“I just… Nothing.”
“No. What?”
“I just got the feeling that your first thought was about what you’re going to wear.”
“My first thought was about what to give you for a wedding present,” I said indignantly. “My second thought was about what I’m going to wear. What is Bren wearing?”
“I’m not supposed to know.”
“I don’t mean what is she wearing to your handfasting.”
“Oh, you mean to John David’s. I don’t know.” He looked worried. “Is that something I should know? Am I supposed to ask her that?”
I laughed. “No. I would’ve been shocked if you’d said you knew. I’ll ask her myself the next time I see her.”
The green was deserted. No one was out and about, probably because of the wind. Fie must’ve been in a snit about something. Again. The town was going to have to insist that he and Olivia settle into a pacific relationship. Olivia was sometimes over-asserting her newfound feistiness. The combination of being co-hostess of Hallow Hills’ version of society luncheons, the romantic attentions of the unelected mayor, and becoming a home owner had prompted her personality to surge and thrive. She was like a dormant hothouse flower forced to its best bloom.
I’d gone straight to Esmerelda’s then to the Braid before stopping at The Hallows. Maggie was studiously flitting about with a feather duster.
“Hey,” I said.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to you, Magistrate.”
“Maggie. I keep telling you that the feather duster is a waste of time. It just sends dust up into the air. The minute you turn your back everything you just ‘dusted’ gets recoated, courtesy of gravity.” I put ‘dusted’ in air quotes.
“Agree to disagree. Anytime you want to take on the tidy-up chores, you can do it any way ye see fit.”
I sighed. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“Hmmmph.”
“Maggie.”
“Aye?”
“Do you think Esmerelda has Asperger’s?”
“I’m sure of it.” After a brief pause, she said, “What is it?”
“Um. Not important. Anything come in last night?” She turned her back and said nothing. “Maggie?”
“Aye?”
“Don’t do that thing where you pretend to be hard of hearing. We both know you have the ears of a bat.”
“Ears and eyes,” she said.
“Sure. Answer the question.”
She put both hands on her hips and smiled. “Got somethin’ you may like.”
“Magic or mundane?”
“Go see.”
“Is Dolan here?”
“I think he’s at the pub. He likes to eat breakfast over there and stare at Molly while she works.”
“You know, for such a tiny little village, we have a lot of people in love.”
“Had no’ thought about it, but ‘tis true. Somethin’ in the water maybe?”
“Magic in the air?” I smiled. “Let’s go see what it is.”
The workroom was dark. I felt the wall for the switch and flooded the room with light. Apparently, before heading out for breakfast, Dolan had stopped in, carefully unpacked the overnight deposit, and left it set up for me to find. Like a glorious present.
“Maggie,” I whispered, feeling that she was right behind me. “This is just…” I wanted to do it justice, but it escaped me. I finally settled on… “Gorgeous. Is it magic?”
“No’ a bit,” Maggie said. “Well, perhaps you might say ‘tis as close as humans come. I like it, too.”
It was a chess set, but not just any chess set. The board was a half inch thick, black-and-white marble checkerboard with white apron. The pieces were delicate, intricately formed porcelain, each looking like a museum-quality work of art. The white pieces were Greek gods. The black pieces were Roman gods.
I was in love.
“This is not for sale,” I said, too mesmerized to take my eyes off it. “It’s mine.”
Maggie giggled. “Had a feelin’ you’d say somethin’ of the sort, I did.”
“How did you know I’d love it so much that I’d have to have it?”
“Like I said, just a feelin’.”
“Well, set a fair price and deduct it from my stipend.”
I didn’t know what my stipend was. I’d never had to think about finances since my arrival in Hallow Hill. The deal was if I wanted something, I said, “Send the bill to Maggie.” And it was paid. Like magic.
“Will you ask Dolan to pack it back up and bring it over to my house?”
“Certainly. Do you know where you’ll be puttin’ it?”
“I think that rosewood table by the fireplace in my study.”
“Aye. I can see that. Do you play?”
“I know how.”
Time was gobbling up the remaining days of October fast. The excitement circulating about John David’s party had eclipsed the Hallowstide Court Meet. The party was scheduled for a week before so that none of the guests’ businesses would miss out on holiday commerce.
My dress was an art deco masterpiece; sleeveless, long, and draping. I was sure the morning walks with Lochlan that included lots of incline were responsible for the somewhat improved figure the dress was draping. It certainly wasn’t due to a too-careful diet.
If Brayden wasn’t as good a smith as Bradesford had been, you could’ve fooled me. The ear cuffs were even more spectacular that the photo; stones set into webs of gold filigree so fine it looked like storybook fairies had done the work.
All the accessories had arrived. Over-the-elbow black velvet gloves and black velvet heels. The piece de resistance was a cape of black ostrich feathers. It made me feel so glamorous I considered keeping it on for the entire evening, but wearing it around my house for a few minutes convinced me otherwise. Feathers are warm.
With only five minutes to go time, I was admiring the result of all that planning in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. The one departure I’d taken from being true to the age was hairstyle. I left it down, slightly curled at the ends Rita Hayworth style, and tucked behind fake, but beautiful elven ears. As a final touch, I did something I’d said I’d never do, blood red lipstick and nails to match.
Looking in the mirror was a little disorienting because the red lipstick made my blue eyes pop like neon. I’d just pulled on the second glove and was reaching for my black beaded bag when Keir sauntered into the bedroom looking like the last ever cover of GQ, last because how could you follow this?
I wasn’t able to fully appreciate the admiring whistle he gave me. I was too busy being stunned by his own version of glam. He was wearing traditional black tie, but on Keir, it was beyond fabulous.
“I can’t go,” I said.
He looked confused. “Can’t go? What do you mean? Why not?”
“I can’t show up with a date who’s that much more beautiful than I am.”
With a relieved laugh, he said, “Wish you could see yourself through my eyes, love.”
He closed the distance between us and lowered his head in a way that left no room for doubt. He was coming in for a kiss.