Mad About Max

by Holly Jacobs

  The captain extended his hand in wary greeting. “Mr. Aaronson.”

  Sensing the challenge in the older gentleman’s eye, and recognizing it as a caring protectiveness for Grace, Max tried to put his best foot forward. “Dr. Aaronson,” he replied smoothly as he shook the captain’s hand. For as harshly as time stood on the man’s face, he still had a grip of iron. “I’m a psychiatrist.”

  “Oh,” said two voices.

  “Yes,” Grace gushed, anxious for her friends to like Max. “He’s been helping me with some stubborn characters that just won’t behave. I mean, behave the way I want them to. They’ve been a pain in my butt, if you must know.”

  “We resent that,” Myrtle whispered in her ear, but Grace ignored her, determined not to let her cloak of sanity slip in front of Mrs. Martin and the Captain.

  “Yes,” Max said, picking up the ball when he noticed a look of distraction flit across Grace’s face. He was growing to know that look. One of the fairies was either present or talking to her.

  He’d promised to keep her slightly impaired view of the world a secret, and Max always kept his promises. “Grace came into my office, and I knew right away that she was the woman for me.”

  He carried the conversation with Grace’s friends as she inched closer to him, seeking protection in the circle of his arms. She leaned against Max, enjoying his strength while the four of them talked.

  Suddenly, Grace saw Leila motioning to them. “I think the wicked step is calling,” Grace said.

  Max realized Mrs. Martin and the Captain must have heard similar remarks over the years, because they just chuckled.

  “Well, you’d better go see what she wants,” the Captain told them. “Otherwise, she might come over this way, and we’d have to suffer her company, too.”

  “Some friends you are,” Grace teased.

  “When you’re in the military, you learn to choose your battles wisely. And I wisely choose to avoid the dragon lady if I possibly can.” The captain’s twinkling eyes belied his serious expression.

  They all burst into laughter.

  “We’d better go,” Grace said to Max. “Because Captain Ellis is right. She’s on her way over.” She glanced back at their two companions. “Don’t worry. We’ll save the two of you, even if it means sacrificing ourselves.”

  Still laughing, Max and Grace made their way towards Leila. “Where did you two disappear to?” Grace’s stepsister whined. “I have some friends I’d like you to meet.”

  Grace’s eyes met Max’s, and she knew he was as thrilled as she was at the thought of meeting Leila’s friends. “Of course.” Grace decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of evading the duty.

  “Why don’t you stay right here and let me track down Delilah and Carl. He’s in investments and wanted to talk to you about that money you’ll come into next year,” Leila said slyly, eyeing Max for some reaction. “You did know our little Grace is an heiress, didn’t you?”

  “Grace told me all about the money, and the problems she’s had with unscrupulous people currying her favor in hopes of getting a cut. But she doesn’t have to worry about me. Doctors make good money, and it just so happens that I have a trust fund of my own. So, as you can see, she never has to doubt why I’m marrying her. We’ve been discussing setting up some charity with all her money. What was it you were thinking about, dear?”

  “I was thinking about a grant for impoverished authors or maybe a dating service for single romance writers or the like,” Grace teased.

  Leila apparently didn’t see the humor. Her brows knit together. “Really, you two should take this more seriously. Just let me go get . . .” and she melted into the crowd, calling back, “Stay right there.”

  Max hummed the theme from Jaws. “I have the feeling we’re being circled while she waits for the appropriate moment to make her kill.”

  “I’ve had that feeling since the first time I met her. I could see the dollar signs in hers and her mother’s eyes the moment they walked into the house. But my father was smitten, and there was nothing I could do to change his mind. He thought I needed a female’s presence. I never could figure out why he picked Doris.”

  Grace could barely remember her own mother, but she did remember how much she’d wanted a mother to love her. When Doris first arrived Grace had hoped her wish had come true. She was never able to form anything more than a congenial relationship with Doris, however.

