The Magic of Love Series

by Margaret Locke

  Grace snorted as Marie wheeled her into the kitchen. “Yes, that’s what makes such a dreadful accident okay. A cute guy half my age.”

  “At least this house is fairly wheelchair-accessible, not that I ever thought about it before,” Marie said, changing the subject. Cat glanced around the Cape Cod. The hallways were surprisingly wide, and thankfully the master bedroom was on the main floor. Two bedrooms were upstairs, but one served as a playroom for the grandkids when they came over, and the other was mostly used for storage.

  “Marie, you’ll have to help your sister clear out the second room upstairs so she has a place to sleep. I was sorting through boxes and I’m afraid I left it in a mess.” Grace yawned. “I’m exhausted. Would you help me back to my bedroom? I need to rest.”

  “Sure thing, Mom. Hey, Cat,” Marie said, “go on up. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Walking up the stairs, Cat paused as she passed by a ledge full of pig figurines. Her mother had made the mistake of telling the family she liked pigs—they reminded her of growing up in Iowa—so every year she received at least one as a gift from one well-meaning family member or another. Cat’s favorite was the dancing Elvis Pigsley. She picked it up and held it in her hand. “Thank ya, thank ya verra much.”

  Setting him back down, she walked into the bedroom. Her mom hadn’t been kidding. Boxes were strewn over the floor, the bed and against the back wall. Cat moved a few off the bed and sat down. She looked up at the space over the desk and saw a framed photo of her mom and dad on their wedding day. She stared at it for some time, admiring and envying the enraptured expression on her dad’s face as he’d beheld her mother. She knew their marriage hadn’t been perfect; she remembered arguments now and then, not to mention the time they’d vacationed as a family in Florida and her parents hadn’t spoken to each other the entire trip. But he’d been devoted to her, and Grace to him.

  Marie popped her head in from around the stairwell. “How long do you think you can stay?”

  “A week, at most. I have to call Eliza. When I talked to her the day before yesterday, she said the woman William sent over was very helpful. But I need to get home soon. Christmas season is the busiest time of the year for us. And I need all the business I can get.”

  “I’m sorry we spent Thanksgiving in the hospital.” Her sister crossed the room and sat down next to her on the bed. “But it’s nice to have the family together again, even if not under ideal circumstances.”

  “Wait—what? We missed Thanksgiving?”

  Marie laughed. “Uh, yeah. It was yesterday. Didn’t you notice they served Mom turkey and mashed potatoes?”

  “Ugh. Sorry. The days have all been a rush since Mom’s accident.”

  “But we have a lot to be thankful for, don’t we?”

  Marie leaned down and pulled the lid off a box. In it were remnants of their childhood: artwork and report cards and trophies, the latter mostly for Marie. Cat had never been the sporty type.

  “Oh, wow,” Cat said. “Who knew Mom saved all this stuff?”

  Marie let out a harrumph. “It’s a good thing Roger took the girls over to his parent’s house for the day. We’re going to be here a while.” She picked up a misshapen clay pot. “I’d so rather be hitting the Black Friday deals.”

  Cat’s eyes widened. “Oh, God. It’s Black Friday. Listen, is it all right if I call Eliza? I need to check in and see how it’s going.”

  “Of course.” Marie continued pulling items out of the box as Cat dialed the phone.

  “Treasure Trove Booksellers, how may I help you?” answered a deep voice.

  Cat frowned. “Ben?” she said, confused.

  “Yes, this is Ben—how did you ... Oh, Cat, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Why are you answering the phone? Where’s Eliza?”

  “Busy ringing up a customer. It’s been crazy in here today.”

  Cat could make out voices murmuring and the door opening and closing in the background. “Eliza, it’s Cat,” she heard Ben call.

  “Here she is, Cat. Good talking to you. I hope your mom is doing well,” Ben said.

  Eliza’s voice came on the phone. “Hi, Cat!” she said in a cheerful voice. “How’s your mom? How are you?”

  “We’re well,” Cat answered. “Mom’s getting better every day, and the doctors say she should make a complete if slow recovery.”

