“Nope. I haven’t even heard speculation,” she said. “And, surprisingly enough, I don’t have any either.”
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “She does have other children, though, right?”
“Snow has a brother,” Lavinia said, “who considers Mellie his mom. He’s a good kid. I like him.”
Charming nodded. “What about her own children?”
“They’re older than Snow,” Lavinia said, “and all but one lives in the Greater World. Nice kids, nicer than mine, and I like mine.”
He laughed. “So she likes children.”
“She’s good with them,” Lavinia said. “I heard she wanted to open some kind of day care in the Kingdoms before this whole Snow thing broke. Have you been to the Archetype Place?”
“The what?” he asked.
“Clearly you haven’t then,” Lavinia said. “The place Mellie started to help Archetypes deal with the Greater World. She had started the day care center in there, but the Place is much bigger than day care.”
“She never told me about it,” Charming said, wondering why.
“She probably figured you didn’t need it,” Lavinia said. “It’s really for Kingdoms folk who have trouble adjusting to the Greater World, and that’s clearly not you.”
He sighed. That wasn’t him, until he brought his daughters here to live.
“So now, Charming,” Lavinia said, “you have to tell me what this is all about. Is this about my granddaughters?”
He thought about it for a moment, decided that full honesty wasn’t the best here, and said, “Yes. I feel like they need a bit of contact with the Kingdoms, someone who understands the differences, but not someone who is family, you know?”
“You don’t want me there, in other words,” Lavinia said.
“Or my folks or your daughters,” he said, adding his stepsisters-in-law. “I was just thinking of some casual contact so that girls could know that people from the Kingdoms do well in the Greater Worlds.”
“Mellie would be a good choice, then,” Lavinia said. “She hasn’t come home in decades. She feels like she isn’t welcome here, and she’s probably right.”
He smiled. That made him feel much better.
“Of course you realize that my giving you permission to spend time with Mellie would just send Ella over the edge,” Lavinia added.
“Then let’s not tell her about this,” Charming said. They could add it to all the other things they didn’t tell Ella.
“I won’t if you won’t,” Lavinia said. “So long as you bring my granddaughters home sometime soon.”
“I will,” he said, hoping her definition of soon and his were very different. “Thanks, Lavinia.”
“Anytime,” she said, and then her image vanished in a haze of stars.
He stared at the Kingdom phone for a long moment.
He had a few other people to check with, from his valet to the most foul-mouthed fairy of all, Tanker Belle. But he felt a lot better than he had a little while ago.
He could safely talk to Mellie.
Finally, someone who might help him with his daughters.
And heaven knew, he needed a lot of help.
Chapter 17
Mellie sat in the coffee shop, feeling stupid. She had felt all fired up after talking with Selda the day before, but upon reflection, she realized that she had been right in the first place. Charming wouldn’t help her. He had too much to do, too much to consider.
And just because she was attracted to him didn’t mean he was attracted to her. She’d lived long enough to realize that life didn’t work that way.
She arrived early, even though she hadn’t planned on doing so. It seemed like everyone except Charming was already here. The pudgy guy who had been typing madly on his keyboard yesterday was typing madly today. Other familiar people sat around the room, usually at the same tables they’d occupied the day before.
She had her laptop open, even though she wasn’t writing. She had logged onto the Net but she hadn’t even Googled “evil stepmother” like she usually did. In fact, she hadn’t Googled “evil stepmother” in a long time, not since she started the book.
She sighed and stared at her home screen, which was the Archetype Place. The web design was lovely, and had all kinds of positive images of fairy tale characters going in and out of ornate doorways. She had an email account there, but she hadn’t checked that in a while either.
Only her private account, which was on a different server.
Only the account that Charming knew.
She almost closed her laptop when she thought of that. She was going crazy over a man, something she never thought she would do. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had done it before, with her first marriage. She had really fallen for her first husband, even though the marriage was arranged. She had met him on their wedding day, and had felt great relief at his warmth and friendliness.
He hadn’t been a handsome man, although she had heard he had been in his youth. But he wasn’t young, nearly fifty years older than she was, and childless. But he was kind and he was funny and he was smart, and he taught her how to survive in the world.
But when he died, he had left his entire estate to their children, not to her. Her children had taken care of her, but she was still young and vibrant and she didn’t want to be beholden to her children for the rest of her life.
So she had married again, but the marriage hadn’t been a love match. More a marriage of convenience. Her second husband had paid a bride’s price, but since her parents were gone and her children didn’t need the money, he had given the entire amount to her. And she had saved it, which had turned out to be the most prudent thing she had done with that marriage.
He had wanted someone to raise his children. His son, still ten, had been wonderful, but his daughter—Snow—was a handful. Mellie thought, since Snow was nearly grown, that the children part of the arrangement would be easy.
Of course she had been wrong.
She picked up her coffee mug. The ceramic was warm against her fingers. Maybe she deserved a muffin. Or a cupcake. Or one of those really yummy lemon bars in the case.