  Suddenly Fern’s voice whispered in Grace’s ear, “Are you having a good time, dear?”

  “Yes,” she answered softly. She turned to Max and in a low voice said, “They’re here.”

  “Can you see them?” His eyes scanned the room as if he expected to spot them.

  “No. But I heard Fern a moment ago. I have a very bad feeling. Do you think anyone so far has noticed I’m crazy?” she asked fearfully.

  “They’re all captivated.”

  “I . . . Oh, my God.”

  “What?” Max whispered in her ear.

  “On the mantle.” She pointed. The fireplace in Leila’s living room was huge. It covered the entire west wall. The mantle was just as big. Wide enough for an adult to sit on it and made of the same heavy white stone as the rest of the unit was made of. Definitely wide enough for two-foot-high, fairy-sized fairies.

  “What about the mantle?” Max stared at the spot Grace had pointed out.

  “It’s them,” she whispered. “They’re on the mantle.” The three fairies were standing on the mantle waving at her, grinning from ear to ear.

  “What are they doing on the mantle?”

  “Oh, my God,” Grace gasped again. “They were waving and now, well . . . now they’re all dressed like saloon girls, and they’re doing the cancan!”

  Fern’s foot flew up at that very moment and caught Mrs. Martin’s hair, which didn’t happen to be her own, and sent it flying. The wig soared forward and landed in the punch bowl. The usually jovial Mrs. Martin shrieked, grabbed at her rather bare looking head and rushed forward, desperate to retrieve her missing hair.

  Unfortunately a large crowd was situated between her and her goal. Unheeding, she rushed forward and, with the skill of a major league linebacker, the elderly lady plowed through the crowd. Captain Ellis trailed close on her heels, but despite his military background, couldn’t quite make it through the amassing crowd.

  “What happened?” Max growled in Grace’s ear as they watched the melee.

  “Fern kicked Mrs. Martin’s wig off,” Grace managed between horrified giggles, a problem that had haunted her since childhood. She giggled when other people cried. Maybe it was another sign of her madness.

  She glanced back at the mantle where the three godmothers were still dancing to the music, seemingly oblivious of the pandemonium.

  Max watched a waiter with a tray of champagne move closer to the fireplace, hoping to escape the riotous crowd. Max had seen Mrs. Martin’s wig fly off, seemingly of its own volition, but what happened next was even stranger. The waiter, seemingly out of harm’s way, suddenly dropped the tray and grabbed at his head. Almost as if he’d been hit.

  Grace’s horrified laughter evaporated as Blossom’s foot connected with the waiter’s head. “Stop it,” she yelled at the fairies. “Can’t you see you’re making a mess of this?”

  The entire assemblage stopped their running and their screaming and looked at Grace. She wanted to check and see if she was frothing at the mouth, but she didn’t. Max gave her hand a squeeze and then led her toward Mrs. Martin, who was trying to retrieve her once grey, now pink, wig from the punch bowl.

  Waiters appeared from nowhere and began cleaning away the spilled drinks. The three godmothers blinked out of their cancan skirts and into the appropriately colored evening gowns. All three, still fairy-sized, sat on the mantle looking contrite and sedate.

 
“I need to talk to you Grace,” Clarence’s voice said from behind her. Grace hadn’t seen him. She’d been too busy watching Max as he helped Mrs. Martin retrieve her wig and then gallantly escorted her to the kitchen.

  Grace sighed, unable to prevent the inevitable. She’d known that Leila and Clarence wouldn’t be pleased. She suspected that Clarence had promised Leila some kind of kickback for setting the two of them up.

  “Yes, Clarence?” she asked, still half eyeing the godmothers who were sitting much too quietly for her peace of mind.

  “I need to talk to you and thought we might find somewhere private to have our little conversation,” he continued.