  “That’s great. Hold on.” Eliza directed someone to the History section.

  “It sounds busy in there.”

  “It is! It’s been a great sales day so far. Thank goodness Ben’s been here all day helping.”

  “Ben’s been there? All day?”

  “Yeah, the woman who’s been here most of the week called this morning to say her son had food poisoning— from the turkey, they think. Most of their family got it. Anyway, she couldn’t come in today. I called Emily, but she’s in Pennsylvania visiting grandparents. I didn’t know what I was going to do. Oh, hold on.”

  Cat heard muffled voices and then Eliza came back on the line. “Ben saw me at the coffee shop right before I was going to open up—I figured I needed to fortify myself with caffeine if I was going to be here all day by myself. Once I told him about Judy’s son, he insisted on coming to help me. He even called his girlfriend to cancel their lunch plans.”

  “Wow. That’s very ... nice. Extremely nice.”

  “I know! Our knight to the rescue again. And he’s great with the customers—chats them up and everything. I’m sure we’ve made a few extra sales because of him today.”

  “Wow,” was all Cat could think to say.

  “When are you coming home? We’re doing fine, but I don’t know when Judy will be back, and I told Carol I’d cover for her lit class on Thursday.”

  “Wednesday at the latest. Can you last that long?”

  “Of course. You take care of your mom.”

  “Thanks so much, Eliza. You’re the best. Hey, may I talk to Ben for a moment?”

  “Sure. Tell your mom I’m thinking of her, and say hi to your sister. Enjoy the time away if you can. Hold on, I’ll get Ben.”

  Cat heard her call Ben’s name.

  “Hello again,” came his voice a moment later. “Happy Thanksgiving! I hope your mom is doing all right. Eliza filled me in on the accident.”

  “She is, thank you. She’s banged up, but the doctors expect her to make a full recovery.”

  “That’s wonderful. She’s lucky.”

  “Definitely. Listen, I want to thank you for helping Eliza today. It’s certainly not something I would have expected you to do, especially since it sounds like you already had plans.”

  “It’s no big deal. I could see the panic in Eliza’s face and I was happy to be able to help her out. To help you out.”

  “Well, thanks again. I truly appreciate it. Seems as if you’re always getting us out of one jam or another.”

  “Anything for my damsel in distress,” he quipped, then amended quickly, “I mean, damsels. You know, both you and Eliza. I like helping out women. I mean people. Damsels. Or maybe even guys.”

  Cat put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at his sudden babbling.

  “Yeah, I should go,” he continued. “There’s a line at the register.”

  “Great, Ben. Thanks again. I owe you big time. Maybe when I get back I can buy you coffee. Although that would hardly be adequate for what you’re doing. So maybe coffee and a muffin,” she joked.

  “That’s not necessary, but I wouldn’t say no to a date with you, either. I mean a morning date for coffee. That kind of date. Between friends. A coffee date.”

  Cat giggled. She would have thought he was flirting with her, except of course he was involved with Mei. “Perhaps you’ve had enough coffee for today, Mr. Cooper. I’ll see you next week, okay? And thanks again.”

  She hung up the phone.

  “Who’s Ben?” her sister asked, clearly having eavesdropped. “You haven’t mentioned any Ben.”

  �
�He’s a computer science professor at the university. He helped fix our computer, and now I guess he’s helping Eliza today in the store.” And I had lunch with him once. A two- hour lunch. She kept that information to herself.

  “So not another guy hot after you, huh?”

  Cat suddenly imagined herself locked in a torrid embrace with Ben, like on one of Eliza’s romance covers. Where had that come from? She looked down at the floor, praying Marie wouldn’t notice her cheeks, which burned so hotly Cat was sure they were fire-truck red. “What, three isn’t enough?”

  A snarky expression sneaked across Marie’s face. “Not in my day. But let’s get back to it. I still want to hit Toys-R-Us today.”

  “We all have our priorities.”

  Marie threw the clay pot at her, missing by a mile. The pot shattered as it hit the floor. “Yeah, no great loss there.”

