Charmed Vengeance

Noli sniffed, taking a handkerchief out of her decolletage and using it to blow her nose, grateful for her mother’s uncharacteristic understanding.

“You have a handkerchief, I’m so proud of you.” Her mother patted her on the shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside? This place is …small. Whatever you were cooking burned, but we’ll find something else to eat.”

Supper. Her hand went to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Mama. I … I forgot.”

“It’s fine.” The smile reached all the way to her blue eyes.

They climbed down the oak’s “J”-shaped trunk. Her mother’s arm snaked around Noli’s waist as they made their way in the near-darkness to the house. Noli glanced over at V’s, lights shining in both V and James’ bedrooms. They were probably packing. She’d miss them both.

A quest! It sounded like something from an Arthurian novel, but odds were, if the queen was behind it, it would be as gruesome as a story by the Brothers Grimm.

The pain she’d felt from the stone shattering subsided, but the mental anguish remained. V meant so much, was so many things to her.

“Noli, dearest—we are Montgomerys, and Montgomery women are survivors. We don’t wither, we thrive.” Her mother stroked Noli’s face with her pale, ladylike hand, then opened the back door.

She had a point. Noli wasn’t some vapid doll dependant on the males in her life to support her and direct her future. Eventually she and V would find a way to be together, just like they’d make her mortal again. Until then, she’d thrive—and avoid getting married off.

As Mama opened the kitchen door, she frowned at Noli. “I don’t think that belt matches well with that particular dress.”

Noli’s hands went to her tool-belt. Whoops. Usually she took it off before her mother came home. “I was working on your sewing machine when … ”

She laid a hand on Noli’s arm. “Why don’t you take it off and clean up while I make tea.”

Noli put her tool-belt in her room, washed her face, then returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess. There wasn’t much for supper unless she made soup—which would take too long. She could make griddle cakes, but there wasn’t butter or syrup, only a little brown sugar.

Someone knocked on the front door. Her mother frowned. “Whoever could that be?”

She bustled off to answer it. Noli followed behind, peeking into the entryway, curious as to who’d come a- calling after dark. Not that anyone ever came a-calling.

“Papa, what are you doing here?” Unhappiness colored Mama’s voice.

Noli poked her head out so she could see. Grandfather Montgomery stood at the door, a shadowy figure in the low light, but still him, nevertheless. Panic whirled inside Noli like a dervish. If Jeff noticed the state of the house, Grandfather certainly would. They’d worked so hard to hide everything from him so he wouldn’t make them return to Boston forever.

“Why are you answering the door, Edwina? Are you expecting someone?” Disapproval at the impropriety of answering one’s own door dripped from Grandfather’s cultured voice.

“No, Papa. It’s … it’s only Noli and I. Please, come in. I’ve just made tea.” Mama cowered in front of him like a naughty little girl.

Theodore Montgomery, Noli’s grandfather, strode through the door, looking ever the gentleman in an evening coat and top hat. He surveyed the dark entryway with critical eyes and frowned. “You’re making your own tea and answering you own door? Why are there no lamps lit?” His nose wrinkled. “What is that smell—is something burning? Whatever are you wearing? For heaven’s sake, what is going on?”

Her mother stood there, face frozen in a look of total and utter terror.

“Good evening, Grandfather.” Noli forced herself into the room in an attempt to deflect the attention from her mother. “What brings you to Los Angeles?”

“Magnolia? My have you grown.” He gave her a hug. “Well, I think you’ve grown, I can’t see you in the dark. The new museum opened last night. Some of my friends are behind it and they invited me to their opening parties. Since my favorite girls live here, I thought I’d see the new art and you. It’s been ages since I’ve visited.”

“Oh, V was talking about the museum. Something about a collection of Dutch Golden Age paintings he’d like to see.” She grinned. V had a mild obsession with Dutch painters.

Grandfather nodded. “There are some very nice paintings there, as well as some lovely antiquities. I could do without the exhibit on faeries.” He made a face as if he’d eaten something bad. “Bah, why must grown men believe in such things? There is a rather beautiful gem, such an extraordinary color, even if it having once belonged to a faery queen is complete fable.”

“It’s probably a tale told to give a bit of pretty glass value,” Noli replied. Odds were that’s exactly what happened. Most of the artists and writers got the details about the Fae folk wrong, just like many of the artifacts “proving” their existence were fabrications.

“Here, let me take your hat and coat and I’ll light a lamp in the parlor.” Noli hung his hat and coat on the seldom used rack by the door. She walked into the parlor, which she always kept neat and mostly dust-free, just in case. Like everything else in the house it had seen better days. Noli lit a single gas lamp on the wall. Because, of the cost they mostly used candle lamps. Perhaps she’d start a fire in the seldom-used fire place. Wait, they had no wood.

Grandfather Montgomery looked around the dimly lit parlor and frowned.

“Have a seat, Grandfather. I’ll bring tea.” Noli put a hand on her mother’s arm in reassurance. Him arriving spontaneously and discovering the situation they’d so carefully hidden from him must devastate her.

Noli got the silver tea service out, hoping it wasn’t too tarnished and the good china. They had no cookies to put with the tea. She poured the last of the milk and the brown sugar into the proper containers and arraigned everything on the silver tray. Taking a deep breath, she carried the tray out to the sitting room, trying to smile like she was glad he’d come.

“Eady, please tell me your servants have the day off and my eyes are getting old.” Her grandfather’s voice was kind, concerned. “I’ve heard the most dreadful tales, that you and Noli are living alone and in poverty, and that you’ve actually taken up a trade. But I hadn’t believed it or I would’ve come sooner.”

Where would he hear such things? Then again, not everyone had the aversion to airships her mother did. Someone could have run into him at a party in Boston— or even while he was traveling on business. It wasn’t as if all of Los Angeles society didn’t know of their situation.

Noli set the tray on the low table. “I … I’ll leave so you may talk.”

Her mother’s hand caught her. She looked into Noli’s eyes. They said stay. Noli nodded and took a seat on the uncomfortable rose-covered settee, since her grandfather and mother occupied the two matching chairs. Everything in the room smelled faintly of disuse.

Mama, ever the lady, poured the tea. In the lamplight she looked older, rings around her usually jolly eyes, the faint wrinkles on her pale skin more pronounced, though she still looked beautiful. Like a fine lady. Yet tonight, even her chestnut waves looked duller in its simple coif.

“Is it that dreadful for a woman to have her own business?” Her mother handed grandfather a cup of tea.

“You’re a lady, not a woman. Also, owning it is one thing, actually engaging in the trade is something else.” He went to add sugar to his tea and frowned.

“I’m sorry, we’re out of white sugar,” Noli muttered. “Yes, I opened a shop. But it’s doing well.” Her mother added milk and sugar to her own tea. Noli gripped her dainty cup, not adding either.

Grandfather’s dark eyebrows rose, his hair the same color as her mother’s, with only a touch of gray, which added elegance. “Well? Eady, if your shop was doing well you wouldn’t be answering your own door in the dark and have no white sugar. How are you handling callers? Isn’t Noli of that age?”

Her mother’s cheeks pinked in two near-perfect circles, like on the doll Jeff had won her.

“We’re doing the best we can, and Noli’s going out into society and such. Yesterday she attended a tea.” She looked to Noli. “Was Missy Sassafras there? You really do need to get her recipe for scones. Food is the way to a man’s heart, you know.”

What was it with Missy Sassafras and her ridiculously superior scones? Noli would rather dine with the high queen of the Otherworld than engage in willing conversation with that social-climbing dollymop.

“I thought Jeff was supporting you?” Grandfather prodded. “That’s what you tell me every time I offer