by Nic Saint
“There are no mystic mountains in Calabasas,” said Strel.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t think you’re right,” I said. “Master Dumb Dumb is an enlightened master, which means he’s completely let go of all desires, including sexual desire.”
“Impossible,” said Strel curtly. “If I have no sexual desire anymore you can just as well shoot me. It means I’m dead.”
Well, there was no arguing with that. Just then, I thought I heard a noise. It seemed to come from the corridor. I placed a finger to my lips and slowly snuck to the door, making sure I made no sound. I opened the door a crack, and saw that Gran was on her way down.
“She’s going to the kitchen,” I whispered, turning to the others. “Now is our chance!”
Strel jumped up, all business. “You, stand guard,” she told Stien. “You,” she added, pointing at me, “come with me. We’re going to find that book.”
“We don’t have much time,” Stien warned. “Ten minutes, tops.”
“Ten minutes is plenty,” said Strel, a look of determination on her face.
So we snuck out of Strel’s room, snuck down the corridor, and then snuck into Gran’s room. Except for Stien, who took up her position outside the door.
Strel made a beeline for the TV cabinet, where we’d found the Book of Secrets the last time, next to Gran’s copies of the TV Guide. She likes to hide the book in plain sight, for us to find when she feels it’s necessary. We would soon discover if she thought Manhattan in Motion was a worthwhile cause to unleash the secret powers of Fallon Safflower.
“It’s not here!” Strel hissed when she’d examined the shelf with the TV Guides.
“It’s not down here either,” I said, getting up after checking Gran’s bookcase.
We quickly looked around. Last time we’d found the book pretty easily, but this time it appeared Gran didn’t think we were supposed to create dresses out of thin air.
“Come on, Gran,” said Strel. “Let us be Cinderella for one day!”
“Maybe she feels we should earn those dresses?”
“Yeah, right. It will take all of my savings to even buy a button of a decent dress!”
“You guys!” Stien hissed. “She’s on her way up!”
“Oh, crap,” said Strel, and quickly ducked behind the small coffee table.
“What the heck are you doing?” I cried.
“I’m going to hide, and the moment she starts snoring, I’m going to look some more!”
“That won’t work! She’ll know you’re in here!”
“I’m going to have my fancy dress, Edie. I’m not going to meet KK in some hand-me-down!”
I was going to reply that Strel’s extensive wardrobe didn’t contain a single hand-me-down but there was no time, for Stien urged, “Guys! She’s almost at the top of the stairs!”
In a last-minute decision, I dove down next to Strel and squeezed my eyes shut. “Do or die,” I muttered.
“Do or die,” Strel whispered back, and then we crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.
Chapter 24
“Hello girls,” Gran said the moment she walked into the room.
Strel and me stayed hidden, hoping she was talking to herself. After all, it was still dark, so maybe she couldn’t see us?
Our illusions were shattered when Gran flicked on the light and stared down at us, her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing her favorite black housecoat, the one with the yellow stars that made her look like a female Merlin the Magician.
I looked up sheepishly, and so did Strel. To my surprise, Gran was smiling, her expression motherly.
“Why don’t you get up now?” she asked.
So we did.
“Hello, Gran,” I said. “We were just… um… looking for something.”
She took out a voluminous book from between the folds of her housecoat. I recognized it as the Book of Secrets, Fallon Safflower’s book of spells. “Is this what you were looking for?” she asked.
I nodded, my cheeks burning.
“We were just going to have a look,” Strel said, very unconvincingly I thought. Strel has always been a lousy liar. Well, all three of us, actually.
Then Stien, who’d been hiding behind the door, ducked her head in. When she saw we were about to get a good dressing-down, she quickly ducked her head back out. Too late.
“I think you better join us, Stien,” Gran suggested. The three of us stood on her carpet in her little salon, prepared to be told what was what, when Gran sighed and sank down onto a couch. “All right,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
We shared a look of confusion. Do what? I just hoped she wouldn’t change us into three little mice or something, or give us horsetails.
But Gran didn’t even open Fallon’s book. She placed it on the coffee table, and directed a kindly smile at Strel. “You want to look like Cinderella at the ball, huh?”
Strel nodded, desperately chewing her lower lip.
“Well, you shall have your wish,” said Gran, and flicked her fingers just so. Suddenly a stream of sparkles shot from the tips of her fingers and enveloped the three of us in a cloud of gold, blue and red, not coincidentally our colors. Red is for me, obviously, gold for Strel, and blue for Stien. When the cloud dissipated, I saw our usual outfits had morphed into something a lot more glamorous. I gasped when I saw my sisters, then myself. Gran had outfitted us with the most beautiful dresses I’d ever seen. Strel’s was yellow with gold trim, mine pink with purple sequins, and Stien’s a fairytale blue with an ochre finish. We suddenly looked like three princesses. We’d even been given clutches in the same color motif, and our hair looked as if Vidal Sassoon himself had taken us under his clippers.
“Gran, this is fabulous!” Strel cried. “This is exactly the kind of dress I wanted!”
