conversation and I knew I had heard it before.”
A thought suddenly came into Marie's head. “Old Mrs. Quinn!”
“Pardon?” asked Fiona.
Marie clapped her hands and smiled. “Old Mrs. Quinn came from Ireland too.” Fiona sat on the edge of a large, sturdy box of books and rested her chin on her
hand. “Yes, Quinn is a pretty common name at home. Is that important to you? What
aren't you telling me Marie? What is the mystery?”
Marie walked over to the front door and locked it. Turning back to Fiona she
asked quietly, “Do you have time for some tea? Is Ling Mae alright?”
Nodding, Fiona agreed to stay as her daughter was with a sitter and as a historian,
Marie had piqued her interest.
“A spot of tea would be welcome Marie and I must know what this is all about.”
The two women settled themselves in the tiny back room of the book store that
Marie had set up as a pseudo kitchenette. A small burner and microwave sat on a
cramped counter and a tiny fold away table and two stools served as a breakfast and
lunch nook. Marie had painted it bright yellow in order to try and cheer up the space.
The whistling kettle Marie had placed on the burner was singing loudly as she
placed two teabags in an old bone chine tea pot. Fiona sat silently while waiting for
Marie to relay her story.
“Okay now Marie. What interesting tidbits do you have to tell me?” Fiona asked
as Marie poured her a cup of tea. “I need you to promise you won't tell a soul Fiona.”
“Marie, I have known you for a few years now. I promise I won't be telling a
soul.”
Marie sat and took a sip of tea before beginning to relay what Gordon had told
her. She watched Fiona's face and waited for some kind of reaction. Finally a grin spread
across Fiona's face and she grabbed Marie's hand.
“How wonderful!”
Marie wasn't certain she had heard Fiona properly.
“Wonderful?”
“Yes, don't you see Marie? This Mrs. Quinn had a wee secret and now Gordon
has been chose to carry it on. Faerie folk are not normally so trusting, not do they seek
out human contact so readily. It sounds like your brother has met a saucy one!”
Gently removing her hand, Marie leaned back in her chair and stared at Fiona.
“You don't mean to tell me that you believe in this nonsense? I mean, my brother can be
a bit eccentric. He has been alone in that old house for such a long time.”
“Marie, it may be hard for you to believe but there are so many things out there
are beyond what Western society believes. I grew up around all the faerie folklore. Where do you think so many of our children's stories and faerie tales come from? They
originate in truth. As adults we close of ourselves to things we have a hard time
understanding. I am surprised that your brother was able to so readily communicate
with any faerie folk. Children and animals see them all the time.” “But your brother
must be careful.”
Studying Fiona's face for a moment, Marie decided that the woman was serious.
“Okay, so say I subscribe that my brother is being contacted by a faerie. Why
does he have to be careful?”
Fiona took another sip of tea then folded her hands in her lap. “This particular
faerie has told him about “glamour” instead of just trying to fool him or seducing him.
She or it wants something from him. Faeries are highly intelligent and dare not always
so obvious with what they want. Most do not want to cause harm but a few can be
wicked creatures.” “Do you know if your brother has any history about his house?”
Marie shook her head. “I'm not sure. I do know that Mrs. Quinn told him a few
tales about Irish folklore. She died of Alzheimer's not too long ago. Maybe she was just
ill?” “I disagree about the old girl being ill. It would be interesting to see who owned
the house before her. Of course it would depend on how old it is. Oh I would so love to
research this! Do you think your brother would mind if I spoke with him?”
Laughing, Marie smiled and poured more tea. “He would run scared.”
Fiona raised an eyebrow at Marie. “Really? Why would that be?
“He is petrified of woman.”
“Well I'm a historian and I'11 not be dating him. I just want some information.
My goodness he's a grown man is he not?”
Amused, Marie just smiled and nodded. “He is a grown man but he has had many
a misadventure with women. He's very shy and a bit clumsy. Its shame really, Gordon is
so good with children. But at forty five I think he feels life is passing him by.”
“Your brother is
the Gordon Parks?” asked Fiona excitedly.
“Yes, I guess he is. Why?”
“I have read each one of his romance novels. I never believed for a moment that
Erica Stone was a woman! His historical research is impeccable. The male characters are
so much more than a woman could write. He has insight into the male psyche and seems
to know what a woman truly desires.” Stunned, Marie once again stared at her friend. “I would never take you as one for
romantic nonsense Fiona.”
“Ah, just because I chose to raise a child alone does not mean I don't have desires
of my own my girl. Your brother writes beautifully. I think a conversation with Gordon
Parks would be a very interesting one. You will let him know I wish to speak with
him...perhaps on a bit of a historical matter? Would that interest him?”
“It would interest him more than faerie talk or him thinking I'm trying to set him
up again.”
