Finding Ever After: four fairytale-ish novellas

by Pepper Basham

  The only word to accurately describe Carolyn Craft was regal. She stood poised, chin slightly raised, arms folded across her thin body, which was clad in an elegant black blouse and long, flowing dress pants. No puffy ski jackets or ear muffs for her. Maggie couldn’t even imagine the sight.

  “Welcome.” Carolyn raised her voice just enough to be heard across the landing. She’d never raise it higher. Ladies didn’t yell, after all. Maggie had heard that admonition a hundred times growing up during football games. Even now, she fought the immature urge to tuck two fingers in her mouth and whistle, like she used to for the Tar Heels.

  This was why she didn’t see her family more than she had to. They brought out the worst in her—the teenager still trying to prove herself. Her stomach wrenched. This might have been a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  Griff lifted one hand in greeting at Carolyn and smiled, as if suddenly remembering his pretend role in all of this and the need for social etiquette. “Ma’am.”

  Wait. That was it?

  His short hello made Maggie wonder what exactly she’d missed. Something was bothering him. He’d even seemed aggravated at Harper—but then again, maybe that was a defense mechanism to hide his attraction. Smart move, if so. That way he wouldn’t appear to be the jerk who was here with her, but all about her sister.

  She cleared her throat.

  Griff thankfully took the subtle nudge to step it up and began unloading their bags from the hatch. “Let me get these for you, babe.”

  Babe. The nickname sent an unexpected twinge down her spine and she unsuccessfully commanded it to stop as she stepped aside. Griff wasn’t her boyfriend. This wasn’t real.

  Fake. Forged. Bogus.

  The seed that had tried to grow a moment ago shriveled completely into nothing as he easily hoisted their luggage out of the car. She’d be smart to remember exactly that—Griff wasn’t hers, and never would be.

  She lifted her chin, trying not to stare as Griff started toward the porch—past Harper, without a second glance, to his credit—with their suitcases. This was better, anyway. Who needed romance and the risk that came along with it? Griff was her work friend, someone who appreciated her apple tarts and tolerated her coffee and made her laugh on road trips. She could experience that with any of her guy pals. There was nothing to lose here, thankfully.

  And from the impressed glimmer that lit Carolyn’s eyes as her gaze ran approvingly over Griff, maybe there was actually something to gain.

  She hadn’t even recognized him.

  Griff tried to ignore that dang knot tying up his insides as he followed Carolyn up the hand-carved wooden staircase inside. Thankfully, both Maggie and Harper were walking along behind him, so they couldn’t see his face. He wasn’t sure how well he’d hidden his surprise when Harper had acted like she’d never seen him before, but Maggie’s not-so-subtle cough had prompted him to at least try to keep up the ruse.

  They’d dated for weeks—had he changed that much since college? He supposed he was a little thicker now, thanks to regular hours logged at the gym. And he had the beard that had never bothered to make an appearance on his baby face back then.

  Or was she just pretending not to recognize him because it was awkward? His anger cooled a degree and he took a deep, steadying breath. No need to assume the worst until he got all of the information. Surely he’d be able to chat with Harper privately at some point this weekend.

  Carolyn led the way down the short hall at the top of the staircase, to the second guestroom on the right. She stopped just outside the door and gestured toward the king-sized bed inside, covered with a white and silver spread. Throw pillows—why in the world did people use those things anyway?—in various shades of blues stacked along the black headboard. “This will be yours and Maggie’s room.”

  He blinked and his duffel hit the landing with a thud. Out of all their planning, how had they skipped over this particular scenario? Heat clamped a smoldering hand around his neck. Behind him, a muffled, strangled sound erupted from Maggie’s throat.

  He cleared his own with a short cough, instinctively knowing she wasn’t going to speak up on this one. “Um, thank you, but the couch or a futon somewhere is fine for me.”

  Two sets of matching blue eyes, one older, one younger, stared at him in disbelief.

  “Uh oh, I think you embarrassed them, Mom.” Harper nudged her mother with one elbow, a smirk hovering across her face. “The relationship must not be on that level yet.”

