His Clockwork Canary

“The money is acceptable,” the woman fairly whispered, “but she is not. Please don’t make a fuss. This is my first week on the job and I am desperate for the wages.”

Because she had always hidden her race from the public, Willie had never withstood a direct and personal attack of prejudice. It set her blood and temper afire like nothing else, and the fact that Simon looked ready to challenge the manager to a duel only intensified her emotions. As much as she wanted to take a stand, that damnable headline prompted her to proceed with caution. Drawing on her acting skills, she mustered extreme restraint and calmly stood. “We were just leaving.”

“The hell we were,” Simon said.

Willie squeezed his hand. “Please.”

Stone-faced, Phin stood and reached into his wallet.

“Coffee’s on the house,” the waitress said as if desperate for them to leave.

“The hell it is.” Phin paid, then looked to Simon. “I’ll gather your possessions from upstairs and settle the room accounts. Meet you outside,” he added as Simon slipped him their room key. “Your wife looks as if she could use some fresh air.”

The use of the term wife instigated several gasps and murmurs and outright gawking.

In a show of defiance, Simon gently grasped her waist. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“You’re not going to shift me into a toad or conjure a perpetual rain cloud over my head, are you?” the waitress asked in their wake.

“If only she could,” Simon said as he guided Willie outside.

Willie welcomed the bracing air as well as her husband’s avid support. Her heart pounded and fluttered with mixed emotions as she fought for a calm and clear thought. “I appreciate your outrage on my behalf,” she said honestly. Indeed, she was most certain she loved him for it. “But now wasn’t the time to take a stand.”

“You can’t change the world if you ignore the problems.”

“I’m not ignoring, just choosing my battles, as it were. We would not have initiated positive change on the behalf of Freaks,” she said, hugging herself against a chill. “Not today. There was an attack last night. An attempted kidnapping over the Atlantic Ocean. A rogue faction of Freak Fighters attacked Avery Madstone’s air transport.”

Simon gawked. “The prime minister?”

“It would seem he escaped but that others were harmed and killed in the attack. At least as reported by the Times. It’s possible facts have been twisted. God, I hope they’re twisted.”

Phin joined them, their bags and coats in tow. “That was fun.”

Though his mind was obviously racing, Simon said nothing as he helped Willie into her duster and then donned his own outerwear.

Phin passed a valise to Simon, saying, “One moment,” then ripped the NO FREAKS ALLOWED sign from the storefront and winged it into the alley. “Right, then,” he said as he and Simon flanked Willie. “Did I mention I’m a bloody good cook? How does your father feel about eggs, beans, and bangers?”

As someone who’d navigated life on her own these last several years, as someone who had no friends, the allegiance of these two men filled a void in Willie’s soul that she hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. “As long as you allow Daddy to make the toast,” she said with an affectionate glance at Simon, “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

CHAPTER 23

Willie would not have believed herself capable of a single bite. Between the troubling article in the Times, her ugly bout with prejudice, and her anxiety regarding her father’s “interview,” her appetite had taken a severe thrashing. Yet there had been something soothing about Simon and Phin’s purchasing food and making themselves at home in her father’s cluttered kitchen. They’d even charmed Michael Goodenough by inquiring about his collection of modern cookware, allowing him to demonstrate his pop-up toaster, and indulging him by drinking the fruits and vegetables he’d whipped into a disgusting liquid via his electrified blenderizer.

Their natural curiosity regarding his futuristic collection had fed into her father’s obsession with his wife’s birth century and therefore had naturally led to talk about Michelle Goodenough herself. Soon Willie realized that there was no need to fret over posing formal questions. If she simply went with the flow, she could no doubt learn much about her mother in casual conversation. It had been years since she’d seen her father so at ease and engaged. And she had Simon and Phin to thank for it.

“I find it utterly fascinating that your wife worked for NASA,” Simon said as he bit off a corner of burned toast. “My family has a long history of tinkering with fantastical flight. In fact my father started building a moonship several months ago. Named it Apollo in honor of the Mod rockets. To think Mrs. Goodenough worked for the team that put a man on the moon.”

“Ah, yes,” Michael said. “An amazing feat and one that Michelle was ultimately proud of. That was in 1969 just before the Peace Rebels came back in time. Michelle left NASA in 1967 after a beastly accident that took the lives of three spacemen. She never got over that horrifying fire. If only they had been Houdini, she once said. Then they would have escaped in time.”

“Houdini?” Willie’s fork paused midair. She remembered her mother saying an accident had caused her to leave NASA, but there had been no mention of Houdini.

“Harry Houdini,” he expanded whilst scooping up the last of his scrambled eggs. “You know. The famous escape artist. Although, wait. I don’t believe he’s famous yet.” He chewed his eggs, brow scrunched in thought. “No. That’s right. He was born of our century, but gained global fame after the turn of the century, so of course you don’t know of him yet. Not to mention Houdini was his stage name. He goes by another name now. I think. What year is this?”

“It’s 1887, sir,” Simon said.

“More eggs?” Phin asked, trying to keep the conversation light and rolling.

“No, thank you . . . What was your name?”

“Phin, sir. Phineas Bourdain.”

“That’s right.” He pointed his fork at Simon. “And you?”

Willie cringed. It was happening. Confusing days and years. Forgetting names and places.

However, Simon stayed calm, sipped his god-awful drip-o-matic coffee, and reminded her father of his name.

“Ah, yes. The chap who married my daughter. Could I have some more eggs?” he asked Phin, then turned back to Simon. “It’s not legal, you know.”

“It’s binding to us,” Simon said, and Willie felt her heart glow.

“Bully for you!” Michael banged a fist to the table. “Bully, I say. You know, in Michelle’s time a lot of couples lived in sin. Make love, not war. You’ll be happier for it.”

Phin coughed into his hand.

Willie’s cheeks burned.

“Your eggs, sir,” Phin said, frying pan at the ready.

Michael waved him off. “I’m full, thank you. Darcy, eh?” He narrowed his eyes on Simon. “I say, you aren’t related to Briscoe Darcy, are you?”

“Distant cousin.”

“Michelle met him, you know. She was in charge of security.”

“Of the time machine?” Simon asked.

“No,” Willie said. “Of the Time Voyager himself. Right, Daddy?” She caught Simon’s gaze and noted his surprise. She realized suddenly that they’d never discussed any ties between her mother and his cousin. Their focus had been on the Briscoe Bus clockwork propulsion engine.

“You mustn’t hold that against your mother-in-law,” Michael said to Simon. “She was only doing her job. She was in charge of security and Briscoe was a national treasure, of sorts. He traveled through time, jumped dimensions. Gadzooks! No wonder they wanted to pick the man’s brain.”