Well, whatever she was, it wasn't happy. Somewhere along the line her marriage to Garth had simply become a part of her life. Like having a left hand. She never really thought about it, never really invested herself in it. It just was.
Maybe he'd felt the same way, and that's why he had strayed with Cynthia's double D's.
She glanced at the dark-haired, brooding man sitting next to her.
Rational, logical Glory Chambers was sitting next to a man she'd spent a wild night being pleasured by. She'd been held in contempt of court. She'd employed three fairies who were being sued. And she honest-to-pete couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so good.
She was totally, utterly happy.
"They should be here soon,” Nick muttered.
"Yes, they should,” she agreed.
"I want this done today."
As happy as she felt, if looks counted for anything, Nick wasn't feeling nearly as good. She withdrew her hand. “You think you can wrap up the trial today?"
"Yes,” was his flat response.
She itched to reach out and touch him, to soothe whatever deep, dark thoughts he was having. She wished, just this once, she had the fairies’ ability to read minds. What was he thinking, sitting there staring into space? Was he regretting last night? She wished she could ask him, but she couldn't find the words. Just as she couldn't find a way to span the distance between them and touch him.
Finally, to fill the quiet space surrounding them, she said, “I'm sure the fairies will be relieved to have this behind them."
"What about you?” he asked, his tone rough.
"What about me what?"
"Do you want this to be behind you?"
"Are we talking about the trial, the fairies, or something else?” Was he saying he wanted to put last night behind them and forget it? Was he asking her to do the same? She didn't think she could forget last night, and what's more she didn't want to.
"I'm talking—"
She would never know what Nick was talking about because at that second the door to the office burst open.
"Well, you two don't look the worse for wear,” Blossom chirruped merrily. She breezed into the room wearing a dress of a particularly violent shade of yellow. It flowed around her, whipping against her ankles as she walked in.
"Actually, they look a bit better,” Fern said. She was wearing a moss green pantsuit with a little brown mushroom pattern.
"So, how are you handling things today?” Myrtle asked, trailing the other two into the room. Her bright red jumpsuit would have looked more at home on someone in their teens than on a middle-aged fairy.
"Oh, you don't like it?” Myrtle glanced down and sighed. “Fine.” The jumpsuit disappeared and was replaced by a rust-red pantsuit. “Better?"
"How did you...” Glory let the question trail off because she already knew the answer. “You're fairies."
"Well, it took you long enough to admit it,” Blossom said. “And what about you, Nick? Do you believe we're fairies?"
"I'm an attorney. I don't have to believe anything. I just have to defend you."
"Nick.” Glory felt a stab of sympathy for him. He hadn't asked to be thrust into this absurd situation. But her sympathy rapidly turned to annoyance. Neither had she.
"Don't Nick me. I don't have to believe. I don't want to believe. I won't believe. But I will defend.” He stood. “That will have to be enough for all of you."
"I suppose it will,” Fern said.
Myrtle shook her head and simply sighed. “Fine. Right now we have a trial to get ready for. Bernie said he wants us all to clear out of his office and be ready and waiting in the courtroom in ten minutes."
"That suits me just fine,” Nick said. He stood and stomped out of the room.
"He's not happy,” Blossom whispered sadly as he left.
Glory looked at the three fairies and then at the doorway Nick had gone through. No, he didn't look happy. Then she smiled. Nick might not be happy, but she was.
She might not want to define the reason, but she would admit, at least to herself, that despite the fact Nick was an annoying male and an attorney to boot, she was very, very happy.
"He'll come around soon enough,” Fern said.
"Is that a promise, or just wishful thinking?” Glory asked.
"We're fairies. All our thinking is wishful,” Fern said.
"I guess that's good enough for me."
* * * *
"Please be seated,” the bailiff said.
"So?” Judge Bernie said, looking at Nick and Glory.
"So what, Your Honor?” Nick returned, though he knew what the Judge wanted. An apology. For what, Nick still hadn't figured out.
