I forget. Do you live around here?"

Suddenly the boy looked suspicious. “Why?"

"I just thought I better explain and apologize to your parents."

The boy's face shut down and was as blank as his voice as he said, “I don't got parents."

"Everyone has parents."

He shook his head. “No. You don't got a last name, I don't got parents."

"You just told me your dad said to call old people Miss."

She wasn't going to point out that she found the word old amusing. After so many years of looking old, this body looked young. Much younger than she felt.

He didn't reply to her logic.

"Zak, are you in trouble?” she asked.

He shook his head, but he didn't look convinced.

She led him toward a bench. He followed docilely and sat next to her. She studied his small face. “Want to tell me what's the matter."

He shook his head, but before she could prod and try to persuade him he said in a rush, “I ran away from home."

"Oh, that's a serious thing, running away from home."

She remembered when Sophie ran away, how scared Joy and Gabriel had been. Well, Sophie hadn't exactly run away, she'd run back to a place where the three of them had been happy.

Maybe Zak was trying to do something similar.

"That's why I was hiding,” he said. “I didn't want my dad to find me."

"Why don't you tell me why you're hiding from someone who obviously cares enough to come looking for you."

The boy folded his arms across his chest and looked angry as he said, “He made my mom go away."

"He did?"

"She used to live here, but she's moved far away. And now I don't get to see her anymore because Dad's so mean. That's why I ran away."

"Because he's mean to you?” Myrtle asked.

The boy didn't reply.

"Does he hit you?"

Surprise lit those blue eyes. “Nah. He don't hit."

"Does he holler?” she asked.

She didn't like to think about Zak being yelled at any more than she liked the thoughts of him being struck.

"Only when I do something bad. He's not mean to me, he's mean to Mom. He likes me."

"And you ran away because your dad likes you and doesn't hit you and is probably out looking for you right now?"

Silence.

Myrtle reached over and touched his shoulder. “I'll tell you what, Zak, if I was missing a boy like you, I'd be crazy with worry. I'd be crying and hurting. Do you want your dad to worry?"

"No,” came his soft response. “But I want him to make my mom come back."

"Zak, your mother is a grown woman who obviously makes her own decisions. Your dad can't make her do anything."

Myrtle felt a surge of camaraderie with Zak's unknown father. She knew all about not being able to get others to do what you wanted.

"He can. He can do anything he wants. He just doesn't like her."

"Why do you think that?"

"'Cause she's not here. If he liked her, he'd have made her stay.” He hiccupped a small sob.

"I'm so sorry, honey."

Before the words had cleared her throat, the boy was in her arms. “I miss her."

"I know you do."

He cried for a few minutes against her shoulder, and Myrtle simply let him rid himself of some of his pain. When he'd run out of tears, he raised his head and looked at her as he asked, “Do you really think my dad is worried?"

"I'm sure if I lost a sweet boy like you, I'd be worried."

"Would you like to be my mother?"

Myrtle's heart constricted. “Zak, if I were looking for a little boy, you'd be my first choice. But do you know what I need the most right now?"

"What?” he asked, suspicious.

"A friend. What do you say? I know I'm old.” She couldn't help a small smile. “But I think I make a pretty good friend."

He nodded. “I guess I'd like to be your friend."

"Well, as a friend, I think maybe we should get you something to eat and call your dad."

"Okay."

They walked through the park towards Glory's. They didn't talk, but by the time they'd reached the end of the park and were ready to cross the street, Myrtle realized that Zak's hand had crept into hers. She gave it a reassuring little squeeze.

"Dad's going to be mad,” he finally said.

"Not exactly mad. I'm not a parent, but I know a bunch, and they get upset when their kids run away. They worry. And when they're worried, it sometimes comes out like mad."

"Will you stay with me?"

She gave his hand another squeeze. “I'll wait with you until your dad comes."

"Thanks."

Myrtle opened the door and led the boy into Glory's. “Let's use the phone first and call your dad. Then we'll get something to eat while we wait for him to get here."

"Okay.” Zak's voice sounded small and unsure.

She smiled what she hoped was a confident smile. “It will be okay. I promise."

"Yeah.” Zak didn't sound convinced.

She walked behind the front counter and picked up the phone. “Do you know your phone number?"

He rolled his eyes in boyish disgust. “Sure. I'm in third grade. I'm not a baby."

Myrtle chuckled. “Sorry. I know you're not a baby and should have known you'd know your phone number. Do you want to talk, or do you want me to?"

Obviously, Zak might not be a baby, but he was still nervous. “You."

"Okay, you dial, I'll talk."

He punched the buttons as slowly as he could. Myrtle put the phone to hear ear and waited as it rang. No one answered, but a machine picked up. A deep, masculine voice said, “Leave a message."

A short, to-the-point message, she thought. “Hi, my name's Myrtle, and I think you might be looking for my friend, Zak. We're at Glory's Chambers, the diner across from the courthouse. We'll wait here until you get here."

She hung up and looked at the boy. “I left a message."

"Where do you think he is?” Zak asked, his voice small and vulnerable.

Myrtle realized that he was afraid that his father had left him, just like his mother had. Maybe that's why he ran away. Not because he was mad at his father, but because he needed to have his dad prove he'd come after him, prove he wouldn't leave him.

"I bet he's out looking for you, don't you think?"

The boy nodded.

"How long have you been gone?” Myrtle asked as she led him toward a booth.

"Since this morning."

It was three o'clock now. His father had to be frantic.

She nodded at the bench seat across from her and said, “Let's get comfortable and order."

* * * *
A half hour later, Myrtle knew a lot about the boy, more than just his name and that his mom was gone.

He was in third grade. He liked school. Science was his favorite subject. His best friend was named Adam. He liked to ride bikes. He fished in a small creek by his house. He never caught anything.

Myrtle couldn't help laughing.

Zak shoved a huge bite of chocolate cake into his mouth. “Do you fish?"

She shook her head. “No, I'm not much of a fisherman."

"What do you do for fun?"

Make happily-ever-afters would have been the most honest answer she could give, but she opted for, “Dance. I like to dance."

She thought of her cancan dress, of dancing with her sisters and a wave of sadness swept through her. Would the three of them ever dance together again? After years of doing everything as a trio, this going their separate ways was tough.
Real tough.

"I could take you fishing sometime,” Zak offered.

"I think I'd like that. I—"

The rest of her sentence was lost as the door to Glory's burst open and a man ran in. Spying them, he cried, “Zak."

The boy looked nervous for one split second, then bounded out of the booth and into the man's open arms. The man hugged the boy tight and kissed him soundly on the forehead. Zak kissed the man's cheek, leaving a chocolate impression of his lips.

Myrtle felt more than a little choked up as she watched the reunion.

This is what she missed—she missed the happily-ever-afters, the feeling that somehow she'd made a difference. For the past sixteen days she hadn't made a difference to anyone at all.

Until today.

Until Zak and his dad.

She realized the man, stilling holding the small boy close, had approached her table. “You must be Myrtle?"

She nodded.

The man sat down, holding Zak on his lap. “Gordon. Gordon Martinelli."

"Pleased to meet you.” Wow, that sounded lame.

What she wanted to say was simply, Wow.

Gordon Martinelli was gorgeous. His hair was dark brown. Chestnut would be an accurate description of the color. His features were strong without being overpowering. But it wasn't the hair or his features that made him gorgeous, it was his eyes. He peered at her over the boy with blue eyes. They were the same color as the sky in Fairyland. A blue no mortal sky could ever quite match. Blue-blue.

True blue.

They were the kind of eyes you could lose yourself in, she realized.

She gave herself a little shake. She wasn't the type to lose herself anywhere, much less in a man's eyes.

"Thank you,” he said.

"Hey, Zak and I are buddies. We've just been hanging out, enjoying each other's company. Along with some chocolate cake. Speaking of which...” She picked up her napkin and leaned across the table, dabbing it against the man's cheek. He looked surprise and she dropped her hand back on her lap, feeling foolish. “You were wearing a good portion of the cake."

"Thanks,” he said, his voice sounding almost husky.

"You're welcome."

"And thanks for helping out with Zak."

"Hey, Zak,” she said. “Why don't you go run into the kitchen and ask Glory to pack up some cake for you and your dad's dessert tonight."

The boy looked to his father for approval. The man nodded and Zak jumped off his lap and hurried to the kitchen.

"He's upset about his mother,” Myrtle said, hoping the explanation would help the man deal with his son's pain.

"I know. She got a job offer in Houston. He seems to think she's gone forever and nothing either of us say can convince him she isn't.” He paused a moment, then sighed. “He blames me. He says I made her go away forever."

"But it's not forever?"

Gordon shook his head. “It's for a year, then she'll be back. She's setting up a new division and had to be down there for it. We have joint custody of Zak. She's a good person, a good mother. She deserves this opportunity. She calls him every night, but it's not the same. It was a hard decision for her, but it's one I support."

Myrtle looked at him, curious. Most divorced couples weren't ... Well, supportive. Gordon Martinelli seemed genuinely concerned about his ex-wife.

He must have seen her unasked question because he said, “We may not be married any more, but we're friends. Good friends. This move was a great opportunity for her career."

"Still it's hard on him ... and you?” Myrtle asked.

The man nodded. “Zak's used to having both of us around. The adjustment's been difficult."

"I'm sorry,” she said. She realized that she admired the fact that Gordon was still friends with his ex-wife, that he was concerned for her welfare as much as his son's. That type of caring was rare.

"I'm sorry, too. Sorry for Zak, sorry for her. She misses him. He misses her. So do I."

Myrtle must have let her surprise show because Gordon continued. “We weren't meant to be married, but we've discovered we're still good friends. I wish things could be different."

"Sometimes wishes have power."

"Not in this case. There was never any ... spark. We were tearing ourselves up trying to find one."

"And Zak?"

He smiled, that totally ga-ga smile people get when they're head-over-heels. “We both adore him."

She nodded. “He thinks you'll be mad at him."

"Not mad."

"That's what I told him. Scared, upset, but not mad. Reassure him, okay?” she asked, though she knew it wasn't necessary.

She might just have met Gordon Martinelli, but she recognized the type of man he was. It wasn't the type of recognition that didn't require fairy magic, but simply required a close look.

"You know, most of the time I'd bristle at someone trying to tell me how to deal with my son,” he said, but he wasn't bristling at all. He was smiling.

It was a warm smile that sort of traveled from his lips all the way up to those true-blue eyes.

"Most of the time, but not this time?” she asked.

"I guess I figure you deserve to say something, since you found him, so I guess I'll just say thanks yet again."

"You're welcome,” she answered.

"How did you find him?” he asked.

"I hit him with a rock."

"What?"

Myrtle explained and wondered at how easy it was to talk to this Gordon Martinelli. She wondered about it long after he and the boy left.

She couldn't get the man out of her mind.

Why was that?




Chapter Eleven 
Blossom 

"You've been avoiding me."

For ten blissful days Blossom had managed not to be alone with Rom. She'd made excuses why she couldn't stay after practice, or when that didn't work, she simply asked Herbert to wait for her.

Rom didn't seem to appreciate the chaperone, but Blossom did.

She didn't want to kiss Rom Johnson again.

And conversely, she wanted nothing more than to kiss Rom Johnson again.

That's why having a chaperone was such a good idea. Whichever mood she was in, she was safe.

He'd finally cornered her backstage. She was making a dash for the door when he caught her alone.

"I don't know what you mean,” she said and kept walking.

Where was Herbert? He hadn't come to rehearsals today.

Blossom was worried. Not just about kissing, but about her friend.

"You've been using Theseus as a barrier between us,” he said, matching his stride to hers.

"Theseus has a name. It's Herbert. Herbert Henry. You know, it would do a lot for your image if you took the time to at least learn the casts’ names. And Herbert's not a barrier, he's a friend. My friend."

"I don't care about my image. I care about the play. But as for friends, maybe I'd like to be friendly, too,” Rom practically purred.

He smiled, but it wasn't the type of expression that made a person smile back. No, it was the type that made them wary.

Blossom stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. “Cut that out. You can try to pretend to be all sweetness and light, but I know the truth."

As his smile slipped, his eyes narrowed and he asked softly, “And what truth is that?"

"Like I said before, you're an ogre. You're rude and overbearing. And yelling? Why, you could out yell any other ogre I've ever met."

"And have you met many ogres?"

Blossom realized she'd slipped. “I've met a lot of men who act like them."

"I happen to know a thing or two about ogres myself."

"Oh?” Blossom's mouth was dry, her palms were wet.

"Want to know what I know about ogres?” he asked.

"No."

She just wanted to get out of here. It wasn't as if she was afraid that Rom would truly hurt her. No, fearing physical safety would almost be easier than worrying about the other dangers.

The dangers of the kissing variety.

Right now, studying his lips, she could almost imagine how good it would feel to kiss him. To have him kiss her. To press her body against his and feel his warmth.

It didn't make a lick of sense. After all, she didn't like the man, so why should she like kissing him?

"But I'd like to tell you something about ogres,” he said, taking a step toward her.

She backed up into a wall. “Tell someone else."

There. She thought that sounded firm and decisive.

Not that she felt firm and decisive all.

No, she felt warm and sort of melty. As if one small touch from Rom Johnson would reduce her to a mere puddle on the floor.

"There's no one else to tell. I don't think anyone else would be as interested as you are.” He inched a bit closer.

"And I'm not interested at all, so there you have it. I guess you're just not as interesting as you think."

"You may deny wanting to know, but I think I'm going to tell you anyway."

His face was close. Too close.

She could see the soft sheen of stubble that lined his cheeks. She could also see there was a small scar just about his left eyebrow. How had that happened? Did it hurt? Had he needed stitches? Fairies didn't get scars, which was a benefit in Blossom's eyes. But this scar ... Well, it looked right, perched there above his brow.

"If you're not going to listen to me when I say no, why did you even bother to ask?” she demanded.

"Because you might have said yes."

"But I didn't."

"No, you didn't,” he said. “Because you're ornery and difficult."

"Me?” she asked with a laugh. Not a real, belly-sort-of-laugh, but a laugh that was filled with sarcastic disbelief. “You're saying I'm ornery? That's rather like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

"You know what they say?"

"It takes one to know one?” she asked, but by the look in his eyes, she didn't think her answer was right. As a matter of fact, there was something intense and a little intimidating in the way he was looking at her.

"Tempt not a desperate man," he murmured, stepping closer.

"Romeo and Juliet,” she said, identifying the quote. It was easier than identifying the look in Rom's eyes. “Let's not start a quoting war again. I'd win."

There. Better to make him think of fighting with her than to think whatever it was he was thinking. She didn't have her fairy mind-reading ability at the moment, but she didn't need it. She could sense his thoughts were on something entirely different than quoting.

If she was reading the look in his eyes right, and she was pretty sure she was, his thoughts were more on kissing.

He stepped closer. “You draw me, like a moth to a flame. I long to burn in the passion of your light."

"I...” She seemed to run out of oxygen after that one small syllable. She drew in a great breath and said, “I don't know that quote, and I thought I knew them all."

"That's me,” he said, his voice practically a whisper. “A Rom Johnson original."

"Oh."

"Will you let me stand here burning, or will you—"

She didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. Couldn't wait.

She'd spent so much time bouncing between wanting him and not wanting to want him, she couldn't wait and see if she bounced past wanting again.

She wanted and she wanted to want.

She wanted now.

She stepped into his embrace and kissed him.

Kissed him long.

Kissed him hard.

