Mad About Max

by Holly Jacobs

  Max cracked his knuckles in frustration and peered around the room, waiting for the fairies to do something.

  When nothing happened, he said, “I’m reading Grace’s first book, and I noticed that sometimes when you three get involved things go . . . Well, they go a little differently than you expected. So if you’ve dropped her down a well or given her amnesia or something, hoping I’ll rescue her, I can’t do that without knowing how to find her. Just let me know where she is, and I’ll do my best to be her knight-in-shining armor. Please, just give me some clue that will lead me to her.”

  Max felt foolish talking to thin air, but he’d do even crazier things to find Grace. He looked at his watch. It was five-thirty in the morning, the weather was growing even worse, and Grace had been missing for eight hours.

  “Come back to me, Grace” he whispered.

  It had taken him his entire adult life, to find a woman he loved. He didn’t care if she was crazy or really did have fairy godmothers. He didn’t care if she was beautiful or merely beauty enhanced, as she claimed. He knew she was beautiful on the inside. All he cared about was getting her back.

  “HOW IS MAX?” Grace asked the fairies, when they popped back in after going to check on him.

  She was still tied, and her arms were beginning to ache from their cramped position behind her back. Clarence had parked the van in the airstrip’s lot, telling her they had to wait for the storm to blow over Erie before Clarence’s friend could fly them out. Personally, Grace hoped the storm lasted long enough for the fairies to figure out a way to let Max know where she was.

  “He’s worried, poor man,” Fern murmured.

  “He read one of your—no, our—books.” Blossom corrected herself.”

  Myrtle said, “He’s even starting to talk to us, hoping we can tell him where you are. He thinks maybe we dumped you down a well, or gave you amnesia. He says he can’t rescue you because he doesn’t know where you are.”

  “He wants to be your white knight,” Fern said.

  “He doesn’t care if you’re crazy. He loves you and wants you back,” piped in Blossom. The two younger godmothers pressed their hands to their hearts and swooned.

  Max loves me?

  Seven

  MAX LOVED HER? Grace felt a spurt of utter joyfulness. She forced herself to ignore the feeling. Max loved her? No, it was probably just another one of the godmothers’ ploys. They wanted her married off, and had proven they’d stop at nothing to accomplish their mission.

  “We don’t lie.” Myrtle folded her hands over her ample chest.

  “But maybe you stretch the truth a little?”

  Fern’s face was flushed. “Grace, I can’t believe you said that, why—”

  “Girls. That’s enough. Grace doesn’t know what she’s saying. It’s the stress of being kidnapped.” Myrtle patted her shoulder.

  “It’s the stress of being nuts,” Grace corrected.

  “We’re sorry,” Fern whispered, on the verge of tears. “We’re doing the best we can.”

  Grace wanted to yell that their best wasn’t good enough, but she couldn’t bring herself to hurt the godmothers’ feelings, even if they were only figments of her imagination. She sighed. “I know you’re doing your best, but isn’t there some way you can tell Max where I am? Or at least tell him where Clarence is taking me?”

  Myrtle shook her head. “We keep telling you that you’re the only one who can see us and hear us.”

  “There has to be a way you can—” Grace stopped short as a thought occurred to her. “Do you remember when the three of you were dancing on Leila’s mantle?”

  Three heads—one brown, one red and one canary yellow—bobbed up and down.

  “And when you kicked, you knocked Mrs. Martin’s wig off her head and into the punch bowl?”

  “We didn’t mean to.”

  “Leila’s mantle was big enough to be a stage. We couldn’t resist.” Blossom smiled at the memory.

  “I may be the oldest, but I enjoy dancing, too. And the one thing you can say for your stepsister, she only deals with the best. That band was fantastic.”

  “But the point is you were able to knock the wig off. Even if she couldn’t see you or hear you, you were able to make contact with her.” Grace was excited now.

  “We’ve already told you we can’t untie you. But maybe you want us to go knock Max upside the head.” Blossom’s grin showed just how much she liked the idea.

