A Fairy Crazy Thanksgiving
Patricia Otto
Published by Patricia S. Otto, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A FAIRY CRAZY THANKSGIVING
First edition. October 20, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Patricia Otto.
ISBN: 978-1943860104
Written by Patricia Otto.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
A Note From Patricia Otto
Copyright
A Fairy Crazy Thanksgiving Copyright © 2020 by Patricia Otto
Cover Art by Glass Slipper Web Design. Cover Photos: Deposit Photos
EBooks are not transferable. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the author. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of the copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the internet, any electronic or prints means without the publisher's permission.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the writer's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
“There you are.” Parker Coles kissed his mother’s cheek then slid into the booth on the other side of the table. “I almost missed you tucked here in the corner. I only have time for a quick lunch.”
“Do you ever have more than a quick lunch?” his mother asked.
“Sometimes.”
Verna, their favorite waitress at the RiseNShine Diner, took the pencil and pad from her apron pocket. “It’s been a while. What can I get you both?”
His mother straightened her napkin on her lap. “I’ll have chamomile tea, the kale and strawberry salad with the olive oil and vinegar on the side.”
Verna glanced at Parker.
“Burger, medium, the works, and fries.”
“To drink?”
“Water is fine.”
“I’ll get Jack right on it,” the waitress said, heading for the kitchen. “And be back with your drinks.”
His mother patted the hand he had resting on the table. “So, is my son bringing a date for Thanksgiving this year?”
“Wow, Mom. Way to cut through the bull.”
“You said you don’t have a lot of time.”
“I have enough time to ask how the Harvest Festival was?”
“You would know if you had attended.”
“Mom, I’ve been to at least twenty of those things. Good cause. Great food. All pretty much the same.” He clapped his hands together. “Right?”
She gave him a hooded look. “More or less. You’ll be happy to know that this year we collected a record for the Children’s Hospital Fund.”
“That’s great, Mom.”
“I am pleased. And thank you for your donation.”
“Of course. Just because I don’t country line dance doesn’t mean I think that children shouldn’t have the best care possible.”
Verna put their drinks on the table. “Food will be up in a minute.”
His mother, an elegant petite woman with fair skin and dark eyes, sipped her tea. “You are coming, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Your sister and the kids are going to be there. Even your brother-in-law will get there eventually.”
“Is Dad frying the bird?”
“Absolutely,” his mother said with a laugh. “You know how much he loves setting everything up on the beach by the river, sitting in his Adirondack chair with his cabernet, and timing that bird in the fryer with a stopwatch.”
“He is a predictable man.”
“Completely.”
Their food arrived.
His mother got that angelic grin that indicated she was about to say something mischievous. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you bringing someone special for dinner? Or perhaps just for dessert?”
Parker stared at her, looking down at her salad. Every year, his mom expressed this particular hope that this would be the holiday he would bring a girlfriend to meet the family. Although she was usually more subtle.
He took a bite of his burger.
Maybe Margo was an adequate distraction that would buy him a few years grace period. Margo was pretty enough, could carry on a conversation, and knew which fork to use. Surely, he could make it through one day without giving up too much information. Maybe it was time. “It just so happens, Mom, that I was going to let you know that this year, I am bringing a date.”
Mom’s eyes brightened. “Oh, Park, that’s wonderful. Who is it?”
“Mom, it’s Margo.”
“That girl you’ve been dating? Or should I say clashing with?”
“Mom.” He shook his head. “She’s a smart woman with very strong opinions, there are bound to be some spirited debates.”
“About our money, I’ll bet.”
“She’s in finance. She has her own money.”
“So why are you always saying that she talks about ours?”
“Because she has assertive views on growing wealth.”
“There is a thin line between voicing an opinion and foisting an opinion.”
“I don’t have to bring her.”
“No.” His mother put her hands on the table. “Absolutely not. You will bring her. I want to meet her. She sounds…interesting.”
He nodded. “What should I bring?”
She chuckled. “Oh, that’s cute. Bring your usual, sweetie.”
“Ice and beer it is.”
He paid the check then helped her with her coat. “What time you want us there?”
“Anytime. Come Wednesday night or Thursday, whatever fits. Your sister is coming the day of.”
“Okay, I’ll call when I have details.”
“Sounds wonderful.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for lunch. Talk to you soon.”
# # #
“Isla,” the scratchy intercom voice said, “can you come in here?”
Administrative assistant, Isla Weir, grabbed her tablet.
She knocked on her boss’ door before entering.
“Yes, Mr. Brant?”
“Ah, come sit down, Isla.”
She sat in the usual chair opposite his desk, put her tablet on her knees, and placed her fingers above the home keys. “I’m ready, Mr. Brant.”