The taste and the feel of him were magic. She was almost drunk with the power of it. After having been without her magic for more than two weeks, she'd forgotten how it felt to have it coursing through her blood. But here, in Rom's embrace, she remembered.

He pulled back, and she felt the absence of his touch as if it were a physical pain.

"So, what are we going to do about this?” he asked, his voice dark and husky with ... Could that be desire?

"This?" Blossom asked, knowing it was cowardly to ask a question she knew the answer to. This was the chemistry between them. The pull that kept her coming back to Rom even though they had no future. She was human now, but soon, maybe too soon, she'd be a fairy again, and mixed relationships didn't work.

"This. Whatever this is. You drive me crazy, you know that, don't you?"

"Good crazy or bad crazy?” she asked.

"Both. There's something here between us, and I think it's time we explored it.” He didn't sound any happier about exploring it than she did.

"How?"

"How about a date?"

If he'd told her that the sky was pink and the oceans were sugar water she couldn't have been more surprised.

"A date?” Her voice was high and almost squeaky sounding.

"A date."

There were all sorts of reasons to say no. She could make a list, but she resisted. Instead, she focused on the fact that she wanted this. Wanted to go on a date, a real human date with Rom Johnson, more than she'd wanted anything in recent memory.

She nodded. “A date then. I just need to tell you up front, I'm not looking for anything permanent. I won't be...” she wanted to say human, but opted for, “here. I won't be here in Erie for long."

"Fine."

"The least you could do was act as if you were upset at the thought that I'd be leaving Erie after the show."

"Sorry.” He grimaced and clutched his heart. “Oh, Blossom, parting is such sweet sorrow," he quoted.

She grinned. “Okay, okay, don't start."

Hand still clutching he said, "Everyone can master a grief, but he who has it."

"Come on, Rom. Let's not start a quoting match."

"Rude am I in my speech. But Shakespeare had such a way."

Blossom groaned for effect, but couldn't quite hide her smile. “You're just not going to stop, are you."

He grinned. “No. It's your turn."

"Fine. How about, Asses are made to bear, and so are you," she said, but there was no heat to the words. As a matter of fact, she was pretty sure she was still smiling.

"You cut me, cut me to the core. So is that a yes?"

"Yes what? That you're an ass?” she asked sweetly.

"Yes, you're going to go out with me?"

"Yes, I'm going on a date with you."




Chapter Twelve 
Myrtle 

"...not at all,” Myrtle said into the mouthpiece of the phone.

"You said I could call,” Zak said.

"Yes I did.” She wouldn't admit how thrilled she was to hear the boy's voice on the other end of the phone line. Finding him, getting him back together with his father ... Well, it was the first time she'd felt useful since becoming a human.

"It took a long time for you to come to the phone,” Zak said.

"This is Glory's phone, down in the restaurant. We don't have one in my apartment."

"Why?"

"Because we never needed one."

"Why?"

"Because no one ever called us."

"Why?"

"Because...” Myrtle realized the why's could continue all day, and so she said, “Just because. Now, did you call just to talk, or did you want something, honey?"

"I'm not a honey. Girls are honeys. Boys are..."

"Are what?” she asked with a smile.

She liked Zak and was thrilled he'd called. Spending time with him had made her forget, if only for a while, how miserable she was being a human. She'd forgotten how much she wanted to go home, to Fairyland.

"Boys are?” she prompted.

"Dudes. Yeah. Boys are dudes, not honey."

Myrtle chuckled. “Well, dude, what's up?"

"Me and dad wanted to know if you wanted to come to dinner. I'll help cook."

"Does your dad know you're asking me?"

"Yeah. He was going to do it, but I said I wanted to."

"Oh."

"So are you coming?"

"When?"

"Daddy said tomorrow night. But if that won't work, you say when."

Myrtle didn't have to check her appointment book—not that she had one—to know she was free.

"Tomorrow night. You're on. Can you give me the address, or does your dad need to talk to me?"

"I can do it. I'm eight, not a baby.” There was disgust in his voice.

Myrtle smiled. “Okay, shoot."

She wrote down the address, sure that Glory could show her where to go.

Dinner.

She was going out to dinner with a man. Okay, his son had asked her out, but still, it was a dinner date. Suddenly Myrtle didn't feel nearly as useless as she had since she'd come here.

She felt ... almost elated.




Chapter Thirteen 
Interlude with Bernie 

"How are you feeling?” Bernie asked his wife.

They were sitting on the couch in front of a roaring fire in their Fairyland house. These moments—quiet and intimate—they were the best ones of the day.

Having a baby would change that. The thought made Bernie uneasy. Not that he didn't want a baby. Watching his wife blossom in her pregnancy was something new and wondrous.

Thinking of blossoming made him think about the three now mortal fairies.

"I'm fine. Actually, better than fine."

Fiona smiled at him. And though they'd been married for over a year, his heart still melted at the sight. He'd never thought he'd find this kind of love. And yet, here she was.

Fiona.

His love.

His heart.

His wife.

Soon-to-be the mother of his child.

"How's the baby?” he asked, sitting next to her and resting his hand on her still flat stomach.

"Fine. I'm fine. He's fine—"

"He?"

"Or she. The question is, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong?"

"Bernie, something's going on. You can't hide it from me, so you might as well tell me. You ask a question and then you sort of drift off. Something's bothering you.” She paused a moment, studying him.

Fiona seemed to be able to read him like a book.

Sometimes it was a blessing, and sometimes a curse.

And when she said, “You're worried about them,” he knew this was one of those curse times.

"Worried about them? You've got to be kidding."

"Oh, no, you can't lie to me, Bernie. You love those three."

"Love? Love? I can't stand them. They're the type that give fairy godmothers and godfathers a bad name. They stir things up and nothing ever goes quite right and..."

"We went quite right,” she said softly, placing her hand on his thigh.

It was a slight gesture, but it was enough to set Bernie's heart beating in overdrive.

"Pardon?” he asked, thinking more about her hand than about what she'd said.

"They were right about us. And it wasn't just us. You know they have a hundred percent success rate with godchildren."

He raked his fingers through his hair, not caring that he messed it up. After all, what was messed up hair compared to the mess the fairies, even now that they were human, were making of his mind.

"Their godchildren might end up happy,” he argued, “but first there's a lot of chaos."

"Who says that's so bad?"

"Me. I say.” He'd been saying it for years, and finally, the Council had listened.

"So you had the Council turn them into humans.” She drew her hand back, folding it with its mate on her own lap.

Bernie hated her withdrawal and tried to explain. “I urged the Council to turn them into humans so that they could learn their lessons."

"And are they?"

"Are they what?” he asked.

"Learning?"

"You're their godmother, you tell me."

It still annoyed him that she'd asked to be appointed as their godmother. Of all the creatures in the known universe she could have chosen for her first assignment, and she'd gone and picked his nemeses.

"Blossom loves acting. Titania says that she's seen A Midsummer's Night a thousand times—you know how partial she is to that particular play—and that she's never seen anyone as good in the role as Blossom, not that she'd tell Blossom that."

Fiona laughed, but Bernie could tell it was forced.

"But?” he prodded.

"How did you know there was a but?"

"Because I'm a fairy. I know things."

He wasn't going to tell her that his knowing what she was thinking had nothing to do with his fairyness. No it had everything to do with his loving her.

"But," Fiona said slowly, “despite the fact that she's found something she loves to do, something's she's good at, she's confused."

"About?"

"Needing time away from her sisters, about Rom.” She paused and said, “Her director kissed her, you know."

"No, she kissed him.” He chuckled.

"Of course, you'd take his side."

"Because he's right, she kissed him."

"Bernie, you are an obstinate man."

"It's part of my charm.” He grinned. Being around Fiona brought out the silliness, the smiles. She brought out the best in him. “What about the others?"

"Fern loves cooking and is kissing the owner."

"What's this with all the kissing?"

"Not just kissing. Blossom's going on a date with Rom."

Fiona was practically glowing as she said the words. Bernie knew he wasn't glowing. No, he was glowering. “That's not why I sent them down. I knew the Council should have let me supervise them. Instead, they banned me from the states of Pennsylvania, Ohio and New York and sent you."

"And is there something wrong with them sending me?” she asked, danger in her tone.

"Of course not,” he said quickly. “But you're new. Why, Fiona, you didn't even know you were a fairy until a little more than a year ago. And this is a tough case."

"And I assure you that I'm more than up to the challenge. You'll never know the amount of planning that went into these relationships. Do you know how hard it was to find them the right men? To get those men to move to Erie? To set up their meetings?"

"I didn't want them to be human so they could meet men. Fern's kissing people and Blossom's dating—"

"And kissing. She was kissing before she was dating."

She was teasing him and he knew it. “See? You can't control the situation."

Bernie realized he might have gone too far. His wife edged closer to the side of the couch and away from him, no longer grinning and teasing. He should drop it right now, but Bernie had never been good at dropping things, and before he could stop himself he said, “And Myrtle? Is she walking around Erie kissing men too?"

"No. She isn't kissing yet. But she does have a dinner date."

"Another date?"

What was going on? He sent the three to find out how hard it was to be human without bungling fairies making it harder, and instead of suffering, they were dating and kissing and heaven knew what else.

"Yes, a date. Myrtle's having dinner with two men."

"Two?” He jumped to his feet. “That's it, Fiona. We're going to the Council and having them appoint a more experienced godmother, or at least allow me to supervise you. You're making a muck of this."

"Bernie, the only one making a muck of anything is you."

"What do you mean?” he asked.

"Well, you took a lovely evening, alone with your wife in front of the fire. An evening where her only thoughts of kissing involved you. And instead of kissing each other, you've insulted her—"

"Honey, it wasn't meant as an insult. You're just inexperienced."

Fiona continued, as if he hadn't interrupted, “And you've chased her away."

"What do you mean, chased her away?"

"I mean, I'm going to spend the night with the girls."

"You are not,” he said.

Goodness knows, he tried to humor Fiona, knowing that being a fairy was still new to her, and being pregnant was even newer, but enough was enough. There was no way his wife was spending the night with those three. They'd already corrupted her enough.

"I am too. I need time to cool off before I say something I might regret."

"Fiona, you can't go there. The Council barred me from visiting there."

"I know, which is why it's a perfect place to spend a night."

"But—"

"Good night, Bernie. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"But..."

Bernie didn't bother to finish the sentence. His wife was gone. He sat back on the couch and stared at the fire. Well, he'd certainly made a ... What was the word Fiona had used? Muck. Yeah. He'd made a muck of that.

But she said that Fern and Blossom were kissing. And Blossom and Myrtle were dating.

What was Fiona thinking?

He hadn't made the fairies human in order for Fiona to try and fix them up. After all, they'd be fairies again in just a few months, and everyone knew that mixed marriages didn't work.

What was going to happen when the men found out they were dating fairies?

Nothing good that was what.

And speaking of nothing good, Bernie was alone in the house. The fire didn't seem nearly as warm as it had before Fiona left.

He'd like to go get his wife and kiss her until she forgot all about being angry with him. But he wasn't allowed in Pennsylvania.

What a mess.




Chapter Fourteen 
Blossom 

"Men,” Fiona muttered for about the twentieth time.

"Yeah, men,” Blossom and her sisters echoed.

All four women were sitting in the living room complaining about Bernie.

It wasn't a hardship at all. Bernie was ... Well, Bernie was simply the most annoying man in the fairy or mortal world. And that was saying something, because Rom was a close second. When he wasn't kissing her, she could remember how annoying he was. But when he was kissing her, she tended to forget.

"So you don't mind if I spend the night?” Fiona asked.

"You know you don't even have to ask,” Blossom said. Her sisters nodded their agreement. “But rather than just sitting around I have a suggestion."

Fiona needed cheering up, and Blossom needed to get her mind off Rom.

"A suggestion?” Fiona asked.

"Yeah. I think we should call Glory, Grace and Joy and have a party. A men-are-more-trouble-than-they're-worth party..."

* * * *
An hour and a half later Blossom was drunk.

She knew she was.

Grace had brought red wine.

Joy had brought a white wine.

And Glory had cracked open a bottle of this fruity wine stuff.

Blossom knew she wasn't much of a drinker because two glasses had knocked her on her butt. She looked at poor Fiona.

"Men. Can't live with them, can't live with them."

"I think the saying is supposed to be, can't live with them, can't live without them,” Fern pointed out. “But that's wrong because I can live without them, thank you very much. They're fickle creatures, men are."

"Not only human men,” Fiona, who was drinking ice water for the baby's sake, said. “Fairy men are just as fickle. And aggravating. And...” She paused, looking for a good word.

"Annoying,” Blossom said. “Overbearing. Obnoxious."

"Cute,” Grace said.

"Loud,” Fern said.

"Cuddly,” Joy said.

"Cranky,” Blossom said.

"Interesting,” Myrtle said.

"What?” Six sets of eyes were trained on Myrtle.

Blossom was sure she had heard wrong. She knew that Fern was attracted to her rather loud and obnoxious boss. Not that Fern was saying much about him, but it showed, every time she spoke about this Nico. Blossom had been a godmother for too many years not to recognize there was something going on there.

But Myrtle?

Myrtle who claimed to be sitting home every day, moping and worrying about her?

Myrtle had met a man she found interesting?

"Tell them,” Fiona said, encouraging Myrtle in such a way that said she knew about Myrtle's interesting mystery man.

Fiona knew and Myrtle's sisters didn't. Because Blossom could tell that Fern was as confused as she was.

"Yes, tell us,” she echoed.

"It's nothing,” Myrtle said slowly. Then she grinned and added, “Well, nothing much. You see, I'm ... I'm having dinner tomorrow with a man I met."

"Tell us about him,” Grace said.

Blossom had been struck mute by the shock, but she somehow managed to say, “Yes, tell us."

"Well, I'm actually having dinner with two men. There's Zak and Gordon."

"Two?” Fern asked.

"Don't you think you're moving a little fast,” Blossom said. “After all, I'm going out with one man and find the thought overwhelming at best."

"You're going out? With who?” Myrtle asked, pouncing on Blossom's slip.

"This isn't about me,” she protested. “Finish your story and I'll tell you mine."

Myrtle told about rescuing Zak and meeting his dad, and she assured everyone that the dinner was just Gordon's way of thanking her.

Blossom wasn't sure she believed it. But she didn't question her sister's explanation, mainly because she wasn't sure why she was dating Rom. After all, it wasn't as if she liked him.

"Tell us about your date, Blossom,” Grace said when Myrtle finished.

"It's a man I'm ... working with."

"Just what is it you're doing?” Joy asked.

"It's a surprise,” Blossom said. “And so is he. I mean, when I met him he was overbearing and a know-it-all...” She let the sentence trail off as she thought about the difference between who she thought Rom was when she first met him, and the other Rom she'd caught glimpses of since.

"And now what do you think?” Myrtle asked.

"Well, he's still all that, but I am starting to think there might be more underneath it all. I mean, the way he kissed me."

"Kissed?” Fern said.

"Yes. It was ... Well, let's just say, I'm going out with him."

"I hate to be the voice of reason here, but you do remember that you're all going back to being fairies when your six months are up, right?” Fiona said.

You know,” Myrtle said. “It's a good thing your first godmothering job is helping us with this humanity stuff and not playing a happily-ever-after sort of godmother because, to be honest, your attitude about dating is less-than fairy godmotherish right now."

"Of course, being married to Bernie would be enough to give anyone a less than enthusiastic view of men,” Blossom muttered.

"I just don't want you to get attached to a mortal ... to someone who might not be all that excited at the thought of dating a fairy,” Fiona said.

