by penny watson
Leaving Sweet Inspiration had not been too difficult. She knew that the new owners, Mrs. Henderson and Kandy and Ray, were taking good care of it. Joe had been hired as their full time deliveryman, and Lucy had left all of her most cherished recipes on the computer. The only thing that was bothering her was her tummy. It was really upset. Lucy worried she was getting sick. She felt exhausted, too. Telling Nicholas was out of the question. He worried too much.
“Miss Lucy, here’s the checklist for the candy delivery to California. I wanted you to look it over and make sure we didn’t forget anything.” Birgit handed Lucy the binder with a pen.
“Are you okay? You look a bit pale today.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Birgit. I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” She signed off on the order and leaned against the counter. “I think I might sneak home for a quick nap. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Helga and Hector had just stopped by to purchase some loaves of bread. She waved weakly at the couple, and they hurried over to her.
Helga grasped Lucy’s hand and peered into her face. “You don’t look so good, Lucy Anne. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing to worry about, I’m sure. I think I’ve been running around too much since we got back from our honeymoon.”
Hector shook his head. “Are you really that obtuse, my dear?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You do know how babies are made, don’t you? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you with the story…”
“For goodness sake, Hector! Don’t mortify Lucy. Of course she knows how babies are made. Suddies call it ‘the birds and the bees.’” Helga scowled at her husband.
Hector raised an eyebrow. “That’s odd. What do birds and bees have to do with babies?”
“How should I know? Suddies have a lot of strange expressions.” Helga led Lucy to a stool and insisted on getting her a glass of water.
Lucy rolled her eyes at their fussing. “I can’t be pregnant, you two. I’m barren. This is a little personal, don’t you think?”
“Barren? What are you talking about young lady?” Hector looked questioningly at Lucy. “You’re as fertile as the hills of Bavaria, my dear.”
“No, Hector, I’m not. I had a medical condition a while ago that caused scarring, and I’m infertile. The doctors in the Sudenwelt told me it was impossible for me to have a baby.”
Hector spied Nicholas across the room and whistled shrilly. Her husband looked up, and Hector summoned him with a flick of his wrist.
“Hello, Hector. Helga. What can we do for you today?” Nicholas slid his arm around Lucy’s waist and kissed her softly on the forehead.
“Nicholas Klaus, were you listening to me when I healed your lovely wife? With the red sphere? She is under the misconception that she is barren, young man.”
Nicholas blanched. “We’re planning to adopt our children someday, Hector. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Hector laughed. “The hell it’s not. I healed Lucy with the red sphere. I told you it would heal her wounds that day, and any other medical conditions she had suffered from in the past. Don’t you remember?”
“Uh…no.” Nicholas responded slowly, clearly trying to jog his memory. “I was a little distracted by Lucy’s near death experience. I don’t remember much about that day, to tell you the truth.”
Hector pointed to Lucy with an exasperated look on his face. “Why don’t you ask your pretty wife how she’s feeling?”
Nicholas gazed at Lucy with concern. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?”
Lucy shrugged. “I guess I have been pretty tired lately. And my stomach is off. I’ve been feeling a bit queasy.”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow at his wife. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Are you late, Lucy Anne?”
Lucy’s face went blank. “Umm, actually, come to think of it, I haven’t had a period for a while. Since…before I met you.”
Nicholas smiled at his wife and gently put a hand on her tummy. “Do you think it’s possible, Schatzi?”
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. “I gave up that dream a long time ago, Nicholas.”
Hector reached out to Lucy and touched her forehead. A wave of shimmering light danced up his hand. He nodded and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll feel better soon, my dear. Call Helga for some ginger tea. It will help to settle your tummy.”
Helga gave Lucy a hug. “Oh, Nicholas. Alena and your father will be thrilled!”
Hector and his wife walked away hand-in-hand, not bothering to hide their enormous grins.
Nicholas cupped Lucy’s face and kissed her startled face on the tip of her nose. “Wow. I think I gave you a really cool Christmas gift this year honey. How do you feel about that?”
