Silver Fox (Silver Shifters 2)

If her grandmother’s grandmother was right, this cup dated back to the days when Polish cavalry riders affixed wings to their armor to look like they could fly, in order to intimidate their fierce enemies from Russia and Austria. She’d always thought the faded figures chasing around the rim of the bone-white teacup were flying horses. But one day she’d held the cup up to strong morning light and discovered that the gilt figures were dancing foxes with several tails fanned out like wings.

The cup was unlike any other, with a gorgeous porcelain top that kept the heat in. The foxes leaped in and out of acanthus and lotus blossoms. The lid had a figure at the top for lifting. Use over the centuries had smoothed away the features of a fox head with ears up and ruff standing out.

Doris had been fascinated with the cup when she was small. The fox head had seemed even more precious and interesting because of its wear. It helped Doris understand that generations before her had handled the cup, from childhood to old age. She loved drinking from something they had drunk from.

Her great-grandmother had given it to Doris when she turned eighteen, the year before

she died. “It’s magic,” she’d whispered. “Carried from wonderful and magical lands far away to the East. The magic was good to me. Maybe it will be good to you.”

Doris didn’t believe in magic, of course, but she loved the cup. She’d first kept it packed away, then had taken it down every birthday after her fiftieth. It wasn’t her birthday now, but it felt right to drink from it tonight. She needed the boost to her morale.

The kettle whistled. Doris served the tea.

Godiva took a sip. “Ahhhh! Great. I gotta say, I’m a coffee gal, but you and Bird almost convert me.” She set the cup down, then those black eyes pinned Doris. “You busted outta that wedding like your ass was on fire.”

Doris was trying to find some excuse when Godiva shifted, her lined brow puckering. “You didn’t twist your back doing Oona for me, did you?”

It would be so easy to say yes, but Doris knew how upset Godiva would be if she thought one of her scenarios had actually hurt Doris.

“No,” Doris began.

“Then it was that buddy of Mikhail Long’s, what’s his name?”

Doris got that shimmery feeling inside as she said, “Joey Hu.” Joey. Was his real name Joseph? She would have thought a man over the age of eighteen (if not twelve) would grow out of ‘Joey’ but somehow it fit that incandescent smile of his. Joey was like joy . . .

Doris snapped herself out of it, and found both Jen and Godiva staring at her.

“You know something about him?” Godiva said slowly.

“No.” Doris busied herself sipping tea that she didn’t even taste. “Just what Bird told us all. Super friendly, popular with everyone, especially the ladies.”

“You mean a player.” Godiva plunked her elbows on the table.

It was exactly what Doris had been thinking—yet she knew it was a leap into unfairness. She shrugged, trying to be casual. “Nothing Bird said made him sound like that. Flirty but friendly, maybe.”

Jen murmured, “That’s right. Sounded to me like women chase him more than he chases them. Anyway, the other thing mentioned was that he counsels students.”

Godiva sat back. “That sounds more like the sort of guy Mikhail would be friends with. I can’t pretend that I know Mikhail well. He’s quiet, but he seems like a Knight of the Round Table. Can’t imagine him hanging out with a douchecanoe.”

Doris sensed that they were testing their memory of whatever they’d seen on Bird’s terrace. Time to shift the subject. “Look, I’ve got a new crisis. I just got about a hundred messages about my much-married niece, who apparently has just found Number Four. I could forget that during the wedding, but after, well, there it all was.”

Which was true—if she didn’t mention the order things happened in.

She couldn’t express why she was so reluctant to admit to what had really happened. These women were true friends. They wouldn’t pry until she felt like every aspect of her lay under a microscope for the entire family to discuss endlessly, and then escalate into drama.

And yet . . . and yet . . .

She could not bring herself to admit that she alone of the four of them had no experience whatsoever with romance. Even Bird’s first, horrible marriage had at least given her a couple of kids. Whenever the other three talked about their experiences with love, bad or good, Doris had always let them assume that she had a past. To admit that she didn’t have one was humiliating. She knew they would accept it, and her, but she was certain the knowledge would always divide her from them.

“Family!” Godiva gave a snort. “In other words, business as usual. Though I don’t envy you having to wrangle with your ongoing family telenovela, I’m glad it was only that. I really liked the looks of that Joey Hu.”

“So did I,” Jen said quietly.

Godiva went on enthusiastically, “He’s not as . . . imposing as Bird’s Mikhail. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bird tried to tell us he was King Arthur in a past life, or something.”

Jen turned her thumb up, so much like the old Jen Doris had been afraid was gone forever. She hoped this was a sign that Jen was maybe coming out from under the fog of grief.

“ . . .but Joey is easy on the eyes in a different way.” Aaaaand they were right back to Joey as Godiva added, “After hearing about him so long, it was nice to finally to get an eyeful. And a mighty fine specimen of eye-candy, I hafta say!”