"Well, we're not fairies now,” Blossom said. She wasn't a fairy at all, and she found she didn't mind so much.

"No, you're not,” Fiona said, smiling.




Chapter Fifteen 
Fern 

Fern watched her sisters get ready for their dates.

That weird sensation in the pit of her stomach wasn't jealousy. Fairies weren't jealous by nature, although at the moment, she was human, and occasionally humans did get jealous.

No. She didn't care that her sisters were going out. Goodness knows, Myrtle needed a good time, and after all, she'd assured them that this Gordon had only invited her to dinner out of gratitude. Myrtle had been having such a difficult time being human that Fern didn't begrudge her one happy evening.

Blossom was a bit more worrisome. After all, Fiona was the only one who knew what she was up to, and Fiona wasn't talking. So Blossom's date was a mystery man. But she seemed happy enough about it.

Blossom was really coming into her own. She seemed more confident, more independent, with each passing day. It looked good on her.

Fern didn't begrudge her the fun, but she was feeling a bit left out as the two primped and prepared.

And when they left, the house seemed too quiet and lonely.

She could call Grace, Glory or Joy. But they all had their own families, their own lives. And Fiona had gone back to Bernie this morning, saying she figured she'd made her point.

So, Fern was all alone in the big quiet house. There were really only two other people she was close to, Puffy and Nico.

Of course, she'd never think of calling Nico.

The kissing, keep-your-distance-warning, annoying man.

But she could call Puffy. Maybe he'd like to ... What did humans do for fun?

She liked cooking, and for her that had always been fun. But now it was a job, and she didn't want to do it on her day off.

Movies. People saw movies.

Water.

Puffy had said that Nico liked the water and wanted a boat.

Well, she didn't have a boat, but maybe Puffy would like to take a walk around the bay and look at the boats.

Not exactly prime time fun, but better than sitting home alone.

Puffy had pointed out his house one day when they'd gone shopping. She didn't know his phone number, didn't even know his last name, but she did know where he lived. It wasn't far from Glory's.

Feeling better now that she had something to do, Fern changed into a bright green shirt and jeans.

She'd never wore jeans when she was a fairy. They hadn't seemed very godmotherish, and to be honest, they wouldn't have fit very comfortably on her older-lady body.

As a matter of fact, when they'd been trying to fix Grace up they'd stolen all her jeans.

But now that Fiona had left jeans in her closet, Fern had discovered that she enjoyed the denim pants. They went with anything. They could be dressed up or down. But mostly, they were comfortable.

She arrived at Puffy's, her jeans looking good, her heart feeling light. She was ready to try some plain old human fun.

She knocked, feeling silly as she smiled in anticipation.

The door opened.

Her smile faded.

"Nico?"

"What do you want?” was his brusk greeting. “I have to put up with you chasing after me every day of the week except Sunday, and here it is, Sunday, and you're chasing after me again. A man can only stand so much, Fern."

"First, I have never chased after you, you annoying, loud, annoying—"

"You're repeating yourself,” he pointed out. “You said annoying twice."

"Because once wasn't enough. And I don't chase you. You chase me."

Before he could protest—and because all Nico did was protest and argue, that was when he wasn't bellowing—she said, “And deflate your ego. I didn't know you lived here. I came to see Puffy."

"Puffy?” He asked, his voice sounding a bit odd.

"Yes,” Fern said, squaring her shoulders and knew the lines of the shirt flattered her figure. She was glad she'd changed into this particular shirt. The bright green looked good on her, not that she wanted to look good for Nico. No, she was here for Puffy.

"Puffy?” Nico repeated.

"Yes, Puffy. I wondered if he'd like to go have some fun."

"You want to have fun with Puffy?” There was a strange inflection to his question.

Fern couldn't quite decide what it meant, so she chose to ignore it.

"Yes, I want to have fun with Puffy.” She hadn't come to argue with mean, nasty Nico. No, this wasn't her idea of fun at all. “I was at loose ends tonight and thought he'd like to do something."

"No,” was Nico's flat response.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, I don't permit fraternization between my employees.” Nico took a step closer to her. “No."

Fern felt an overwhelming need to step back and keep the distance between them, but she forced herself to hold her ground. “You don't own us. You can't say when and if we can fraternize."

"Yes, I can."

"No you can't. Let me ask Puffy."

"He's not here,” Nico said with a smile.

That smile seemed out of place on his face. It wasn't a happy sort of smile. It was the type of smile that spoke of danger, that made Fern feel like running as fast as she could.

"Uh, where is he?"

"His mother popped in."

"I thought he had problems with his family and they kicked him out."

Oh, she wished she hadn't remembered that conversation, because it forced her to remember that Puffy had said that Nico had taken him in. That Nico had left wherever they were from—and where were they from?—so Puffy wouldn't have to be alone.

No, she definitely wished she hadn't remember that because it reminded her that on occasion—very rare occasions—Nico Starson could be almost human.

"Just what else did Puffy tell you about his family?” he asked slowly.

"Nothing.” Nico was studying her with just a bit too much intensity for the question to be as casual as he seemed to want it to sound. “Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders. “No reason."

"Of course there's a reason, but you're not going to share it with me. That's fine. Just tell Puffy I stopped by, and I hope things went well with his mother. I'll see you tomorrow.” She turned and started down the walk.

"Fern,” Nico called.

She stopped and turned back to him.

"So what are you going to do now that Puffy's occupied?” He closed the short distance between them.

This time Fern took a step back, needing to keep him out of her personal space. “I don't see that that is any of your business."

"Maybe not, but I'm asking."

"And I'm leaving.” She started down the sidewalk again.

He grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around to face him. “Maybe I thought we could—” He dropped his hand, freeing her. “Never mind."

"No, what were you going to say?"

"Nothing."

"You and I could what?” She'd never admit it, but her heart had sped up when she thought he might suggest they do ... Whatever he had been about to suggest.

"I said never mind."

"Maybe we could go for a walk around the bay? That's what I was going to invite Puffy to do. Walk around the water and look at the boats. But I'm sure you're not interested."

"You know I like boats. Puffy told you.” There was accusation in his look, as if her knowing his likes was somehow a personal affront.

"Puffy also told me you liked women, and since today is your day off, I'm sure you've got plans with one, so I'll just leave you to it.” She turned and started to walk back toward the street.

"I don't.” Nico said suddenly.

She turned. “No?"

Nico suddenly seemed almost approachable. Not quite so intimidating.

Fern smiled. “I find that hard to believe."

"So do I, but there it is. So, if you'd like that walk, I'm game. Only there's one ground rule."

"What?” Fern asked.

"No kissing."

"In your dreams.” She let the sentence end there and didn't add that she'd kissed him a lot in her dreams. No way would she tell Nico that. Why, his overinflated ego would surely explode if she added anything else to it.

And besides, he'd told her no more kissing.

Not that she wanted to kiss him.

She couldn't control her dreams, and everyone knew that dreams were symbolic, not literal. She could probably figure out the symbolic meaning of kissing Nico if she wanted.

"Fine,” she said. “I guess that would be okay."

* * * *
"I won!” Fern cried.

Oh, she hadn't just won, she'd thoroughly trounced Nico. They'd rented tiny remote control boats and she'd totally trounced him. “You totally lost. I mean, that last turn ... Well, that was a thing of beauty. You went way wide of the buoy."

"Fern, did anyone ever mention that gloating isn't very attractive?” he asked.

"Sure. Losers.” She laughed, and when Nico smiled, her heart soared. “And you know what this means?"

"What?"

"You owe me ice cream.” Yes, racing small boats on the bay front, with ice cream for dessert made for a perfect evening. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that she'd spent the evening with Nico.

"Hey, we didn't make a deal like that,” he protested.

He probably didn't like ice cream, Fern thought. That was great because she could never like a man who didn't like ice cream. But just because he didn't like it, didn't mean he didn't owe her a cone. “Why would we have to make a deal? It's common knowledge that the loser has to buy the winner a treat."

"That particular knowledge can't be too common because I never heard it,” he grumbled, then added, “Ice cream, huh?"

"My secret vice,” she said with a grin.

She started to climb in his car.

"And if I agree, what will you give me?” he asked over the hood.

"Hey, there's no bartering on this. You owe me. You lost. It's settling a debt, so I won't owe you anything.” She climbed in and slammed the door.

Nico slid into the driver's seat and looked over at her with a wicked little smile on his face. “Maybe not owe me, but maybe you'd consider giving me."

"Just what is it you want?” she asked slowly. That smile made her nervous.

Actually sitting this close to Nico in an enclosed space made her nervous. He was a very nerve-racking man, after all. That was just another reason why she shouldn't like him.

"I want something I shouldn't want,” he said softly. His voice a low brush against her entire system.

"I want,” he continued, leaving the word want hang there for an inordinate long stretch of time. “I want something I've been fighting against."

"And you're not fighting it any more?” she asked.

"Maybe, but it doesn't seem to matter how much I fight it. I'm losing."

"And is losing such a bad thing?” she asked, even though she knew it could be.

Someone could get hurt. She was only a human for six months, and she'd already used some of that time.

"Let's just say, losing a boat race wasn't so bad. But losing this, someone could get hurt,” he said, echoing her own thoughts.

"But maybe no one will get hurt,” she said more because she wanted to believe it, than because she did believe it. “Maybe both of us, if we lose this battle we're fighting with ourselves, maybe we'd end up winning something big."

"That's a big maybe."

"Life's full of risks,” she said softly.

She knew Nico was right. If they stopped fighting their feelings, she was at risk of losing something, something she knew she'd never get back once it was gone. Her heart.

It was scary, but as she reached out and gently stroked his cheek, she knew she was willing to take that risk, because the prize she could win made any risks she took worth it.

"Now, about that ice cream you owe me,” she said abruptly, changing the subject. “There's this cool little ice cream place over on Parade Street where they make blue ice cream."

"Blue?"

"Yeah, it's called Blue Moon. It's an odd sort of neon color."

He started the car. “You want to feed me neon blue ice cream?"

"Are you afraid to try something new?” she challenged.

"Anything you can do, I can do,” he said with a smile. “Come on, then and I'll by you your neon blue ice cream."

They drove toward the store, and it took a moment for Fern to realize he was holding her hand.

Her heart warmed.

She was about to take the biggest risk she'd ever taken, but if things turned out, it could be the best thing she'd ever done.

She just hoped they turned out for the best.




Chapter Sixteen 
Myrtle 

"Dad, she's here,” Zak screamed when he opened the front door and found Myrtle standing there. “Hi."

"Hi, Zak."

"Come on, Dad,” he screamed again as he disappeared back into the house.

Myrtle stood at the door, unsure whether she should wait for Gordon to come officially invite her in, or if she should simply follow Zak. Her palms were sweating.

She wiped them against her sundress. She'd had godchildren in the past who had complained of sweaty palms, but since fairies never sweat, she'd never personally experienced them and could have lived without the experience.

She realized she felt dampish all over.

What was with this?

She'd bought some antiperspirant for her underarms, but she hadn't seen anything in the pharmacy for halting a perspiring body.

Where was Gordon?

Feeling awkward standing on the front porch, she finally opened the screen door and let herself into the entryway.

Something smelled good, but not quite right.

She could hear voices and followed the sound.

"...you left her on the porch?"

"But, Dad, you said don't let her in here."

"But I didn't say leave her on the porch. I meant put her in the living room.” There was a long pause and then he said, “Well, go get her."

She opened the swinging door and said, “I let myself in, I hope you don't mi...” She trailed off mid-word as she surveyed the kitchen.

There was red stuff splattered everywhere.

"Uh...” she said, not knowing what to say.

"We had a small problem."

"I can see that."

"The sauce started to scorch, and I lifted the pan to get it off the heat, but then I slipped on someone's superball and..."

"Your dinner's on the floor,” Zak finished.

"What were we going to have?"

"Spaghetti,” Gordon said. “It's my specialty."

"It's the only thing he can cook,” Zak added, ever so helpfully.

Gordon shot his son a glare, then smiled sheepishly at Myrtle. “Listen, why don't you go have a seat in the living room while Zak and I get the worst of this cleaned up. Then we'll go out to eat somewhere."

"Or...” Myrtle said.

"Or?"

"I could pitch in and help you both clean up, then we order in some pizza."

"Hey, Dad taught me how to order pizzas, so I can do that for you."

"Or, you could go get the scrub brush,” Gordon said.

"Ah, Dad."

"How many times have I told you about leaving toys out?” Gordon asked.

"Nine hundred and ninety-nine."

"Smart-mouth."

"Meany."

"Go get the scrub brush."

Grumbling, Zak opened a door and headed down the stairs.

"Give me a roll of paper towels,” Myrtle said.

"Really, I don't want you to get any on your dress."

"It will wash."

"It will stain."

"I have connections. I'll get it out."

"Speaking of connections...” Gordon touched her hand.

Myrtle had forgotten all about her sweaty palms as she got caught up in the drama of the spaghetti sauced kitchen, but his casual touch was enough to turn her sweat glands back on, like some palm-faucet.

She pulled her hand back. “Yes, it's about time we used some elbow grease to connect with this sauce."

Gordon gave her a long look and then grinned. “Sure.” He tossed her a roll of paper towels. “You start with the counter, I'll scoop the worst of it off the floor."

* * * *
Two hours later, the kitchen was spotless, except for the empty pizza box, and the house was on the verge of being silent. Zak had asked Myrtle to tuck him in and she'd willingly obliged. When he asked for a story, she started to tell him about three fairy godmothers who spent their days making wishes come true.

"I wish I had a fairy godmother,” he said with a wistful tone in his voice.

"Do you now?” Myrtle asked. She pulled just the sheet up and tucked it in under his chin. “What would you wish for if you had a fairy godmother?"

"I'd wish my Dad would be happy."

"You don't think he's happy?"

"No. He spends his days trying to make everyone else happy. He let Mom move away so she'd be happy. He does everything, so I'll be happy. After I ran away, he said that he'd do anything to make me happy. But no one makes him happy."

"You do, I'm sure,” Myrtle assured him.

"Nah."

"Sure you do. Listen to me, I've met a lot of moms and dads over the years, and I can tell you that there's nothing that makes them happier than their kids."

"Really?"

"Really. You ask him sometime and—"

"No need to ask,” Gordon said, stepping into the room, “since I was eavesdropping and can guarantee that the happiest moment of my life was the day you were born, Zak. And every day since, you've made me even happier."

He kissed his son on the forehead and messed up his hair. “We're a team, champ, and nothing makes me happier than that."

"Gee, Myrtle, it's like you're one of those fairy godmothers. I made a wish, and you made it come true."

Myrtle felt a suspicious sort of lump in her throat that didn't have a thing in the world to do with the pizza she'd just eaten.

"I didn't have anything to do with it,” she assured the little boy. “You did it all yourself."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Thanks for dinner, buddy."

"Will you come back?” Zak asked.

She wanted to shout, Oh, yes, or maybe, Wild horses couldn't keep me away. But she felt that was more than a bit forward, so she settled for, “We'll see."

She followed Gordon out of the room, and he gently shut the door and led her back into the living room..

"Well...” he said.

It was one of the wells people used when they didn't know what else to say.

Maybe he didn't have anything left to say. Maybe he'd only asked her here because of Zak and now that Zak was in bed, there was nothing left to say.

"Well, maybe it's time for me to get going.” She started walking toward the door, but a hand gently grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"I wish you wouldn't."

He was standing close ... very close. Myrtle wondered if he was somehow sucking all the oxygen from the entire room because she was feeling just a bit short of breath.