Anything to take her mind off Charming.
Who probably wouldn’t show.
***
He wasn’t going to ask for help, even though he hadn’t slept at all the night before.
Charming stood outside the coffee shop, just to the left of the main windows. As he parked his car, he saw Mellie go inside, laptop under one arm. She looked so put together, so efficient.
So lovely.
She would probably think him a fool for the situation he had gotten himself into.
He had gotten his girls into.
He sat in the car for nearly fifteen minutes, waiting so that he wouldn’t seem too early or too eager. When he finally got out, he couldn’t quite bring himself to go inside.
What could Mellie do anyway? Tell him to calm down? Tell him to put his daughters in a different school? Tell him to move to a new community?
Tell him to give all the bullies who were picking on Grace poisoned apples?
He bit the inside of his cheek as a punishment for that thought. He couldn’t say anything like that, not even as a joke. It wasn’t respectful for one thing, and it was wrong for another. If she had any magic at all, she would tell him to try something more direct.
Like change all those bullies into frogs.
Heck, he’d change them all into bowling balls if he could. Or racquetballs. And then he’d make sure they could still feel pain. That way when they hit a racket or a bowling pin, they’d bruise.
With the knuckle of his forefinger, he pushed his glasses up. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t have any real magic. He wouldn’t use it well.
In fact, he was beginning to think he was more likely to create poisoned apples than Mellie ever would have been.
He squared his shoulders and pulled open the door to the coffee shop. It smelled of ground coffe
e beans and cinnamon rolls. His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten breakfast.
Heck, he had barely finished dinner the night before—only managing a few bites because he needed to set an example for the girls.
This time, however, he had learned his lesson. He walked over to the table, set his briefcase down beside it, and smiled at Mellie. She was so beautiful. He wanted to kiss her in greeting, but of course, he wouldn’t.
He didn’t want to alarm her.
She closed her laptop and smiled back at him.
“I’m getting one of the cinnamon rolls,” he said. “You want one?”
“Sure,” she said and reached for her purse, probably to give him enough money to pay for the thing.
He turned away quickly and headed for the counter, ordering a regular coffee and cinnamon rolls. He hadn’t asked her if she wanted something else to drink. But it was too late. He paid for the food, had the rolls warmed and a heap of butter put on the side, and carried them back to the table.
Then he went back for his coffee, forks, and a pile of napkins.
He managed to set it all down on the table without spilling a drop. Mellie had put her laptop away. The two cinnamon rolls sat in the center like the prize for a contest.
“So,” she said, “when was the last time you got any sleep?”
He started. “Is it that obvious?”
She nodded.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling how thin it got on top. If he looked at his hand as he brought it down, he would probably find a few strands between the fingers.
Strands he couldn’t afford to lose.
He had to look awful. Here he sat with the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and she could tell he wasn’t sleeping and he was a wreck. Not so charming now, as Ella would say.
Not charming at all.
“More problems with the girls?” Mellie asked.
“I’m not sure it qualifies as more,” he said. “It just continues.”
Grace in tears after school. Imperia looking like an avenging angel.
He had gone in that morning and spoken to the principal again, explaining that his daughters had lived with his wife out of state, and weren’t adjusting well. The principal had promised, just like she had the day before, that his daughters would be just fine.
He was scared to death that they weren’t.
“The same thing?” Mellie asked. “Someone is picking on your youngest?”
He nodded. “And it makes no sense. Grace is sweet and sensitive and shy. She wouldn’t bother anyone. I’m not even sure why she’d being noticed. She’s lovely, but she always tries to disappear into a corner whenever she’s in a new situation.”
Just like her father. He had no advice to give her, because he didn’t know how to behave in those circumstances.
He didn’t even know how to talk to a beautiful woman.
Mellie used her fork to spread butter across her cinnamon roll. He had forgotten to get knives. He didn’t know what that meant. There was probably some symbolism in there somewhere.
“What about your oldest daughter?” Mellie asked. “Is anyone picking on her?”
“No, but they wouldn’t.” He followed her lead and spread the butter with his fork. It took more coordination than he expected, and gave him something to focus on besides the sympathetic look on her face.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Mellie asked as if she were really interested.
“Because,” he said, looking up. She was watching him closely, hanging on each word. “No one would ever pick on Imperia. They wouldn’t dare.”
Mellie’s eyebrows met in the middle. The doughy guy at the next table glanced over at Charming, clearly startled.
What had he said? He didn’t know.
“You named your daughter Imperia?” Mellie asked.
“Well, I…” he let his voice trail off. Then he glared at the doughy guy, who bent over his computer as if it had suddenly gotten much more fascinating. “I, um, didn’t.”
“You didn’t name her?” Mellie asked.
Charming shrugged. “My father said it’s tradition to name the oldest girl Imperia.”
“Is it?” Mellie asked.
“Yes,” Charming said, feeling defensive.
