Second Hearts (The Wishes Series) (41 page)

“I would never turn you away, Charli,” she told me, ushering me into the foyer and taking my coat. “But please…”

I finished her sentence as her voice trailed off. “Don’t make eye contact and speak only in hushed tones?”

Mrs Brown brought her hand to her mouth to smother her giggle and showed me through to the lounge.

The queen kept me waiting an outlandishly long time. Finally she breezed in and pretended to be surprised to see me. “Charli. What are you doing here?”

“I need to ask a favour,” I said, wincing like a coward.

Fiona sat down on the couch opposite me, looking calm enough for me to think I wasn’t entirely wasting my time.

In a long monologue, I explained that I was planning a fairy themed high tea at Billet-doux. “My friend Ivy has been spreading the word. It’s completely booked out. Thirty little amped-up fairies are going to show up at Billet-doux expecting cakes, finger sandwiches and tea.”

“So what do you need from me?”

“Some help. I have to organise a menu and table decorations. Ryan will string me up by my feet if I can’t pull it off,” I said, sounding aptly terrified. “Fairy parties are generally classy and elegant affairs. I can’t think of anyone better than you to help me with it.”

“But why?”

I slapped both hands down on my knees, preparing to kill or be killed.

“Look, I know I’m not your favourite person but I have no hidden agenda. I just need the input of someone who actually knows what they’re doing. That would be you.”

Fiona didn’t speak for a long time. But she didn’t lunge across the coffee table and rip my throat out either so I patiently awaited her reply.

“When is this pixie soiree?” she asked finally.

“Friday.”

“Oh, good grief, Charlotte,” she moaned. “That’s cutting it a little fine, don’t you think?”

“Please, Fiona. I’ll do anything,” I clasped my hands together, pleading with her, “except give you back your youngest son. I won’t do that.”

She almost smiled. “Does Adam know you’re here?”

“Not yet,” I replied, shaking my head. “If it goes well, I might confess.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“I’ll do what I always do,” I said flatly. “I’ll lie to protect his feelings. I’ll deny ever being here and let him think that I’m okay with the decision he made to cut you off.”

“But you’re not okay with it?”

“Of course not,” I scoffed. “Historically, banishing the evil queen from your fairy tale never ends well.”

There was a time when I would’ve regretted such an obtuse comment but it had long since passed. Sooner or later she was going to have to accept me for who I was. Thanks to my new visa status, I wasn’t going anywhere. Perhaps she realised that. Instead of rebuking me, she saw the funny side. She almost smiled.

After keeping me hanging for an eternity, she finally agreed to help me, which freed me up to tell Adam the truth. He wasn’t pleased to hear that I’d recruited the queen. He likened it to making a deal with the devil. I found myself defending her because I no longer thought of her as the devil. She was more like an angry mother bear trying to protect her cubs – from a mouse. Ryan, however, was the devil, which was the sole reason I couldn’t afford to screw up the fairy tea.

“I need her help, Adam,” I told him. “She was actually quite nice to me today.”

He looked at me baffled, shaking his head. “Working in conjunction with my mother will not go well for you.”

“There’s no need for lawyer speak.”

He chuckled darkly. “Fine. Hanging out with Mom will be impossible,” he amended. “Like nailing Jell-O to a tree.”

***

The days leading up to the high tea flew by in a blur of fairy cakes and pink macaroons. Fiona had managed to track down everything I wanted, giving me all the tools I needed to host a perfect event.

I had been summoned to the house early that morning to check the last item on the list, fairy-esque table linen. Fiona was kneeling on the floor amongst a stack of boxes when I arrived. She never looked cold and aloof anymore. Somewhere along the line she’d lost her severity, and managed to become a whole lot prettier in the process.

“Charli,” she purred, abandoning the pile of cloth napkins in her lap as she stood up to greet me. “I was just going through the linens. I managed to get pink
and
mauve.”

Another bad habit she’d let go of lately was the dumb air kissing. She’d become a hugger.

“That’s great,” I replied, enduring the awkward embrace.

I scanned the room, feeling a little creeped-out by the grand effort she’d gone to. The shift between us had been so swift that I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust it. Something about my expression must have exposed me.

“I’ve enjoyed doing this with you,” she insisted, speaking slowly. “I’ve never really had the opportunity to plan anything sparkly and pretty.” She knelt back down on the floor and began rifling through a box. “It’s a theme that never rated highly when my boys were small.”

I sat near her and dragged the closest box toward me. “My dad endured years of it. Fairyology was practically my religion.” I held off telling her that it still was. All of my good work in convincing her that I was sane would have disappeared in an instant.

She dragged a candy-pink tablecloth out of a box and fanned it across her lap. “I made my bridesmaids wear dresses this colour,” she said irrelevantly. “Fashion back then left a lot to be desired.” I smiled, giving her enough reassurance to continue her tale. “To make matters worse, I made Jean-Luc wear a powder grey suit, but it made no difference. He was still the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on.”

I giggled. Jean-Luc was the most handsome man
I’d
ever laid eyes on.

“So it was love at first sight then?”

“It was tremendous.” She grinned. “But not always easy. I had a terrible time trying to adjust in the early years.”

For a second I considered picking up the nearest box and belting her with it. Her admission proved something I’d known to be true for a while: we were cut from the same average, working class cloth. If anyone should’ve been welcoming me with open arms and guiding me through my New York life, it should’ve been her.

“I can relate to that.” It was the most diplomatic way I could think to say it.

“I acted abhorrently toward you,” she conceded, fiddling with the edge of the cloth on her lap to avoid looking at me. “But you were tougher than I gave you credit for.”