"Wouldn't what?” she asked, her voice sounding soft.

It must sound that way because of oxygen deprivation. She couldn't think of any other reason.

"Go. I wish you wouldn't go,” he repeated. “At least not yet."

"Oh. So, what do you want to do?"

"Maybe we could just sort of sit on the couch next to each other and...” He shook his head. “I don't care what we do. We could talk, or watch television, or I have cards around her somewhere. We could play a game."

"Poker?” she asked.

"Sure."

"I'm good at poker,” she said, feeling it was only fair to warn him. “I mean, not just a little good, but real, real good."

Gordon grinned. “So is that a challenge?"

"I think it might be.” Myrtle knew she was grinning as well.

"Are we placing bets?"

"Sure. What's the prize?"

"Winner gets to name it."

"You're on."

* * * *
"Okay, ‘fess up, you make your living hustling cards,” Gordon said when all his marshmallows sat piled in front of Myrtle.

She laughed. “Nope. I ... I make wishes come true for a living, but I'm on sabbatical right now, so I'm simply a lady of leisure."

Realizing what she'd just said, she wished she could take it back. It wasn't like her to let things slip. That was normally Blossom's job.

But now Blossom had some other job ... a job she wasn't sharing with her sisters, and Myrtle was the one making mistakes.

"Wishes come true?” Gordon asked.

Myrtle was trying to think of some explanation, but he didn't wait for one. He just kept right on talking.

"I can think of a wish that only you can make come true."

"A wish?” she parroted. “Sorry. Like I said, I'm a lady of leisure now. And look at that...” She glanced at her arm as if she was wearing a watch, which she wasn't. “Why, it's getting late. I should be going. My sisters will be worried."

Now that was a lie. A big lie. They were so wrapped up in their own thing that they'd never even blink an eye if she was out this late.

She stood up anyway and started to walk toward the front door.

"It's just a little wish, a quick one even,” Gordon said as he trailed after her.

Myrtle turned and almost bumped into him. “What is your little wish?"

Her palms were sweating again and breathing was difficult.

"Just one little kiss good night,” he said. “Sort of my prize."

"Ah, but I won at cards, so I'm the one who gets to name my prize."

"And what are you going to pick?"

"Not a little kiss,” she assured him.

He looked disappointed. “Okay."

"No.” She was flirting. She knew she was. She'd seen enough people flirt in her years of being a fairy godmother. That's exactly what she was doing. And despite the fact her palms were sweating, she didn't want to stop. Instead, she added, “No, I don't want a little kiss, I want the whole shebang."

Bold and daring.

Myrtle could hardly believe the words had come out of her mouth.

Speaking of mouths, Gordon didn't need a second invitation. His lips were coming closer, closer. They touched hers and all thoughts of sweaty palms disappeared. All the unhappy confusion about this new human existence fled as well. All that was left was a warm sense of rightness, of coming home.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her body meld with his as their kiss went on and on, a little slice of Fairyland magic right here on Earth.

If she'd seen Fiona, she would have suspected that her godmother had done some brand new spell that Myrtle had never heard of, but she didn't see hide nor hair of Fiona, and she'd been around magic long enough to recognize that this wasn't a spell, even if it was magic. It was something between her and Gordon. Something special. Something—

They parted, and Gordon said, “Well, if that's my prize, I think I'll let you win at cards every time."

"Let me win?” she teased. “Why, I beat the pants off you."

Realizing what she'd said, she felt her cheeks heat up. “I mean—"

"I know what you mean, and what you don't mean. And I think what you mean right now is that it's time for you to go home."

"Yes, it is."

"But before you go, can I ask one question?"

She nodded. “Yes?"

"When can I see you again?"




Chapter Seventeen 
Blossom 

"So, this is your idea of a date?” Blossom asked.

"Are you saying it isn't yours?” Rom countered.

"But Rom, a human date tends to include things like flowers, dinners, movies—"

He interrupted. “And just what is it that nonhuman dates include?"

"Pardon?"

"You said a human date, so what else is there except human dates?"

He just sat there looking at her, waiting for an answer.

Blossom didn't have one. She'd slipped up with the human date comment. Slipped up just like her sisters had feared she would.

"Stop trying to change the subject,” Blossom said. “I know what a date should entail. I've set enough people up on them. And I can assure you that this is no date."

Blossom had worked so hard choosing just the right outfit for tonight, but rather than some romantic candlelit dinner she was stuffed into a pair of Rom's boots and sweats, both of which were way too big, and they were hiking up a wooded hill.

Hiking, for Pete's sake.

He'd even shoved a backpack on her.

"Rom, really, human or not, climbing a hill in the middle of the night isn't a date."

"Pillicock sat on a Pillicock hill, Halloo, halloo, loo, loo." 

"And quoting King Lear isn't a date either,” she told him.

He grinned at her. “Close your eyes."

"Pardon?” she asked.

"Close your eyes. We're almost there."

"But—"

"And your mouth. Close them both."

Not knowing what else to do, Blossom obeyed. Not that she wanted Rom to think she was making a habit of obeying, but she was curious what this was all about.

He took her hand and led her up the last little rise.

"Trust me. I won't let you fall,” he murmured, his voice as soft and as inviting as his touch.

"Now stay still and keep your eyes shut a moment.” He tugged at the backpack he'd made her lug up the hill and she could hear zippers unzipping and things being moved about. “No peeking,” he warned.

Suddenly he was taking her hand again. “Come here.” He led her a few more steps. “Sit down. But don't open your eyes yet."

She found that there was a blanket under her feet and she sat on it. She felt Rom sink down next to her.

"Now, open your eyes."

She opened her eyes and the first thing she took in was the setting. There were a number of votive candles lit all around the blanket, a picnic basket, and a bottle of wine, with all the accouterments. It took a split second for her to take all that in, and her gaze moved outwards. She drew in a sharp breath.

"It's beautiful,” she murmured.

They were on the edge of a cliff, looking down over Lake Erie.

She was sure it was Lake Erie because nothing else in town had the width and breadth of it. It went on and on, ocean-like in its vastness an occasional light from a boat, dotting the horizon. The view would have been beautiful regardless, but with a full moon shining a soft white light across the water, it was breathtaking.

Blossom looked at the man next to her. “I can't believe you did this for me."

"Actually, I can't believe it, either."

She laughed. “Not your standard seduction technique?"

"I don't have a standard. Hell, I don't have much of any seduction technique. You might not have noticed, but sometimes I'm a bit brusque."

"A bit?” she teased.

He smiled. “Sometimes more than a bit. And for some crazy reason, that seems to be a turn off for most women."

"Ah, but you're a man who quotes Shakespeare with ease. They don't feel that makes up for a bit of brusqueness?"

"Most don't,” he admitted.

"I'm not most women,” Blossom told him.

Right now, sitting on the edge of a cliff next to Rom, she felt anything but normal. She felt special, exhilarated. She felt...

She couldn't quite think of a definition for the feeling that glowed deep within her, but she liked it. Liked it almost as much as she liked Rom's surprise.

"I've noticed you're anything but most women.” He paused a moment, then added, “I've noticed a lot of things about you, actually."

"Such as?"

"You don't know how beautiful you are.” He reached out and gently ran a finger across her jawline. “You're kind to everyone. You stand up to me without batting an eye. You make me smile."

"Is this where you kiss me?” Blossom asked.

"I believe it might be, if you don't mind."

"The only way I'd mind is if you didn't."

She didn't wait for him to kiss her. Instead, she moved toward him, her lips finding his and pressing against them.

She couldn't get close enough—couldn't get enough of the feel of him, the taste of him, the—

"Wow,” a voice said, causing Blossom to jump.

The jump broke her connection to Rom and she felt bereft at the loss.

"What's wrong?” Rom asked.

"Now, that's what a fairy godmother likes to see, two people falling in love.” Fiona was hovering midair over the cliff. “Wait until I tell the Council. You're in love."

"I never said that,” Blossom protested.

"Never said what?” asked Rom.

"Never said I was falling in love,” she answered.

"I never said it, either,” he assured her.

"I said it,” Fiona said merrily, bobbing up and down in the air, her tiny wings fluttering quite prettily.

"I wouldn't say it,” Rom added.

"That's good,” Blossom assured him. “I mean, all we were doing was kissing. You don't have to be in love to kiss."

"But it helps,” said Fiona. “Kissing someone you love is much more pleasurable than just kissing anyone."

"I don't kiss just anyone, you know,” Blossom said.

"Neither do I,” said Rom. “Blossom what's gotten into you?"

"Common sense. I've got to go.” She clambered to her feet.

Clambering was the only way to rise since Rom's boots were too big and made getting up awkward.

"Go?” Rom said. “Listen, if you don't want to kiss any longer, that's fine. Have a glass of wine and watch the water with me."

"Blossom,” Fiona said. “I didn't mean to break up your tryst. I was just checking on you and your sisters. It seems everyone is kissing tonight, which means I'm doing a heck of a job. The Council will be pleased, although I don't know if my husband will."

"Just leave me alone,” Blossom told her.

"Blossom, what on earth is the matter?” Rom asked.

"Fine, if that's how you feel, I'll go.” Fiona sounded hurt. “Like I said, I was just checking. Berrybelle wants a report tomorrow."

"Don't you dare tell anyone about the kissing,” Blossom warned her.

Fiona just smiled and disappeared from sight.

"Who would I tell? The cast?” Rom asked. “I don't think so."

"Not you,” Blossom said, realizing how crazy she must sound. “Listen, I'm sorry. I don't know if I can explain, but I am sorry."

"You said you weren't falling in love,” he reminded her.

"I'm not.” She realized she was assuring herself more than him. “I can't fall in love with you."

And she realized that it wouldn't be hard. Despite the fact that Rom was a bit difficult at times—okay, most of the time—she thought she could fall in love with him without half-trying.

"Why can't you fall in love with me?” he asked. “Not that I want you to, but I'm curious, why couldn't you?"

"Rom, I obviously find you to be a very attractive man, but there are things that would make it difficult for us to be together."

"What kinds of things?” he asked. “You're saying a lot of things, but unfortunately none of them make sense."

"And I'm sorry for that, too. Sorry I can't explain it to you better. But there are things I can't talk about."

"If you can't talk about them, then how can I help fix them?” he asked. He reached out his hand, as if to take hers, but she took a step backward. She didn't want to touch him, because if she did, she'd be far too tempted to kiss him again, and she already knew that would be a mistake.

"You can't help fix them,” she assured him sadly. “They're unfixable."

"But—"

"Let's forget that whole crazy experience and just enjoy the view.” She sat back down. She really should go. Lingering was a mistake. But he'd worked so hard to make this evening special, she just couldn't leave yet.

"I understand your fury, but not your words," Rom whispered.

"My words fly up, but my thoughts remain below. Words without thought never to heaven go." She paused. “Rom, it's obvious we have things in common, but it isn't enough. Our differences are too great. Could we just go back to before that kiss and all the nonsense I was spouting?"

"I don't want to go back,” he said. “And even if I did, I don't think I can. You've got a secret. If you really are falling in love with me, trust me with it. Because without trust there can be no love. But with love all things are possible."

"Rom, I just don't see how...” She paused. “I'm so confused."

"Just remember this, without trust there is no love. I think what we have is a start ... but you have to trust me if we're going to see it grow."

"Maybe it shouldn't,” she whispered, knowing there was no maybe about it. Human and fairy relationships never seemed to end well.

"Maybe, you're right and it shouldn't.” He touched her cheek, just a tiny caress. “Or maybe you're wrong and it should. You'll never know unless you give it a try."




Chapter Eighteen 
Interlude With Bernie II 

"They what?” Bernie hollered.

"Don't you raise your voice to me, Bernie.” Fiona put her hands on her hips and simply stared him down.

"But ... but...” he stuttered.

"I was simply saying that as far as first assignments go, this was relatively easy. All three of them have met their men.” She looked smug.

Smug?

Didn't she get it? He didn't sentence those three to humanness in order to see them fall in love. It was supposed to be a punishment, not a reward.

"That's my point. You say they've found their men, but those three are fairies. Fairies. They're not women. They shouldn't have men to find."

"They're not fairies, remember? At least not for a few more months. You took care of that, didn't you? They're all three fairly human, and quite in love. Oh, they haven't recognized it yet, but they are."

"You weren't supposed to fix them up,” he maintained.

Maybe it was the pregnancy affecting her brain. That was a good explanation for why Fiona just wasn't getting it.

"May I quote the Fairy's Handbook?” she asked, very prim and proper. "A fairy godmother's primary responsibility is to see that her godchildren all live happily-ever-after."

"But that's human godchildren,” he maintained.

"It doesn't say that."

"But any fool would know that's what it meant."

"No, any fool wouldn't. If whoever wrote it meant human godchildren they should have said that. Who wrote the stupid thing anyway?"

He grit his teeth together and squeezed the words, “I did,” out between them.

"Oh. Well, you should have—"

"This isn't about what I should have done, it's about what you should have done. You should have left matters alone. This entire situation was all about teaching them a lesson, and instead of a lesson in real life, they're running around Erie, kissing men, dating, and having a great time."

"Well, you know love's hard work. I don't think they'd all describe it as a great time. After all, Myrtle just met her man and though they're attracted, they're not really settled yet, and Fern and Nico spend as much time fighting as they do kissing, and then there's Blossom's whole, you-can't-love-me-because-I'm-a-fairy hang-up."

"So, it's not a done deal yet?” he asked, a surge of relief pouring through his body. There was time. They could fix this.

No, he could fix this.

"None of them have actually said the words?” he asked.

"Being in love isn't about saying the words, it's about the feeling, and all three of them have it bad,” Fiona maintained.

Poor, sweet, pregnant, Fiona. She didn't know the first thing about fairy godmothering and had made as big a mess out of her first assignment as ... well, as Myrtle, Fern and Blossom would have.

He'd save her from herself and her own inadequacy.

"But they haven't admitted it yet, have they?” he pressed. “Not to the guys, and especially not to themselves, right?"

"Well, no,” she admitted. “Not in so many words."

"Not in any words, right?"

Fiona sighed. “No."

"Great then there's still time.” He clapped his hands together. There was time to fix this. Now all he had to do was decide how to fix it.

"Time for what?” Fiona asked.

"To stop it. Words have power, and without the words, nothing's set in stone,” he explained. “They haven't said the words, so it's time to bring them home."

"But I had six months. I worked up these elaborate plans based on six months of humanness. You can't bring them home now."

He smiled and gently patted her head in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Oh, but I can. I'm going to the Council right now."

Fiona didn't look comforted.

As a matter of fact, she looked annoyed. “Bernie, don't you dare mess this up for me."

Not even just annoyed.

She looked pissed off. Fairies didn't generally get pissed off, but Fiona had lived as a human for so many years she seemed to have a knack for it.

"I'm not messing this up, honey,” he said, soothingly. “I'm saving you. You'll see."

"But—"

"I've got to go.” He blinked out of sight.

He'd take care of this for her because he loved her.

Yes, he was doing this for love.

He wasn't doing it for revenge against the three banes of his existence.

* * * *
Fiona smiled. Yes, she'd worked hard on an elaborate plan and it appeared to be falling quite nicely into place.

She placed her hand on her slightly rounded belly. “Your mama is so smart,” she whispered to her unborn child.

Feeling quite smug, she went in search of ice cream.

Since she'd gotten pregnant she couldn't seem to get enough of it.




Chapter Nineteen 
Fern 

"I have great news,” Bernie said with a huge smile on his face.