  “Harper, hush.” Carolyn frowned, her red-painted lips drooping slightly toward her daughter. “That’s not appropriate.”

  She snorted. “Neither is dating for months and never—“

  “Enough, Harper.” Carolyn’s eyes softened as she met Griff’s gaze. “Respectable choice. But the couch won’t be necessary. The guestroom next door is also available. My quarters are on the first floor and Harper’s room is at the end of the hall here.” She pointed past the stairs they’d traveled up.

  “Thank you.” He set Maggie’s bag just inside the door to the silver and white room, then moved to deposit his into the next. He hesitated at the sight of the twin-sized bed draped in a bright pink, fluffy blanket, complete with sparkly snowflakes.

  “Nope. Swap that. I’ll take this room.”

  Before he could argue, Maggie was ducking past his arm with her suitcase and commanding the smaller space. She shot him a soft smile, full of gratitude. She was returning the favor for taking that particular bullet, and also, probably just being considerate—seeing how he was 6’1 and that bed most definitely was not.

  “We’ll leave you two to get settled in. Join us for cocoa downstairs when you’re ready.” Carolyn gracefully hooked her jewel-clad fingers around Harper’s elbow and pulled her toward the staircase.

  He met Maggie’s gaze, which was full of questions he didn’t think he could answer—at least not right now. Should he mention that he knew Harper at all? It’d be less awkward now, than later—but until he knew exactly why Harper was playing dumb on recognizing him, he probably shouldn’t. It could make things even more complicated.

  He swallowed back the words. “Thanks for taking this room.”

  Maggie snorted as she hoisted her suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. “Like I’m going to drag you to the mountains and make you sleep in a twin.”

  “Hey, now, you didn’t drag me. I agreed to come.”

  Her tight expression loosened a notch.

  “Bribed me, maybe.” He shot her a wink.

  A smile broke free. Ah, there it was. He felt some of the tension from Harper sluice off his shoulders. All these years, and that girl still bothered him. He wasn’t sure what that meant, or if it was even something he wanted to pursue thinking about. But he did know he felt better when Maggie smiled, and that was something worth pondering. Just a little, anyway.

  “Speaking of bribes, you should go grab that basket out of the backseat before this cold weather turns those tarts into apple bricks.” She looked up from her suitcase and raised her eyebrows at him. “Assuming you left any.”

  “Oh, I left some.” He leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb as she stacked jeans and sweaters on the bed. Her black hair, so opposite of her sisters, spilled over her shoulders as she leaned forward. “Trust me, I’m already ready for my midnight snack.”

  “Well, you’ve got about eleven hours.” She began shoving socks into a dresser drawer, reached back into the suitcase for underwear, and then hesitated as her eyes darted over to him.

  Oops. Their relationship wasn’t on that level either.

  She quickly shut the bag and perched on the edge of the bed. “Thanks for handling that so well with Carolyn. I sort of froze.”

  “I saw that. For a minute I thought your stepsister had strangled you.” He grinned.

  Maggie shook her head, her expression freezing over a little again. He was no psychiatrist, but he could easily see the defensive wall that rose the second Harper was brought up. “She’s not
that bad.” But she looked unsure.

  And he felt unsure. From the glimpse he’d gotten so far, Harper hadn’t matured much at all since college. She’d hugged Maggie earlier by the car, sure, but she was also playing some kind of game with him now, one that he couldn’t quite decipher. Harper certainly wasn’t trustworthy.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “So where’s her beau?” Maybe things would level out tension-wise between the women when Harper’s flavor of the month arrived. If not, it was going to be a long weekend.

  Maggie stood and began piling sweaters into the drawer under her socks. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend right now.”

  “Wait a minute.” He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped further into the room and lowered his voice. “You mean, she’s here solo, yet they rag on you about being single so much that you’re willing to lie in order to get some peace?”

  “Seems fair, right?” Maggie rolled her eyes and shut the drawer with a thud. “Welcome to my family dynamic.”

  Carolyn had always made the best cocoa. It was almost as if even the hot chocolate didn’t dare upset the royal queen. It was always the perfect temperature, with just the right number of marshmallows floating on top, and garnished with a spoonful of whipped cream dusted with peppermint shavings.