“Oh, no. No. I don’t have anything for you. Uh.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Um.” He wiped his hand down his face. “I am going to have to let you go.”
Isla’s mouth dropped open. Her heart pounded. Her head pounded. Her mouth went dried. “Wh-what?”
“I’m sorry. I know heading into the holidays is bad timing, but the company is downsizing. The higher-ups told me I have to cut ten percent from my budget by next week.”
“I’m the ten percent.”
“Oh, you are only part of the ten percent.”
“Lucky me. Who else is in the club, may I ask?”
“It’s in flux right now.”
Isla took a deep breath. “Is it possible that I could be un-fluxed?”
Mr. Brant exhaled, leaned his forearms on his desk, and tapped his pencil. “Ah. No. No. I’m eliminating your position altogether. Hank and I are going to share an assistant, and his assistant has seniority.”
She leaned back in her chair, hoping to calm the storm of thoughts. Isla stood. She had to g
et out of there before she started to cry. “I’ll clean out my desk.”
Mr. Brant stood. “I-I’m willing to let you stay on until next Wednesday. Then you take the four days over Thanksgiving to relax, polish your resume. I’ll give you a recommendation.” He sat. “You’ll find a new job in no time.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Anyway…I’m really sorry. This came out of left field for me, too. I-I’m sorry.” His gaze dropped to his desk. He picked up a few papers. “This is a list of things I’d like you to make certain are in order by next Wednesday. Please. I insisted on the firm giving you two-weeks’ severance pay and paying your COBRA through the end of the year. They agreed. That should make it easier to transition.”
Isla swallowed. “Thank you, I guess. Yes, it does make things, um, better. Easier.” She took the papers he held out to her. “I’ll make sure everything on the list is taken care of.”
“I appreciate it.”
His round eyes and raised brows made his embarrassment so apparent Isla couldn’t be angry at him. She left his office.
The rest of the day was a haze of filing, updating, and downloading. Around three in the afternoon, she noticed her head began to ache. By the time five o’clock rolled around, she was feverish, and her muscles were sore. Driving home in rush hour traffic about did her in. The note in the mailbox finished the job.
As of the first of the year, your rent will increase five hundred dollars per month.
“Oh, you are kidding me?” A wave of nausea hit her guts. She limped into her apartment and flopped onto the couch. “This is just peachy.” Isla raised her voice. “Sparkle.” Silence.
She looked at the ceiling and called out again. “Great. What good is a fairy who doesn’t come when she called?” Her surroundings began to spin, and her stomach took the appropriate action.
An hour later, the world had unspun, and her guts were empty. She had less than two months to find a new job, preferably with benefits, a new place to live, or an extra five hundred bucks. Right now, she desperately needed to get something bland in her stomach so that she could take something for her headache.
# # #
Parker closed his apartment door and leaned against it. He blew out a long breath.
He had to find a way to get Margo to agree to Thanksgiving dinner without reading too much into it or insisting on a diamond ring. Margo was nothing if not an opportunist.
He poured himself a drink.
Even though the drive to the beach house was less than an hour, he would opt not to stay overnight and plead for leaving late after pie on Thanksgiving.
He sauntered into his kitchen to have a look in the fridge. Nothing. Coffee grounds. He opened a few cabinet doors. Crackers. “Hardly compatible, Park.”
The doorbell chimed.
He opened the door. “Margo?”
“Hello, my darling.” Margo leaned in to brush her lips to his. She walked past him, her sweet perfume wafting, clawing at his nose.
“Hi.” He rocked back on his heels. “I didn’t know we were going out tonight.”
“We aren’t.” She ran her finger down his nose then across his lips. “It’s a surprise.” She slid her coat from her shoulders, kicked off her heels, then draped herself on his sofa. “Here’s what I had in mind. We order some dinner, open a bottle of wine, and chat while we wait for dinner to arrive.” She opened the top button of her blouse. “Then, for dessert.” She opened another button. “Well, I have some ideas. Or—” she stood. “We could have dessert first.”
Park could tell by the look on her face that she had a specific chat in mind. Maybe she was going to ask him to her family’s Thanksgiving. That would cut down on the time he would be playing the she’s-the-one game with his family.
“Dessert first?” He paused. “As exciting as that is, I think the anticipation of waiting for dessert heightens the senses.” He uncorked a bottle of Pinot then poured two glasses. “What did you want to talk about?”
Margo sat then took a fortifying drink of her wine. “Well.” She curled one leg under her, making sure her skirt hike up a bit. “I was thinking about how long we’ve been together. It’s been over a year. And you must admit that things are going well between us, aren’t they?”
Parker sat next to her. “Sure.”
“We make a good team, don’t we?”
“Sure.”
“And the sex is stunning.”
“Agreed.”
