Miracles for Nick

by Holly Fuhrmann

  Glory might not have wanted to be attracted to the dark-haired attorney, but she'd been polite. It was obvious he didn't feel he owed her the same courtesy, which just proved her low opinion of attorneys wasn't far off the mark.

  "Fine,” she said bruskly.

  "Fine,” he echoed.

  Nick watched Glory try to control her temper, a temper he suspected was as fiery as her hair. He shouldn't have been so short with her, but damn it all, Glory's Chambers was the last place in the world he wanted to be. He'd avoided the place like the plague since the fire, not anxious to see his dream women again.

  The whole situation was ridiculous.

  "It's ridiculous, Nick,” Joy said, echoing his thoughts.

  "Pardon?” He pulled his attention away from Glory and turned to his sister and sister-in-law. When he was dealing with them he needed to be totally focused because they were both as single-minded as his mother. And both had decided his mother was right—he needed a woman.

  "I said, it's ridiculous you won't even meet Francine. Grace says she's perfect for you,” Joy, his little sister who was a big burr in his backside, repeated.

  "That's right. She's intelligent, has a great sense of humor—"

  "And a great personality?” he asked sarcastically.

  Grace grinned. “Actually, I was going to say she's gorgeous."

  "I can have any number of gorgeous, successful women. Why would you think you need to help me find one?"

  "Because the women you are choosing are gorgeous and successful and ... well, most of them are pretty shallow, Nick,” Joy said with a sigh. “I want more than that for you."

  "Gorgeous and shallow just happens to be how I like my women. I like going into a relationship knowing that neither of us has archaic romantic notions."

  Women like Lola. Yeah, they were the women he fantasized and dreamed about. He didn't dream about women like the three ladies who worked for Glory. No, he'd never dream about women like that.

  At that moment her heard Glory say, “Myrtle, look who's here. Why don't you take this table, since you've done nothing but swoon over your hero since last week."

  Nick sighed. A whole week of avoiding the three fantasy women was shot to hell because his mother, his sister and his sister-in-law had to play matchmaker. He was surrounded by interfering women.

  "Why, Nicky—” Myrtle stopped short as she stared at Joy and Grace.

  "Myrtle?” Joy gasped.

  "Myrtle?” Grace echoed. “Why are you here? Is there a problem?"

  The small redheaded woman looked nervous. “Well ... not exactly."

  "You three know each other?” Nick asked.

  "You mean you can see her?” Joy countered.

  "Or course I can see her. She works here."

  "Nick saved my life,” Myrtle said.

  Grace and Joy both stared at Myrtle, and Nick got the distinct impression that something was wrong ... Something was very, very wrong.

  "Does he know?” Joy asked at the same time Grace asked, “How can you work here? Doesn't that require that other people see you?"

  Myrtle looked even more nervous. “I—"

  "Did the three of you suddenly adopt the entire city?” Joy asked.

  "Um, Grace, do you remember when Joy was having the baby—how is Zeke, by the way?"

  "He's fine. You wouldn't recognize him, he's gotten so big. Why—” Joy stopped. “Oh, no you don't. You're not sidetracking me so easily. What is going on?"

  "I want to know why you're here,” Grace said.

  "Myrtle, you've got other tables,” Glory hollered from the other side of the room.

  "Sorry. No time to talk now. As you can see I'm busy.” Myrtle turned, clearly anxious to make her escape.

  Nick's sense of foreboding was deepening. What the hell was going on?

  "Where are Fern and Blossom?” Grace asked.

  With obvious reluctance, Myrtle turned around and answered, “They're in the kitchen. Fern's cooking, and Blossom's the busfair ... person and dishwasher.” That said, Myrtle rushed to the other side of the room.

  "Myrtle, you're not going to avoid answering these questions,” Grace called after her.

  "We close at seven,” she called over her shoulder. “If you want your questions answered, we'll see you then."

  "Is it Nick?” Joy called after her.

  "Oh, yes it's Nick. Well, him and—"

  "Myrtle!” Glory called again.