Great news for Bernie wasn't always great news for them, Fern thought, remembering that the last time he'd had great news, he'd turned them into humans for six months.

Actually, to the best of her knowledge, great news for Bernie was never even okay news for them.

"Don't just sit there gloating, Bernie. Out with it,” Myrtle commanded.

She was back to her old self, Fern noted.

Myrtle's date had perked her right back up. More than perked her up. She was a sighing, giggling fool.

It looked good on her, Fern reflected.

"Yeah, Bernie, what did you do this time?” Blossom said, with a huge, put-upon sigh.

Blossom, on the other hand, seemed withdrawn and sad since her date.

Fern wasn't sure just what had happened between her sister and her mystery man, but it wasn't good.

Not good at all.

"Now, that's a fine how'd'you'do,” Bernie groused. “After all the work I went to in order to—"

Fiona popped into the room.

Not the happy, smiling Fiona that they'd all grown to know and love, but the Fiona they'd first met, the Fiona who had sued them. This Fiona was filled with righteous indignation and downright anger.

"I can't believe you did it, you louse,” she said to Bernie.

"Fiona, it's for the best,” he told her, his voice soothing and more than a bit condescending. “If you had a bit more fairy experience, you'd see that."

"The best, you rat?” she huffed. “I'll tell you what was the best. My work. You don't know how hard it was to set everything up. How I planned and plotted. And everything was going like clockwork until you stuck your big nose—"

"Hey, I have a perfectly sized nose for my face,” Bernie protested.

"Your big, vain nose into my business. I'm their fairy godmother—"

"That's enough,” Myrtle bellowed. “Now, why don't the two of you tell us just what's going on?"

"He—” Fiona started, sputtering a line of he-he-he's.

Bernie smiled a sort of oily smile at the three of them, and Fern felt a wave of trepidation.

"What?” she asked.

"I went to the Council and assured them that I thought you'd learned your lessons. We all agreed, enough is enough. And they decided that you would be restored to your fairyness as of right...” He waved a symbol in the air. “Now."

Fern looked down and saw that she was once again wearing her old-lady persona. She looked at her sisters.

"We're fairies again,” she whispered.

Rather than feeling elated, she felt horrible.

Her first thought was of Nico. It was followed by thoughts of Les Magik and Puffy and ... kisses.

"Bernie, but we haven't,” she said.

"Haven't what?” he asked.

"Learned our lesson,” Fern clarified. “Why, I'm sure that on our very first assignment, we'll muck up."

"Yes,” Myrtle agreed. “I'm sure we will."

"Well, I for one,” Blossom said, “am ready to be a fairy again, I've had enough of mortals, especially mortal men. I find them so confusing. All this talk about trust. It's not as if he's been exactly open and honest with me. He's hiding something, I know it. Yes, I'm ready to go back, but unfortunately, I have a commitment and can't come back to work right now."

"What commitment,” Fern asked at the same time Myrtle did.

She was dying to know what her sister had been up to.

"I can't say,” Blossom said. “And I can't go back. At least not yet."

She waved the wand that appeared in her hand, and suddenly she was young and beautiful again.

"And boobless,” she said with a heavy sigh as she looked down at her feet.

"What are you saying?” Bernie bellowed.

"I'm saying that obviously Fern and Myrtle were right. I never did have breasts."

"Not about breasts,” he said.

He was turning decidedly red in the face, Fern noted. “Bernie, calm down, or you're going to hurt yourself,” she warned.

"What are you saying about going back?” he asked, slowly and concisely.

"We're saying that you sent us here for six months, and we're not ready to go back after just a handful of weeks,” Blossom assured him.

Fern just looked at her sister, standing up to Bernie like that. Whatever she was up to, it was good for her.

"But—” Bernie said.

"But nothing,” Fiona said with a grin. “That's my girls. And Bernie, now that you've given them back their powers, you can't take them back again."

"I'll just go back to the Council...” he said, his voice trailing off, as if even he realized it wasn't going to work.

"You've already convinced them the girls had learned their lessons,” Fiona said with a huge smile. “Sorry. You can't have it both ways."

"But—But—"

"Good-bye, Bernie. I'll see you when I get home."

"Are you coming home?” he asked, and for the first time Fern heard the vulnerability in his voice.

Fiona must have as well, because she laid a hand softly on his cheek and said, “You may annoy me, but there's nothing you can ever do that would make me not come home."

"You slept here one night.” he pointed out.

"But I came home afterward,” she pointed out.

"I—"

"Good-bye, Bernie. You've done your part, now go.” She waved her hand in the air, and he started to fade.

"My part?” he asked even as he disappeared.

"So,” she said, smiling at all of them.

There was something in Fiona's smile that told Fern that this new development might not have annoyed Fiona as much as she had led Bernie to believe it did.

"Now you all have your fairy powers back,” she continued, “what are you going to do?"

"I can't go back, at least not yet,” Blossom said. “Like I said, I have an obligation I have to honor first."

Fiona looked at Myrtle. “And you?"

"I—I just can't leave without explaining things to Zak. After his mother left, he won't handle another loss well.” She waved her wand and resumed her younger look.

Fiona turned to Fern.

Part of Fern wanted to go back to when she and her sisters worried about their next godchild's love life, and not their own. But she thought of Nico and found herself saying, “I'm staying as well. For now."

"Fine.” Fiona paused a moment and added, “But now that you have your powers back, be careful. You know sometimes your magic sort of ... Well, does its own thing."

"Now, Fiona,” Blossom started just as Fiona patted her stomach. “Oh, I do see what you mean. I'll be careful."

"Yes,” Myrtle and Fern agreed at the same time.

Yes, Fern had to be careful as well, because if she wasn't, she was going to fall in love with Nico, and then where would that leave her when her sisters were ready to go home?

* * * *
"So, what are you doing tomorrow?” Nico asked the next day.

Fern punched the dough and folded it over with a lot more force than was required.

She'd hardly slept last night. She had her powers back, and she was still working at Les Magik. Myrtle was even out of her funk.

She should be happy.

She should have slept like a baby.

Instead she was tired and out of sorts.

"Fern?” Nico said again.

She realized the bread dough was more than well-kneaded, and her boss was more than slightly miffed at her lack of attention. She put the dough in a greased bowl and said, “Pardon?"

"Tomorrow. Do you have plans?” He shot her a killer smile. The kind of smile that he'd probably used on any number of women. Human women. Thanks to Bernie, the rat, Fern no longer could be ranked with the rest of the human women.

If she was honest, she never had.

She was just there on a temporary status only.

Nico was still talking. “I'm giving us both a day off and..."

He'd paused, obviously waiting for some response from her.

He'd hired two new part-time cooks for Sundays, but this was the first time he'd suggested taking a weekday off.

A day off he thought he'd be spending with a human woman, not a fairy.

"The day off?” she simply echoed, not knowing what to say. She could try, Nico, remember when you said you thought I was hiding something from you? I was. I'm not human. I'm a fairy.

Oh, yeah, that would go over good.

"Fern, did you ever notice that when you're nervous you repeat things?” he asked, stepping closer.

She wiped her hands on the towel, but the bread dough was tough to remove.

Remembering she once again had powers, she zapped the dried on dough off her hands.

Nico gave a small jump, as if he'd seen it, but he couldn't have seen the dough disappear. Her hands were covered by the towel.

"Nervous?” she said, even as she realized she'd done just as he'd accused and echoed his words right back at him again.

"And the question I have to ask,” he said, taking another step closer, “is why are you nervous?"

"Um, I'm nervous because ... because...” She tried to think of an excuse—any excuse—other than the fact she was nervous because she was a fairy, a fairy with feelings for a testy mortal. “Because I've been worried about Puffy."

He stopped advancing and frowned. “Why are you worried about Puffy?"

"Ever since you said he was visiting with his mother, he's been acting strange."

And strange for Puffy was ... Well, very strange.

Fern realized that while saying she was worried about Puffy was the truth, it wasn't the whole truth. She was nervous about Nico—about how close he was standing, about how much she wanted to kiss him, and about the fact she was a fairy and he wasn't.

The last part, the she-was-a-fairy-and-he-wasn't was the part that made her the most nervous. Mixed relationships rarely worked out well.

"How do you mean?"

She started to answer about mixed relationships, “Well, when two people—"

They weren't talking about mixed relationships, though, so she hastily switched gears. “When two people work as closely as Puffy and I do, you notice things. He's quiet and ... well, just unPuffylike."

"So, that's why you're nervous?” He took another step.

"Yes."

Fern knew she should step away, knew that kissing a mortal when she was a fairy was dangerous, but she held her ground.

"It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm standing just inches away from you?” he asked.

"Of course not. You don't intimidate me."

"I know. That first time you threw me out of the kitchen, I realized it.” He paused and added, “And I liked it."

"You did?” Now that was a surprise. She hadn't thought Nico liked anything about her that first day.

"Sure. No man wants the woman he's interested in to be afraid of him."

"What do you mean interested in?"

He'd kissed her, but you didn't need to be a fairy godmother to know that men—fairy or mortal—didn't have to be interested in a woman to kiss them.

Actually, the fact that a woman was breathing was generally all the prompting a man needed.

"I'm standing just inches away from you, and you can't tell what I mean?” He tsked. “Well, let me give you a hint."

He leaned down and kissed her. Not a slow introduction, but a hot, wild fusion of two people into one. She couldn't get close enough ... couldn't ... couldn't...

"Oh, oh, oh, I, I, I'll just go back—"

Puffy's stuttering voice brought Fern back to Earth with a sharper thud than the door that slammed when Puffy fled.

What was she doing? This could never work out. She was, after all, a fairy again. And Nico was quite human.

Suddenly she realized that there was something wrong with that statement.

He was human, but wasn't there was something else there?

Now that she was a fairy, she could sense things she hadn't been able to tell before. Things she hadn't been looking for, so hadn't noticed until he touched her.

She stepped back, suddenly furious. “You're not what you seem."

Nico stepped back and studied her with an equal intensity. “Neither are you. How could I not have noticed before? I mean, I would have bet that you were human, but you're not."

"Neither are you, at least not completely. Knowing that you're magical, you'd toy with a human's affections? You know how it is when humans and magical beings mix. And if you don't, I do. A lot of pain. Why just look at Fiona. She was miserable, trying to fit where she'd never fit. And Bernie? Why he has a chip on his half-human shoulder the size of a boulder. No, it never ends happily-ever-after when a human and a magical being get involved, and yet, you were willing to seduce a poor human woman."

"You're the woman I was trying to seduce, and there's nothing poor about you. Even when I thought you were human. You're argumentative and don't take my bull. I'd like that in any lady, fairy or not."

"Well, well...” her anger fizzled. “I don't understand who you are and why you're here."

"I could say the same,” he countered. “You weren't a fairy the last time I kissed you."

Nico wasn't human, at least not fully.

The idea was going to take some getting used to.

"I want some explanations,” he said.

"So do I. You said you knew I was hiding something, but what you didn't say is that you were, too."

Puffy burst into the room and cried, “Nico, help!” and ran back out again.

"I guess this isn't the time,” Nico said, still studying her.

She wasn't sure just what he was looking for, but she studied him as well. Even without her powers, she couldn't believe she'd missed the fact he was part fairy.

"You're right, we do. But not tonight. I have to talk to my sisters tonight.” They'd all agreed not to return to Fairyland for a while yet, but Fern was pretty sure that she couldn't go back. No matter what happened between her and Nico, she didn't think going back was an option.

She had to talk to her sisters, then she had to talk to Nico. “What about that dinner tomorrow, and we can sort this out?"

"And then?” he asked.

"Then, after we talk, and both explain, we'll just have to see."

Yes, she'd see what was going to happen with Nico, but first she had to talk to her sisters.




Chapter Twenty 
Myrtle 

Myrtle stood on the front steps staring at the door for the longest time. She wanted to go in and see Gordon ... and conversely, she dreaded it.

She was a fairy again.

The fact was right there, weighing her down. She'd finally felt as if she'd found something ... someone. That maybe she could fit into a human life. And now?

Now, she was back to being a fairy again.

The door flew open before she had a chance to knock.

"Myrtle, how come you're standing on the porch?” Zak asked.

"Well, it beats standing on the roof,” she said.

Ugh. How lame. But Zak didn't seem to mind.

He laughed and said, “Dad says we're going to the beach. It's still too cold to swim, but I'm going to build the biggest sand castle ever, and Dad's taking hot dogs, and we're going to grill them, and marshmallows. He almost forgot the marshmallows, but I reminded him, and—"

Gordon came up behind Zak and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Slow, down, buddy, or your going to scare Myrtle away."

"Nah. I couldn't scare her away. She's brave, right Myrtle?"

"Yeah. I'm big and brave,” she said with absolutely no conviction.

She looked at the boy's excited face, then at his father's and knew she was a liar. Not only was she not particularly brave, she was an out and out fool. She was here, ready to spend a day with the two of them, and pretend it was a normal, human date. A single father going out with an available woman.

But she wasn't a woman.

She was a fairy.

A fairy godmother.

Gordon grinned, “We'll be ready in a sec. Make yourself at home.” To Zak he said, “Come give me a hand."

Zak followed his father toward the kitchen.

Myrtle was ready to sit down, when she noticed a pair of muddy little boy sneakers on the floor. Without thinking she zapped them into the foyer. Then, she noticed a T-shirt, and before she knew what was happening, she'd magicked the whole room clean.

She took a seat on the couch, looked at the clean room and knew that this could never work.

She was attracted to Gordon Martinelli.

Very attracted.

But they were two different species.

She was a fairy.

He was human.

She'd have to tell him she couldn't see him again, and then carefully explain to Zak that even though she wouldn't be seeing him, she still cared.

Maybe when she and her sisters got back to work she'd find a nice woman for Gordon, someone who would not only love him, but love his son.

Rather than give her that warm glow she generally got when she thought about matchmaking, she felt a small burning ember in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't want to set Gordon up with anyone else. She wanted him for herself.

She wanted him fiercely.

Wildly.

She'd had godchildren who met their soul mate and experienced what was known as love-at-first sight. It wasn't just love, it was destiny.

But that couldn't be what was happening between her and Gordon.

So she wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was, she was breaking it off tonight, after the beach.

It would be easier to nip it now, when it was still new and unexplored, than to wait until whatever their connection was grew.

She'd known him such a short time that all she had to do was break things off and she'd be halfway to being over him

"Hey, Dad, look, Myrtle cleaned the room."

Gordon came in and looked around. “Myrtle, you didn't have to."

Oh, no, what had she done. The room was spotless. She'd magicked it without even thinking.

"I didn't,” she started, then switched to, “I mean I just picked up a few things. With two younger sisters, I'm used to it."

"Well, thanks,” he said, still looking around the room with a perplexed look on his face.

Myrtle couldn't believe she'd done that. It was something Blossom might do. She was the one who fixed problems, not caused them.

Oh, this being a fairy again was the pits.

She listened to Zak's excited chatter after they'd packed up the car and started out on their picnic. She studied Gordon as he drove and didn't have a clue how she was going to fix this particular problem.

Because even though she knew a mixed relationship wouldn't work, she didn't want to give him up. But she couldn't think of a way to keep seeing him..

"...and then Billy, he said, well, my sister eats boogers, and we all laughed and laughed,” Zak was saying.

Myrtle made the appropriate gagging noises, much to Zak's delight.

Gordon reached over and gave her hand a small squeeze.

Really, it was just the tiniest gesture.

But Myrtle treasured it, knowing that after she broke things off with him, it would become just one of her memories.

