Ghost 05 - Fairytale Come Alive

by Kristen Ashley

  Then again, he never did.

  “I thought Annie bought the food,” Prentice said in a voice that was deeper, thus obviously not so happy.

  Isabella opened her mouth to speak but Mikey, unfortunately, beat her to it.

  “You didn’t buy that did you?”

  Prentice’s eyes narrowed and Isabella wondered if Prentice would find it untoward if, in front of his children, she took off her pump and threw it at Mikey.

  She figured he would.

  Therefore, Isabella decided to ignore any of this was happening and focus on dinner.

  And nothing but dinner.

  Except maybe Sally.

  And, of course, Jason.

  “I’m going to get changed before I cook,” Isabella announced and turned to her friend. “Mikey, come with me to see the pretty guest suite that –”

  “No, darling, I’m going to stay here. Unpack groceries. Examine Sally’s fabulous manicure. Tour this spectacular house.” He grinned at Isabella. “Take your time.”

  Well, maybe she couldn’t ignore everything and focus on dinner because she sure as heck couldn’t leave Mikey alone with Prentice and his family.

  “Really, Mikey, you need to see the guest suite. It’s lovely,” she pressed.

  “Really, darling, I need a cocktail.” He turned to Prentice. “What do you have to drink around here?”

  “Whisky,” Prentice replied shortly, having come to the edge of the counter that led to the great room and leaned a hip against it, arms crossed, face closed, now so, very (and obviously) not so happy.

  Mikey stared at him and waited for his list of other alcoholic beverages on the premises that were available to be consumed to continue.

  Prentice didn’t say another word.

  “Whisky it is then,” Mikey muttered.

  Prentice walked to the study.

  Isabella made a split second decision and followed.

  At the double doors, she grabbed one doorknob then reached for the other, leveled her eyes on Mikey and mouthed, “Stay and be good.”

  She closed the doors and turned to Prentice.

  His side was to her but his neck was twisted so he could face her. He still didn’t look happy.

  She couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips. Prentice’s eyes dropped to her mouth.

  She caught her breath, crossed her arms on her middle and hugged her elbows.

  Then she launched in, “I’m sorry about Mikey. He can be a bit overwhelming.”

  Without a word, Prentice turned toward a cabinet, opened it and pulled out two glasses and a very good bottle of whisky that was also mostly empty.

  “He can be overprotective,” she went on as Prentice poured the whisky but he still didn’t speak.

  Isabella continued, “And he doesn’t fancy Robert or Richard and I think he’s kind of bored at Fergus’s house, considering Annie spends most of her time with Dougal… when she’s not wedding planning, that is.”

  Prentice put away the whisky but he did so silently.

  Once he was done, he turned to face her.

  “It’ll be okay eventually, he’ll calm down. You just can’t,” she hesitated. “listen to anything he says.” She paused again. “Or take him seriously.” She drew in breath before she finished, “At all.”

  Prentice remained silent and simply regarded her.

  “I’ll buy you more whisky,” she told him.

  Prentice finally spoke. “I think you’ve bought enough, don’t you?”

  Oh dear.

  He wasn’t happy about the groceries.

  But he wasn’t done.

  His eyes swept her from top-to-toe and then they settled on her face, “Go get changed, Isabella. You’re in a family home in the wilds of Scotland, not about to step out with the glitterati.”

  There it was again. The non-physical slap. She barely held back a flinch but she managed it.

  “Of course,” she muttered, starting to turn to the door.

  “It makes me wonder,” Prentice started conversationally, she turned back and saw his gaze was speculative.

  “What makes you wonder?” she asked when he didn’t continue.

  “This,” he replied nonsensically.

  “What?”

  “This desperate warning not to pay attention to your best friend. It makes me wonder what secrets you’re keeping.”

  “I’m not keeping any secrets,” she replied softly and it wasn’t exactly a lie.

  It was just that he lost the privilege to know her secrets twenty years ago when he walked out of Fergus’s living room and didn’t look back.

  Prentice went on, “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll pay close attention to everything he says.”