  “Clarence, I don’t really think we have anything to say. The only things between us were the few contrived meetings that Leila set up. We weren’t lovers. We weren’t even dating.” Grace decided that Leila and Doris might view Clarence as a man with an impeccable pedigree, but Grace had decided long ago that Clarence was not the brightest bulb in the light socket.

  “I was waiting—”

  “Until I was closer to my thirtieth birthday to make your move. I know, but it doesn’t appear—” Grace’s words were cut off as Clarence’s hand wrapped around her wrist in a vice-like grip.

  “Clarence?” she asked, suddenly nervous.

  “Outside, Grace,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “I need to tell you a few things, and I’d rather do it in private.”

  His voice was soft and soothing, but Grace could sense something else in it—something that scared her.

  “All right Clarence,” she said.

  She had no desire to cause another scene, but as Clarence dragged her out the back door, she looked pleadingly at the three godmothers. The trio shrugged, one after another, like some kind of wave at a professional ball game.

  Clarence dragged her past the crowd milling on Leila’s back patio and into the furthest reaches of Leila’s perfectly manicured backyard. The farther they got from the crowd, the more nervous Grace became.

  “Clarence?” she asked. “Could we talk here?”

  “Just a little farther, sweetheart. It just so happens that I parked my van back here. It was so crowded out in front. But then it’s always crowded when Leila throws a party. She’s always been the popular one, the beautiful one.”

  They reached the van, and Clarence opened the rear doors and roughly threw Grace inside.

  “Clarence!” she gasped, startled by his force.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, as he climbed in beside her and picked up some nylon rope off the floor. “Just what did you do to yourself? If you’d looked this good when we first met last year, I’d have already married you, and we’d have waited for your money together.”

  Grace started to squirm, but Clarence held her in place with his knee and, using the rope, secured her hands behind her back.

  When he’d finished trussing her, he pushed her onto a pile of blankets. “Sit down and stay quiet. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt if we had an accident, would we?”

  “Clarence, what are you doing?” Grace asked, terrified she knew the answer. She struggled and kicked, but the dress the godmothers had gowned her in didn’t lend itself to easy mobility. She’d have given just about anything for a good pair of jeans and her flannel shirts right now.

  “Clarence?”

  “Ah, my love, I couldn’t let you marry that doctor,” he said, a strange glint in his eyes. “Why, he would spend the rest of his life with you analyzing every word you said, every book you wrote. That wouldn’t be all that pleasant, now would it? So I’m saving you from yourself. We’ll fly to Reno or Vegas and get married there. Then you’ll be safe.”

  He crawled out of the van and slammed the door.

  Grace screamed, but there was no one around to hear her. And even if there had been, she was sure the fairies would see to it they didn’t.

  The fairies.

  Her heart sank. Because of them she was being kidnapped by a money-grubbing madman. Because of the fairies she was being taken away from Max.

  And suddenly Grace couldn’t think of anything that could hurt more.

  The driver’s door of the van opened, and Clarence climbed into the seat.

  “Let’s go, Sweetheart. Vegas and our lifetime of married bliss are waiting for us.”

  As the van moved forward, taking her away from Max, Grace knew that there were things worse than being plagued by fairy godmothers.

  Six

  “MYRTLE? FERN, BLOSSOM? Where are you guys when I really need you?” Grace whispered, hoping Clarence wouldn’t hear her.

  “You called us?” Myrtle asked sweetly.

  “Did I call you?” Grace hissed. “Did I call you?”

  She gave way to a short burst of hysterical laughter. Her life used to be simple and uncluttered, quiet even. It was gone now. The quiet and the solitude had disappeared, much like her sanity. Gone, history, finito . . .

  “Dear, is there a problem?” Fern asked. Then she added, “Blossom, move over, you’re practically sitting on my lap.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re practically on my lap. Myrtle make her stop.”

  “Girls,” Myrtle admonished them both. “We’re in a van and there’s plenty of room. Fern, you sit on my right. Blossom, you’re on my left.” To Grace she said, “You seem to be upset.”

  “Upset? I seem upset to you?”