She tucked away small moments from the rest of the outing.

They spread a huge quilt on the sand. She laughed as Gordon and Zak tossed bread to the greediest seagulls she'd ever seen. There were so many things she didn't want to forget. Laughing over more of Zak's stories and just visiting with Gordon. Listening to him tell of his day at the office, of the people he worked with. She told him stories of her sisters, of herself, not lying, but omitting any reference to magic.

"It's nice, isn't it?” Fiona asked as Gordon played a wild game of tag with Zak.

"Yes, it is,” she said.

"These are the moments I enjoy most with Bernie. The quiet, nothing-very-special, but very special nonetheless sort of moments."

"But in your case, you have years of those kind of moments to look forward to. This is it for Gordon and me."

"Why?” Fiona asked.

"Because we come from two different worlds."

"You don't have to. Nothing says you have to go back to Fairyland."

"Not go back,” she murmured.

It was a new and dangerous thought. After all, her sisters needed her.

The moment she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. They didn't need her. They were doing fine on their own.

"Can I go back?” Myrtle whispered, more to herself than to Fiona.

"I wasn't sure you were brave enough to ask yourself that question,” Fiona said. “Things have changed, and I wasn't sure you'd recognize how much."

"Blossom and Fern have changed. I know we all said we were just staying a while longer, but I don't think either of them are coming back, at least not to being fairy godmothers."

"Have you asked them?"

"No. We haven't talked since Bernie changed us back, but you're right. Things have changed."

What she didn't add was I have changed, but she had. Maybe it was all the quiet time to think. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she didn't have a fairy-case, or even just her sisters to deal with.

"What do you want, Myrtle?” Fiona asked, voicing a question Myrtle had been afraid to ask herself.

"I'm not sure. But even if I wanted Gordon and Zak, I couldn't have them."

"Why?” Fiona asked.

Gordon scooped up Zak and was twirling him around and around. They were both laughing themselves silly even as they fell to a dizzy heap on the sand.

"Hey, Myrtle,” Zak yelled.

"It's impossible.” Saying the words almost broke her heart.

"Myrtle, after all these years of being a godmother, haven't you learned that there is no such word as impossible. Don't you think you owe it to yourself to find out if it is possible?"

"I—"

Gordon and Zak came barreling to the blanket and sat down. Zak was shrieking with glee. He threw his arms around Myrtle's neck and screamed, “Save me."

Before she knew what happened, she and Zak were paired against Gordon, the three of them running around the beach, laughing.

This, her heart whispered.

This is what she wanted.

Was it possible, after all?

She had to talk to her sisters first.

Then she'd talk to Gordon.

How would he feel about dating a fairy?




Chapter Twenty-One 
Blossom 

One week.

One week from now the play would open.

It was scheduled to run for two weeks, and after that...

Blossom stared glumly at Rom who was busy berating some poor stage hand.

...after that, she'd have to go back to being a fairy godmother and making other people happy.

"A penny for your thoughts,” Herbert said as he sat next to her.

She smiled at the older man. He'd been a good friend to her, and now that she was a fairy again, she might be able to pay him back. She hadn't forgotten his problems with Stella. “One more week and the show starts."

"I know,” he said. “A lot of ladies from the home are planning to be here opening night."

"And Stella?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I don't think so, dear."

"Maybe I can help."

He patted her shoulder. “It's nice of you to want to, but I don't think there's any help for Stella. Sometimes you can't change the way things are."

But sometimes you can, Blossom thought.

Especially if you were a fairy.

"Uh oh, here comes your young man. I think I'll just make myself scarce,” Herbert said.

He was gone before Blossom could protest that Rom wasn't hers.

Oh, maybe there was some chemistry between them, but that was before, when she was human. Now, she was just a fairy playing at being a human for a few more precious weeks, until the play was over and she went home.

Only problem was, Fairyland didn't feel like home anymore.

This did.

Here.

At the theater.

With Rom.

"Hey beautiful,” he said, a smile on his face.

He reached for her, but Blossom took a step back. If he touched her, she'd melt, and she couldn't do that. She couldn't lead him on. Couldn't let him think there was anything between them, when she was leaving as soon as the play was done.

"What's wrong?” he asked.

"Nothing,” she said, which was a big fat lie.

As a fairy, she wasn't supposed to lie, but she didn't care. Everything was a mess.

"Nothing's wrong at all,” she said again, as if saying it enough would make it so. But some wishes obviously didn't have lives of their own, because she was still depressed.

She was a fairy again.

"Don't feed me that,” Rom said, looking more than a little annoyed. “I can tell that there is."

"I ... I just don't want the cast to get the wrong idea about us."

"Oh, and what wrong idea would that be?"

"That we're ... You and I ... That...” She couldn't think of how to put it, so she settled for, “that we're something that we're not."

"And what would that be?” he asked softly.

"I—"

"Never mind, don't answer. I suspect whatever you're planning to say will make me mad, and I don't want to go there.” He paused a moment and said, “I think we need to talk. It's obvious there are some issues we need to deal with."

She sighed. “Yes, talking. That's probably for the best."

She was going to have to tell him that she couldn't see him outside the play. As soon as it was over, she'd be leaving and going back to Fairyland, going back to being a fairy godmother and finding happily-ever-afters for her godchildren. But never getting one of her own.

She wanted her own happily-ever-after, she realized.

She thought she might have one with Rom. Oh, he was a human, and she was a fairy, but they could make it work.

And if they couldn't?

She still wasn't sure she could go back to being a godmother. Too much had changed.

She had changed.

"We'll talk then, after rehearsals tonight?” he asked.

She shook her head. “How about tomorrow night, instead? There's something I have to do first."

She was a fairy.

Her sisters were expecting her to finish up here and then go back to being a fairy godmother—go back to the way things were.

Blossom watched Rom head back to the crowd on the stage.

She wasn't sure she could go back, even if she wanted to, which she didn't.




Chapter Twenty-Two 
Interlude with Fiona 

Fiona sat in one of Myrtle's overstuffed chairs and looked at her godchildren.

All three looked positively morose. If she was weighing her effectiveness as a godmother by their expressions, she'd be flunking her first assignment. But Fiona had learned that looks could be deceiving.

Why, she'd sued the three because she'd been so unhappy, but in the end...

She patted her stomach and settled deeper into the chair, with a smile on her face. She'd purposely picked the most comfortable looking chair in the house because ... Well, because she was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Her stomach seemed to be growing at an unusually fast rate, but even Berrybelle assured her that time passed differently in Fairyland, so while it might not have seemed that long, she was probably already into the second trimester of her pregnancy.

Fiona wondered if she should go see a human physician, just to be sure, but she quickly discarded that idea. Berrybelle would be hurt. And she was sure the fairy wouldn't allow any risk for her grandchild.

Her granddaughter.

Oh, my! 

Fiona knew that the baby she carried was a girl. It was just a sudden sense of assurance that she was carrying a daughter.

Her daughter.

Yes, despite the fact she'd sued the fairies, they'd made her unbelievably happy.

She sniffed loudly.

"What is it, Fiona?” Blossom cried. “Is everything all right?"

"Everything is perfect. It's a girl!"

The three fairies all rushed over, hugging her as they oohed and aahed.

"Oh, a girl,” Blossom said. She seemed to feel a special connection to this baby, as well she should. Fiona decided then and there, that Blossom should be her daughter's godmother.

Actually, all three fairies would be.

Bernie would have a fit, but Fiona knew that, in the end, she'd win.

Speaking of winning...

"Thanks. Not only for the hugs, but for my current state of happiness. I owe all of you,” she said.

The three fairies moved back to their seats and made rumblings about how Fiona didn't owe them a thing. She wasn't going to argue, but she knew differently. And she knew she was going to do everything in her power to see that they all ended up just as happy. “So, what is tonight's meeting about? You all said it was important and that you wanted me here."

"Well,” Myrtle said, back to her old self and taking charge. “I think we need to talk about the future."

"Before we start, I'd like to invite you all somewhere,” Blossom said.

Everyone's eyes were on her, and so she continued, “I know I've been secretive, but I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted this one thing to be all mine. Someplace where I wasn't always the goof-up, someplace where I was just me, Blossom."

"Blossom, you were never the goof-up,” Myrtle reassured her. “We all had our share of problems."

"Yes, yes, we did. But I don't want to talk about who goofed the most. I want to know what you've been up to. Don't leave us hanging,” Fern said.

"I'm performing in a play, and it opens next week.” Blossom was beaming in a totally non-fairy, simply happy way. “I hope you'll all be there."

"A play?” Fern asked. “I didn't have a clue what you were up to, but I hadn't thought of a play."

"Neither had I, but of course, we'll be there,” Myrtle said. “After all, no matter what, we'll always be there for each other. What play is it, by the way?"

Blossom chuckled. “A Midsummer Night's Dream. I'm—"

"Titania,” Myrtle and Fern said at the same time, laughing.

"Oh, wait till Titania finds out,” Myrtle said. “You know how vain she is about that play. Why, she'll be calling out suggestions from the audience."

"She's known for a while,” Blossom said. “She's been giving me pointers."

Fern turned to Fiona. “You knew all this time and didn't tell us?"

"Of course I did. I'm her godmother, after all. And now that the mystery of what Blossom's been doing is solved, the question is one the table. What are all of you going to do now that you're fairies again?"

"I can't leave until the play's done,” Blossom said.

Fiona gave her a look that she'd perfected on Bernie. It was a look that said, You know there's more.

Blossom obviously read the look with no problem, because she blushed and said, “That's not the only thing holding me here. There's the director, Rom."

"But, Blossom, you know how hard a mixed relationship can be,” Fiona said, just to get the ball rolling.

She'd planned this whole meeting and had told Bernie it could be a while. But now, she didn't want this to take all night. She wanted to hurry home and tell Bernie they were having a daughter.

She'd wait a bit to tell him who she wanted for the baby's godmothers.

All three fairies were talking over each other, defending or attacking the notion of a mixed relationship between a human and a fairy.

"Hey!” Fiona yelled. “That's not the point of this meeting. All of you know that you can't force love. You can't will it to happen, and you can't will it away. Whatever is destined to happen will, whether you want it to or not, whether it's a fairy and human relationship or not."

"So what's the question?” Myrtle asked.

"Whenever you're finished here, when your plays are run and your relationships are settled one way or another, do you go back to being fairy godmothers?"

They didn't say a word. All three sat there looking back and forth from one to another.

"So?” Fiona pressed.

"I can't,” Blossom blurted out. “I've been trying to think of how to tell you two, but there's just no good way to do it. I can't go back. I don't know what's going to happen with Rom. I agree, mixed relationships don't tend to work out well, but ... I can't go back. I love what I'm doing. After Midsummer's Night is over, I want to do more plays. I want ... I want to be an actress."

She was crying.

Fiona knew that all the fairies had to suffer a bit before they got their happily-ever-after. It was only fair, after all. Love shouldn't be easy. But she hated to see Blossom cry.

She tried to spring out of her chair to comfort her, but found that she wasn't springing very well. By the time she got up, Blossom was already being hugged by her sisters.

Myrtle was saying, “It's okay. I can't go back either. You'd think I'd be the first one in line to head back, but I can't."

"Me, either,” Fern assured her.

All three were a crying, yammering mess.

Fiona leaned back in the chair and let them go at it. She smiled and patted her slightly mounded stomach.

Her first assignment was going brilliantly, if she did say so herself.

And she did.

"So, you're going to tender your godmother resignations?” she asked.

The three beautiful young ladies turned and slowly nodded.

"Blossom is going to be an actress. What about you two?” she asked Fern and Myrtle.

"I'm going to stay with Les Magik, at least for the time being,” Fern said.

"Myrtle?"

"I ... I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm not ready to leave. Zak doesn't need another woman walking out on him."

Fiona noted that Myrtle didn't mention Gordon, but that was okay, since Fern hadn't mentioned Nico, and Blossom had barely mentioned Rom.

They all need just a little more time, and a little bit of a push.

She patted her stomach.

Yes. She was brilliant.




Chapter Twenty-Three 
Blossom 

How was she supposed to tell Rom she was a fairy?

Blossom didn't have a clue. There weren't any fairy handbooks that covered this type of situation.

She'd worried all night as they went through a dress rehearsal. It had gone wonderfully, despite her nerves.

And now, sitting across from him in one of the back rooms, she wanted to blurt it all out, but she didn't know how.

"Great rehearsal,” he said, as he reached for her hand.

She pulled away. “We have to talk. I've been keeping something from you."

"You're married?” he asked.

"No."

She laughed. After all, despite all the weddings she'd arranged, she'd never felt the urge to get married herself. She'd never found anyone she wanted to spend her life with. Until now, a small voice in her head whispered.

She immediately shut the thought off.

She was going to be lucky if Rom didn't try to have her committed when she was done telling this story.

"If you're not married, then what's the problem?"

"To tell my story," she said, quoting Hamlet. Then switched and started with, “Once upon a time, there were three sisters. They had a dream. They wanted make people happy. They wanted to be fairy godmothers..."

She expect Rom to protest, to say something, but he simply sat and listened as she told of becoming a godmother, of meeting Grace and then the rest of the Aaronsons. And finally, of Bernie's casting them out of Fairyland.

"So now, we have our powers back. We could go back, only we've discovered there's no going back. I'm not ready to leave. This play, having something of my own, something I'm good at, means so much to me. And, as Shakespeare said, That's the humor of it."

He leaned closer and studied her a moment. “You're telling me that you're a fairy?"

"Yes. I know it sounds crazy. I know that you're probably thinking I need some heavy psychoanalysis, but truly, I could have Max come and tell you that I'm not crazy. I'm just a fairy. And—"

"Kiss me,” he interrupted. “Then we'll talk about crazy."

He didn't wait for an invitation. He took her in his arms, and before their lips even touched, she knew. But there wasn't time for questions, there was just this ... Her in Rom's arms. Losing herself in the magic of it.

For what they had was magic.

More magic than anything else she'd ever experienced.

She touched his cheek and laughed. “You ... You're a..."

Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she wasn't laughing. “Then you saw her. When Titania came, you saw her and you knew."

"Yes. And you'll never know how hard I had to work at not laughing."

"But you didn't say anything. You are an ogre! What a mean trick. You should have told me."

"Yes, I am. Half ogre at least. That's something the fairies were quick to point out. Half fairy, half ogre. It's more frowned upon than fairies and humans."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you must be a fairy when Titania came, but then I kissed you and you were human. I was sure you were human. I thought I was losing my touch. I've been down here living as a mortal for so long that I thought my powers were fading, but you were human."

"But you're not, and you didn't tell me."

"No. There were a lot of reasons. First there was the whole, you'll-think-I'm-crazy thing. But there was another part. I wanted, just this once, to be Rom. Just myself. Not some cast out, some oddity."

"Oh.” She could hear his pain and realized how hard he must have had it. Never really fitting into either world. Fairies, like any other beings, were occasionally less than kind to someone who was different.

"That's why I came here. That's why I love the theater. You can be anyone. You can transform a stage into a new world for the space of two hours. It's magic,” he admitted.

"And this is magic.” She motioned her hands between the two of them. “What we have it's magic as well."

"Have?" he asked. “Not had? I mean, you understand I'm half ogre, right?"

He thought she wouldn't want him because of his ogreness?

She reached out and stroked his cheek. “Definitely have, not had. I lied when I said it was just the acting that kept me here. It was you. I wouldn't care if you were all ogre, or human, or even frog. You're my prince. During all those years of finding everyone a happily-ever-after, I never found a man I could love. Until you.” She touched him again. Just the smallest caress. But it was enough to make her heart want to burst. “I've spent all this time waiting for you and I didn't even know it."