“And you agreed to this name?” Mellie asked.
He bristled. Imperia had been born twelve years ago. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Name her something decent,” said the doughy guy from the next table. “Jeez, buddy. Talk about dooming a kid for life.”
Charming stood.
“This is none of your business,” he said. He sounded angry. He never sounded angry. But he was. And he was smart enough to know it was easier to attack a guy he had never met than it was to deal with the conversation he was having.
And the memories that it brought up.
“You’re right, you’re right.” The doughy guy held up a hand as if he actually expected Charming to assault him. “I’m not going to listen anymore. See?”
He dug into the pocket of his coat and removed an iPod. He ostentatiously pulled out earbuds as well and put them in place. Charming continued to stand. Charming had daughters. He knew that just because the earbuds were in place that the music probably wasn’t on.
The guy punched the flywheel in the middle and suddenly tinny sound screeched out of his ears. The doughy guy was going to go deaf within five minutes if he kept the volume that loud.
But Charming didn’t care about the doughy guy’s hearing. Charming just wanted some privacy so that he could talk to Mellie.
He sat back down.
“He has a point,” Mellie said softly. “Imperia is really not the best name for a child.”
“What can I do about it now?” Charming stabbed his fork into the cinnamon roll. “Change it on her? It suits her.”
“It does?” Mellie asked.
He nodded.
“She’s imperial?”
He nodded.
“Haughty?”
He nodded.
“Demanding?”
He nodded.
“Beautiful?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, and sighed. That would be another problem in a few years. She was stunning. “And intelligent and articulate and strong. You can tell from the moment you meet her how powerful she is. I don’t know where she got that personality, but not from me or Ella. Imp is a force of nature.”
“That’s what you call her? Imp?”
He picked at the roll. He wasn’t looking up. He didn’t want to see the expression on Mellie’s face.
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to say that he thought the nickname would keep his daughter humble. “Everyone else who knows her calls her Imi.”
“That’s a little better,” Mellie said. “Imp is interesting. Does that fit?”
“Sometimes,” he said with a bit of a smile. At home, when she was comfortable. Certainly not lately. Lately she had wrapped herself in her Imperia persona and raised her royal chin against the world.
“Imperia,” Mellie mused. “Haughty, demanding, beautiful, strong… and threatening?”
He frowned. He was getting annoyed. Couldn’t she leave Imperia’s name alone? “Why?”
“Is she threatening?” Mellie wasn’t going to let this go.
“To whom?” He wasn’t going to give in any farther on the name.
“To anyone who meets her,” Mellie said.
“She probably wouldn’t seem threatening to you,” he said. Mellie was powerful in ways he never could be. He couldn’t imagine anyone threatening her. Angering her, yes. Disappointing her, surely. But threatening her? Never.
“But is she threatening to children her age?” Mellie asked.
He thought of that royal chin, raised in defiance; of those beautiful features accented by his father’s piercing blue eyes; of that tone she could get in her voice when she didn’t like something.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m sure that’s why those children haven’t picked on her.”
“But they are picking on her,” Mellie said.
He shook his head. “That’s what I’ve been telling you. They’ve been picking on Grace.”
“Because Grace is an easy target. And picking on her probably makes her sister mad.”
Mad? It made Imperia furious. He leaned back in his chair. He had clenched a fist without realizing it. Frosting stuck to one of his fingers, making it sticky.
“They’re picking on Grace to get at Imperia?” he asked.
“Probably,” Mellie said. “That’s what I would do.”
He thought about that a moment longer, rubbing his sticky fingers against each other. Imperia would never get mad if someone came after her. Imperia would merely look down her nose at them and cow them into submission.
She was more articulate that most children her age, both in and out of the Kingdoms. She was prettier. And she was smarter.
How did you go after an immovable force? Figure out what made it move.
He felt an odd surge of pride that his oldest daughter loved the youngest enough to cause this crisis. Then he looked at Mellie, who was watching him with compassion.
He was grateful he had spoken to Lavinia, grateful he had learned a bit about Mellie. Because her advice was good. And it seemed like her heart was good too.
Which just made her all the more desirable.
He cleared his throat before he trusted himself to speak. “Are you sure about this?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I haven’t met your daughters. But I believe what you say. The youngest is sweet and shy. There’s no reason to go after her—for her own sake. But there’s a reason to go after your oldest daughter. Power struggles start young, particularly among girls.”
He frowned. “This means the other girls are smart enough to figure out what bothers Imperia.”
“Of course they are,” Mellie said. “They’re prepubescent girls.”
He blinked hard, thinking about that.
“That is assuming,” Mellie said, “that it’s the older girls going after Grace.”
“Yes, it is,” he said. “That’s why the principal said it would stop. The older girls would give up once they found a new target.”
Mellie shook her head. “They have their target and it’s Imperia. Grace is collateral damage. I’ll wager that Imperia just comforts her sister and tells her to buck up, doesn’t she?”
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