“Anything, sir. Anything.” She beamed.
“My friend, Roland, when I asked him, he told me about a group of women who met in town. Older ladies, mostly, who always seemed to know what was going on, and who was stepping out with who, and which ladies were looking for gentlemen, that sort of thing.”
“Ooh, ye mean matchmakers?”
Max cocked his head to one side. “Well, more like…professional meddlers.”
Grisel burst into laughter. “I’ve never heard that one before. But aye, I ken who ye mean. We’re the local chapter of the Guild of Godmothers, and I’m under strict orders no’ to tell ye about us, which of course I’m ignoring,” she said, as she pulled her apron over her head and reached for her bonnet, still hanging beside the front door. “Come along, dearie. I’ll introduce ye to the rest of the Godmothers.”
* * *
Max wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Grisel—he was still a little bemused she’d become his housekeeper so easily—knocked on the door of the cozy little cottage, then pushed her way inside without waiting for an invite. Would there be cobwebs and bats and cauldrons, or fairy wings and sparkles and butterflies?
Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t a parlor which looked as if it had been decorated by someone’s elderly aunt, although maybe it should’ve been. The chairs were overstuffed and covered in plump pillows and doilies, and the wallpaper was a riot of colors.
“Cheerio, ladies! Just me!” Grisel called out. “Brought a visitor! Is the tea on?”
A tall, elegant woman stepped into the room; her lips thinned in disapproval. “What did you think I meant, Grisel Oliphant, when I said, ‘Under no circumstances should you allow him to know about the Guild?’ ”
Grisel waved dismissively. “I cannae be faulted for failing to understand ye, Evangeline, what with that ridiculous English accent.” She leaned closer to Max and mock-whispered, “I swear, it sounds like she’s gargling rocks sometimes.”
As Evangeline’s scowl deepened, three other women squeezed into the room. One was young, one was old, and one had permanent frown-lines etched around her mouth.
“Oh good, ye’re here,” the latter one snapped as she stomped over to the small table. “Willa, fetch the tea before Grisel has a chance to make more.” She tapped a strange ball which sat on the table and looked a bit like an old fishing buoy. “We’ve been expecting ye.”
The one Grisel had called Evangeline threw up her hands. “Are you just going to give away all our secrets? The Book is very clear on this fact: Our clients should not know of our—our—”
“Meddling?” Max suggested helpfully.
She nodded. “Our meddling— What? No!” Her glare rounded on him. “Young man—”
He figured he’d better take hold of the conversation before it ran too far in the wrong direction. “Look, ma’am—Mrs. Oliphant, I’m sorry—”
“I’m Miss Wellingham.”
His brows shot up. “You’re…you’re not a Mrs. Oliphant? I just assumed you were.”
Before Evangeline could answer, the oldest woman opened her mouth and a sound like chewing on gravel emerged. Max blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“She said she’s Mrs. Oliphant, Mr. DeVille,” the young one whispered shyly, standing by with a tray of tea. “And I’m Miss Willa Oliphant.”
He inclined his head. “It’s—it’s nice to meet you both. And you, ma’am,” he said politely to Miss Wellingham, then turned to the scowling lady with a raised brow.
“I’m Broca,” she said shortly, folding her arms and sitting back in the chair.
Grisel bustled forward, pulling Max toward the table. “Good, good, we’re all introduced properly! Evangeline, stop being such a stick in the mud and come sit down. I didnae tell him about the Guild; no’ outright, at least.”
Max pulled out of her hold and turned back to the stately woman who was obviously the leader of this chapter. With his hat held protectively in front of him, he took a deep breath and tried to find a way to explain.
“She’s right, ma’am. I asked her about you.”
“You did, did you?” Miss Wellingham took her time crossing her own arms and raising a brow in challenge. “And how in the world did you know how to do that, hmm?”
Here goes. “I’m from Everland, Wyoming, Miss Wellingham. I don’t know if you know where that is—”
“Oh, I do, Mr. DeVille.” The woman sighed and dropped her arms. “Please do call me Evangeline, and I’ll call you Maxwell, and we can both have some tea. Grisel didn’t make it, so there’s no eyes or tails.”
Before Max could ask what that meant, his new housekeeper snatched his hat from his hands and thrust a cup and saucer at him. “No newts or frogs,” she explained with a wink.
“Th-thank you?”
Evangeline settled herself at the table and nodded for him to sit down as well. “We are familiar with Everland, Maxwell—”
“Max, please.”
“Max.” She inclined her head again. “We are professional godmothers, and the head chapter of our guild is based in Everland. There’s something about the water there. Very magical.”
Lake Enchantment was magical? Well, he could believe it. Lord knows the rest of that corner of Wyoming looked almost like a desert, but Everland was a beautiful little oasis. And he couldn’t deny funny stuff always seemed to be happening.
“See, I’ve lived there for years, and in that time, I’ve watched my friends find love and get married and start their lives. Some of them even have little ones! I kept waiting for it to happen to me, but my friend—my employer—Andrew Prince, and his wife, suggested I come here to the Highlands. They figured I’d not only find happiness standing on my own feet, but I might meet a young lady I could love.”
“This wife of his, that wouldn’t be Christmas Harrington Prince, would it?” Grisel asked with a significant look at the other ladies.
“Um…yes? Do you know her?”
Broca reached for her tea. “She’s a godmother,” she said bluntly.
While Max was reeling from that casual comment, Evangeline peered at him over