  “Marie, I’m worried about leaving Mom here alone. I know you’ll help as much as you can, but you’ve got stuff of your own to do, and I’m going home in a few days. I can’t afford to stay longer, but I hate to leave when she’s still so far from recovered.”

  “We’ll figure it out. Maybe we’ll hire a nighttime aide. I can be here most of the day while the girls are in school.”

  “A nighttime helper? You think Mom will go for that? I doubt it—she’s too independent for that.”

  “Well, yeah. But maybe this time she’ll listen to reason.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Cat replied. “When her Elvis pig flies.”

  Marie snorted. She picked up some more papers out of a box. “Ha. Here’s my paper on Stonehenge I wrote in seventh grade.” After a minute, she said, “Hey, that reminds me. What were these stories you mentioned?”

  Dang. I was hoping she’d forget. “Oh. Um, Mom sent me a box of stuff she found up here. There were a few in it.” Cat didn’t mention the manuscript.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  Marie rolled her eyes. “And what was in the stories?”

  Cat toyed with the edge of her shirt. Why had she brought this up? “They were ... love stories.”

  “Love stories?” Marie hooted with laughter. “Like the kind Eliza reads?”

  Cat wanted to punch her. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes.

  “Ooh. Are you serious? Can I read one?”

  “They’re not here. They’re in Virginia. Forget I ever said anything.”

  “Not happening, especially since you’re being so cryptic about it.”

  Cat heaved a big sigh. Might as well tell Marie everything; she knew her sister wouldn’t drop it until she did. “Dad never showed you a medieval manuscript, did he?”

  Marie gave her an odd glance. “Uh, no. What does that have to do with love stories?”

  The words tumbled out of Cat’s mouth. She told her sister about the manuscript, her translation of it, the stories, and the coincidences with Derrick and Grayson. Marie just sipped her soda, saying nothing. When Cat had finished, she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for her sister to respond.

  “Yeah, you’re nuts,” Marie said with a devilish grin. “But I always knew that.”

  Silence stretched out between them.

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  “What is there to say? You don’t believe it’s true, do you?”

  “No.” Cat’s scalp prickled.

  Her sister stared her down, just like she’d done when they were kids. “You can’t truly believe there’s an iota of a chance you made these guys up? Seriously? You really are nuts.”

  “Maybe,” Cat muttered. “Maybe I am.”

  “Come on, Cat. You may like those weird sci-fi fantasy shows on TV, but this is real life.”

  “I don’t like sci-fi. I like Bones. And Vampire Diaries. They’re not sci-fi.”

  “Tomato, tomahto, sister. There are no vampires in real life, and you can’t write someone into being.”

  Cat nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Stress must be getting to me.”

  Their mother’s voice rang from below. “Girls? I need your help.”

  Cat and Marie raced down the stairs to their mother’s bedroom. “Mom? You okay?” Marie asked.

  “Of course. I just can’t get the lid off this pain medicine one-handed.”

  Marie took the bottle and opened it. “I’ll get you some water. Meanwhile, why don’t you ask Cat about her dates?”

  Cat snorted. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re dating someone, Catherine?” Her mother looked at her with interest.

  Cat shifted, blocking her arms over her chest. “Not exactly dating. I’ve gone on a few dates. Nothing serious.”

  “Don’t count yourself out. Maybe this gentleman is the one.”

  “Which one, Mom? She’s been dating three!” Marie proclaimed as she reentered the room.

  Cat mimed stabbing Marie in the head. “That’s true, but the first two, at least, didn’t work out.”

  “Then tell me about the third. I assume he’s the man who brought you to Ohio?”

  Cat scowled at her sister.

  “Of course I told her about William,” Marie said. “It’s not every day your sister shows up in a fancy dress with a jaw-droppingly handsome man. In his own plane.”

  “Point taken,” Cat conceded. “His name is William Dawes, Mom. I met him when he came into the store looking for an old Bible—the Regency one Dad found that one time, remember?”