  As a matter of fact, she did mind.

  Mikey could be considered certifiably insane on entire continents. No one knew what was going to come out of his mouth. That was why he was still single.

  Furthermore, why would Prentice care?

  “If you’ll open the doors, Isabella, I’d like to serve my guest his drink.”

  With nothing else for it, she opened the doors and walked out beside Prentice.

  “Thank God! My cocktail,” Mikey exclaimed.

  Isabella gave him a look that would turn marble into sand but bounced off Mikey. She smiled weakly at Sally and Jason. She ignored Prentice completely. Then she turned on her spike-heeled pump and used everything she had to force herself to walk calmly down the hall and to the guest suite.

  Once there, she dashed around like a crazed demon, yanking off her (very pretty, she thought, still, it was expensive but then practically everything she owned was expensive, she was rich, for God’s sake!) sapphire blue dress. She tugged off her matching sapphire blue suede pumps and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sage green, tunic style sweater. It had a boat neck and bell sleeves and was hand-knit from the finest wool by what could only be considered a craftsman. It was one of a kind and cost a mint.

  It would have to do.

  She snatched the bobby pins out of the complicated chignon she’d fashioned at her nape (she’d always been good with hair, it was one of her few true talents, even her father begrudgingly admitted that) and shook out her hair. Once she’d done that, she piled it up on her head in a messy knot and fastened it loosely with a ponytail holder.

  She allowed herself a split second to look in the mirror to see if she was fit for spending the evening in “a family home in the wilds of Scotland”.

  She decided she wasn’t but she took off out the door anyway.

  When she hit the kitchen, Sally and Mikey were in it, Jason was seated at the counter and a quick glance showed that Prentice was on the phone in his study.

  Maybe her luck had changed.

  “We’ve decided to call you Miss Bella!” Sally shrieked from her place on the stool at the counter, tea towels already wrapped around her.

  “Have you, now?” Isabella muttered, entering the kitchen to see the groceries unpacked, the peas were at the boil and the water for the noodles was already at a flame on the stove.

  At least Mikey had some uses.

  “Mister Mikey says I can help,” Sally announced.

  Isabella gave her a smile and started to get busy. “That you can, sweetheart. Your choice, you can do the crunchy bit or the smushy bit.”

  “Can I do both?” Sally asked.

  Isabella set a bowl in front of her, leaned in to kiss the top of her head and murmured there, “Why not?”

  Sally threw both her hands up, nearly hitting Isabella in the jaw and shouted, “Hurrah!”

  “Mental,” Jason mumbled.

  Isabella looked at him and chuckled.

  “I wish I found making tuna casserole so exciting,” Mikey remarked, carrying his whisky around the counter to sit beside Jason.

  “You’re too cynical,” Isabella told him, opening cans of mushroom soup. “Making tuna casserole is exciting.”

  And it was when one was making it for Prentice, his family and one�
�s best friend.

  “She’s mental,” Mikey stage-whispered to Jason and Jason grinned as Prentice joined them from the other room.

  Well, that reprieve didn’t last long.

  Sally didn’t waste any time getting Prentice up to speed.

  “Mister Mikey says we can call Mrs. Evangahlala, Miss Bella and I’m doing the crunchy and smushy bits for dinner.”

  “Crunchy and smushy,” Prentice murmured, his eyes warm on his daughter. “Sounds like dinner is going to be interesting.”

  “Tuna casserola!” Sally shouted and Prentice looked at Isabella.

  Isabella busied herself with draining the tuna.

  “Have you had her tuna casserole?” Prentice asked, she looked over her shoulder and saw he was talking to Mikey. The palms of his hands were at the edge of the counter and he pushed up to sit on it.

  “I’ve sampled Bella’s entire culinary arsenal,” Mikey replied. “It must be said, the woman can cook.”

  “We know. She made us chicken fingers, homemade, the other night. They were brilliant,” Jason put in.

  Isabella ducked her head and bit her lip at the compliment while she went to stand behind Sally and set the cans around the bowl.