  Clarence glanced over his shoulder into the back of the van. “Darling, I understand. My love for you is overwhelming, but you’ll see. It will all work out. And we’ll have such a lovely time together. I’m taking you away to save you.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Grace had tried to be patient with her kidnapping, would-be husband, but he was trying her patience. Actually, she was pretty sure that Clarence would test the patience of a saint, something Grace wasn’t. Saints weren’t generally known for being nuts. But with their penchant for sackcloth and ashes, maybe someone should rethink that.

  Clarence glanced back and eyed Grace suspiciously. “Your sister’s right; you’re nuts.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Grace muttered.

  “Grace, what’s wrong?” Fern asked.

  “We’ve only done what you asked,” Blossom added.

  She kept her voice low, hoping Clarence wouldn’t notice her conversation with the fairies over the radio. “Let’s outline exactly what you’ve done to me, shall we?

  “I was accosted on the freeway by three characters who informed me they were going to help me meet my own-true-love. A cop with pimples called me Ma’am. I won a makeover that did more than make me over. It reinvented me—even turned me from a ma’am back into a miss. I met the man of my dreams in a psychiatrist’s office. I won a gorgeous new wardrobe. I fell in love. Three cancan dancers showed up at my stepsister’s shin-dig and proceeded to wipe out half the guests and . . . Oh, yeah, I’ve been kidnapped by a would-be Romeo who wants to get his hands on all the lovely money that I inherit next year.”

  She paused and took a big breath.

  “So, yes, I guess you could say I’m a little upset. The question we should ask now is, just what are you—my three, loving fairy godmothers—going to do about all this?”

  “Grace,” Myrtle said in her most reasonable voice. “You seem to have forgotten that you wished for this.”

  “I wished for this?” Every word she spoke moved up an octave on the scale. “When did I wish for this?”

  “Didn’t she say she’d like to get kidnapped, and have Max ride to the rescue—prove his love is real and all that?” Fern asked.

  “Yes, she did.” Blossom wagged a finger at Grace. “You know you did.”

  “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped!” Grace protested even as it hit her just when she’d made this so called wish.

 
“Of course you did, dear. At the mall you thought that the least we could have done was have Max rescue you from a kidnapping or a deadly illness. We thought kidnapping sounded more pleasant.” Myrtle said.

  “I said that the least you could do was let him rescue me from some villain! I didn’t say anything about kidnapping,” Grace told them. “As for this kidnapping being more pleasant, that’s debatable. Clarence or a deadly illness. Gosh, I wonder which I prefer?” She raised her voice. “Clarence, do you think you’re more pleasant than a deadly illness?”

  He glanced over his shoulder into the back of the van. He shrugged and turned back to the road.

  “Now, what are you going to do about this?” Grace whispered to the trio.

  “Nothing,” Myrtle said and then added, “Umph,” as Fern’s elbow collided with her ribs. “Would you two sit still.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing. Max will be along to rescue you,” Blossom assured her.

  “And how will Max find me? How will he even know who’s got me, or, better yet, if anyone’s got me? He thinks I’m crazy. Maybe he’ll think I’ve just wandered off because I was delusional.” Grace tried to figure out what Max would do. “I doubt he’ll ever anticipate that I’ve been kidnapped by an ex-would-be-suitor wanna-be-husband.”

  “She has a point.” Fern ended the sentence with a tiny moan.

  “We didn’t take that into consideration,” Blossom added.

  Myrtle hesitated a moment and said, “Maybe we should have had someone see Clarence carrying her off. But with the commotion inside . . .”

  “The commotion that the three of you caused,” Grace reminded them.

  “I don’t think anyone noticed a thing,” Myrtle finished.

  “So, I repeat, what are you going to do?” Grace wanted to scream with frustration, but more than that she wanted to wake up in her bed and find out these last two days have just been a bad dream—that she wasn’t crazy, certifiable, sanity-impaired.