Blossom lost herself in the wonder of the fact that all those years of helping people find their hearts, and she'd never realized she was missing half of hers. And as she looked at Rom, she wondered how she functioned without it.

And suddenly she knew that if she had anything to say about it, she wasn't ever going to find out.




Chapter Twenty-Four 
Fern 

"A fairy. You're a freakin’ fairy,” Nico said for the umpteenth time. “And not just a fairy. Oh, no. You're a godmother. A freakin’ fairy godmother. Those are the worst kind. Always thinking they know what's best for everyone, meddling where they don't belong, acting all superior..."

Fern listened to him ramble on and on about fairies and fairy godmothers until she couldn't take it another second.

"I have no idea where you get off going on about freakin’ fairies. Why, you're a fairy yourself. I knew the minute I kissed you."

"Half-fairy,” he corrected her. “Half-fairy, half-human. I like to think my human genes win out. I chose to be human. I am human."

"Why on earth would you ignore part of your heritage like that?” she asked.

"What on earth have the fairies ever done to me? Treated me as if I was a freak because I was half-human? I lived on the fringes of fairy society, grew up not knowing where I belonged. That's how I met Puffy."

"He's a gnome,” Fern said.

With her powers back, things she should have known all along were there. The minute she saw Puffy, she could see his ... Well, his gnomeness. She hadn't realized that living human meant living half-blind, but it had. She'd missed so many things without her magic.

She might not want to be a godmother any more, but she was glad she was a fairy.

Once she'd discovered he had magic, she thought facing Nico with her fairyness would be easy. After all, he was magic, so it shouldn't have been hard to tell him her story. But it was. He thought he could choose to ignore his fairyness, but he couldn't.

Just like Fern couldn't ignore what there was between them.

"Puffy,” Rom said. “He's a forest gnome. A forest gnome who fell in love with the water. His family kicked him out of Fairyland—"

"And you, who already felt displaced, simply left with him.” She ached for Nico, but she had to admire him for finding his own way. His own place.

Les Magik was his place. His bridge between his two worlds.

"You know Puffy,” he said. “He wouldn't have lasted a day in the mortal world on his own."

"You're a good man, Nico Starson."

"And you're—"

"A freakin’ fairy. I know,” she said with a sigh.

"So when are you going back?” he asked.

She reached out and stroked his cheek. “Who said I was going back?"

He'd thought she was leaving. Leaving the restaurant, leaving him. Was that why he was making this so hard?

"You're not going back?"

"No. I understand if you don't want me working here. I'd be a daily reminder of what you're trying to forget. I'll get a job somewhere else."

"What do you mean?” he asked.

"Well, I'm a freakin’ fairy ... an ex-godmother, no less."

"You're not going back to Fairyland,” he said again, as if trying to get the information to register.

"No, I'm not. But don't worry. I'll save you the trouble of firing me. I quit."

"You can't quit."

"What do you mean I can't quit? My little stint as a human has shown me just how much I can do. I can be a chef. I can hold my own without any magic. I can be a good friend and a good sister without my magic. I can be happy without my magic. Just think of all I can accomplish with my magic."

He took a deep breath, as if calming himself . Then he took her hand in his. “You're an amazing woman. Whether you're human or a fairy, I don't doubt that you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. But I hope you're not too set on leaving, because I can't let you. There's something between us. Oh, I know this has thrown me. I mean, I figured you were half-fairy like me, but you're not. The whole fairy thing, well, I could live with that. The godmother thing will take me a bit of getting used to. But I don't want you to go. There's something ... well, I don't like it, but it's there. We can't ignore it."

"Sure we can,” Fern said. “After all, you think you can ignore being part fairy."

"I don't ignore that I'm part fairy. I just choose to live here. And we can't ignore this. I don't want to ignore it."

"So what do you want to do?"

"This.” He kissed her. It was a toe-tingling sort of kiss that left her feeling more than a bit breathless.

She leaned against his chest, needing to be closer, to be as close to him as she could get. She wanted to be a part of him, of this man. This half-fairy, half-human, occasionally grumpy man who left home to help a friend, who liked sunsets and the water. This man she loved.

She loved Nico.

It wasn't just some small infatuation.

It was full-blown, fairy tale love. The kind of love that deserved nothing less than a happily-ever-after.

Fern had learned a lot about herself. She was capable of standing on her own two feet, but she wanted to stand with Nico's two feet right next to her on a permanent basis.

One way or another, she was going to see to it.




Chapter Twenty-Five 
Myrtle 

Just how did you break the news that you were a fairy to a man you ... Just how did she feel about Gordon? That little L word she'd encouraged so many of her godchildren to use, seemed to fit, but it was too soon.

Oh, she believed in love at first sight for her godchildren, but it felt uncomfortable when it happened to her.

If it had happened.

Maybe this stabby sort of feeling in her chest whenever she thought about Gordon was heartburn.

Yeah, that would be just her luck. She had heartburn and thought it was love.

That theory might have worked when she was human, but now that she was a fairy again, she couldn't get heartburn, so it was out.

So, what would she call how she felt?

She kicked a rock on Gordon's front sidewalk, not wanting to knock on the door and go in.

It didn't matter what she called it. Once he found out she was a fairy he wouldn't want her around.

As a matter of fact, she doubted he'd believe her. He'd think she was nuts and have her locked up. Oh, she could call Max, and she was sure he'd get her out of the wherever she got locked up.

Or even Fiona. Yeah, Fiona would rescue her from an institution.

Never mind. She was a fairy again. No mortal locks could hold her. She'd simply rescue herself. Grace had taught her that it was better to rescue yourself than to rely on others.

But who would rescue her from her broken heart? Because when Gordon told her he could never date a fairy, much less love one, her heart would break.

The front door flew open, and if fairies had heart attacks, Myrtle would have had one. As it was, she jumped a couple inches up in the air and landed with a decided thwap.

"Hey, Myrtle, how come you're standing outside, just staring at the house again?” Zak called.

"I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"About what I'm going to do,” she answered, knowing that all her thinking hadn't left her any closer to an answer.

Gordon appeared over Zak's shoulder.

"Why don't you start with coming in,” he said with a smile.

Oh, she did so like his smile.

She liked the broadness of his shoulders.

She liked the way he smelled.

The way he felt.

The way he kissed.

Was this love?

After all the years she spent finding other people love, you'd think she'd know, but she didn't. She thought maybe it was, but just wasn't sure. Or at least wasn't willing to admit it to herself.

Zak led her into the house, talking about his day, and Gordon followed them. Myrtle smiled and remembered to laugh at all the appropriate places, but she was too nervous to give him the sort of attention she normally did.

Gordon must have sensed her mood, because he said, “Hey, bud, go run up and get your bath now, okay? I want to talk to Myrtle."

"Aw, Dad. I still gotta—"

"Bath,” Gordon said, pointing to the stairs.

Zak stomped up them, muttering to himself.

"Spill it,” he said as soon as Zak was out of earshot.

"Spill what?"

He gestured to the couch and Myrtle sat. Gordon sat right next to her. Close. Too close. How was she supposed to think when his thigh was touching hers.

"What's going on?” he asked.

"How do you know something's going on."

"I can see it in your face. I've seen that look before. My ex-wife wanted out of our marriage because she wasn't in love with me. But she loved me too much to hurt me, so she hemmed and hawed. You're doing it, too. You have something you want to tell me, but you don't want to tell me."

"That doesn't make sense. If I wanted to tell you I would.” She didn't, and that's why she was hesitating. She didn't want to tell him, but she knew she had to.

"I've found over the years that women rarely make sense."

"That's so sexist.” She was picking a fight about something else as a stalling technique. She knew it, but knowing didn't mean she wasn't going to do it. “It's just like a man to say something like that."

"And the phrase just like a man isn't the slightest bit sexist?” he asked.

"No, it's the truth."

"You know, I'd be happy to argue with you, if it will make you feel better. I'm sure I can think of a bunch of other insensitive, manly things to say."

He was teasing. Myrtle could see it in his eyes, even though he'd managed not to smile. He was trying to tease her out of her funk, and let her know it was okay to tell him whatever was bothering her.

His concern meant she could add one more thing to the list of reasons she liked Gordon.

"Just tell me, Myrtle."

"You're not going to like it,” she finally said.

"Try me."

"There's something I haven't told you."

"You're married?"

She actually managed a smile. “No."

"Engaged?"

"No."

"Wanted by the law?"

That one got another smile, even though she could tell it was rather weak at best. “Not the law, but occasionally by the Fairy Council."

"Excuse me? I heard you wrong. It sounded like you said Fairy Council. You must have meant hairy council. With hair like yours, they probably want you to advertise some shampoo."

"That was weak, and you know it. You heard me right. Fairy Council. You see, I'm a fairy. Until just yesterday, I was a fairy godmother, but I gave it up. It was the only thing I was ever good at, making wishes come true."

"A fairy?"

"Yes. A good fairy. Although I was human when you met me. We annoyed Bernie and he had us sentenced to human status for six months, but then we—"

"We?” He raked his hand through his hair.

Myrtle had to give him points. He hadn't said one word about having her committed yet.

"I told you I had sisters,” she said gently. “Fern and Blossom."

"They're fairies, too?"

She nodded. “Of course. We worked together. But then Bernie had us sentenced to be human. We all started dating and kissing, which of course, he didn't like. After all, it's okay for him to kiss Fiona, but a real problem when the girls and I get some lip-action. So, he got them to turn us back into fairies early, thinking we'd go back to Fairyland without a fight. But Blossom, well she didn't tell us, but she's in a play, and couldn't leave until it was over. You're invited. It's A Midsummer's Night Dream and it opens next Friday, by the way. And Fern loves being a chef and didn't want to go. And..."

"And you?” he asked.

"Well, I didn't want to just walk out on Zak. He's had a hard time lately."

"And you don't think finding out his new friend is a fairy will be hard?"

"I wasn't going to tell him,” she admitted. “Just you. I didn't want to tell you, even, but I couldn't live a lie."

"Why tell me, then?"

"We're dating, and I've always told my godchildren that you can't keep secrets. You needed to know."

"I don't believe you.” He folded his arms across his chest and repeated, “I don't believe you. I don't know what's wrong, Myrtle, but we'll find a doctor who can help you."

"I knew you'd eventually get to the whole psychiatrist thing. Proof. They always want proof. How's this?” She waved her wand and turned back into the body she'd worn for so many years.

Poor Gordon's face lost all it's color. “Myrtle?” he asked.

"Yes.” She waved her wand again and was back to her true-form. “I'm a fairy."

"This can't be happening. Fairies don't exist outside fairytales. I'm a simple man, with simple wants and needs, I don't want or need this. I've got all I can handle dealing with Zak right now. You're a fairy.” He shook his head. “A fairy."

"I see.” She looked at Gordon and knew it was for the best. Mixed relationships never worked. She'd been telling herself that, and she was right. Better to break things off now before someone got hurt.

Of course the horrible pain in her heart indicated she might have been a bit too late, but at least Gordon was in time. Why, he didn't appear to be hurting at all.

"Do you mind if I say goodbye to Zak?"

"You won't be changing him into a frog or anything, right?"

She was about to retort, when Zak came speeding down the stairs, his hair dripping wet. “I hurried real fast, Myrtle. I even picked out a new book for us to read tonight. It's a long one, so we can have a chapter each time you're here."

"That would have been fun, Zak, but you see, I ... I don't know if I'll be coming over to the house much any more. I'm getting a new job and I'll be busy."

The little boy's face fell and his woebegone look tore at Myrtle's heart.

"But I like you coming over,” he said.

"I know sweetheart. And I'll see you again, I promise.” That was one promise she would keep. When he was older, she'd see to it he found the perfect woman, the perfect happily-ever-life. “But right now I have to go."

She felt tears welling up, but she held them back. She wouldn't cry in front of Zak or Gordon. “Listen, I've got to go. I just stopped in to say good-bye and to tell you that I'll never forget you."

She leaned down and hugged the little boy, but looked at Gordon as she said, “I'll never, ever forget."

* * * *
Men.

Countless goddaughters had complained about men in the past, but Myrtle hadn't given them enough sympathy. Not enough by a long shot.

Men were pains in the butt.

They were annoying.

Frustrating.

Myrtle had felt like crying after she left Gordon, but she hadn't.

She derived a keen sense of pride because of that.

She hadn't cried.

After all it wasn't as if she was in love with him.

She just liked him.

She'd forget about him soon. After all, she hadn't known him long enough to have this feeling of desolation last long.

Of course, she couldn't help thinking of Zak, but he'd be fine. Gordon might have a fairy-bias, but he didn't seem to mind little boys.

No, that wasn't fair. He not only didn't mind little boys, he positively doted on Zak. He was a great father.

Oh, no, here she was thinking about him. That wouldn't do. She had to concentrate on what she was going to do now that she wasn't a fairy godmother any more.

That would keep her occupied and busy.

She walked through the streets of Erie and tried to decide what an out-of-work fairy godmother had to offer.

She didn't have any theatrical goals, like Blossom.

Nor, did she have any particular cooking skills, like Fern.

She had no desire to follow any of her godchildren's careers. She didn't want to be a writer, a psychiatrist, a lawyer, a restaurant owner, a computer geek, a ... She thought about Joy. Maybe, just maybe there was a place for an out-of-work fairy godmother. Some place where all her years of happily-ever-after experience could be put to good use. Joy ran a small nonprofit organization called Ripples. Its goal was to help people, to make small ripples in the pond of life.

Myrtle had never been exceptionally good at small ripples, but she thought maybe she could make a splash there, if Joy would hire her.

Full of a new sense of purpose, and not willing to waste time walking, Myrtle blinked herself over into Joy's office.

Joy jumped, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Myrtle, how many times have we told you, it's not polite to just appear in someone's office? You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry. I was excited and forgot. You see, I have an idea. A proposal, if you will."

"Yes?” Joy said.

Myrtle sat down in the chair across from Joy's and started, “You see, the trio has split up. We're all going our own way. Blossom has her acting, Fern her chefing, and me? I don't have anything..."

She'd hoped she'd have Gordon, but that wasn't going to happen. She was just going to forget about him, she told herself sternly.

"...and so I think Ripples would be a perfect place for an ex-fairy-godmother. If you'll have me. I understand if you don't want me. I'll go find something else."

Joy smiled. “Of course we'd love to have you."

As they talked about what Myrtle could do for the company, Myrtle didn't think of Gordon even once. No, it was more like a hundred times.

Forgetting him was going to be harder than finding a job.




Chapter Twenty-Six 
Opening Night for Three Sisters 

Blossom was ready to explode with excitement. She was amazed that she wasn't nervous. She felt as if she should be. But she knew the play inside and out, and then there was Rom. She couldn't help smiling.

"A penny for your thoughts."

She turned and saw Titania was standing in her dressing room.

"I think I'll keep those thoughts to myself, but thanks for the offer."

Titania laughed, a small tinkly sound that made anyone in the vicinity want to laugh as well. “Keep your thoughts then. I don't need you to tell me what they are. It's as plain as the nose on Rom's face."

"It's that obvious?"

"Yes. Does he feel the same?"

Blossom shrugged. “He likes, me, and I guess that's enough for now."

"But later?” Titania asked.

"Later will take care of itself. Right now, I'm worried about Herbert. You took care of it?” Since she wasn't a fairy godmother anymore, she felt it best to go through Titania. As Queen of the Fairies, Titania could pretty much do whatever she wanted. Or in this case, what Blossom wanted.