  “No, but maybe you can write him a note. Tell him where I am, or tell him where I’m going. This storm can’t last much longer, and then Clarence will take me to Vegas. I don’t plan on saying the I do’s, but I’m not sure what he has up his sleeve. I need Max in order to get out of this mess.”

  “A note.” Myrtle snapped her fingers. “Yes, that will do nicely. And I’m pretty sure we won’t be breaking any rules—maybe bending, but not breaking.”

  She rose from the floor.

  “Come on girls,” Myrtle ordered.

  The three fairy godmothers disappeared, and Grace was left alone with her thoughts.

  THE STORM OUTSIDE added to Max’s anxiety. He stood at the window, wondering if Grace was outside. If she was wet, cold and scared. Maybe she was hurt.

  The maybes gnawed at his gut, causing him more pain than if he’d been out in the storm himself.

  He raked a hand through his hair. He’d paced all night, and he was exhausted. He decided to take a shower, sure that Grace—wherever she was—wouldn’t mind. He needed to clear his head so he could keep alert.

  When he climbed into the shower, he started with an icy blast of water. As his sleepiness receded, he turned on the hot water, hoping to relieve the tension in his muscles.

  He stood beneath the pounding spray, running through a checklist of his responsibilities. He’d already called his office and left a message for his secretary to reschedule his appointments for next week. He hated to do it, but most of his patients were pretty stable. One week off wouldn’t interrupt their therapy too much.

  He’d also called Josh Stone, who’d agreed to serve as his backup, just like he always filled in for Josh. They weren’t partners, just good friends. Of course, when this thing with Grace was over he might end up as Josh’s patient. He wasn’t feeling all that stable himself and might need some therapy.

  Getting out of the shower and feeling slightly refreshed, Max toweled himself and slipped on his pants. He wished he’d thought to bring clean clothes with him. The tux might be new, but he’d worn it long enough.

  He scrounged through Grace’s bathroom drawers, looking for a razor to scrape the stubble off his cheeks. If—no, when—he found her, he had plans for her, and bruising her fair skin with his beard stubble wasn’t one of them.

  “GIRLS?” MYRTLE called as she materialized behind Max. He was shaving, oblivious to the fact that the bathroom now contained four people instead of one. “We have to hurry up and get Max on his way. The storm’s dying down, and Clarence will be taking off with Grace any time now.” Myrtle surveyed the bathroom, looking for a way to get the message across to Max.

  “What time is the flight from Erie to Vegas?” Blossom asked.

  Fern snapped her fingers. A book appeared in her hand. “Uh, oh. There’s nothing that will leave in time. So I guess we’ll have to schedule one.” She snapped her fingers. “Now, there’s a flight leaving the Erie Airport in forty-five minutes. It will take him to a connection in Pittsburgh. From there he’ll have ten minutes to hop on another plane that will fly straight through to Vegas.”

  “Good work,” Blossom told her sister.

  “Thank you—I do try.”

  “Well, now that we have transportation for our knight, we just have to find a way to let him know where he can find Grace.”

  Myrtle again surveyed the bathroom, a
nd she gave a very ungodmother-like whoop of joy when an idea hit her. “The mirror!” she screamed to her sisters.

  Myrtle ran forward and, with her finger, wrote the word Vegas on the steamy mirror.

  MAX HAD FOUND a razor and some shaving cream intended for a woman’s legs. He decided if it worked on legs, it would work on faces. He started running hot water into the sink. The razor dropped into the water when the word Vegas appear in the steamy mirror.

  “Vegas?” he said in confusion. Why in the world would he see Vegas written on the mirror? It didn’t make sense.

  He was going crazy, he decided. It wasn’t Grace who’d lost her mind. He’d lost his. Grabbing the hand towel, he wiped off the mirror and tried to put the aberration out of his mind. It was just stress, he assured himself. As soon as he found Grace, he’d get back to normal

  “He thinks he’s crazy and just imagined our message,” Blossom wailed.

  “There seems to be a lot of that going on lately,” Fern grumbled. “What is it about us that makes people think they’re nuts?”

  Myrtle raised her chin in determination. “Well, he won’t think he imagined this.”

