Mad About Max

by Holly Jacobs

  Oh, did it.

  Max’s hand rubbed the spot where she’d kissed him. “Maybe I don’t, but I’m sure glad someone thought I did. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.” He reached for Grace.

  Myrtle blinked into view behind Max and in Grace’s line of sight. “Tell him not to mess the dress.”

  Reluctantly Grace pulled away. “Myrtle says you’re not to mess the dress,” she repeated for his benefit.

  “They’re here?”

  “Myrtle is.” Addressing the space behind Max she asked, “Where are the other two?” Max turned and pointed, a question in his eyes. Grace nodded.

  “Oh, Fern had a yoga class, and Blossom’s been chasing Merlin for centuries. He finally asked her out, so they’ve gone to dinner. But don’t worry, she’ll be done in time to see you at the ball.” Myrtle smiled. “I’m keeping an eye on you until then.”

  “You think I need you to babysit me?”

  “In that dress?” Myrtle laughed. “I certainly do.”

  Realizing they were being rude to Max, she repeated what Myrtle had said to him, then said to Myrtle, “You could let him just have a little peek, then neither of us would think I’m nuts.”

  Myrtle shook her head sadly. “It just isn’t done. Only the godchild can see the godparent or parents. Now, if we were Max’s, he’d see us and you wouldn’t, but . . . Well, there it is. I’m sorry you’re still doubting our existence. We’ll try to think of something so big that even Max will be forced to admit we exist. If we can make him believe, then you’d have no choice, right?”

  Grace repeated Myrtle’s words to Max and then shrugged her shoulders. “If he believes, I’ll be forced to admit you three are not just some manifestation of a nervous breakdown. But it would have to be pretty big. Big enough so that we can’t write it off to coincidence.”

  “Then big it will be,” Myrtle said as she winked out.

  “She’s gone,” Grace told Max.

  He glanced at his watch, “And we’d better be too if we don’t want to be too late. Plus if we stay here I’m bound to try to mess the dress, and then we’ll both be in trouble.”

  “Go,” came Myrtle’s voice.

  “Okay,” Grace said to both of them. This was all getting to be too confusing. The day before yesterday she’d been a normal romance writer, at least as normal as she’d ever been. Just a couple days later, here she was with a stunning man with humor and compassion. Three fairies dogged her every step, and she was on her way to her wicked stepmother’s and stepsister’s. It couldn’t get any worse.

  Five

  “GRACE, MY DEAR.” Leila rushed up to Grace and swept her into an embrace that sent shudders of revulsion up Grace’s spine. She wished she hadn’t sent Max to park the car. He would have provided a small buffer between her and her stepsister.

  Leila was beautiful. Her hair was gypsy black, her features finely sculpted, her body tall and thin. But expressions that flitted across her face kept her from being truly beautiful; they were hard and cold.

  “I’m so glad you could come. I know how you hate parties.” Leila took a step back and stared at Grace. “What in the world have you done to yourself?”

  Leila’s beautiful face hardened as she inspected Grace from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. “Why, our little blue jean queen has graduated to adulthood. And to what do we owe this . . . astonishing change?”

  “Let’s just say my fairy godmothers’ hands were in it.” Grace was actually enjoying Leila’s bemusement. Maybe the party wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Leila’s brow furrowed, her dislike for this change in Grace evident. Her very elegantly clad toe tapped in annoyance as her eyes moved up and down Grace’s body one more time. Her features distorted even more.

  As Leila stood puzzling over Grace’s sudden change, Max walked through the door.

  “And who are you?” Leila cooed, her annoyance forgotten as she extended her hand, a move Max pointedly ignored.

  He watched her lick her lips like a cat who’d gotten into the cream and was hungry for more—much, much more.

  He saw the woman undress him with her eyes and he blushed, something he hadn’t done since Mrs. Tarmanski patted his butt when he’d delivered her prescription while working at a local pharmacy his sophomore year of college.

