Of Stone and Sky

by Charissa Stastny

  “Because I’m unpresentable as I am?”

  “Your words, not mine.” I gestured to the door. We were done.

  She bristled. “You’re the grumpiest boss ever.”

  I hit my desk. “This is no joking matter.” With her pompom-loving blasé attitude, Gemma had to be the most unorthodox woman alive. She’d TP’d my office and bedazzled my name plaque and college diploma frames. She needed to take this seriously. “Once this ridiculous engagement goes public, we’ll be walking a tightrope.”

  She pouted. “You did this. I didn’t ask you to, and I didn’t have to agree to go along with this ruse. Maybe stop talking like this is a problem I created for you.” She picked up her fringed satchel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

  I rubbed my aching head. Gemma definitely had a flair for the dramatic. But she was right. I had created this mess. The least I could do was be kind to her about it. I needed to stop acting like my dad. Be more like Gramps.

  Was that even possible anymore?

  16

  Saemira

  Age 13 – Fushë Krujë, Albania

  ETHICAL: courageous in doing what is right, no matter what.

  Bells tinkled from a market stall. Saemira stopped to stroke a goat’s spotted coat, wishing she could take him home. Goats had four stomachs and ate whatever you gave them. They were soft, playful. The perfect pet.

  She spotted Engjell down the street and paused. What was he doing out of school? She’d stayed home to help Mama since she felt poor with the baby she carried. But Engjell didn’t have a mama to help.

  She almost called out to him but noticed his scary uncle and ducked into a doorway. Old voices she thought she had silenced taunted her.

  She was a thief. A whore.

  Hidden in the shadows, she observed Engjell’s uncle point to certain people. Engjell left him and weaved through crowds until he followed the target, because that’s what they were. He pilfered wallets and money from pockets and purses and slipped back to his uncle to drop the loot into a bag near his feet. Then he’d head off to prey on another victim his uncle picked.

  His vile uncle eventually left with some other men, and Engjell spread a blanket on the crowded sidewalk and began begging.

  A few kind people dropped coins in his hat. More kicked him or spat at his feet as they passed. She made her way over to where he begged and dropped a coin into his hat.

  “Faleminderit,” he said, without looking up. A scarf covered his missing ear and facial scars.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered in English.

  Engjell jerked his head up and cursed.

  “Shame on you.” She stomped her foot. “At least a beggar’s better than a thief.”

  He stuffed his hat and blanket into a bag. “I wasn’t doing anything those gadje didn’t deserve.” He pulled her onto a less crowded side street.

  “What about the poor woman with the child? You took money from her purse while she wiped her child’s nose.”

  “Shh.” He glanced around. “She wasn’t poor.”

  “Neither am I. Will you steal from me?”

  He pouted. “I’d never steal from you or your family.”

  “You shouldn’t steal from anyone. It’s not right. I’m going to tell Baba.”

  “No. Please, Gem.” He took hold of her arm.

  She knew he wanted Baba to be proud of him. That’s why he studied longer than her, why he stayed after school to help Baba clean and prepare for the next day, why he came over to hang on every word that left Baba’s mouth. But stealing was wrong.

  “Promise not to steal ever again, and I won’t tell him what I saw.”

  His shoulders sagged. “I promise, except when necessary.”

  She scowled. “Crime is never necessary. It’s unethical.”

  He kicked a rock. “You’re naïve. And spoiled. Roma don’t have the luxury of abiding by ethics.”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Don’t cry, Gem.”

  “I want you to be a good person.” Not bad like his uncle.

  “Fine. I won’t steal any more.” He took her hand. “You won’t tell your baba?”

  She squeezed his fingers. “I won’t.” Part of her was relieved to know her friend had faults. She wasn’t the only one with secrets.

  Gemma

  Altin sat at the table, eating macaroni and cheese I’d warmed up for him. I paced the floor, still angry that I’d allowed Mr. M to get under my skin? I’d dealt with condescending men before and hadn’t given them more than a silent middle finger. But Lincoln. Argh!