“Oh I bet you would be surprised what Mr. Gordon Parks is interested in Marie. I
just be you would be surprised.” CHAPTER SIX
“You did what? Who is coming here?” Gordon's voice was tensed and high
pitched as his sister told him about the impending visitor later that evening.
“Gordon, please. Fiona is a friend and she works at the University. She is doing
some research about old homes in Maple Ridge and she wants to speak with you.
Besides, she's a fan of yours!” Marie stated. She silently wondered if Gordon was going
to hang the phone up on her.
“I have heard of Fiona O'Neill and I respect her work and I understand that she is
a wonderful teacher. But why did you tell her to come out here? I don't do in person
interviews for any reason Marie. You of all people know how I relish my privacy.”
Exasperated, Marie sighed. “You have too much privacy Gord. For God sakes
she's not some moonstruck romantic fiction groupie. She's a colleague. What will it hurt
to tell her about Mrs. Quinn's house?”
Raising his hand in defeat, Gordon acquiesced. “Alright, fine Marie I'll do it this
once. But please don't do this again without asking me first. Damn, she'll be here in a
few hours and I have things to do.”
“Call me tomorrow Gord and let me know how it goes.” “You can bet I will speak with you tomorrow Marie. Give the kids hugs for me.”
Gordon ended the phone call and sat silent in his study staring at Godfrey who
was asleep on his arm chair. “Now what do I do?” He whispered. “It isn't enough I have
weird fantasy women tracking me down now I have to have a blasted woman coming to
interrogate me in my own home!”
Glancing around the room, he decided to at least tidy up
and then have a shower.
His stomach churned at the thought of having to entertain someone, let alone a woman
he had never met.
An hour later, Gordon was looking at his reflection in the fog covered mirror of
his humid bathroom. His salt and pepper hair was slick against his head and his face was
clean shaven after 3 days of stubble. His pale blue eyes looked tired and Gordon noticed
tiny lines forming around the corners of his eyes and mouth.
“Well I almost look presentable.”
With only a towel around his waist, Gordon noticed that his once lean build was
getting a bit thin. Silver/Grey hair had begun to invade his sparse chest hair. “Maybe I
should start biking or swimming again. I can't let everything about me get old!”
“Gordon. Do not forget about me. I will return.” Frightened, Gordon dropped his towel and glanced nervously around the
bathroom.
“Who is there?”
Silence.
“I asked, who is there?”
The only answer was a faint feminine giggle that disappeared as quickly as
Gordon thought he heard it.
“Okay now I'm sure I am going nuts!”
Gordon hurried to his room, still naked and his heart pounding as he locked the
door behind him. He took a deep breath as he opened his closet door trying to figure out
what was the least worn set of clothes he owned. In less than an hour, Fiona O’Neill
would be at his door and expecting at least a semblance of hospitality.
“Get it together man!” Gordon said to himself as she chose a pair of black jeans
and a grey, cable knit sweater. His hands shook as he buttoned up his jeans and pulled a
pair of clean socks over his long, narrow feet. After lacing up his best sneakers he
walked forward and hesitantly unlocked his bedroom door and looked up and down the
hall only to see Godfrey eating from his dish outside Gordon's study.
“Glad to see you are unaffected by my insanity Godfrey,” Gordon thought.
Godfrey blinked and let out a long “meow” before heading back into the study
and presumably back to his favorite arm chair.
Gordon sighed and walked slowly down the stairs to tidy up the living room
before making his way to the kitchen.
“I hope she isn't expecting dinner.” he grumbled. “I suppose I should have some
sort of snack prepared.”
Opening and closing the cupboards, Gordon realized that he had very little to
offer a guest, let alone a History Professor and a woman! Settling on some cheese and
whole grain crackers and a few sweet biscuits, he placed everything as carefully as he
could on a small tray and put it in the fridge.
For the next few minutes Gordon paced uncomfortably back and forth across the
kitchen floor wondering if he should make tea or coffee. Would she want a glass of
wine?
“...
some nice mulled wine with ginger ...”
Gordon stood frozen as Fae's voice reverberated in his head. “Enough!” he
shouted. “You are not, nor will you ever be real!” The door bell interrupted his rant. Gordon took a few deep breaths then slowly
walked to the front door trying to gather his wits and his nerve.
Pasting on his best pleasant face, Gordon opened the door. Fiona O'Neill stood on
the stoop, dressed in a grey wool skirt, white silk blouse and a green shawl. Her long red
hair was gathered at the nape of her neck and her cheeks were pink from the cool air.
Gordon was speechless as he had not realized that she was so beautiful. Fiona was a
complete package; tiny in stature but fiery and intelligent.
“You must be Gordon Parks. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. May I come in?”
Fiona extended her hand as she started through the front door.
Gordon walked backward and stared for a moment before extending his own
hand. He found her grasp to be cool but firm and her skin was silky smooth.
“I..uh...yes I am and yes of course please come in Ms. O'Neill. Forgive my
manners. I am not used to much company out here.”