Gran smiled. “I know. And you deserve it. You girls have displayed such exemplary behavior lately that I think a reward is long overdue.” She tapped the Book of Secrets. “But next time you decide to steal the book, please talk to me first. I’m not a bad witch. I’m the good witch in this house. And I’ll always be here to make sure you get what you need—if not always what you want.” She gave us a wink and suddenly the book of Fallon Safflower vanished into thin air.
We sat down on the couch, barely able to contain our glee. “I love the dresses, Gran,” I said, reverently touching the swishy fabric. It felt so soft under my fingers. And expensive!
“Is this one of those Cinderella moments where the dress will disappear when the hour strikes midnight?” asked Stien suspiciously.
“Well, since it’s already past midnight I guess that answers your question,” said Gran.
“No, I mean, we’re not going to be walking that red carpet tomorrow and suddenly be standing in our underwear in front of the world press, right?”
Gran laughed. “Now would I do something horrible like that to you?”
We shared a look, then nodded. Yes, she would.
“No, I wouldn’t,” Gran said decidedly. “You’ve earned this treat and I suggest you enjoy it. These dresses aren’t going anywhere. They’re here to stay.” Then she directed a questioning look at Strel. “The same cannot be said for your prince charming, though.”
Strel frowned. “Dunny? What do you mean?”
“Are you sure he’s here for you and not the treasure of Fallon Safflower?”
“Duh. Of course he’s here for me. Everybody knows there is no treasure.”
“Well, he doesn’t know that. Dunlop was snooping around when he arrived earlier.”
“He was?” she asked, looking only slightly perturbed. “He was probably looking for me.”
“No, he was looking for this,” said Gran, and waved her hand around. Suddenly, all around the room, the magical artifacts of Fallon appeared. Her potion bottles, her broom, her wands, her stuffed animals, even her collection of minor spell books. The moment Gran placed her hands in her lap, they all disappeared again, as if i
t had just been a mirage. But it hadn’t. Gran had hidden Fallon’s precious things from sight, but she kept them all close by.
“But Dunny can’t possibly be interested in Fallon’s old stuff,” said Strel. “He doesn’t even know we’re witches.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I asked him, silly. I asked what he thought about the rumors that we’re witches and he said this was the first he’d heard of it.”
We all groaned. “Strel, don’t mention the word witch to anyone, please,” said Stien. “People might not react too well.”
“Well, he reacted fine enough. He just laughed and said I had to stop being silly.”
“I suggest you keep an eye on that young man,” said Gran. “Not all men can be trusted, honey, and I for one have a very bad feeling about this one.”
Strel’s face took on a mutinous expression. “I like him. He’s fine. He just likes to goof around a lot, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” said Gran, getting up. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some rest. I have a big day tomorrow, and so do you, so…” She made a sweeping motion with her hands and we got the message.
“Thanks, Gran,” I said, getting up. “This dress is simply amazing.”
“I’m glad you like it. I simply translated your deepest wish and filled in some of the blanks.” She walked up to us and placed her hands on our cheeks, then pecked a kiss to our brows. “I love you girls. Now have a lot of fun and don’t trip over the hems. They are a bit long.” Then she tapped our noses and added, “And whatever you do, don’t lose those glass slippers. They’re very rare.”
We lifted the hems of our dresses and saw that, just like Cinderella, Gran had outfitted us with glass slippers. Huh. And they were more comfortable than I would have imagined.
And as she disappeared into her bedroom, she turned. “Oh, and next time you try to sneak into my room to steal the Book of Secrets, I’m turning you into mice.” She closed the door and was gone.
“That went well,” Stien said with a sigh. She smoothed down her dress. “Now we just have to make sure it doesn’t wrinkle before we have to walk down that red carpet tomorrow.”
“Glenn Kerb is going to be so amazed,” Strel marveled. “He’s not going to know what hit him when he catches a glimpse of his three belles of the ball.”
Stien grinned. “I’m going to ask him out on a date, you guys.”
We gasped. “You’re kidding,” I said.
“No, I’m not. It’s now or never. If he’s not going to say yes now, he’ll never say yes.”
“Shouldn’t he be the one asking you out?” asked Strel.
“It’s the twenty-first century,” said Stien stubbornly. “Girls can ask a guy out nowadays.”
I patted her on the back. “You go for it, Stien. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”
If Glenn Kerb wasn’t absolutely mesmerized by Stien in this new outfit, he was a moron. Chances were that he really was a moron, but at least then Stien would know it, too.
“Go to sleep!” Gran’s voice sounded from her room. “Now!”
And so we did.
Chapter 25
I was feeling uncharacteristically cheerful when I woke up the next morning. The prospect of visiting a film festival with Glenn, dressed in an actual dress, must have affected me more powerfully than I thought. I’m not usually a big fan of glamming up. My idea of offering myself a treat is going out and buying myself a bag of donuts, so this was very atypical behavior for me. But even the fat girl can be persuaded to glam up from time to time, especially since Gran’s magic had made the impossible possible: it had me, who didn’t exactly have a stunning figure, actually looking good in a fancy dress. These are the quirks of living with one of the greatest witches of our time, I guess, and so it was with a smile on my face that I opened my eyes and greeted this new day.
Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last, as sounds of a scuffle reached my ear as soon as I was up.