  "Listen, we'll talk tonight.” Myrtle beat a hasty retreat.

  "Is what Nick?” Nick hated being talked about as if he wasn't present. But even more than that, he hated the sinking feeling that had plunged his heart into his stomach when Myrtle, Joy and Grace started talking. Something was going on, and he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

  "You've met Myrtle before?” Grace asked as she toyed with her coffee cup.

  "There was a small fire here last week, and I put it out."

  "Was she alone?” Joy asked.

  "No, Glory and two other older ladies were there.” Nick felt as if he was on the witness stand being grilled by some attorney.

  "Fern and Blossom, right?” Grace pressed.

  "Right,” he said slowly. How did they know Fern and Blossom, and Myrtle for that matter?

  "Nick, have you ever read my books?” Grace asked.

  "Listen, don't change the subject.” He knew this tactic, had used it often enough in court. He wasn't about to stand by and let Grace use it on him. “I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now."

  "Grace's books are what's going on,” Joy said.

  "Well, not exactly the books, but the fairies in the books,” Grace said. “Or rather the fairies out of the books. It's confusing."

  "Listen you two, whatever you're up to, I want no part of. I've got to get back to work. You can fix your friend up with someone else."

  "Nick, I don't think you need to worry about Francine anymore. We're done fixing you up,” Joy said.

  "Oh?” Nick knew he sounded skeptical because he was skeptical. They were done fixing him up? That would be the day. Grace, Joy and his mom had made fixing him up their main avocation in life.

  "Yeah,” Grace said with what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. “I'd worry more about Myrtle, Fern and Blossom."

  "Three old ladies aren't my main concern,” he said.

  "Who are you calling old?” Myrtle shouted from two tables away. She stalked back over to their table.

  "I ... I,” Nick found himself uncharacteristically stuttering.

  "And, don't you two go spilling the beans,” Myrtle scolded with a waggle of her finger.

  "Myrtle, you have to tell him,” Joy said.

  "Tell me what?” Nick practically screamed. He hated losing his cool, but the three women staring at him were enough to make anyone angry.

  "Tell him, Myrtle, or I will,” Grace said. “No one should be blindsided by the three of you. And we both know any explanations you make will be inadequate, but at least Nick will have some warning."

  "We're not ready to tell him.” There was a plea in Myrtle's voice.

  "Tell him, Myrtle, or we'll tell him,” Joy echoed Grace's threat.

  Nick watched the three women, totally lost. “Tell me what, damn it!"

  "Fine,” Myrtle said, sounding very annoyed. “Nick, I'm your fairy godmother.” As an afterthought she added, “And don't swear."

  "Tell him the rest,” Grace pushed.

  Myrtle's expression was martyred as she mumbled, “I'm not your only fairy godmother. So are Fern and Blossom."

  Nick wasn't sure what the three women were up to—they were probably taking part in one of Max's jokes—but he felt a wave of relief. He could play along with the joke. “I'm such a hard case that I need three fairy godmothers?"

  "No. Yes. I mean, yes you are such a hard case—look at all the work Miriam, Joy and I have been through to no avail—but that has nothing to do with your having three fairy godmothers,” Grace said. “The fa
iry council doesn't trust the three of them to go it alone, though I think it might be safer. Each could only do a third of the damage."

  "Grace, that's just not fair. We got you and Max together, after all,” Myrtle argued.

  "You got me kidnapped,” Grace said.

  Myrtle sighed and set her coffee carafe on the table with a loud thud. “Are you still harping on that?"

  "And you got me stuck on a roof, then married to a man who thought I was comfortable," Joy added, her tone suggesting that comfortable wasn't how she wanted her husband to view her.

  "Gabriel still thinks you're comfortable. It just took him a while to realize he loved you too."

  What on earth were they up to? Nick couldn't figure it out. They didn't honestly think he was going to fall for this, did they?

  He tried to resist smiling as he asked, “You're telling me she—"

  "—we,” Myrtle corrected.

  "—that they are my fairy godmothers and that they were yours, too?"

  "That's what we're saying,” Joy agreed.