Lucy laughed and sank into his embrace. “You’re making all of my dreams come true, Nicholas. I didn’t think this year could get any better. But I was wrong.” She gazed up into his eyes. “I hope our baby has dark wavy hair and beautiful hazel eyes.”
Nicholas held Lucy tightly in his arms and whispered into her ear. “And freckles and ringlet curls. Just like her gorgeous mom. Merry Christmas, Lucy Anne Klaus.”
Lucy laughed with happiness. “Merry Christmas, Nicholas Klaus.”
THE END
The Klaus Brothers Series #2
Sweet Magik
Penny Watson
SWEET MAGIK
Copyright © 2013 Nina Roth Borromeo
First published 2011, The Wild Rose Press
Cover Design: Cover Design: Penny Reid
Cover Images: Cover Photograph: © Anna Omelchenko, 123RF
Ebook Production: JW Manus
All rights reserved. Except for the use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means is forbidden without the express permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
“Holy Mother, Nicholas sure knows how to cook.”
Oskar Johann Klaus raised a brow at his brother Sven, who stuffed an entire miniature mushroom quiche into his mouth.
“That’s not even the best one,” added Wolfgang. “You have to try the chicken saté. It’s incredible.” Wolfie dipped the charred meat into a cup of peanut sauce. “Damn, that’s good. Glad Gregor invited us to his New Year’s party. This is the best I’ve eaten in months.”
Sven chuckled. “Yeah. And the supermodel eye candy really adds to the decor.”
Oskar stole a skewer off Wolfie’s plate. “I think Lucy made these. Nice to have two culinary geniuses in the family.” All three brothers turned to watch their oldest sibling and his new wife. Stationed behind a buffet table loaded with gourmet appetizers, bowls of roses and flickering votives, Nicholas and Lucy took turns serving the guests. And stealing kisses. Oskar smiled to himself as Nicholas slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and nuzzled her neck.
Wolfgang grinned. “Newlyweds. What are you gonna do?”
Oskar laughed and nodded in agreement.
He turned to gaze at the lights of Manhattan through the tall picture window. The view from Gregor’s penthouse was breath-taking. Below him the city shimmered in the bitter cold, alive and vibrant with festive revelers. Gregor had certainly spared no expense on this luxury set-up. His elegant apartment building boasted the requisite stuffy doorman and celebrity tenants.
Personally, Oskar would have preferred a cozy lodge in the mountains. He managed the city well enough for short stints, but his soul yearned for crisp mountain air, freshly powdered trails, and the exhilaration of flying on his Burton. His favorite way to unwind after a hectic holiday season was a couple of weeks in Mammoth, testing out the new jumps, and revisiting favorite runs. Especially if his brothers joined him on the
slopes.
Typically New Years didn’t garner a lot of attention at the North Pole. After the insanity of Christmas day, Klaus Enterprises took an extended vacation. But this year Gregor decided to entertain in high style and insisted all of his brothers gather for the shindig. Honestly, there was nothing Oskar would rather do than hang out with his family. He could manage to step it up for a night and hobnob with Gregor’s ritzy friends. The fact that a crowd of supermodels mingled with the guests didn’t hurt either.
Oskar took a long swig of his beer, sighed and leaned against the sofa.
Sven finished the quiche and gave Oskar a once-over. “You okay? You look a little wiped out.”
Wolfie nodded. “I noticed the same thing. You’re not your usual chipper self.”
“Just tired. That last week before Christmas was a killer.” Oskar rubbed his forehead.
“I heard Monie and the gang gave you a real run for the money. Peppermint schnapps jello shots? That all-nighter must have gotten ugly the next morning,” said Wolf.
Oskar rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me? I had about two hundred elves with hangovers from hell, and only a week to get Christmas orders done and loaded.” He blew out a breath. “I am seriously getting too old for this crap.”