  I jumped at a sharp knock on the door. Who was here? Angel didn’t know about this place. My heart beat double time as I crept to the door.

  “Who’s there?”

  “The big bad wolf,” my boss answered.

  I opened the door and put a hand on my hip. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Wink!” Altin climbed down from his chair and ran to him.

  Lincoln picked him up and swung him around. “Hey, kid. Want to go for a walk?”

  “He’s not going anywhere with you.” I started washing the table.

  “You’re coming, too.” Lincoln glanced at my bare feet. “Throw on some shoes.”

  I turned my back to the irritating man but slipped into sandals. Maybe outside I could tell him off better than I’d done at the office. Or not done.

  Spring had finally won the battle against winter. Tall maples and oaks looked lovely with bright green buds. Altin straddled Lincoln’s shoulders, messing with his hair.

  “Sorry for being the suckiest fake fiancé ever.”

  My lips twitched. “You should be.”

  “Will you forgive me for being abrupt so I can be the second-most-suckiest fake fiancé again?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’d better have a kick-butt apology.”

  He stopped. “I really am sorry for snapping at you. When we finish this walk, how about I treat you and Altin to ice cream? Will you forgive me then?”

  “Hmm. That might work. The ice cream. Not your apology.”

  “Damn. I practiced the whole way here.”

  I knocked his elbow. “Don’t try to be funny. I’m serious. You can’t just apologize for the mess you’ve created.”

  “I know. I’ve screwed everything up, and now it’s blowing up in my face.” He rubbed his forehead. “Did you know Wilder knows my grandpa from his college days?”

  “No.” But that was great. That connection would make getting the man’s money so much easier.

  “Neither did I. Wilder said they roomed together for a couple years before serving in the same unit in ‘Nam. Gramps saved his life there.”

  “That’s fantastic,” I said. “We don’t need to pretend to be engaged. He’ll invest with you because you’re the grandson of his hero and friend.”

  “No.” He grimaced. “It’s more complicated than that. You’re right that if he invests, he’ll invest big. But my family and I haven’t spoken since my divorce two years ago. If Wilder finds out, he won’t give me money. He’ll probably cheer on my ex.” He growled. “He’s invited my grandpa and parents to the cabin since they’ll be on a cruise next week and will miss the engagement party. I want to back out, tell Wilder you and I are a joke, but that would doom EcoCore.”

  Ouch. Nothing like hearing where I stood in his eyes. “At least they’re family. They love you, even if you haven’t talked for a while.”

  “My parents don’t love me. They believe the stupid media that I deserved prison.” His nostrils flared. “Dad always said money and my temper would be my downfall. And he’s always right, just ask him.” His shoulders slumped.

  I couldn’t hold back my curiosity. “What really happened with your ex? Should I be worried about being fake-engaged to you?”

  He started walking again. “I didn’t beat her, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t know who did
. Maybe her brother. They were always thick as thieves. But I have no proof. All I know is I didn’t break her arm or make her lose our baby.” He glanced at me. “I’d never hurt you.”

  “Why didn’t you defend yourself to the police? Why didn’t you defend yourself to your parents, at least?”

  “They didn’t want the truth. They wanted confirmation of what they already believed. Angeline’s a better actor, and the evidence was stacked against me. My innocence didn’t matter.”

  “Your parents deserve the truth.” My conscience pricked me, but I ignored it. This wasn’t about me.

  “Nothing I say or do will change Dad’s mind. He’s always been wrapped around Angeline’s little finger.”

  I bumped his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll wrap him around mine at the cabin. Change his loyalty.”

  He scoffed. “As charming as you are, you won’t change his mind. It’s set like concrete.”

  He thought I was charming? “Maybe I’ll take a sledgehammer with me.”