I opened my bedroom door and stuck my head out to see what the fuss was about. And that’s when I saw the oddest scene: Mona Oats was screeching up a storm, running down the hallway like a headless chicken. It took me a while to fully grasp what she was saying, but then I got it.
“My face! Someone melted my face clean off! My face! It’s gone! Help!”
Doors opened all along the hallway as in quick succession my sisters, Auntie Leigh, and Gran appeared, sashing up their nightrobes and wondering what the heck was going on.
Gran was the first to speak. “My dear Mona. What happened to you?”
“It’s my face!” cried Mona, pausing in front of Gran to offer her a closer look at the damaged visage. “I felt a burning sensation when I woke up this morning and when I looked in the mirror this is what I saw! It’s come off! My entire face has melted clean off!”
Gran studied the distraught woman for a moment, then smiled. “It’s not your face that has come off, Mona. It’s what’s on top of your face. Did you apply a facial mask before you went to sleep?”
“No, I did not,” said Mona, as if it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. “I never use facial masks. They’re the most ridiculous thing.”
“Well, someone did,” said Gran as she peeled a piece of green goo from the poor woman’s face. “A mixture of clay and…” She brought her finger to her nose and sniffed. “It almost smells like…”
“Essential oils,” Auntie Leigh said as she joined them. “And eucalyptus and honey with a touch of mint. It soothes the skin while the clay takes care of cleansing those clogged pores.” She tsk-tsked softly. “You had the worst case of clogged pores I’ve ever seen, my poor Mrs. Oats. Now all you need to do is gently rinse off with rose water, then apply the soothing cream. You will find both in your bathroom, next to the leftovers of the facial.” She held up a hand when Mona made to speak. “Don’t thank me. It’s my pleasure. When I see a woman in need, I simply cannot stand idly by and resist the urge to lend a helping hand.” She smiled, as if to say, ‘Aren’t you glad you have a friend in me?’
Mona uttered a startled cry. “You did this to me?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“You put this… crap on my face while I was sleeping?”
“Yes, the best time to apply a cleansing mask is at five in the morning, when the day’s energy is surging from beyond the horizon. So that’s what I did. And you’ll be happy to know that I put the same mask on my own face at around the same time.” She awarded the other woman a wide smile. “We’re mask sisters, Mrs. Oats. How about that?”
“This is assault! I’m going to sue you for assault and battery!” Mona cried, shaking her fist.
Leigh’s smile faded. “So you’re not happy with my work? But I’m a licensed beautician.”
“You are?” asked Gran.
“Well, perhaps not licensed, exactly, but I do have a great deal of experience applying masks and beauty treatments. A lot of the ladies in my village of Super-in-the-Veil frequently turn to me to help them regain that coveted elasticity once the years have taken their toll.”
“Well, I never asked you,” said Mona. “So kindly remove this junk from my face right now!”
“It’s not junk. I mixed the ingredients myself,” said Auntie Leigh stiffly.
“Get it off!”
“Like I said, I put a flask of rose water in your bathroom and—”
“You will get this stuff off my face right this instance,” Mona screamed, “or I’m calling the cops.”
“The police are hardly qualified to apply rose water,” said Auntie Leigh. “But if you’d like me to perform the task, all you have to do is ask.”
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you! Get this junk off my face!”
“All right, all right,” said Aunt Leigh. “Hold your horses. Aren’t we the fussy customer, eh, Mrs. Oats?”
As the two women walked upstairs, they prattled on.
“Where the
hell did you get the gall to sneak into my room in the middle of the night?”
“Hardly the middle of the night, my dear Mrs. Oats. It was five o’clock on the dot. A time when the energies are surging to their peak and—”
“You will never sneak into my room again, you hear me—or I’m reporting you to the police.”
“Very well, but I hardly think this is the way to show your gratitude.”
“I’m not grateful!”
“Well, you should be. I’ve taken years off your life.”
“Yes, you did!”
“I mean, I’ve added years to your life. Silly me. Your elasticity—”
“I don’t give a hoot about my elasticity!”
Gran shook her head sadly. “It seems I’m not having much luck with my guests. I’m pretty sure Mona Oats is going to write a scathing review now. One that will sink this B&B.”
“I thought you were going to hack the Airbnb rating system?” I asked.
“I’ve decided against it,” she said. “It simply doesn’t seem fair.”
“Maybe Mrs. Oats will change her mind once she sees how her elasticity has improved?” Stien suggested.
But Gran wasn’t convinced.
Glenn appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in silk heliotrope pajamas with yellow stripe. Even fresh out of bed he looked like a million bucks.
“What’s with all the screaming?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I thought some kind of war had broken out.”
“No war,” Gran said with a smile. “Just Mrs. Oats and my aunt at loggerheads again.”
He chuckled. “Those ladies can’t seem to get enough of each other. It wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t end up the best of friends before this trip is over.” And he returned to his bedroom, presumably to make himself look even more dazzlingly handsome than he already was.
“’How is it that Hollywood people always look so amazing?” I asked. “How do they do it?”
“Genes,” said Stien, not hiding the admiring look on her face. “They have amazing genes.”