  Picking up the can of shaving cream, she shook it vigorously. Then she wrote on the floor, “Grace—kidnapped by Clarence Darington. He’s taking her to Vegas to marry. You catch plane in f—”

  Myrtle swore, a very unfairylike thing to do, which caused her sisters to gasp.

  Flustered, an even more unfairylike action, she tossed the empty can in the bathtub and wailed, “I’ve run out of shaving cream!”

  A STRANGE NOISE drew Max’s attention. He turned away from the sink and watched in disbelief as the can of shaving cream levitated inches above the floor. It looked like the can was writing something. Abruptly it stopped and landed with a clang in the bathtub.

  Cautiously, he moved toward the writing.

  “HERE, FINISH WITH this.” Blossom handed Myrtle an eye-lining pencil.

  “Why didn’t you hand me this in the first place?” It had been difficult writing in shaving cream. Blossom just shrugged and Myrtle glared at her and finished her message. “ . . . orty minutes.”

  The three fairies smiled, satisfied when Max cried out, “Thank you,” and hurriedly put his shirt and his tuxedo jacket back on. “I’ll get her back,” he promised.

  “Let’s go tell Grace,” Myrtle told her sisters.

  “WELL?” GRACE ASKED impatiently when the three fairies popped back into the van where she was being held. “Did you get a message to Max?”

  Three faces nodded, their pleasure apparent in their beaming smiles.

  “And he’s on his way?” Grace asked hopefully. “He’s coming to rescue me?”

  “No, he’s here,” a voice announced from the door. Clarence, the demented would-be-husband, crawled back into the van.

  Grace glared at him. “Go away.”

  “Why, Grace,” he crooned. “You’d almost think you didn’t like me, the way you carry on. But I know better.” He patted her leg.

  “I don’t like you and this is a wasted trip, because there’s no way you can make me marry you.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt.

  “That’s telling him,” Fern cheered.

  “Oh, I don’t think I’d be too sure of that.” Something in Clarence’s voice caused a small quiver of fear to crawl up Grace’s spine.

  He looked like a mean little boy gloating over a stolen toy. “I have a great plan.”

  “And what kind of plan could that pea-sized brain of yours come up with?” Grace taunted.

  Clarence’s face darkened. “I’ve always had a plan. I just wasn’t going to use it until you were closer to getting your inheritance. But now, Grace, my darling, you’ve left me with no other choice. You see, I have a friend, oh not the one who’s going to fly us to Vegas, a different one, and--”

  Grace snorted. “You mean to tell me that a worm like you has two friends? I shudder to think what manner of men they are—and I do use the word men in its broadest sense.”

  “Enough,” Clarence snapped. He shoved her from her sitting position back against the pile of blankets, and she yelped as her bound arms pulled.

  She struggled to sit up, but Clarence sat next to her and pulled her close. “I’m sorry, Grace. I shouldn’t have shoved you, but, darling, you’ve pushed me as far as I’m prepared to be pushed. I’ll give in to you on many things during our marriage, but I plan to wear the pants in this relationship.”

  He sat on the edge of the blankets and pulled her close, his arms circling her. Grace’s skin crawled with revulsion.

  “I can’t believe you did this to me,” she told the godmothers, who lowered their heads in shame.

  It was Clarence, however, who responded to her complaint. “I’m sorry, darling. I wanted to give you more time, but your engagement announcement at the party made me realize that I had to do something now or lose you. I couldn’t lose you!”

  “Oh, please lose me,” she muttered.

  Clarence glared. “Now, as I was saying,” he continued before Grace could respond. “I have this friend who slipped me a little drug that will make you very compliant. He says it’s safe, but I’d rather not experiment on you. So your choices are: go along with me, or I’ll give you a nice little shot that will help you see things my way.”

  “Just agree with anything the weasel says,” Blossom whispered.

  Grace glared at the three godmothers, who stood at the end of the van, watching the revolting scene.

  Fern cheerfully added, “Max is on his way, and we’ll get him to you before this little rat makes you say ‘I do’. Even if you do say the words, you can always divorce him.”