"I believe you and Miss Chambers have something to say to me.” Judge Bernie steepled his fingers beneath his chin and eyed Nick expectantly.
He stood. He'd had enough fairy-nonsense, and more than enough crazy judge nonsense. “Sure. I have a lot to say about you—"
Glory sprang to her feet and cut him off. “We're sorry, Your Honor, sir."
"For what, precisely?” the judge asked.
"For annoying you?” she asked more than stated.
"Oh, I can think of a couple more things I'd like to add,” Nick started. The three fairies all shushed him as Glory grabbed his shoulders and forced him back into his seat.
"What's he going to do, turn me into a toad?” Nick grumbled.
"Maybe. He turned Partywinkle into a firefly when he was ten. Berrybelle spent a week trying to undo the spell,” Fern whispered.
"Pardon?” Judge Bernie said loudly. “Is there a problem, Counselor?"
Nick looked stubborn and started to say, “Yes. There is—"
Glory cut him off again, almost shouting over him, “No, Your Honor. We're very sorry for annoying you."
"See to it you don't annoy me today,” Bernie barked. “You may be seated."
Glory sat.
Nick turned around and whispered in her ear. “You didn't have to apologize."
"Nick, I'm pretty sure it's best not to annoy judges. Or fairies,” she whispered. “And since Bernie is supposedly both, I think it's wise to avoid annoying him. And though I'm sure you'd make a cute firefly, I think you're cuter just the way you are."
"You can't seriously believe that he's a fairy, or that Fern, Myrtle and Blossom are either, for that matter."
Glory had worked for an international company. She was a woman who dealt with facts. A down-to-earth woman. Despite some of the odd things that had been happening lately, she couldn't honestly believe in fairy godmothers. But she did.
She nodded. “And don't forget, Fiona's half-fairy."
"But—"
"Mr. Aaronson, am I to take your silence as a sign you do not wish to continue cross-examining the witness,” Judge Bernie called.
Nick swung around and faced the bench. “Yes, Your Honor. I mean, no, Your Honor. I definitely have a few more things to ask Miss Fayette."
"One warning, Counselor. You're annoying me again. So unless you want to spend another night in my office, I'd tread carefully."
Recalling just what had gone on in the judge's chambers last night, Nick wasn't so sure it would be a bad thing. He forced the image of Glory smiling beneath him out of his mind and followed Fiona to the witness stand.
Judge Bernie said, “And may I remind you, Miss Fayette, that you're still under oath."
"I remember, sir,” she said softly.
Nick stared at the tall, willowy lady. She did have an unearthly air about her, but unlike Glory, he wasn't about to admit she was a fairy. But if the court admitted that she was, then maybe he had a way out for Myrtle, Fern and Blossom, he realized.
Nick suddenly had a plan of attack. It was crazy, but this entire situation was crazy, so maybe crazy was just what they needed.
"Miss Fayette, could you tell the court about your childhood?” he asked.
"What about my childhood?” She seemed startled by the question.
"Were you happy?"
Slowly, Fiona nodded. “I had a very normal childhood, Mr. Aaronson. My parents loved me. I loved them. I played with dolls and read everything I could get my hands on. I lacked for nothing."
Bill had mentioned that Fiona had always felt alienated, as if she didn't belong. She'd as much as admitted her alienation yesterday, but that's not what she'd just said. Nick needed more than a surface commentary on her childhood. “And in school, did you fit in?"
"I...” Fiona was extremely fair complected, but her face lost all color and appeared almost translucent.
"Yes?” he pressed softly.
"I didn't quite fit in,” she said, her soft voice almost a whisper.
"You didn't fit in.” He repeated and then appeared to mull it over. “Would you tell the court why you don't feel as if you fit in at school?"
"I object,” Bill said. “The witness isn't a psychologist, and therefore isn't able to answer the question of whether or not she was well-adjusted in school."
"No,” Nick said easily. “She's not a psychiatrist. But since she's answering to her own mental state, I think the court can allow that Miss Fayette is an expert, even without an M.D. behind her name."