  He smiled, and I told my heart to stop reading forever into it. Lincoln had a great smile. It didn’t mean he liked me. He had money. Something I lacked. His kind fell for women like his ex who were beautiful, filthy rich, and had boob jobs.

  “Thanks for being a good sport about this.” He touched my arm, making me tingle all over.

  I fisted my hands. He might think I was charming, but he wasn’t charmed by me. He’d hardly noticed me last week when I’d been all glammed up. He certainly didn’t see me now in my Cinderella rags.

  “You’re paying me well to be so.”

  His brow furrowed, and I wished to take my petty words back. The money and car were huge incentives to put up with his charade and the havoc he played on my heart…but I would’ve helped him even without them.

  Call me a fool.

  17

  Lincoln

  Why was Gemma such a drama queen? Casey had called an hour ago to alert me that she had refused to go with him to the spa to get ready for our big debut tonight. I’d dropped everything to stop by the spa to pick up her gown and accessories, soothe Casey’s ego with a tip, bribe the stylist to do an on-site appointment, and task Lionel with dropping by my house to pick up my tux and other necessities and meet me at Gemma’s.

  Thankfully, Lionel was parked outside her place when my limo arrived. I could always count on him.

  I marched with Pico and Lionel toward her door, checking the time on my watch. Wilder would be pissed if we showed up late to our own engagement party. Not that we’d had much say in the matter.

  Gemma opened the door and pouted, then smiled when she noticed Pico.

  “Ah, mia cara,” he said, hugging her.

  I shoved the garment bag into her arms. “Get changed. Pico will do your hair.” I glanced around the bedazzled apartment. “Where can I change?”

  She pointed to an open door. “Tina already picked Altin up.”

  I took the tux and jewelry boxes from Lionel before sending him away. Gemma disappeared into her bedroom. I went into Altin’s messy room. Good grief. Did she never pick up?

  After dressing, I emerged and let Pico style my hair. Gemma cracked her door and waved for him.

  “Can you zip me up?”

  I glared at the guy.

  He stuck out his hip. “Perks of being gay. I get to touch beautiful men…and women.”

  I paced across her living area, noticing Gemma’s signature touch in the pompoms, fringed curtains, and gaudy artwork on the walls. Bedazzled posters made me smile.

  There is no angry way to say bubbles.

  When nothing goes right…go left.

  Time is precious. Waste it wisely.

  Speaking of time, I glanced at my watch and pounded on her door. “Hurry up. We’re going to be late.”

  “Don’t rush perfection,” Pico said in his high voice.

  The door opened, and I gulped. Gemma’s beauty had shocked me the first time. She stunned me now.

  “I can tell you like,” Pico said.

  I pulled out a wad of Franklin’s to pay him. “Thanks for saving my butt.”

  “You have a nice one.” He walked out the door.

  Gemma laughed. “He’s right.”

  We should not be talking about my butt. I opened the jeweler’s box.

  Gemma gaped at the large solitaire ring inside. “Are you kidding me?”

  “This has to appear real.”

  “So it’s fake.”

  “Absolutely not. This is the real deal.” I grabbed the larger box and opened it. “So are these.”

  “Holy Shih Tzu.” She touched the diamond necklace and earrings.

  “Turn around.”

  She did, and I clasped the necklace around her neck. “Put these in.” I handed her the earrings. “Quickly. We need to go.”

  She stepped up to a mirror.

  “Why didn’t you go with Casey?” I frowned. She’d shot my afternoon to hell by not sticking to the plan. “You know how important tonight is.”

  “Casey’s an asterisk. He wouldn’t listen when I told him I didn’t need hours to get ready.” She bit her lip as she put in an earring.

  “He knows how to make us look our best.” I took her arm to lead her outside.

  “You mean he understands what will make you look best. He’s just a jerk to me.”

  “Well, you’re a big girl. Deal with it next time.”

  The ride to the hotel chilled me. Gemma wasn’t happy with me. That made us even.