Sven put down his plate. “Are you heading to Mammoth for a break? You haven’t been boarding for a while. That will get you revved up again.”
“Yeah,” Wolf agreed. “You need a change of pace. You’re usually the first one ready for the New Year’s countdown. I’ve never seen you this exhausted.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing a couple of weeks in Cali won’t fix. Conditions sound perfect. They just got twelve inches of fresh powder. I am so ready for that.” Oskar tried to reassure his brothers. He didn’t want them pecking at him like a mother hen.
Gregor appeared with a platter of champagne. Oskar had to laugh at his impeccable appearance. He had the whole Manhattan “man of finance” look down to an art: the designer suit, the power tie, a perfectly groomed goatee, and the latest Rolex.
“Champagne?” Gregor asked.
Sven chose a gold-rimmed flute and whistled. “Hey, real crystal. Nice touch, Gregor.”
“I thought I told you guys to dress up.” Gregor shot a perturbed look at his brothers. “What is that?” he asked, gesturing to Sven’s vest.
“You told me not to wear my poncho, but you never said I couldn’t wear my Guatemalan vest. It’s festive… for the holiday.”
“You’re wearing Birkies. To a cocktail party.”
Sven shrugged. “I’m wearing them with black dress socks.”
Gregor turned to Wolf, who held up a warning hand. “Oh no, you cannot possibly find fault with this outfit. Khakis and a blue button down shirt are classic.”
“Classic… and boring.” Gregor took a sip of champagne and examined Oskar. Oskar had traded his layered vintage T-shirts and cargo pants for slacks and a nice shirt. Of course his sleeves were rolled up high on his arms, displaying his tattoo collection. Green spiked hair and burgundy Doc Martens completed the ensemble.
Gregor shook his head. “Nice hair. You couldn’t tone down the punk look for a night? Come on, Oskar. Do you even remember what your real hair color is?”
“The ladies don’t seem to mind.” Oskar gestured to a gangly model who was watching him coyly. “I think they’re probably bored to death with you yuppie types and ready for a new flavor.” He winked at the blonde who giggled and turned back to her friends.
“And what flavor would you be?” Gregor regarded his brother’s hair and sighed. “Lime? Spinach? Pistachio?”
Sven nodded. “Looks like broccoli.”
Wolfie grinned. “Definitely asparagus.”
“Artichokes?” Gregor suggested.
“Brussels sprouts,” Sven added, fist-bumping Wolf.
“Am I missing a conversation about food?” Nicholas asked, offering a platter of miniature crepes to his brothers. “I thought you guys hated Brussels sprouts.”
Gregor laughed as he carefully removed an hors d’oeuvre from the plate. “Oskar’s hair. I’m trying to figure out what flavor of green he represents. What do you think?”
Nicholas raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “It’s the exact color of spinach and cream soufflé, actually. Hmmm, maybe I should have added that to the menu…”
“The menu’s perfect. Thanks again, Nick, for all of your hard work. You and Lucy have outdone yourselves. Everyone loves the food.”
Oskar folded his arms across his chest. “My hair color is not that big a deal, guys. And I left the Seuss hat at home. Give me a break.”
Gregor stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “I would kill to get you into one of my favorite shops. For God’s sake, O, you’re almost thirty and you’re still dressing like a high school kid.”“I need something to spice up my life. You get to spend your days in a stimulating and cutting-edge urban environment. I’m stuck in Glasdorf with the little terrors.”
Gregor frowned. “I thought you loved your job. No one can motivate the…” Gregor paused and looked around him “… ‘crew’ the way you do.”
Oskar smiled and raised his beer bottle. “Don’t worry, Greg, I’m not going to quit and leave you in charge of the ‘crew.’” Gregor blanched at the comment. Oskar laughed and pounded him on the back. “I need a vacation, that’s all.”
He would never admit to his brothers just how disenchanted he felt with his “career.” Nicholas, Sven, Wolfie and Gregor all excelled in their various occupations including master pastry chef, chief toy designer and wood-worker, director of charitable donations and financial guru, but his position within Klaus Enterprises bordered on embarrassment. Oskar was saddled with the least appealing position in the North Pole—Director of Elfin Resources.