“I understand completely and please call me Fiona.” She said as she walked into
the front hall. “Your home is wonderful! I see you have kept it in its original condition.
Most people try to modernize everything.”
Quickly and quietly, Gordon led her into the kitchen and motioned for her to sit at
the table. “Yes, well I chose to keep it that way. It does have its problems, especially in
storms with the electrical. But I manage alright.” “I was not sure of you had eaten. I
don't have much but I have a few things to snack on and some coffee or tea if you like?”
Fiona sat graciously sat at the tiny table and removed her shawl. “Don't be
worrying about me now. Anything you have is fine and a cup of tea sounds lovely.
Thank you.”
Gordon busied himself by making the tea and removed the snack plate from the
fridge. “So, you know my sister?” He asked.
“Yes indeed. Marie was one of the first people I met after moving here. She's a
lovely wee thing. I enjoy her book store very much.”
Smiling, Gordon placed the warm tea pot on the table. “Yes, Marie is a wonderful
person. Not to be presumptuous but I assume you’re from Ireland?”
Fiona chuckled. “I am. Can't hide that fact no matter how long I've been in this
country. I am from the County Mayo area. Have you ever been?”
“To Ireland?”
“Yes.” “No, I regret that I have not travelled much outside North America and I only
travel if it is absolutely necessary.”
Taking a sip of the hot tea and delicately gathering a few biscuits from the plate,
Fiona nodded. “It's a shame. There is so much beauty out there to be seen. It would help
your writing, which I happen to think is brilliant!”
Gordon's cheeks burned bright red with embarrassment. He turned back toward
the counter and fiddled with the cream and sugar containers before he could muster
enough courage to look back at Fiona.
“Um, thank you. I am surprised you know who I really am. But I suppose with
the internet my pseudonym is no long secret. Erica Stone has allowed me to be
somewhat anonymous up until now.”
Fiona looked up at him from underneath her long, auburn eyelashes and smiled
secretly. “I do my homework, especially when I am to interview someone. I take pride in
my work as I am sure you do Mr. Parks.”
Gordon liked her immensely. She was honest and above board and didn't seem to
want to play games. It was a refreshing change from many other women who seemed to
only want something from him. “Please Fiona, call me Gord. Now I understand you are seeking history about my
house?”
Secretly pleased that Gordon had offered the intimacy of his birth name, Fiona
sighed in relief. “Perhaps this won't be as difficult as Marie had first suggested.” She
thought. “I have to come clean.”
“I don't want to start our relationship with a wee lie Gord. I have to be honest
about my visit.”
Almost in a panic, Gordon sat down across from Fiona and clenched his jaw.
“Oh? And what truth have you neglected to reveal Ms. O'Neill.”
From his icy tone, Fiona knew she had lost any ground that was gained by their
friendly banter. “I am sorry Gord. Please just listen for a moment.
”
“I am listening.”
Clearing her throat, Fiona took another sip of her lukewarm tea. “I was at your
sister's books store yesterday and we had a bit of a conversation about you.”
Gordon's heart sank. He knew that Marie had betrayed his confidence. For an
intelligent woman as Fiona is she must think of him as a total eccentric. “Just a moment Gord, I doubt I am thinking what you assume to be true. Your
sister cares about you and being that I am from the Emerald Isle she figured I may be
able to help.”
“And how would that be?” Gordon asked through clenched teeth.
“Well, I understand that your visitor apprised you of what is called“glamour”?
It took a moment for Gordon to answer. “She doesn't think I'm nuts!” He thought
silently.
“You know about this word?” he asked.
“I do. But at the moment I need a bit of a description. When did this lovely lass
visit you?”
Gordon fidgeted in his seat and twisted his hands together. “It was during the big
storm the other night. I saw her in my garden. She was a flesh and blood person! I am
not making this up!”
Without thinking, Fiona reached over and grabbed Gordon's hand. He flinched
but did not move away. Her hand felt warm and comforting. “I know it Gord. I may have an idea what may be happening but I need to know a
bit more about the house and its previous owners. A wee bit of history may help me
decide if I am right.”
“You really don't think I am losing it out here? There is a reasonable
explanation?”
Fiona moved her had away and smiled. “Now I don't know if reasonable is quite
the word but there is an explanation, if your mind is open.”
“I don't know what to think Fiona. But I appreciate your interest.” Gordon said as
he moved around the kitchen cleaning up the cups and dishes. “Would you like to sit in
the living room and talk? I mean if you have some time?”
“I have time. My wee one is with a sitter for tonight. The history here if nothing
else will be well worth my visit.”
Gordon stared at her a moment and wondered when she had time to have a child.
“Something wrong?” she asked quietly.
“No...I just...I didn't know you had a family. That's wonderful!” Gordon answered
nervously. Grabbing her shawl, Fiona got up from the table and walked toward the living
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