  “All right, honey, we need to dump all this into the bowl and then smush it together. Yes?” she told the girl softly and Sally nodded exuberantly.

  She handed Sally a spoon and Sally went straight for the mushroom soup as Isabella, her arms around Sally, her eyes looking over the girl’s shoulder, used a fork to flake out the tuna.

  Isabella was attempting to ignore everything and focus on the food and Sally.

  This was difficult.

  It became more difficult.

  “Isabella doesn’t seem the type of woman to have tuna casserole in her culinary arsenal,” Prentice commented and Isabella felt her shoulders get tight.

  Didn’t he remember she cooked for him all the time twenty years ago?

  Didn’t he remember what she’d cook for him?

  She’d never made him tuna casserole, of course, that was winter food and she was only there in the summers.

  But, still…

  Mikey laughed, loud and with great hilarity.

  When he was done, still chuckling, he replied, “Bella’s the Queen of Comfort Food. She used to cook all the time when she, Annie and I shared an apartment at Northwestern. Annie and I both gained fifteen pounds, each year.”

  That wasn’t true. Mikey had gained twenty pounds.

  “Did you meet her at uni?” Prentice asked.

  “Sure did,” Mikey replied. “I saw her walking on campus our freshman year and I said to myself, ‘Who is that gorgeous girl with those sad eyes? She needs a little bit of Mikey in her life.’”

  Isabella’s hands stilled but only for a moment.

  Then she whispered in Sally’s ear, “I have to get the peas. Keep scooping.”

  “Sad eyes?” Prentice asked, his voice had grown quiet.

  “Yep,” Mikey answered shortly and also quietly.

  “Why were you sad, Miss Bella?” Jason called.

  Isabella dumped the peas in a colander, put them under a cold tap and turned to Jason.

  “If memory serves, I stubbed my toe,” she lied, Jason’s head tilted to the side, Isabella felt Prentice’s eyes on her as well as Mikey’s and she ignored that too. “Badly. And everyone knows it hurts to stub your toe.”

  “I hate stubbing my toe,” Sally declared, smushing the tuna and soup together. “It does hurt. That would make me sad.”

  Thank goodness for Sally.

  “You shared an apartment?” Prentice asked, unfortunately deciding this once to ignore his daughter.

  And he asked even though he knew the answer. Or, maybe, he didn’t remember.

  Isabella shook the water off the peas as Mikey answered, “Yep, sophomore and junior year.”

  “Not your last year?” Prentice sounded surprised and she knew why.

  Because he remembered.

  And suddenly Isabella found it most irritating that Prentice had a good memory.

  She knew that he knew, because she told him, that she shared an apartment with Annie and Mikey and that they’d be going back to it their senior year.

  Except they didn’t.

  Well, Mikey did, but Annie and Isabella didn’t.

  Annie was in hospital then in rehab. Isabella was on house arrest after her father found out about her “tryst” with Prentice.

  However, she was allowed to go to class and also to help Annie.

  “Nope,” Mikey answered.

  “Why not?” Prentice queried.

  Isabella turned from draining the peas, placed a tea towel under them and walked back to Sally, sending Mikey a pleading look.

  Mikey ignored her altogether and kept right on talking.

  “Because Bella was closer to Annie at home.” He waved his whisky glass around and went on, “Would take forever for her to drive from Northwestern to Clarissa’s every day.” Mikey looked at Jason and announced, “Florence Nightingale is making you tuna casserole, bucko. Count yourself lucky.”

  “Who’s Florence Nightingale?” Sally asked.

  “She’s an angel from heaven,” Mikey answered.

  “Really?” Sally breathed.

  Isabella disregarded this, poured the peas into the bowl Sally was mixing and, attempting to shift the conversation, advised, “Be careful now, stir it gently. You don’t want to smush up the peas too much.”

  Prentice decided against going with Isabella’s lame attempt at changing the topic of conversation.

  “Florence Nightingale wasn’t an angel from heaven, Sally. She was a nurse,” Prentice informed his daughter.

  “As was Bella when Annie was sick,” Mikey put in.

  “You’re a nurse?” Jason asked Isabella.