  The limo pulled up to the hotel, and I touched her hand. “Please try to act somewhat happy. If you keep scowling, Wilder will get suspicious.” I didn’t need a scandal on top of everything else.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll smile and be pretty so you can win your precious investment.”

  Her snarky answer made me want to kick something. I couldn’t say anything right around her. Of course, I cared about the money, but I didn’t want her to be miserable to secure it. I’d hoped the new car and debt I’d paid off would’ve made her happy. Was I that terrible of a fake fiancé?

  We walked arm in arm through the clapping crowd of guests Wilder had invited, and she did smile pretty. Gemma had an amazing smile.

  Right before we reached the stairs, an urchin dropped a bag of jellybeans. Everyone focused on him but I wasn’t fooled. I spotted his mom on the other side of the rotunda, siphoning a wallet from a distracted patron.

  “Stop that woman!” I pointed at the thief. “The kid’s a distraction.”

  Hotel security quickly pinned the woman against a wall, stolen wallet in hand. I congratulated myself for thwarting her crime spree. But I’d lost Gemma in the melee. I caught sight of her on the other side of the rotunda. She’d worked her way up to the gypsy thief and was talking to her.

  Cameras turned her direction. Damn it! I hated the press. Had Wilder invited them, or had they smelled my blood with the looming court case?

  I jogged over to intercept her.

  “Is this necklace mine?” she asked, touching her neck.

  Why would she ask that in front of all these reporters? Did she consider me a scrooge? “Of course.”

  She unclasped the expensive piece and handed it to the woman.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  The gypsy slipped from the distracted guard’s grip and took off. He gave chase, but it was hopeless.

  I pulled Gemma’s hand up to my arm, gritting my teeth. “Do you have any idea how much that cost?”

  “Way too much probably, like most things you buy.”

  I pasted on a smile for the cameras. “You can’t let people like that take advantage of you. They prey on kindness.”

  “If I gave it to her, she didn’t prey on me. It was my choice, not the poor woman’s.”

  “Poor woman.” I scoffed as we entered the lobby. “She manipulated you.” Gemma’s soft-hearted do-gooding had ruined everything.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I am never manipulated. She needed help.”

  “
She was a professional con-artist. A thief.”

  “Maybe she has hungry children to feed.”

  “Or maybe she’s a no-good gypsy.”

  She yanked her arm away from me. “Maybe you’re a no-good rich snob! I need to use the restroom.”

  I kneaded my head as she marched away. The night was off to a fantastic start.

  18

  Saemira

  Age 13 – Fushë Krujë, Albania

  DILEMMA: an undesirable choice with no good options.

  Marble-sized pebbles filled Saemira’s pockets. The first one she’d found near her bag at school, marked with an E, had meant Engjell was back after having been absent all week. The next pebble led into an alley. She retrieved it and jumped when her friend stepped out from behind a garbage container.

  “What happened to you?” she asked. Bruises covered his entire face.

  “Got in a fight with some kids.” He stared at the ground.

  “Liar. Your uncle beat you, didn’t he?” When he said nothing, she stomped her foot. “You wouldn’t steal for him, so he beat you.” She’d worried that might happen.

  “You talk too much.”

  “I hate him!” Saemira spat on the ground as Engjell had taught her.

  He cracked a smile. “Uncle doesn’t like you much either. Says you’re a bad influence on me for teaching me the cursed language.”

  “English isn’t cursed. Why does your uncle speak it if he thinks it’s bad? He should be named Bengalo, not you.”

  Engjell kicked a can. “Westerners are evil. Your baba isn’t because he left America. Uncle left Canada to return to his roots, and thank the gods he did, or I would’ve died as a baby.”

  That was the only good thing his uncle had done. “Westerners aren’t evil. He’s evil for beating you?”

  “The gods cursed me, Gem.” He touched his face. “You can’t deny that. It’s my turn to take care of Uncle, to repay my debt to him.”