  “But he might get part of her money then,” Myrtle said, her brow knit with worry.

  “I don’t care about the money,” Grace reminded them.

  Clarence’s eyes glittered with avarice. “That’s right, dear. You won’t have to care about the money. I’ll take care of it for you. Now are you going to cooperate, or should we give my friend’s mixture a try?”

  “Say yes,” Myrtle said. “We’ll fix this so that the rat doesn’t get one red cent. Not that the money matters. It’s the principle of the thing.”

  “I’ll cooperate,” Grace told Clarence through clenched teeth.

  “A wise decision.” He crawled toward the van’s back door. “Mick, the pilot, said we’ll be taking off in about five minutes.”

  As he slid out of the back of the van, Myrtle stuck out her foot. Unable to see it, Clarence tripped and went flying out the door and onto the pavement. All four women smiled.

  “Are you okay, Clarence?” Grace asked with saccharine sweetness, barely able to contain her laughter.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” He rubbed at a red spot on his forehead that Grace suspected would turn into a rapidly growing goose egg. “I’ll be right back to get you.”

  He wobbled around the van.

  “So, how did you let Max know that Clarence had kidnapped me and is taking me to Vegas?” Grace asked the three fairies who crowded around her.

  “Oh, it was Myrtle,” Fern started. “She wrote him a message with shaving cream.”

  “Until the can ran out,” Myrtle said. “Then I finished with your eyeliner pencil.”

  “And Max believed your message?”

  “He shot out of the house, on his way to the airport.” Blossom pressed her hands to her heart and looked in danger of swooning.

  Grace smiled, realizing she was growing awfully fond of the trio. Life would seem pretty boring when they left.

  She shook herself. What was she thinking? She really must be crazy if she was lamenting their departure! The thought struck her as absurdly funny and she began to giggle.

  “I’m afraid the stress is getting to he
r,” Fern said sadly.

  “It will all work out, Grace. I promise,” Blossom said.

  “Come on girls, let’s give poor Grace a moment alone before Rat Man comes to whisk her off to Vegas.”

  The three godmothers, all looking at Grace with concern in their eyes, popped out of the room.

  Grace continued giggling to herself, wondering which was more crazy—seeing the fairy godmothers in the first place, or missing them before they’d even left? Suddenly, despite the fact that she was a kidnapped loon, Grace felt very happy. Max was on the way. He would save her.

  AS MAX RUSHED to his car, he admitted he’d been startled to see the word Vegas appear in the mirror, but he was astonished when the shaving cream can began to write, by itself, a message for him on the bathroom floor.

  Had it been the fairy godmothers? That was the only explanation, and suddenly the thought didn’t sound all that crazy to him. And if they were real, then he’d find Grace soon.

  He grabbed his cell phone and dialed as he wove in and out of traffic, speeding towards the airport.

  “Leo,” he said when the other man answered.

  “There’s no new news about Grace.” Leo sounded as weary as Max had felt a few moments before.

  “Don’t ask me to explain, because I don’t think I can, but I just got a tip on Grace’s whereabouts. I think she’s on her way to Vegas with that Clarence guy I met at your party last night.”

  “Clarence?” Leo said in disbelief. “Clarence Darington? I can’t see Grace leaving with that fool to go across the street, much less to Vegas”

  “I don’t think she went willingly. I—” He paused, wondering how to explain things without sounding crazier than Grace thought she was.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to explain, because Leo bellowed, “Leila!”

  Leo’s voice lowered as he talked into the phone. “I think I have an idea of what’s going on, and I guarantee I’ll be taking care of it on my end. Leila, Doris and Clarence are thick as thieves. I know the three of them were plotting to have Clarence marry Grace and take over her trust fund, but I knew Grace was too smart for them, so I didn’t worry about it. Now, I suspect that either Leila or Doris or both encouraged Clarence to kidnap Grace and force her into marriage. That’s the only reason I can think of for him to drag her to Vegas. It’s also just the kind of stupid move the three of them would make. For pity’s sake, even if Clarence did force Grace to marry him, she could divorce him the moment she got home.”