  “No,” Isabella answered, having put the colander in the sink, she was opening the bag of pasta.

  “I don’t get it,” Jason muttered.

  “Neither do I,” Prentice added.

  “Jason,” Mikey started and Isabella turned to him and shook her head but he took no notice of her, “a long time ago, Annie was in a terrible car crash. Did you know that?”

  Sally had stopped smushing and Isabella couldn’t see her face but she could see Jason’s.

  “Mikey,” Isabella said softly.

  “Well, she’s all right now. Everyone can see that,” Mikey defended.

  Isabella tightened her fists and let her glance slide to Prentice who was silently watching Mikey, obviously not going to intervene.

  She turned to the boiling water on the stove and poured in the noodles.

  “I know about it. Mum told me that’s why she limps sometimes and has that scar on her face,” Jason said quietly.

  “Yes, well, back then,” Mikey continued, “she was really sick. And she was really sad. And she didn’t want to get better.”

  “Why wouldn’t she want to get better?” Jason asked.

  “Because she was sad and being sad makes you do silly things,” Mikey answered. “She wouldn’t listen to anyone. Wouldn’t go to the hospital so they could make her better. So, Bella made her go to the hospital. Three times a week she showed up at Annie’s house and took her there herself. Every other day, she went to Annie’s house and made her do her exercises so she could get strong and fit. Annie was sad and upset and she didn’t like this and she could be mean to Bella. But Bella didn’t care. She took every mean thing Annie had to dish out, and there was a lot, bucko, let me tell you. But it didn’t penetrate our girl here. She took every mean thing Annie threw at her and she helped her friend get better. Like a nurse. Like an angel from heaven.”

  When Mikey got close to the end of his story, he was whispering. When he stopped talking, the room was silent. Isabella ignored it, her back to the room and she stirred the noodles.

  After several long moments, Mikey called, “Bella?”

  “Can we stop talking about Annie’s accident?” Isa
bella softly asked the noodles.

  More silence.

  Then, also speaking softly, Prentice ordered, “Jason, set the table, mate.”

  “Okay, Dad,” Jason replied quickly.

  Isabella would have given Prentice a grateful look if he existed in her world at that moment.

  Since he didn’t and only the noodles did, she continued to stir them.

  “Are we having pudding?” Sally asked her back.

  Isabella took in a deep breath, turned down the noodles, allowed the family home in the wilds of Scotland and its inhabitants to penetrate her mental health fortress and turned to smile at the girl.

  “Apple crumble and custard,” she answered.

  “Hurrah!” Sally cheered.

  Carefully avoiding Prentice’s eyes, she set about getting the ingredients for the topping so that Sally could make the crunchy part.

  And she silently prayed the night wouldn’t get any worse.

  She should have prayed harder.

  * * * * *

  Dinner wasn’t that bad.

  Though it wasn’t good either.

  Actually, Isabella could just say it didn’t kill her.

  Though it left her wanting to kill someone, namely Mikey.

  The best part of the evening was that Prentice unearthed a bottle of wine.

  The rest didn’t go so well.

  The peas in the tuna casserole were smushed to mush but it didn’t taste bad mainly because Isabella added tons of cheese and cheese makes anything taste better, not to mention Sally’s crunchy bit concoction for the topping (with Isabella’s helping hand) was first-rate.

  Mikey had decided the sad story part of the evening was over and regaled them with tales of Annie, Isabella and himself doing crazy things while at college.

  Neither of these were the reasons why the dinner was murder plot worthy.

  It went bad when Prentice queried, “When did you three find time to study?”

  “We two got by on a wing and a prayer,” Mikey returned. “Bella burned the candle at both ends and graduated summa cum laude. She even made deals with her professors when she had to miss classes to be with Annie.”

  Prentice’s eyes cut to her and Isabella’s eyes cut to her empty plate.

  “That’s impressive,” Prentice said it like he meant it.

  “That’s Bella,” Mikey remarked and then finished in a tone filled with acid, “No way she was going to take home anything but top marks to that father of hers.”