  This was what Grace dealt with on a regular basis? No wonder she was seeing fairies. As he slid his hand possessively around her waist, his heart ached for her. “I’m Max Aaronson,” he told Leila in his sternest doctor voice—the kind he saved for hysterical patients. It never failed to make them calm down. He hoped it would work its magic on Leila.

  “My fiancé,” Grace added. The look she shot Max begged him to go along with the charade.

  “Ah, yes, Grace’s fiancé.” Max wasn’t sure he wanted to play into Grace’s delusion, but he’d promised to help her appear normal at this party. Exposing the fairies wouldn’t be a help. Plus, the feline look in her stepsister’s eyes made him nervous. Maybe thinking he was Grace’s fiancé would keep Leila at bay.

  “Fiancé?” Leila gasped. The announcement obviously didn’t sit well. Leila scowled. “Your fiancé?” she asked Grace, disbelief in her voice. “Let me see the ring.”

  “Ring?” Grace asked stupidly, as Leila’s question sank in. She felt a sudden tug on her left ring-finger.

  “We haven’t . . .” Max began.

  Grace held up her finger, displaying it for both Leila and Max. A exquisite pearl ring glowed on her finger.

  “A pearl?” Leila asked. That she was knowledgeable enough to see the apparent worth of the pink-hued ring on Grace’s finger showed in the greedy gleam in her eye as she gazed it.

  “Oh, definitely,” Max said easily, acting as if he’d picked the ring out himself. “Grace could never wear diamonds. They’re much too cold and hard a stone. But a pearl, a piece of the sea, is just the thing. Warm and living, just like she is.” He squeezed her waist, and Grace relaxed in his arms.

  “Well,” Leila said, visibly trying to pull herself together. “Let’s get out of the doorway and join the rest of my guests. The house is so big, and we’ve opened it all to our company, so everyone is spread out. But there’s food and music and . . . well, make yourselves at home.” With that Leila flew away, her eyes intently scanning the crowd.

  “She’s looking for Doris,” Grace assured her newly acquired fiancé. “We can expect her to fly in on her broomstick at any moment.”

  “Where did the pearl come from? It’s exactly what I would have chosen for you, if we were really getting married.” He was willing to play along at the party. “So where did it come from?”

  “The fairies. I’d never seen it; it was just suddenly there.” Her voice changed, dropping slightly. “But it’s not big enough to make you believe, is it, Max?” Grace began to see a small window of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the fairies were real. And if Max were to believe in them, the window would fly open, and she would wholeheartedly embrace the realness of the fairies. If he believed, then Grace could, too.

  She wouldn’t be crazy.

  “Close, but no cigar. You could have had it before, and just slipped it on. I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that,” he said, his voice a stage whisper, too.

  “Grace,” came a nasally voice behind Max. “What’s this I hear about a fiancé?”

  He turned, and there was an older version of Leila. They were both brunettes whose hair bordered black, though Leila’s was darker. Both were tall, only a few inches shorter than Max’s five feet, eleven inches. Lank and leggy, they both wore dresses that emphasized their figures to the hilt. Perfectly made up, perfectly coifed. The only discernible difference between the two women was Doris’s slightly older face. The mother’s and daughter’s dark looks might have been considered beautiful if they both
hadn’t been standing next to Grace. Next to her, they appeared over made up, over dressed and awkward.

  “Grace?” Doris MacGuire repeated.

  “Doris. This is Max.”

  Doris’ eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m Grace’s mother.”

  “Stepmother,” Grace corrected.

  Doris glared at her. “Stepmother. But I practically raised her, treated her like my own daughter, though my lessons didn’t seem to take as firmly with her as they did with Leila. So what’s this about an engagement, Mister . . . ?”

  “Dr. Aaronson,” Max supplied. “Max Aaronson. Ours has been what you might call a fairy romance.”

  Grace started coughing.

  Doris shot her a warning look and returned to cross-examining Max. “What is your specialty, Dr. Aaronson, or may I call you Max?”