  "But what we want to know now is why everyone can see them,” Grace said. “I wrote a rule strictly forbidding that anyone but the godchildren could see them."

  "You wrote the rules?” Nick's relief was short-lived. It was being replaced by that same sense of dread he'd had a few moments before. This was crazy. No sane human being believed characters from books could come to life, or that their sister-in-law made up the fairy rules. And Nick didn't believe. But he did feel nervous.

  Very, very nervous.

  "Nick, I can't believe you haven't read Grace's books. She's your sister-in-law after all,” Joy scolded.

  "But they're romances.” There were many things Nick might be open to trying, but reading romances wasn't high on that list ... Actually, it wasn't on that list at all. He was pleased Max and Joy had found relationships they were happy with, but that didn't mean he believed in fairy tales, and romance novels were definitely fairy tales. Thinking of fairies made Nick cast Myrtle another glance. What were they up to?

  "And real men don't read romances?” Grace seemingly forgot about yelling at Myrtle and switched to Nick instead. “Max reads them."

  "He has to. He sleeps with you."

  "Nick!” Myrtle gasped. “I don't think that's an appropriate observation."

  "I've had enough. I've got work to do. All you matchmakers—mothers, fairy godmothers, sisters and sisters-in-law—can just forget it. I'm perfectly happy with my life.” He slid out of the booth and stood. “I don't know what the joke is, but the three of you will have to find the punch line by yourselves because I'm done."

  "No you're not,” Myrtle said happily. “But you will be."

  * * * *

  Glory watched Nick storm from the restaurant. What had Myrtle done now? Chasing away customers their first day open for business wasn't the way to build a clientele.

  "Myrtle?” she called.

  The small redheaded waitress said something to the two women, picked up the coffee carafe and hustled to the counter. “Do you need something?"

  "What on earth was that all about?” she asked.

  "How would I know?"

  "You were standing right there."

  "I'm a waitress, not a referee. The three of them were carrying on about blind dates—the women wanted Nick to go on one, and Nick didn't want to go. Can't say as I blame him. He'd have been bored by polyglotal—"

  "Polyglotal?"

  "Multi-lingual, dear. Anyway, Nick would have been bored with Francine in minutes. She might have an ear for languages, but she doesn't have much gumption. And gumption is something a woman dating Nick Aaronson would need in plenty."

  "If this Francine is someone those women were setting Nick up with, how do you know her?"

  "You'd be surprised how many things we know.” Myrtle studied her a moment. “For instance, I could tell you that they're not all like him."

  "All who aren't like whom?” Glory asked. Her three employees often talked in circles, and most of the time Glory felt she was lucky to remain even slightly balanced. At the moment she wasn't feeling very lucky, or very balanced.

  "All men aren't like your ex-husband, dear. Some men can see beyond the size of a woman's bra."

  "Waitress,” a customer called.

  "Duty calls,” Myrtle said, hurrying away.

  Glory stood staring after her, dumbfounded. How on earth did Myrtle know about Garth?

  * * * *

  Nick stormed down the street. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was sure that he didn't care. Joy and Grace had obviously decided to call in the heavy artillery, but did they really believe that he'd fall for their fairy story?

  Talk about fairy tales. There was no way any sane, rational man would believe that three old ladies were his fairy godmothers. Okay, so maybe he'd dreamed about them before he met them, but that didn't prove anything except his subconscious was trying to warn him that the women were meant to be avoided.

  Fairy godmothers? They were just fairy tales mothers told their children.

  "Nick, you're such a pessimist."

  He whirled and there was Fern, walking right behind him.

  "Aren't you supposed to be at work?” he asked.

  "You could say that I am working,” she said cryptically.

  "I thought you were the cook?"

  "Oh, Blossom wanted to try her hand at it, and Myrtle did make her my assistant, so I left her in charge for a minute while I snuck out to talk to you."

  Reluctantly, Nick stopped. “What did you want to talk about?"

  "I know you don't believe in us, but that's okay. We believe in you."

  "Fern ... right?"