"Of course. Herbert's Stella will be here. The poor dear. She was feeling quite useless and used up, but I think I have her straightened away."

"Good. Thanks, Titania. Herbert will be so pleased."

"No problem. Just do good tonight."

"I'm hoping it's a night to remember.” After the play she wanted to go out with Rom and ... Well, she didn't care what they did, as long as they did it together.

"I'm sure it will be a most memorable night,” Titania promised in a tone that left Blossom feeling nervous.

Titania winked out of sight a second before Herbert walked into the dressing room. “Are you ready, dear?"

She smiled. “I think so. And what about you?"

"Most of the residents turned out tonight, so I hope I am,” he said with a smile. “I'd hate to disappoint them."

"Most, but not all?” Blossom pressed. She wasn't sure if he knew that Stella would be here.

"No.” His smiled dimmed. “She wouldn't come."

"I'm sorry.” She tried to look sorry and wondered if she was carrying it off.

"So am I."

"Places, places everyone,” Rom called.

"I'd better get ready,” Herbert said as he shuffled out of the room.

Rom pulled Blossom into his arms and placed a kiss on her head. “Break a leg. I know you're going to wow them."

"You said I wasn't right for this part,” she reminded him.

"I was being difficult."

"You? Oh, no, Rom, you're never difficult."

"Watch it,” he said as he glanced at his watch. “Gotta go. After the show I need to talk to you, okay?"

"Good news or bad?"

"I'm hoping you think it's good.” He looked a bit unsure.

"Afterwards then,” Blossom said. She wanted to talk to him as well. She wanted to tell him she loved him. Oh, she didn't fool herself. He'd be difficult about it, and he'd tell her that it was too soon. But she knew her own heart and was sure. She loved Rom.

* * * *
"Do you think she's nervous?” Fern asked Myrtle as the lights in the theater dimmed.

"I'm sure she's fine. She's worked hard at this. But I'm a nervous wreck. The entire Council is here, and half of Fairyland, I think. I keep having this horrible feeling that something's bound to go wrong."

Fern nodded. “Me, too."

She'd felt an odd sense of anxiety and anticipation all day. And it wasn't Blossom's performance that had her feeling that way. It was Nico. He'd promised to be here, but he wasn't.

The curtain opened.

An old man stood center stage and said, "Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace..."

"Excuse me. Excuse me,” a voice said, tearing Fern's attention away from the stage. She was about to be annoyed until she saw it was Nico and Puffy.

Nico sank into the seat next to her.

"You made it,” Fern whispered.

"Of course I did. I would have been on time, except I had to wait for Puffy.” Puffy leaned past Nico and gave her a chagrined look and a little wave.

"Well, I'm glad you're here.

"Shh,” Myrtle whispered.

Nico took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Fern was content to just sit and hold his hand, as she watched the stage and waited for Blossom.

Here was the man she'd waited for her whole life. He wanted her. She knew what that meant. And though she'd spent her godmothership warning godchildren to wait until after the wedding to make love, she knew if that's what he wanted, she wasn't sure she'd find the strength to say no.

"What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence ... “ Blossom said. That's as far as she got because the Aaronson clan started to clap wildly. Fern and Myrtle joined in.

"That's your sister, I take it?” Nico said, even as he joined in.

"Yes."

Blossom acted like a total pro. Their clapping didn't take her out of her performance.

"...These are the forgeries of jealousy ... “ Blossom continued.

"So after the play I want to continue our conversation,” Nico whispered in her ear. “I want you."

"I want you, too,” Fern confessed. “But I won't ... I can't. Not until I'm married."

"So, it's blackmail?"

"No, it's not blackmail,” she whispered. “It's just that I've preached abstinence until marriage for centuries, and now you want me to just throw my personal beliefs over because I have the hots for you?"

"Shh,” Myrtle said.

"...Set your heart at rest ... “ Blossom said.

"I want you, but I don't know that I want to be married,” Nico said.

"Fine. I never said I wanted to marry you anyway. Most days I'm not sure I even want to work for you. You're loud, opinionated, and totally annoying."

"Shh,” Myrtle, Puffy, and about two aisles of patrons all said.

"...and for her sake I will not part with him..." 

"But you do want me,” he said, his voice full of confidence.

"I once wanted a snake, but it bit me. If I hadn't been a fairy, I'd have died, but I got rid of the snake. Sometimes what we want isn't what's best for us."

How did he do it? A minute ago she was feeling all warm and mushy, and now, at this minute, she'd as soon pop him one as kiss him.

"I'm good for you,” he said.

"Ha. You're so annoying that if I were indeed human and prone to their ailments, I'd have chronic indigestion."

"Shh."

"...Not for thy fairy kingdom..." 

"Fern—"

"Shh!"

"That's it,” Blossom cried from the stage. She waved her wand and the house lights came on.

Fern saw that all the humans in the audience and on the stage were frozen, a gentle sleepy look on their faces.

"Fern, just what is so important that you have to interrupt my play?” Blossom called from the stage.

"Nico wants to have sex with me, but he doesn't want to marry me."

"So dump him. He's a loser if he doesn't recognize just what he has with you,” she said. “But do be quiet so I can finish this."

"See what you've done?” Fern said.

"What I've done? If you weren't so stubborn—"

"Me?” she cried. “Me? I'm not stubborn. You are. You don't love me enough to marry me. You just want to have sex with me."

"I don't want to have sex with you, I want to make love with you and there's a difference."

"It's just like a man to say that."

"It's just like a woman to demand marriage."

"Well, there you go. Why don't you just leave. Blossom's right, you're a commitment-phobic loser.” Fern said the words, but she knew they were a lie. She didn't want him to leave. She loved him.

"A loser who loves you.” So saying, he kissed her. “Tell me you don't want me."

"I can't tell you that. But I believe that sex—"

"Making love,” he corrected.

"Making love,” she substituted. “I believe it should be part of something special, something that will last forever."

"So, say you'll marry me,” he said.

"You don't want to."

"I brought this, to ask you later,” he slipped a small pearl ring on her finger. “I planned to ask you tonight."

"So why are we fighting?” she asked, as she admired the ring on her finger.

"I don't know.” He laughed then. That same rich sound she'd first heard during their food fight. “You just assumed I only wanted sex, and that annoyed me, so I fought. You might not have noticed, but fighting is what I do best."

"Really?” she asked with a grin.

"Yeah. And do you have an answer for me?"

"Yes."

"So?” he pressed. “Are you going to make me beg?"

"That was my answer. Yes."

Living with Nico would never be easy, but living without him would be impossible.

"Yes,” she repeated as everyone—at least all the magical folk who were still awake—started clapping.

* * * *
Myrtle watched Rom and Fern kiss, sealing their engagement in the most romantic way possible.

The mortals were still frozen, but all the fairies were clapping wildly. There was a man standing next to Blossom, his arm draped possessively over her shoulder. Myrtle knew with a sudden rush of understanding that it hadn't been just the play that kept her sister here.

Fern was getting married. Blossom had a man she obviously cared for and an occupation she was passionate about.

And Myrtle ... ?

She sighed.

She had a new career with Joy's company. She would make that be enough. After all, she'd had years of experience making wishes come true. She could do wonderful things through Ripples. It would be almost as if she were still a godmother.

Almost.

Blossom shouted, “So, can we get back to the play?"

Myrtle, along with the rest of the magical audience shouted, “Yes,” just as the doors of the theater opened.

The magical half of the audience turned. The mortal half just sat there, stone silent.

"Gordon,” she whispered. She worked her way past everyone in her row and walked up the aisle toward him.

"What's going on?” Gordon said as he looked at the audience, half of whom did not—could not—look back.

"Gordon?” Myrtle whispered.

"Myrtle. I was going to sneak in and watch the play, but...” He looked at the audience again. “What's going on?"

"Blossom froze the humans for a moment because Nico was asking Fern to marry him. They were a bit loud and interrupting the play."

"Who is that, Myrtle?” Blossom called from the stage.

"Gordon,” Myrtle called back.

"What does he want?” Fern cried.

"I don't know.” She turned back to Gordon. “What do you want?"

"I came to watch the play and hoped to talk to you afterward ... privately."

"He says it's private,” Myrtle called back to her sisters.

Personally, she didn't care why he was here. He was and that was enough.

"Oh, no. I've seen how you've looked since you went to dinner with him. He broke your heart. He doesn't get private,” Blossom called.

"Sorry,” Fern said. “I have to agree.

The rest of the audience murmured their agreement as well.

Bernie stepped out of his seat. “I'm forced to agree, mortal. You hurt Myrtle. I've been thinking about turning you into a toad, but Fiona won't let me."

"Bernie, don't you interfere. You've done enough damage,” Myrtle warned him. “I swear, if anyone's going to be a toad, it's you. So, if you want to see the birth of your daughter, you'd better sit down and stop meddling. Why, you'd think you were a godmother, the way you're always butting your nose into our business."

"Godfather,” Bernie corrected, “And that would be a thankless job, wouldn't it?"

"Bernie, sit down and be quiet,” Fiona said, pulling him back into his seat. “Gordon, you had something you wanted to say? You might as well just spit it out. No one is going to watch the rest of the play until you do."

Gordon sighed.

"You don't have to say anything,” Myrtle assured him. She wanted to take his hand, wanted to just touch him, but she didn't. She wasn't sure if that's why he was here or not. Could he really live with her being a fairy?

"Yes, I do have to say something. And it's only right I say it in front of your friends and family. The idea of your being a fairy took a bit of getting used to. You see, there's something I should have told you. I'm not quite what I seem. Oh, I'm as unmagical as they come, fairly human. Except I'm not. My mother's a woodsprite. My father is human. I'm unmagical, but not quite mortal. Do you realize what that means? I never fit in anywhere. I thought maybe here, living as a mortal, I could make a place for myself, but I wasn't mortal. My wife, she couldn't stand knowing it. I was resolved. I'd raise Zak by myself. I'd never fit in. Then there was you. Thinking you were mortal, trying to find the courage to try a relationship again, then finding out you weren't. It took my by surprise. I came here tonight to say I want you to be a part of our life. Would you consider seeing me again, knowing what I am, and what I'll never be?"

"I'll have to think about it,” she said, trying to look serious, even as her heart was filling to the point of exploding.

His face fell. “I understand."

"Okay, that's enough thinking,” she said, no longer able to contain her grin. “Yes. I'd love to see you again. Magic or not. Mortal or not. I just want you."

Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand. This, her heart said. This is what she'd waited all those years for.

What they had was new and fragile, but Myrtle was suddenly filled with a sense of possibility. With time and care, anything was possible.

"So, is that it? Everyone is settled?” Blossom called.

"Everything,” Myrtle called back, “Except who are you hugging?"

"This is Rom. He's half fairy, half ogre, and the man I love completely."

Fiona stood up and said, “Man, I'm good. My first job is really three jobs, and they've all got happily-ever-afters."

"Potential happily-ever-afters,” Myrtle corrected her, not wanting Gordon to feel pressured.

"Nope. It's a sure thing,” Fiona said happily. “And now, let's get back to the show."

Myrtle pulled Gordon into a seat. She didn't need Fiona's assurances. Potential was good enough for her right now. But she was pretty sure Fiona was right, that this was indeed a sure thing.

The lights dimmed, the mortals awoke and Blossom said, ” ... If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts..."

The play unfolded, and something in Myrtle's heart did as well.

The feeling was big ... It was love.

She lost herself in the wonder of the feeling as the play continued. 

...If we shadows have offended,

Thing but this, and all is mended—

That you have but slumb'red here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding than a dream... 

A dream, Myrtle thought watching Blossom take her bows on stage, seeing Fern and her Nico sitting side by side.

Looking at Gordon at her side.

A very happy dream.




Chapter Twenty-Seven 
The Curtain Goes Down 

Fiona cradled her little daughter, as Berrybelle herself gave the baby a blessing. “Who do you name this child's godmother?"

"I name three."

Bernie groaned, but Fiona ignored him and continued, “I name Myrtle, Fern and Blossom, three of Fairylands finest godmothers."

She passed the baby to Myrtle who kissed her and said, “To you I give the blessing of heart. If you follow where it leads, you'll never go astray."

Myrtle looked at Gordon and Zak and knew that she gave baby Rose the greatest of all blessings. She'd found magic with a man who claimed to have no magic. She'd found her heart with him, and following it had brought her such great happiness. Married to a non-magic fairy. It shouldn't be, but it was magic. The biggest magic she'd ever experienced.

Being a stepmother to Zak, working for Ripples. Myrtle had never been so happy. Tears filled her eyes as she passed the baby to Fern.

"I give you the blessing of magic. Everything, both your mortal half and your fairy half, has magic in it. The world is a magical, wondrous place, and I wish nothing more than you find that magic wherever your life takes you."

Fern looked at Nico. He tried to hide what he was beneath a gruff exterior. He thought he could chose to be mortal and ignore his fairy half, but the magic of life and love was too strong.

Their love was too strong.

She kissed the baby's forehead and passed her to Blossom.

Blossom took baby Rose and cradled her close. “To you, dear Rose, I give the blessing of passion. Life is precious. Find what makes you happy and seize it with both hands and embrace it.” She looked at Rom, the man she planned to be embracing after today's celebrations were over.

She loved him more than she'd ever thought possible.

She passed the baby back to Fiona.

Bernie said, “We have one more special occasion to celebrate today. Three marriages."

Bernie felt rather smug. Fiona might want to think this was her doing, but he knew it was his. After all, if he hadn't stepped in and made them human, they would never have found their happily-ever-afters.

It was only right he was the one officiating at today's ceremonies.

"Dearly beloved,” he started.

The three fairies, the banes of his existence, stood before him with their husbands-to-be. “We are gathered here today..."

Myrtle felt a wave of pure contentment. Everyone she loved was here. Her sisters, the Aaronsons, friends and family. She looked at Gordon, and then at Zak, standing with them. She took both their hands, “I promise to love and cherish..."

Fern held Nico's hand. Puffy stood next to him, his best man. Puffy had reconciled with his family, but he was staying with Fern and Nico and working at Les Magik. Her life was everything she'd ever dreamed of. Family, friends, a job she loved ... and Nico. Always Nico. “To honor you with all I say and do..."

Blossom held Rom's hand. “...With this I pledge my troth..."

After the reception they were going to start tryouts for the new production, The Taming of the Shrew. Rom said he had his doubts as to whether or not she could pull off Kathryn's part, but she'd shown him just how shrewish she could be, and he'd agreed she might just manage it.

Blossom already had parts in mind for Herbert and his Stella, who was finding that life could indeed still be sweet.

"I know pronounce you husband and wife. You may all—” Bernie stopped short, because none of the three couples had waited. They were all kissing with such passion.

Yes. He'd done good.

"Would you like to hold her?” Fiona asked, passing him Rose.

Bernie marveled at her tiny perfection. How had he and Fiona ever managed without her?

"We did good,” she said.

He looked from his daughter to Myrtle, Fern and Blossom. “Yes, we did."

"Hey, everyone,” Blossom shouted. “We have a treat for you. Myrtle, Fern and I are going to dance for you, for old time's sake. We know Grace is especially thrilled."

The three fairies were suddenly wearing cancan outfits instead of their wedding finery.

Grace groaned loudly, and the rest of the Aaronson clan laughed, as did Bernie.

Yes, it was definitely a happily-ever-after for everyone, he thought.

A very happily-ever-after.