  “Max is fine, and I’m a psychiatrist.” He inched closer to Grace, his hand instinctively grasping hers like some sort of talisman.

  Doris cast a speculative glance in Grace’s direction. “Ah. A psychiatrist. Is that how you met our little Grace?”

  Grace started to respond, but Max cut her off, “Sure is. Why she breezed into my office one day.”

  He didn’t say anything about it being yesterday, but Grace couldn’t believe he was going to tell her stepmother about her problem. He’d promised to protect her. She stamped her magical fairy heel onto his toe.

  Max didn’t even blink. “You see, she was having a problem with some characters and wanted some medical advice about what to do with them. Of course, I was more than willing to help. The attraction between us was almost . . . well, almost magical. Love at first sight, and all that. So I asked her to do me the honor of marrying me, and here we are.”

  “Yes, here we are,” Grace echoed.

  Doris’ face was a barely disguised mask of anger. Grace was sure she had something up her sleeve. Doris had always loved setting up her victims, toying with them like a cat with a mouse’s tail under its paw. “And speaking of here, Clarence is here, Grace. If we’d known about your fiancé, we never would have invited your old suitor, but,” her lips turned upward in a cold mockery of a smile, “the damage is done and you’ll just have to tell him to his face. He’ll probably be heartbroken.”

  Doris aimed her next barb at Max. “The man was infatuated with our little Grace. But she didn’t think he was good enough. She’s always looked down at the men who run in the right circles. She considers the right circles a little too artsy for my taste. But maybe that’s what happens when you have an . . . artistic nature. Your taste for the finer things withers and turns plebeian.”

  Doris patted Max’s shoulder. “Until now, of course. Let me go get our poor Clarence, and you can tell him your wonderful news, dear.” Doris was hustling away in search of Clarence.

  “Phew, talk about playing the role of wicked stepmother to the hilt. And if I were really your fiancé, would I be worried about Clarence?” Max was surprised at how the thought of Grace caring for another man bothered him.

  “Only if you haven’t had your rabies shots. He’s been a burr on my backside for years. Doris and Leila want to see me married to the proper sort. Someone who will force me to give up this silly writing thing.” She sneered the last piece with the same annoying inflections both Leila and Doris used. “So they’ve been throwing us together at every opportunity. Wait until you meet him, he’s—” She paused and, then whispering, added, “He’s here.”

  “Grace, dear. My, aren’t you looking exceptionally lovely tonight. Your mother told me you were here and asking to see me.” A thousand years of breeding and pedigree might have existed just to create a man like Clarence. He wore a tuxedo like it was a second skin. His perfectly sculpted bone structure was capped by impeccably styled black hair. His smile was white and straight, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Max doubted one woman in a million would notice the lack of warmth in those steel grey eyes.

  “Yes, Grace did want to see you. She wanted to introduce you to me.” Jealous. Max was jealous. Even with Grace’s assurances that she had no interest in the snake, he couldn’t stand Clarence. Couldn’t stand the thought of him touching Grace.

  “Yes,” Grace said. “Clarence, you’ve been so close to the whole family, I wanted you to be one of the first to meet my fiancé, Max Aaronson.” She turned to Max and winked. “Max, this is Clarence Darington the Fourth.”

  “Clarence.” Max looked down at the man who was only an inch or so taller than Grace. “Nice to meet you,” he boldly lied. Actually, Max could have gone his whole life without meeting Clarence.

  “Fiancé?” Clarence asked Grace, choosing to ignore Max. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself engaged? What about us?”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, us. I’ve invested a lot of time in our relationship,” Clarence continued, ignoring Max’s darkening face. “I’ve wined and dined you—catered to your every whim and desire.”

  “The only wine we ever shared was here at Leila’s. For Pete’s sake, Clarence, we never even went out on a date. I certainly never had any whims or desires where you were concerned.”

  Clarence didn’t even pause, so lost was he in his list of complaints. “I had plans for us. Next year, when you inherited your father’s money, we were going to go on a world tour together. Then we would buy a cozy little mansion, settle down and have a few kids. But now you’ve gone and gotten yourself engaged to . . .” He jerked his head in Max’s direction.