"I'll allow it,” Judge Bernie said. “But, as I said, tread carefully, Counselor. You don't want to annoy me."
"I'll bear that in mind, Your Honor.” He turned his attention back to Fiona. “Why didn't you fit in, Miss Fayette?"
"Things were always happening. People noticed and were uncomfortable around me."
"What kind of things?"
"Odd things."
Nick sighed. Getting an answer out of Fiona Fayette was like pulling teeth. “Such as? Could you give the court some examples?"
She was silent a moment, but finally answered, “I heard voices—people whispering, even when no one said anything. It was almost as if I was hearing their thoughts. Sometimes I responded to what they were saying—at least when I was younger, I did. But eventually I learned it wasn't worth it."
"Why?"
Fiona suddenly sat a bit straighter. “I really don't see how that has bearing on this case,” she said with more force.
"I think it does,” Nick disagreed. “Your Honor?"
Judge Bernie was peering down at the witness stand. “I believe Mr. Aaronson might be right in this instance. Answer the question, Miss Fayette."
"People tend to think you're odd if you answer questions they never asked. The voices I heard were people's minds whispering—their surface thoughts."
Nick nodded. A woman who read minds made about as much sense to him as the rest of this crazy case. “You read minds?"
She shook her head. “I couldn't really read someone's deep inner thoughts, but sometimes I knew things ... things no one told me. Eventually I learned not to listen.” She paused with a look of concentration on her face. “But if I concentrate, I can still hear those voices. Yours is saying this is all crazy."
"That's a pretty good guess that anyone connected with this case might be thinking."
"And if I go a little deeper, I can hear you worrying about what to do about Glory.” She paused. “She was amazing last night, but you're not comfortable thinking about taking the relationship any further. You almost wish the judge would hold you in contempt again because then you'd have an excuse to be with her again, but you wouldn't have to make any commitment."
"I object!” Nick hollered.
"So do I!” Glory yelled.
"It was your question, Counselor,” the Judge said. “You can't object just because you don't like the answer. But if Ms. Fayette is right, I might object to the two of you carrying on on my couch."
"If you hadn't been an ass and held us there over night, it would never have happened,” Nick said. “Making love to Glory wasn't something I planned on doing."
Making love to Glory was a mistake. Rather than diminish his need, last night had only intensified it. And that intensity was so raw, so big, that Nick was at a loss as to what to do about it.
"It wasn't making love,” Glory argued.
Nick turned around and glared at her. “Well, it sure as hell wasn't just sex.” That was the scariest thing of all. What he and Glory had done last night was more than anything he'd ever experienced before. More than anything he'd ever thought to experience. He needed time to figure out just what it was, and what the hell he was going to do about it.
"If it wasn't sex, Nick, what was it?” Blossom cried.
"That is none of your business,” Nick snapped. “This entire case is insane."
"No. Wanting to forget about last night is insane. But this case is almost over, isn't it Bernie?” Myrtle asked. “I can't imagine what more you need to hear."
"I'm not willing to admit you're right about the happily-ever-after,” the judge said. “But, I think I've heard enough to make a decision."
"But we haven't called any of our witnesses,” Nick protested. “You can't make a decision without hearing our defense."
"Sit down, Counselor,” Bernie snapped. “And you, Ms. Fayette, you may take your seat as well."
Judge Bernie shuffled some papers on his desk as the courtroom settled back down. His reluctance was apparent as he began. “When Myrtle, Fern and Blossom came to me and said they'd found the love of my life, well, I was a bit skeptical, given what I know of them."
"Now, Bernie, have we ever been wrong?” Myrtle asked.
Rather than snapping at her for interrupting, Bernie merely sighed. “No. Never wrong, though I hate to admit it. But the three of you have a hell of a way of making matches."
Myrtle sprang to her feet. “But Bernie—"
"Sit down and let me finish."
Myrtle sat and Bernie continued. “Ms. Fayette, when the three defendants first came to me about you, I didn't believe them. No, I take that back. I didn't want to believe them. So I chose not to. They went to the council and petitioned for a change in the rules. When the counsel granted it—over my objections—I was more than a bit put out. That made me even less inclined to listen to them. I was stubborn."