“So, wouldn’t you agree that it’s time we took things up a notch.”
Alarm shot through him. He took a gulp of his wine. “Up a notch.”
“Yes, silly.” She patted his knee. “We should meet each other’s families, shouldn’t we? Thanksgiving is the most family-friendly holiday around.”
“I think you’re right.” This was going to be easier than he thought.
“I am?” She looked surprised. “I’d like to take you to my folks' place. Maybe you could come in the evening for pie and coffee?” She swallowed hard. “But…”
He took another gulp. His nerves were sounding the alarm.
“But I think we should have more than a smile and a ‘nice to meet you’ going for us.”
The alarm was becoming a siren with airhorns. “What do you mean?”
“I think.” Margo leaned to him. She slid her hand high up to his inner thigh. “We should introduce each other to our parents with some kind of symbol of our commitment to our relationship.”
“Symbol.”
“Yes, silly.”
He stayed quiet. He had a bad feeling he knew exactly where she was going.
“Parker.” Her gaze sharpened.
He stood. “More wine?”
She stood. “Park? You do agree, don’t you? We are on the path toward something besides dating, right? I mean, it has been over a year. We have been exclusive for six months. Surely you agree it’s time to go to the next level.”
He stood at the bar, his back to her, staring at the bottle of wine.
“Parker.” Margo put her glass on the bar, staring at his profile. “Oh, you’re kidding me.” She put her hands on her hips. “What am I to you?”
He turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a simple question, Parker. What are we doing here? Where is this going? Where are we going? I mean, I thought we were headed in the direction of, I don’t know, exclusivity, vacations together, a ring.”
He tried to stay calm, though his expression probably showed his apprehension.
“Oh. I see.”
“Margo.” He reached for her.
She stepped back. “No. No. It appears we are not on the same page. Hell, we aren’t even in the same book.”
“I told you that I wasn’t interested in relationships. That it wasn’t me.”
“That was a year ago.” She crossed her arms. “You continued to see me, to date me. I thought things had changed. Parker, I love you. I want to spend my life with you, making you happy.” Her eyes glassed over with tears.
Ah dammit. This was about to turn ugly. “Margo.” He took her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were looking for more. I thought we were just enjoying the here and now.”
She yanked her hand back. “Oh, bullshit. That’s a line of crap, and you know it. Do you say that to every woman you get to this point with?” She put on a ridiculous, dramatic voice. “Oh baby, it’s been fun boinking you, but I’m not the marrying kind. I’m a bachelor for life. All fun, no ties.”
“Come on, Margo. I never promised anything.”
“You never discouraged me either.”
“I don’t see why things can’t just continue as they are now. Enjoying each other, enjoying the holidays.”
“To what end, Parker? I want a husband and a house.” She put her hands to her hips again. “Am I wasting my time here?”
“Can’t we table this discussion until after the holidays?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Only if you promise me that on Christmas Eve, there will be a
small square box from a jewelry store in my stocking.” She shook her finger. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Margo.”
She huffed. “Oh, forget it. I’m done. I’m not waiting for you to decide what you want.” She turned on her heel. “I’m done.”
“Margo. I—”
She turned to face him and held up her hand. “I’m done. Good-bye, Parker.” Margo walked out, giving the door an enthusiastic slam as she left.
He didn’t try to stop her or deny what she was saying. He couldn’t give her hope that didn’t exist. He released a long breath before finishing his wine. Thanksgiving would again be long hours of explanations and excuses.
His stomach growled.
“Unless you plan to chew on coffee grounds, Park, you need to hit a grocery store.”
# # #
Isla stood at the edge of her apartment complex, grateful that her apartment building was behind the grocery store. As much as she hated the thought of walking the entire parking lot, she was too light-headed to risk driving. Faint on the pavement or faint behind the wheel, easy choice. She had to get toilet paper and crackers before her stomach did another flip flop.
Isla was heading back home and starting to feel optimistic that she would get there without incident when her stomach churned, and the parking lot swirled. She stopped walking to take a few deep breaths. Her lips tingled. Her vision blurred.
Parker slammed on the brakes then jumped out of the car. He dashed to the woman he just watched crumple to the pavement. He patted her cheek. “Hello? It’s all right. You’re going to be all right.”
The woman moved and sighed. Her eyes fluttered a bit. “Wh-what happened?”
He put his jacket under her head. “You fainted.” She moved to sit up, but he pressed her back. “No. Give yourself a minute.”
“No. No, I’m fine. I’m just getting over a bug and got a little dehydrated. I live right there.” She pointed to a group of buildings across the side street. She sat up.
He caught her wrist to take her pulse, felt the heat of her forehead. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll help you into my car then drive you to your place.”
A Fairy Crazy Thanksgiving Page 1