  “You turn from a wallflower into a raving beauty, and then find someone else. Leila said you’d be lucky to get me. I just can’t believe you would do something like this.” Clarence turned and walked away, muttering to himself about women who changed their minds.

  “That’s what Leila intended for you to marry?” Max laughed, his jealously evaporating as the man retreated, and his good humor returning.

  “Threw us together at every turn. He didn’t want to invest too much time in me—he was waiting for the inheritance. Guess he planned to sweep me off my feet then.”

  “Instead, I swept you off your feet.”

  Grace shook her head sadly. “No, I swept you. Or rather, the fairies swept us both into my growing delusion.”

  She glanced around at the groups that were gathered, drinking and chatting, in Leila’s huge living room. “Well, there’s no hope for it. Let’s mingle, and I’ll introduce you to some family friends.”

  “Which part of the family? Yours or the Steps’?”

  “We’ll avoid the stepfriends and shoot for some of my father’s friends. Much like me, Doris and Leila only invite them to functions where it is absolutely necessary. But they’re the people I come to see. Leila’s husband, Leo, lends her enough social position so that they all come. And Dad’s friends have enough position that she can’t afford not to invite them. It’s a sort of Mexican standoff. But, I reap the benefit. These functions are only tolerable because of the friends who do come.”

  Max followed Grace as she circled the room, introducing him. He couldn’t help noticing that Grace was glowing, her new look noticed and approved of by half a dozen older couples, quite a few of whom were her father’s oldest friends. They all seemed genuinely fond of Grace.

  “Oh, I’ve saved the best until last,” Grace said as she pulled him back into Leila’s giant living room. “There’s Mrs. Martin and Captain Ellis.”

  An elderly lady with perfectly coifed grey hair was talking to a gentleman dressed in the requisite tux. He stood with military precision by the large fireplace, where a cheery fired crackled behind an iron curtain, as he listened to the older lady.

  “They’re two of the dearest souls I’ve ever met. I think Mrs. Martin’s been sweet on the Captain forever, and I think he’s just as fond of her. But neither of them ever makes a move to act on it.” She shook her head sadly. “So much wasted time.
”

  “Maybe they’re just friends,” Max pointed out.

  “Yes, they are friends. But I think they’d each like to be more than that. Something holds them apart, though. I can’t figure it out.”

  Max chuckled. “Don’t tell me I’ve gone and hooked myself up to an incurable romantic? Never mind. Forget I just said that. I should have guessed the moment I found out what you did for a living. No one would write romances unless they believed in the power of love. But I hope you’re not planning to try to fix these two up.” They moved closer to the unsuspecting couple. “They certainly look old enough to figure out what it is they want and go after it.”

  “Sometimes people need a little shove.” She rushed into the older woman’s arms. “Mrs. Martin.”

  “Why, Gracey, dear, what have you done to yourself?” the older woman asked, approval in her voice. She pushed Grace away, at arm’s length, and examined her from head to toe. “You’ve always been beautiful, but there is something different now.”

  Grace grinned mischievously. “I can’t take the credit. If I look different it must be because I feel different. And I’d like to introduce you to the cause of the whole thing. Max?”

  Max stepped forward, and Grace continued, “Captain Ellis and Mrs. Martin, I’d like you both to meet Max Aaronson, my fiancé.”

  She hated perpetuating the lie, but since she’d told Doris and Leila, she was sure half the party had heard. Grace wouldn’t hurt the older couple’s feelings by not telling them herself. Later, she’d just tell everyone that things hadn’t worked out. “Max, these are two of my oldest and dearest friends.”

  The captain, who’d stayed in the background as the two women greeted each other, came forward and took his turn at hugging Grace. “Congratulations, sweetheart,” the gray haired, walrus-mustached gentleman whispered in her ear. Then Mrs. Martin came back for seconds on the hugs. That done, the two elderly people turned their attention to Max.