"He's always been a stubborn one,” Blossom said. “Berrybelle used to go half out of her mind over some of his scrapes. Why, there was a full three years he refused to use his fairy powers at all. The trouble he got into—why it was even worse than some of the scrapes Myrtle, Fern and I have gotten into. There was the time—"
"Blossom!” Myrtle hollered. “Bernie's talking."
"Thank you, Myrtle,” Bernie said.
"No problem, Bernie."
"Oh, I'm sorry,” Blossom said, sinking lower in her chair.
"Where was I?” Bernie asked.
"You were being stubborn,” Fern said.
"Yes, so I was. And it turns out you were just as stubborn, Fiona.” It was the first time the judge had called the plaintiff anything but Ms. Fayette. Her name rolled off his lips like a caress. Nick was sure if he noticed it the rest of the courtroom did as well. He glanced at his fairy clients. They were all practically swooning.
Bernie didn't seem to notice. “When Myrtle, Fern and Blossom came to you and invited you to Fairyland—"
"I'm not a fairy,” Fiona protested.
"No you're not,” he said gently. “You're half-fairy. So am I. And, Fiona, when they promised you a happily-ever-after, I was the one they were referring to. We don't know each other, but there's obviously a common heritage that we share. And maybe, if you'd be open to getting to know me, we'd find that Myrtle, Fern and Blossom—no matter how unconventional their methods are—are right. Maybe we're exactly what each other has been looking for."
He paused a moment. “I'm going to dismiss this case, and then I'm going to invite you to come with me to Fairyland."
"And if I feel as if I don't belong in Fairyland, either?” she asked.
Nick suddenly had a burst of insight that didn't rely on mind reading. Fiona was afraid to take this step because, if it was wrong, and she didn't find her happily-ever-after in Fairyland, maybe she'd
never find it. Maybe she'd never fit in anywhere.
A little voice in the back of his mind whispered its empathy with the feeling, but Nick pushed it back, trying to ignore it.
Bernie must have sensed her fear because he answered softly, “Then I promise I'll help you find where you do belong. But Fiona, I have a feeling that's one promise I won't have to keep."
He stood, once again stern and in control. “Court is dismissed.” He motioned to Fiona, and they both disappeared through the door behind the judge's bench and into his chambers.
Nick stood as well and looked at his clients. “Well, that's it then, Ladies. You're off the hook."
"Thank you, Nick. You saved us.” Blossom flung herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely. Myrtle and Fern followed suit.
"You're a great attorney,” Fern said. “We'll definitely recommend you to all our friends."
"Your fairy friends?” Nick asked.
Three heads—a redhead, a blonde and a brunette—bobbed up and down.
"Would you mind terribly if I decline the offer? Representing the three of you was all the fairy work I plan to do."
"Ah, Nick?” called Bill Richards. He was standing by his table looking confused. “Do you want to explain what just happened here?"
"Do you really want me to try, Bill?” Nick countered.
Bill snapped his briefcase shut. “No, I don't think I do. I'm going to find the nearest bar and try to obliterate the memory of this entire case. Care to join me for a drink?"
Nick finally glanced at Glory. Yes, he needed a drink. A whole bunch of drinks. Maybe if he drank enough he could figure out just what he was going to do with the redhead he'd spent the night with.
"Yes, Bill, I believe I'd like that drink.” He snapped his briefcase shut, picked it up and hurried after Bill. He needed to get away from fairies, away from happily-ever-afters, and away from Glory. He needed time and some distance to figure out just what he felt for her, to figure out what he was going to do about her—about them, if there was a them.
"Can we expect you to bill us, Counselor?” Glory called after him.
He pivoted and found himself face-to-face with redheaded fury. A pang of guilt stabbed at him, but he ignored it. He'd never promised Glory anything. The fairies had said he was her Prince Charming, but Nick knew better. He was no prince, and he'd never been charming.
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