  "You remembered. That's a start. I seem to be the most forgettable of us. Maybe it's the hair. I mean, Blossom's is that sunshine yellow, and Myrtle's that bright red.” She plucked at a dark brown strand. “Plain old brown."

  "I like natural hair better than the kind that comes from the bottle,” he found himself saying. Playing the gallant to a supposed fairy wasn't his idea of a good day, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He felt quite rewarded when the brunette grinned.

  "So, you do remember that dream. Myrtle wasn't sure you would."

  "How did you know about my dream?” That sense of dread he'd experienced in the restaurant was building again in his chest.

  "I was there, silly.” She studied him a moment. “You still don't believe, do you?"

  "Fern, you seem like a very nice lady, but no, I don't believe you're a fairy."

  "Not just a fairy—a fairy godmother. There are many types of fairies. And, like I said, you don't have to believe in us. Our believing in you and in your happily-ever-after is enough for now."

  "For now?"

  "You'll believe soon enough.” She turned as if she was heading back to the restaurant, then whirled back around to face him. “And Nick, about that dream?"

  "Yes?"

  "You can do better than Lola for a dream woman. We all know it, including you. Think about it. You need someone whose brain is bigger than her chest, but more importantly you need someone whose heart is bigger than both."

  "And you think a woman like that truly exists?” Nick didn't believe a word of it.

  "You just had coffee with two women exactly like that."

  "I think you'd be hard-pressed to fix me up with either one. Joy's my sister, and Grace is happily married to my brother."

  "Yes, they've both found their happily-ever-afters, thanks to us. So will you.” Fern crossed her heart and held up two fingers. “Fairy honor."

  "Like I said, I don't believe in you, and I certainly don't believe that kind of love is out there waiting for me."

  "Why not, Nick? Your mother and father have that kind of love. Max and Joy have it as well. So why don't you believe it can happen to you?"

  Nick hesitated before giving voice to one of his greatest fears. “How on earth can that kind of love happen a fourth time in one family?” He shook his head
. “No, it just can't happen."

  "You know what your problem is, Nick? You only believe in what you can rationalize. But since you haven't found your soul mate, it's easier to believe she's not out there. But you're wrong. She's out there. In fact, she's right under your nose. She's waiting for you every bit as much as you're waiting for her. And now, thanks to us, the waiting is almost over.” Fern turned around and began walking back to the diner.

  "We'll see you tomorrow, Nick,” she called over her shoulder.

  "I don't think so. I think it would be best if I avoid Glory's Chambers.” Avoid it? Hell, he was going to treat the place as if it harbored the plague.

  He thought her heard her say, “You can't,” but wasn't sure.

  He stood watching the small woman retreat back into the restaurant. What the hell was going on?

  "Nick!” Joy called, racing down the street with Grace right on her heels. “Wait up."

  He turned and started walking back down the block. “I think we've all said enough today."

  "You're mad,” Grace said, practically jogging in order to keep up with his clipped pace.

  "Not mad, just disgusted. Did Max put you up to this? He's always had a warped sense of humor."

  "If by this you mean the fairies, I'm sorry, but no one put us up to it,” Joy said. “You know, when I first met the fairies I thought it was Max's idea of a joke as well, but it wasn't."

  "So you thought this joke up all by yourselves?” Nick tried to assume his best lawyerly attitude, intimidating and tough. Unfortunately, neither woman looked the least bit intimidated.

  "The fairies are no joke, Nick.” Grace grabbed his sleeve and forced him to stop his hasty retreat. “Listen, I know you don't believe. I didn't at first myself, and I wrote them. They just popped up in my car one day and announced that they were going to find me my own happily-ever-after. But what I thought I'd found was a one-way ticket to a straightjacket. Then, I got lucky—very, very lucky. I won a makeover that reinvented me. All my jeans disappeared, which wasn't lucky in my opinion, but then I won a new wardrobe, which was. And then there was your brother. I went to see him because I thought I was crazy, but ended up being crazy about him instead."

  Nick didn't say a word. He just stared at his sister-in-law.