“They live in some village on the Hudson. I think they’re rich. And he says they’re pretty formal. They dress for dinner.”
“Okay, got it.” She disappeared into the closet again, then returned with an armful of sweaters. “You have to have cashmere. I’d suggest going with subdued and classy—nothing too obvious, but definitely not bargain bin or trendy. That’s the safest bet for meeting any parents for the first time.”
“And then I have to come up with some gifts,” I said.
Gemma groaned. “Oh, we don’t have time to do this right. I wish I wasn’t leaving town.”
“If you weren’t leaving town, this wouldn’t be an issue. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I can shop for myself, you know.”
She didn’t look convinced, but Marcia said, “Yeah, Gemma, she’s a big girl now.” She went back to her own packing, and I spent the rest of the evening listening to Gemma rattling off ideas for presents.
I was looking forward to some rare private time when I got home from work the next evening, but I’d barely had time to take my coat off before the intercom buzzed. I hit the button, and it was Philip’s voice asking for Gemma that answered me.
“Gemma went home for Christmas today,” I told him. “Didn’t she tell you?”
There was a pause, then he said, “No, she didn’t. May I speak with you?”
This was my first good chance to have an honest heart-to-heart, magic and all, with Philip, so I said, “Come on up,” and buzzed him in.
He knocked on the door a few seconds later. “Would you like some tea?” I asked as I took his coat.
“Yes, please,” he said. He looked exhausted and utterly miserable. “When did she leave?” he asked as I put tea and a plate of Christmas cookies in front of him. He reflexively stood as I moved to take my seat across from him at the table, then resumed his seat when I sat.
“Today during the day. She’s coming back late Christmas night. This whole trip was very sudden. She just found out about the last-minute fare sale yesterday, and last night she was so busy getting ready that I guess she forgot to let you know.”
He sighed and bit the head off a gingerbread man. I couldn’t help but flinch. “Perhaps,” he said.
“Look, I don’t mean to pry or get into your business, but as you may recall, I do know something about what you really are, and I suspect most of your issues with Gemma have to do with that. You’re out of your time, which has to be disconcerting. Things have changed a lot, particularly the courtship rituals. For example, engraved invitations and chaperones aren’t really necessary these days.”
“Yes, she made that clear to me.”
“We have other ways to communicate,” I went on, but before I could start on the wonders of the cellular phone, he pulled a tiny flip-phone model out of his breast pocket. It was even fancier than Gemma’s. “Okay, you’ve figured that part out for yourself.”
“I suspect she’s feeling neglected,” he said, snapping a leg off his gingerbread man. “I have been busy, but I can’t explain to her why I’ve been busy.”
“What’s keeping you so busy?”
“I’m trying to regain my family business. An unscrupulous associate of my father’s was the one who enchanted me, and then when my disappearance was never explained and I never returned, he inherited the business upon my father’s death. His descendants are still running the business, and I must take back what is rightfully mine.”
“Yeah, that would tend to keep you busy,” I agreed. “And you’re right, it would be hard to explain. But have you told her you’re busy at work? She should understand that much.”
He reassembled the headless gingerbread man on his plate, shoving the broken leg back into place with his index finger. “I’m not even certain that us being together is a good idea at this time. She came across me when I was feeling very lost, and she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Now, though, I have business I must attend to, and her association with me could put her at risk from my enemies. I cannot expect her to wait for me, either.”
“You know, I work for the big guns in the magical world, so I’m sure I could get you some help if you needed it.”
Hope flickered in his eyes. “I could use your assistance with something. As I understand it, you’re a magical immune.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve scheduled a meeting with the new head of what should be my company. He doesn’t know who I am, simply that I’m a potential investor. It might be useful to have a magical immune present to help me determine if underhanded means are being used.”
“I guess I could do that. When’s the meeting, and what’s your excuse for having me with you?”
“The meeting is Thursday afternoon. I thought perhaps you could pose as my wife or lady friend.”
“Undercover work sounds like fun, and I get off early that day. Maybe I could be the daughter of a Texas oilman with money of my own to invest.”
The blank expression on his face reminded me that he’d never seen an episode of Dallas. He nodded politely and said, “Whatever you think is best. The meeting is at two in the afternoon. Shall I call for you here?”