I shrugged, trying to shake the growing tension in my chest. “I don’t feel like I even have a choice where Adam is concerned. I have no choice but to love him. That’s why I’m here. That’s the
only
reason I’m still here.”

She smiled but still refused to look at me. “I have only ever wanted the very best for my sons. I wanted them to find nice girls with similar lives to their own.”

I couldn’t help grimacing. As far as I knew, there were no nice girls with lives similar to his. They were all spoiled, entitled bitches. “Like Whitney, you mean?”

She ignored me, continuing as if I hadn’t spoken. “I knew Adam had put himself in an impossible quandary. He chose to fall in love with a girl who constantly rebels against the fabulous opportunity she’s been gifted.”

“All I ever wanted out of the deal was Adam,” I told her, fighting to keep calm. “Anything beyond that is a curse.”

Finally she looked at me. “Why can’t you grasp the possibility of what’s before you, Charli? I know it takes some getting used to. I came from nothing too.”

I frowned, concentrating on not saying anything regretful. “I didn’t come from nothing. I have always had plenty.”

“But marrying my son guarantees you anything you could ever want.”

Things suddenly became a whole lot clearer. Fiona saw marrying Jean-Luc as a windfall. Her initial aversion to me hadn’t even been personal. Any girl who managed to crack the Décarie circle would have been considered a threat, especially if she’d arrived with empty pockets. Proving good intentions was impossible from the beginning. Adam’s Jell-O analogy came to mind.

“Don’t you see?” I asked, frustrated. “I love Adam in spite of that, not because of it.”

She shook her head as confusion set in. “Most girls would be thrilled by it. He’s the perfect package.”

I almost felt sorry for her. She just wasn’t getting it. “Money doesn’t thrill me. The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching thrills me. And as for being the perfect package, Adam is definitely not perfect.” She sucked in a sharp breath, outraged because I’d dared to find fault in one of her flawless boys. I elaborated quickly before she had a chance to speak. “He is not perfect, Fiona. He’s very selfish with his time. He can be horribly impatient and sometimes he drives me nuts. But I love him. That’s it.”

“You’re a very fortunate girl then,” she mumbled.

“Can I ask you something?” I busied myself folding napkins to dull the chagrin in case she said no.

“Of course.”

“What did you bring to the table when you got married?”

Her pretty face crumpled as bewilderment set in. “I don’t understand your question.”

“Well, if handsome Jean-Luc was prince charming because he brought you wealth and good standing, what was in it for him?” I asked. “You’re adamant that you had nothing.”

Fiona deliberated for a long time, absently picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth in her hands. “I have no idea.”

“Perhaps you should ask him,” I suggested. “He might surprise you. There was a reason he chose you.”

She laughed lightly, taking no offense. “I might do that. Do you know why Adam chose you?”

“I have a few ideas,” I hinted, unwilling to introduce her to merits of hanging out in
La La land.

The conversation was a welcome change. I had no idea if the shift between us was permanent, but anything that made life easier was worth the chance.

***

With help from Fiona, encouragement from Adam and an overwhelming desire to prove Ryan wrong, I managed to pull Billet-doux’s inaugural fairy high tea together. It was a completely full house thanks to Ivy and her pageant posse. Every little princess in the city was now sitting at impeccably decorated fairy tables at Billet-doux. The little girls feasted on every fairy delicacy imaginable for two solid hours, racking up Ryan’s profits to stellar levels.

“I’m very impressed, Tink,” he whispered, sidling up beside me as I watched over the crowded front of house from the podium.

“Me too.” I grinned. “It’s going great.”

Obviously he hadn’t seen Faberge wipe her chocolate coated hands along the white upholstered chair she was sitting on – or the little girl who threw up in the potted Ficus tree near the door.

“The bar sales alone make it worthwhile.”

I studied the room a bit closer. Every woman there seemed to have a glass in her hand. Maybe alcohol is a necessary evil when you’re the parent of a wannabe fairy. By rights, Alex should’ve been a drunk.

Adam’s manic schedule meant he couldn’t be there to see how things turned out. Being disappointed about it was fruitless. I was almost used to it.

Bente made a five-minute cameo but ducked out before the sugar hit could affect the already buzzing fairies. Her quick exit might also have had something to do with Ryan’s less than contrite attitude toward her. She didn’t have to mention how crushing it was that he acted as if nothing had happened between them. It was painfully obvious. The only one who didn’t get it was him.

“Do you know if your mother is coming?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“She’s been and gone. She told me to tell you that it all looked amazing and she’d see you later.” I was shocked by her humility. If there was a moment that she deserved to be basking in her brilliance that would’ve been it. “What is it with you two lately?” he asked. “One minute you’re mortal enemies and the next you’re bonding over sparkles.”

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, smirking. “That’s exactly what happened. We share a mutual love of sparkles and your brother.”

The real answer was actually much more complex. Spending time together meant getting to know each other. Once she finally figured out that I wanted nothing other than Adam, she stopped trying to bury the hatchet in my back.

“Well, whatever the reason, I think it was a smart move.”

“I couldn’t have pulled this off without her,” I admitted.

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You did,” I accused.

“A little bit,” he conceded, pinching his thumb and forefinger together.

“Say you’re sorry, then.”

Ryan cleared his throat. “I’m not sorry,” he maintained, nudging me in the side. “But I did underestimate you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I get that a lot.”

“Are you sure you want to do this full time, Charli?”

My reply came quickly. “Absolutely not.” Ryan laughed darkly as if he’d known it all along. “But I could do it once in a while.”

“How do you think Adam will take that news?”