Yep, his job involved babysitting a bunch of ornery, cussing, hard-drinking elves who would rather pound back a few than toil in the factories. Cracking the whip with a cantankerous group of elves didn’t quite measure up in the Klaus family. Living in the shadow of a legend, St. Nicholas himself, didn’t help either.
Nevertheless, Oskar usually felt a sense of accomplishment after Christmas wrapped up. He worked hard to keep the employees motivated, made sure they were on schedule with production, and managed to troubleshoot even the most difficult situations, which seemed to crop up with alarming frequency. This year, for the first time, he felt completely burned out. Whether he liked it or not, thirty was right around the corner. Maybe he was having a mid-life crisis.
Damn, time to get off the pity wagon. I’m at a chichi party in Manhattan with gourmet food, sexy models and unlimited alcoholic beverages.
Buck up, man.
Just as he turned back to Greg, a woman across the room caught his eye. Funny, she didn’t blend in with the other stylish guests. She reminded him of a librarian, in a gray, shapeless suit, hair pulled into a bun low on her head, and clunky tortoise shell glasses perched on the end of her nose. What the heck was she doing at this party? She looked like a mourning dove lost in a nest of strutting peacocks. In spite of her dowdy outfit, there was something about her, something… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Sven slapped him on the back and cocked his head toward the models. Leaning toward Oskar, he lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, bro, but one of those supermodels is checking you out. She must like green punk hair and Doc Martens.”
Wolf nodded. “It’s the tats. No model can resist them.”
Oskar tore his gaze away from the Librarian to look at the Supermodel. Tall, blonde and sexy. He raised an eyebrow at her. She swung a handful of golden tresses over her shoulder and smiled at him. He smiled back.
Pity party was officially over.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from Gregor and downed it. “Okay, let the New Year’s celebration begin.”
“Bloomin’ shame about the promotion, Ingo.” Loki pursed his lips and took a gulp of lager. “Per’s got balls to take credit for your work.”
Hie
ronymus patted Ingo on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll set Sven straight soon enough. Per doesn’t know the first thing about the line you created. It’s gonna fall flat without you at the helm, and you know it, man.”
“It was a stroke of genius, the Mother Bond design. Best stuff to come out of the wood shop in years,” added Loki.
Hieronymus nodded his head in agreement. “Your workmanship is superb, my friend.”
“Per can’t work the wood for shit. His stuff looks like my dog gnawed up a hunk of lumber for a couple of hours, yah.” Loki slammed his beer stein onto the sticky countertop and flipped his long white braids over his shoulder. “Dag, I’m empty over here!”
Dag Jorgensen, owner of Dag’s Pub, slid a frothy brew down the bar top, past a long line of elves clamoring for another drink.
“Thanks, yah!” Loki pushed the drink in front of Ingo. “I think you need this more than I do,” he whispered.
Ingo Hertz grabbed the frosty glass with scratched-up, callused hands. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. Sven’s made his decision, and that’s that.” He released a drawn-out sigh and glanced up to catch his haggard reflection in the mirror above the bar. Saw dust liberally coated his russet colored hair and beard. Spots of grease flecked his flannel work shirt. There were dark circles under his eyes, like two shadowy crescent moons. Didn’t really matter how many hours of work he put in at the shop, Per was leader of the new project, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Loki crammed some ginger snaps into his mouth. “What I don’t get is why Sven would promote that lyin’ bastard, anyway. His work’s never been that good.”
Hieronymus, Ingo’s best friend, wrapped a sympathetic arm around his shoulders. “I heard that Oskar stopped by the wood-working studio on Ingo’s day off. When O saw the model Ingo carved and started going on about how cool it was, Per jumped right in and took credit. Oskar told Sven, and then Sven gave Per the promotion. Per’s an a-hole.”