  Maggie took a careful slurp from her red snowflake mug. It was delicious. Of course. Sometimes she wished her stepmother would fail at just one thing, to even the scales a little. But she continued to remain perfect—and passed those perfect genes on to Harper, who unfortunately didn’t handle her genetic gifting with nearly as much grace.

  “Tell us about yourself, Griff.” Carolyn set her mug on the end table by the pristine white sofa and crossed her legs. “It is Griff, right?” She glanced over at Maggie, who had sat next to Griff on the matching loveseat by the double-sided fireplace. “Maggie, dear, you’ve got whipped cream on your face.”

  Harper snorted from her command post in the leather recliner, not even looking up from her phone.

  Maggie quickly reached to rub it off, but Griff grabbed her hand. “Let me, babe.” With a teasing light in his eye, he leaned in and swiped his thumb over her upper lip. “Got it.”

  Embarrassment burned—along with the visceral reaction happening in her stomach at his touch. She clutched her mug with both hands, unable to force a thank you out of her stunned lips. Lips that still felt the graze of his finger. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, and she avoided her family’s eyes—and her racing heartbeat.

  “It’s just Griff, yes.” His gaze jumped to Harper as he spoke, and Maggie followed his pointed stare. But her stepsister was still staring down at her phone, absently twirling a lock of hair around one finger. Her peppermint-striped cup of hot chocolate sat untouched next to her. Was that how she stayed so thin?

  Carolyn tilted her head. “Interesting. It’s not short for anything?”

  He winced. “Alright, you got me. It’s Griffin.”

  “Like how Maggie’s real name is Margaret.” Now Harper looked up, her normally pouty lips spread wide in a smile. “What a coincidence.”

  Maggie briefly closed her eyes. Beside her on the loveseat, Griff shifted his weight. “What about you? Anyone ever call you Harp?”

  “Of course not.” Harper frowned, confusion pinching her permanently arched brows. “That’s not even a word.”

  Maggie straightened on the loveseat. “Actually, it—”

  “As I was saying, Griff…tell us about yourself.” Carolyn spoke over Maggie’s automatic rebuttal.

  She quickly clamped her lips shut. Her stepmother had never let Maggie correct Harper growing up, be it over spelling, grammar, or even simple little tidbits of common sense. Which fit with her own parenting style of rarely correcting her daughter. It was almost as if she’d been afraid of Harper ever looking bad. Too bad teen popularity wasn’t determined by how fast one could read or whether they came in first in the school spelling bee. Then Maggie could have had a fighting chance.

  Carolyn continued, one hand reaching up to adjust her pearl necklace. “How did the two of you meet?” Maggie searched her expression for any hint of her doubting their ruse, but so far, Carolyn’s voice seemed warm and truly interested. Maybe a little time apart had been good for all of them.

  Or maybe bringing a man home had finally made her worthy in their eyes.

  Griff sat up a little straighter, his gaze shifting once more to Harper before landing on Carolyn. He must be trying to include her in the conversation, to further carry out their façade. Good luck with convincing Harper to focus on anything but herself. “I own a carpentry and construction company.”

  Huh. She had no idea about the construction part. What other secrets did Griff have? Maggie suddenly wanted to know—and not just to convince her family their relationship was real.

  At Carolyn’s nod, Griff continued. “The owners of the complex where Maggie’s shop is located contracts us to do repairs around the suites.” He draped his arm over the back of the loveseat, not touching Maggie, but at least giving her stepmom the impression that they were close. Well-played. Good impression, but keeping a personal boundar—

  His arm slipped down two inches and rested around her neck. “The rest is history.”

  Did two weeks classify as history?

  The heat from his arm seeped into her pores, tugging at her stomach. She simultaneously wanted to get up for air—and wanted to lean in and snuggle close. Too close. What was wrong with her? This was Griff. Handyman Griff, who exchanged one-liners in her store and repaired bookshelves and teased her about her collection of fairytale Funko Pop figurines.