  Grace nodded impatiently, clearly more interested in Mr. Dawes than the book.

  “We went on a date last week. The night of your accident, actually. That’s why he ended up bringing me here, as Marie so kindly told you.”

  “He’s rich.”

  “And that’s what’s important?” Cat glared at her sister.

  “Well,” Marie said with a huff, “if you’re going to fall in love, nothing wrong with falling in love with someone with money.”

  “If Roger had no money, would you love him less?”

  “Of course not. I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Fine. Anyway, Mom,” Cat continued, “there’s a lot more to William than his money. He’s kind and generous. He made me feel safe in the middle of a horrible situation. He’s sent over help for the store while I’m here, and has told me not to hesitate to ask for whatever I need.” She fidgeted with her ear. “Not that I would take advantage of him; you know I’m not like that. But he’s like a modern Prince Charming. What girl wouldn’t fantasize about being taken care of like that?”

  “A feminist one,” sniped her mother.

  “One can be a feminist and still enjoy a man’s attentions, Mom,” Marie countered.

  Grace swallowed and sipped some water, nodding in acquiescence. “Definitely true. I adored your father. And he never once acted like we were anything less than equals.”

  Her gaze grew thoughtful as she studied her daughter. “You know, that Prince quip reminds me of that story you emailed me shortly after your dad died, when you were visiting Aunt Kate. Do you remember?”

  Chapter 17

  Catherine stood rooted to the spot. A story? She’d sent her mother a story? She could feel the blood drain from her face.

  Her mother didn’t seem to notice. “You wrote about wanting your own Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet,” she continued, “lavish you with great things, and treat you like a princess. You called it Caterella. I remember the title because it was so you: half-humor, half-literary. I figured the rest of it was your way of wading through the grief after the loss of your dad, by creating this fantasy of a man who could whisk you away from all the pain, out of reality and into the glamorous life.”

  Grace set her cup down on the nightstand. “It never sounded like the real you, that pining for a man. I’d forgotten about it—but I remember saving the email because you also told stories about your dad that I wanted to hold on to. I think it’s out with the photo albums. Maybe you girls can find it.”

  Cat’s breathing accelerate
d and her heart pounded. Was this what a heart attack felt like?

  Grabbing her elbow, Marie pulled her into the hallway. “Relax,” she whispered. “Seriously. You don’t need to freak Mom out.”

  Cat clutched her elbows, holding her arms against her stomach. She attempted to breathe in and out, in and out, but the air wouldn’t come.

  Marie walked to the back end of the hallway and bent down. She thumbed through the old albums housed on a bookshelf there. A moment later she held up a piece of paper. “Found it.”

  Cat approached her sister, taking the paper with a trembling hand. She scanned it, blanching further. “Oh my God. I said his name was Will. Marie, I said his name was Will!”

  Marie grabbed the paper, reading for herself. “C’mon. You said he’d be named something wealthy and noble sounding, like William or Harry or Edward. You didn’t say he was William. You must have been thinking of the British royal family.”

  They heard the sound of their mom’s wheelchair and looked up to see her wheeling herself slowly down the hallway. Cat yanked the email back from her sister and stuffed it in her pocket.

  “Did you find it?” Grace called.

  “No,” Cat said, as Marie raced to their mother’s side. “Mom!” she chided. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  Grace waved her off. “You guys were taking too long; I had to see what the problem was. I could’ve sworn it was in there.”

  She looked back and forth between her daughters, a perplexed expression on her face. “What’s going on? Cat, you look a little green.”

  “It’s nothing, Mom. She just needs something to eat. Can I make you a sandwich, Cat?” Marie asked in an extra cheerful voice, giving Cat a pointed look.

  Realizing she didn’t need to freak her mother out any more than she was freaking herself out, Cat forced herself to agree. “Yeah, Mom, nothing, I’m just tired. And thinking about Dad. I always miss him this time of year.”

  Grace seemed satisfied with her answer. “I miss him, too. Anyways, you know I think you deserve someone as wonderful as that fantasy guy, right, honey?”