Chapter Two

Later that evening, Carmen was reading Belly Dancing Quarterly magazine and kicking back with a cup of homemade cocoa, enhanced with a generous pour of heavy cream, and a slice of pistachio-crusted cheesecake. She had determined to her delight that the Healing Waters and the Living Earth not only provided health and longevity, but also an enviable eat-anything-and-keep-your-figure diet plan.

Thank heaven for magical subterranean spas, she thought happily.

Outside her front door was the immaculate and mundane back lawn of Prescott Manor, and out the back were the shadowy enchanted trees of Prescott Woods. Carmen’s cottage, built with labour from elves, gnomes and trolls, had one foot in each world, just like her.

“Does she be needin’ anything more?” a raspy female voice asked.

“No, I’m all set, Limax. The house looks terrific. Thank you so much for cleaning it again. The flowers on the table are gorgeous, too.”

The gnome bobbed her head and tittered. “Oh, she knows how I like to be useful and such, so it’s my pleasure, it is.” Limax beamed, exposing a mouth full of crooked and discolored teeth, and Carmen saw that she was tearing up again. Like her namesake, the slug, Limax was prone to gooey secretions, especially when she became emotional. Carmen had taught her to carry a fresh handkerchief to wipe her streaming eyes and runny nose. Considering that she had a housekeeper who wanted to be paid in praise alone, putting up with a little mucus was no big deal.

Sniffling, Limax shuffled out and left her to her dessert. Moments later, Carmen heard a knock on the back door. “Come in,” she sang out. “Babe, you have got to try this cheesecake that Dora brought me—it’s to die for.” Carmen looked up, but instead of seeing Brock, her boyfriend, she saw none other than his stocky, scowling brother.

As one of the Fair Folk herself, Carmen hadn’t been fooled by Lowell’s bluebird guise for a minute, but she could see now that he had dropped it entirely. The phantasmic bird outline had vanished, and only a six-and-a-half foot tower of irritable male remained. She was, however, relieved to see that he had put on real clothes. Dealing with a pissed-off Lowell was bad enough, but a pissed-off, naked Lowell was more than she could handle.

As had become his custom, Lowell wore a kilt. Ever since he’d learned that a Scottish/Italian designer had come up with an Italian national tartan, he’d taken to a kilt like a wood duck to the Castle Speranza pond. Even though Carmen preferred lanky, lean men, she had to admit that Lowell looked awfully good in the blue and black tartan and snug rugby shirt. He had the bulky, muscular body of a lumberjack and, at present, the dangerous expression of a hungry grizzly bear.

“Hi, Lowell,” Carmen said. She gave him an uneasy grin. “Want some cheesecake?”

“I do not.” He crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “I don’t appreciate you dousing me with ice water, Carmen. That was extremely unpleasant.” He stared at her and the muscles in his jaw clenched.

“Yeah, well,” Carmen replied, “I don’t appreciate you showing up naked and, like, rubbing yourself while Dora and I were dancing.” She shuddered. “Lowell, that’s just gross. You’re practically my brother.”

He shifted from foot to foot and Carmen thought she detected rising color in his cheeks. Good, she thought with annoyance. He should be embarrassed.

“I, ah, regret that I partook in, uh, licentious behaviour in front of you,” Lowell stammered. “It was not gentlemanly of me. However—”

“Have you been putting the moves on my girl?” Lowell turned as Brock entered the kitchen. “Back off, Lowell. This one’s all mine.” Brock bent to kiss Carmen on the lips and took the seat next to her at the table.

“Here, honey, have some.” Carmen lifted a fork with a bite of cheesecake to Brock’s lips. He closed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed, then bobbed his head in appreciation. “Damn, that’s good! Did Dora make that?” Brock looked up at Lowell, still standing and stewing before them. “Have you had a piece of this? If not, you’re missing out, man.”

Lowell grunted irritably and eyed the cheesecake. “Dora made it?” he asked in a quiet voice. “It’s good?”