  Clearly the hot chocolate was wreaking havoc on her senses. Her heartbeat accelerated. Maybe Carolyn had poisoned it. And that’s why Harper wasn’t drinking hers and—

  Across the room, Harper finally took a slow sip from her mug, eyes trained on her phone.

  Oh. She swallowed back the anxiety forcing its way up her throat. Was this what having a crush felt like? Did women in their late 20’s even develop crushes? Or was it just hives?

  Rash. Outbreak. Eruption.

  “You okay, dear? You look flushed.” Carolyn frowned at her, and Maggie honestly couldn’t tell if it was in concern or admonition. She’d always pushed Maggie to be proper, even though she tended to err more on the side of disorganized and klutzy. Somehow, despite Harper’s tendency toward being ditzy, her stepsister never struggled to have charm when it was expected of her. All she had to do was smile or flirt, and it was mission accomplished. Maggie had to work a lot harder, and still missed the mark.

  Hence her reason for lying about a boyfriend.

  A nudge of guilt pricked, and she quickly shook it aside. They hadn’t left her many options. The constant comments and subtle barbs about her singleness, the nosy masked as sympathy. It got old, quick. Especially from Harper, who could give a fifteen-minute notice for a date and have a waiting list ten men deep.

  “I’m fine.” Hopefully the dozens of thoughts vying for attention in her head didn’t show up on her face. Fine was a stretch at the moment.

  Carolyn smiled at Griff as she leaned over to pick up her mug. “Well, we’re just so glad you and Maggie found each other.”

  The guilt intensified. Maggie swallowed. Maybe she’d misread their pressuring her all these years. Maybe it’d really been truly out of genuine concern, and she’d been defensive and misinterpreted. Maybe—

  “After all, she’s been alone for so long now.” Her stepmother’s red lips pursed over the rim of her cup.

  The guilt faded into oblivion. And maybe not.

  This girls’ family was whack.

  Griff shoved his hands into the pockets of his tan jacket and trudged down the snow-speckled driveway to rescue the basket of tarts from the car. He could see how Maggie could be pressured into pretending to bring a date now—the jabs and barbs that were near invisible, but razor sharp. It was worse than an all-out verbal attack—and much more exhausting.
If this was their usual dynamic, he was surprised she’d come at all. Why not refuse? Or just not answer the phone, for that matter?

  Another mystery question was how had he ever thought anything about Harper Weir was attractive? Her haughty, spoiled spirit spoke decibels louder than her worldly, traditional beauty ever could.

  He opened the back door of Maggie’s car, his breath forming warm puffs in the cold air. He’d never have left her in the cabin alone after that, but she’d excused herself to the restroom shortly after her stepmother’s hurtful comment, so he took the opportunity to escape as well. It wouldn’t do his first impression as faux boyfriend any good if he went off on her stepmother for being rude.

  He’d bet anything Carolyn and Harper were talking about them right now. Hopefully his affection toward Maggie had convinced Carolyn of their authenticity. He’d never been one for lying, but this particular cause was turning out to be one for the better. How could anyone treat Maggie like that? She was so sweet. So kind. So thoughtful—and hilarious. And awkward, and smart. It didn’t really make sense why she was single. Sure, she was a book-worm and a little dorky. But it was cute. Genuine.

  That was a heck of a lot more refreshing than Harper’s arrogance—even if it did come framed with a model’s figure and alluring eyes. Eyes that had once looked into his as if he’d hung the moon—the same eyes that later sparkled with mirth during her rejection of him.

  Griff braced the basket of remaining tarts against his side and shut the door behind him.

  “Howdy, neighbor.” A man wearing a gray beanie and flannel jacket shuffled up the driveway toward him, a stack of papers in his hand. “Just settling in?”

  “Something like that.” Griff held out his hand. “Griff Massey. We’re here for the weekend.”

  “I’m Ronny Olsen. Co-chair of the annual Winter Festival.” Ronny held up the stack of papers, which Griff could now tell were flyers featuring colorful snowflakes. “I was just going door to door and making sure the newcomers had the info about all the big events on Sunday.”