Sam shot another glance at the bedraggled, but beautiful, woman beside him before taking the exit onto the Gulf Freeway. She hadn’t said another word since making her odd request and then hauling herself up into the cab of his truck twenty minutes ago.
Not the Izzy he remembered, nor the Isadora Perrault he’d expected.
Even more disconcerting was the fact that he was still driving toward his house instead of taking her to any one of the hotels he’d passed. Truly a conundrum. And one he was afraid to unravel. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to unravel her reasons for asking.
“Look, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what happened between you and your mother after you left Chas’s, and— ”
A musical sound came from somewhere in the vicinity of Isadora’s purse.
“What the hell? Is that—is that ‘Bibbidee-bobbidi-boo?’”
She acted as if she hadn’t heard him, tearing and ripping at the metal clasp holding her ragged-looking purse shut and then yanking out what looked like a child’s pink-glitter cell phone with star-shaped rhinestones attached. “Hello? Hello?” she said into the thing. The speaker must’ve been on because Sam clearly heard what came through the phone: a crooner voice—Perry Como? His grandma’s favorite singer?—saying something about a mind in a dither and a heart in a haze.
This was followed by a distinctly feminine voice, very much like Glinda the Good Witch. “There you aahr, Dora dear. And Saaam,”—a chill shot up his spine—“so good of you to take my little project under your wing.”
“Proj—?” he said.
“You hexed me!” Isadora blinked several times and gave him a goggle-eyed look. “I said exactly what I meant!” she told him.
“Good for you.” This whole thing was getting more bizarre by the moment.
She returned her attention to the phone, punched the button to shut off the speaker, put her back to him and spoke into the receiver in much more dulcet tones, “May I meet you somewhere?” he heard her say as he pulled the truck onto the shoulder and stopped.
The speaker was still on. “Certainly. In time.”
“But—the curse!”
“You and you alone hold the power to lift it. Just un-puzzle the puzzle, un-muddle the muddle, and you’ll be free of it. Must be off—ta-ta.”
“No! Don’t hang up! Fairy—”
Sam’s ears perked up. Fairy??
“—fairy lady, come back!” Isadora shook the phone, then slapped it a few times, but no further sound came through. After a moment, she collapsed back, resting her head on the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut.
* * *
“What’s going on, Isadora?” she heard Sam ask a second later.
Isadora rolled her head from side to side and let out a faint whimper. Maybe he’d show a little pity and just leave it be.
But no such luck. “Who was that woman you were talking to? And what’s all the ‘curse’ business?”
She opened her eyes and took a good long look at him. Assuming the fairy hadn’t reinstated the curse yet, she might be able to give him enough of an explanation to enlist his help. The fairy had said that she, herself, held the key to lifting it, but Isadora had no idea what that key could possibly be. Maybe Sam might know. After all—weren’t two heads better than one? Plus, they’d been a good team there for a while back in college when they’d helped organize the five-campus initiative to support relief and charity efforts for the Red Cross.
A fairy hexed me. “Have sex with me.” Her hand slammed over her mouth with such force, her front tooth loosened a little.
Sam’s eyes narrowed and then he hauled himself back around and twisted the key in the ignition. “So, we’re going to play that game, are we? Fine, keep it a mystery, I seriously don’t care.” Once they were back up on the freeway, he looked over at her again and said, “But I’ll pass on the sex.” He turned his attention back to the road and after another minute broke the silence again when he said, “Look, to tell you the truth, I’d rather drop you off at a hotel—the Galvez okay?”
Isadora had no money—not even a credit card—in her evening clutch. She grabbed hold of his arm and shook her head. She hoped that would be sufficient to change his mind.
His eyes swept her from head to foot. “I’ll pay for it, if that’s the reason.”
She shook her head even more vigorously. No way was she going to waltz into a hotel in the state she was in and then let him plunk down his card for her. Like she was his charity case pick-up or something. That’s what people would think, she was sure of it. She’d be stared at and—oh, God—if they found out who she was, it’d be another horrifying addition to what was sure to be a humiliating recap in the society column tomorrow morning. And she didn’t even want to think about what was already flying around in cyberspace about her. How they loved to chronicle every tidbit in the lives of the fallen-from-grace Perraults. Even more reason for her mother to hate her.
No, much better to wash up at Sam’s house and then try to get him to call her mother—she’d worry about how later—so a driver could be sent to pick her up. Surely her mother hadn’t been serious when she’d said Isadora was no longer her daughter.
He gave her a hard look. “Okay. You can stay with me on one condition. I’ve got too much going on right now to keep my place in order and I sometimes forget to eat—but I like food. I think you know where I’m going with this, right?”
Yes, she did. And if she wasn’t sure she’d be out of his house by morning—afternoon the latest—she’d have nipped that condition in the bud right then. Somehow. Instead, she just smiled and shrugged and settled back more comfortably on the leather seat. A bath, a bath, my kingdom for a bath.
* * *