Carmen chuckled and stood to get a plate, fork and napkin for him. Minutes later, Lowell had silently devoured his slice of cheesecake and sat before Brock and Carmen with a noticeably less sour expression. “She’s a good cook too,” he whispered. “Amazing.”

“Lowell, you are ridiculous. You can’t act like it’s horrible for Fair Folk to date humans when you clearly are lusting after one yourself. Do you even remember how you freaked out when Brock brought me to Castle Speranza? You were a nutcase.”

“That was a long time ago, Carmen,” Lowell protested, “and things have changed between the Fair Folk and humans in town.”

“Is that so? Are you sure that Father would agree with you, Lowell?” interjected Brock.

“He ought to,” Lowell muttered. “But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it to him just yet.”

Carmen lifted Brock’s hand and kissed his knuckles before continuing. “My point is—why don’t you ask her out on a date like a normal person, Lowell? Obviously, you’re not a normal person.” Brock guffawed and Carmen studiously ignored him. “She doesn’t have to know that, though, Lowell. You don’t have to lurk around and stalk the poor woman, and you certainly don’t have to pretend to be one of Snow White’s woodland pals to get close to her.”

“The bluebird glamour again?” Brock muttered.

“Yeah,” Lowell admitted. “Chicks dig it.” Brock gave a knowing nod.

Carmen sighed in exasperation. “Look, Dora’s a nice, grown-up lady and, at over two hundred years old, you’re hardly a child, Lowell. Just go talk to her. Sheesh. You Rossi boys are ridiculous.”

Lowell stared at his beefy hands in his lap and shook his head. “She’s just so beautiful, though. So sweet and smart and talented, and her body is”—he sighed—“unforgettable.”

Carmen caught Brock’s glance and shared a smile.

“I’ve been with the dryads and, on occasion, a Charade woman, but this is different. Dora’s special. I don’t know why she’d ever give me a second glance,” Lowell concluded sadly. Outside, night had fallen in the woods. Dry branches crunched and snapped beneath Carmen’s kitchen window.

“Just be yourself and it’ll all work out,” Carmen advised as she served him another piece of cheesecake. “Trust me.”

* * * *

Dora put the finishing touches on a late spring arrangement for her entry table. Pink, magenta and chartreuse zinnias, blushing wild roses, white snapdragons and trailing variegated ivy filled her large entry vessel. Homegrown, she thought, and fit for a queen.

She moved through the six-thousand-five-hundred-square-foot Victorian house, locking up and turning off lights, and thought, That pretty much describes my B&B.

Dora felt a familiar rush of pride and happiness as she surveyed her home. Bohemian Rhapsody is rated the number four bed and breakfast in Kentucky. She smiled. And for good reason. It’s clean and comfortable, and guests love my sweet potato breakfast casserole, the floral themed rooms and the sun-dried linens. Dora peeked into the Daffodil Suite and frowned when she saw that the wallpaper next to the light switch was peeling a bit. Got to fix that tomorrow. The Dogwood Suite was perfect, as were the Iris and Morning Glory Suites, thanks to unending vigilance on Dora’s part. She needed an assistant, but that was completely out of the question, and Dora was proud and happy to toil away.

Bohemian Rhapsody was a living thing to her, a loyal friend and a dependent child, brought to life by her own determination and hard work. Each blemish in the ageing house might as well have been on Dora’s own body, it troubled her so deeply. “Tomorrow, the gardens in the morning and the Dogwood wallpaper in the afternoon. Maybe I’ll have time to polish the silver service.”

Dora poured a glass of cabernet, blew out the rosemary-scented candle on the counter and prepared to retire to her bedroom, the Queen Anne’s Lace master suite. Just as she reached to turn off the light, she noticed a mockingbird perched on the windowsill of her kitchen. It peered at her with alert black eyes and hopped on its clawed feet.

“What is it with the birds around here, anyway?” Dora chuckled.