If The Shoe Fits Page 13

  As was the fact that Staci didn’t storm out.

  Instead, she brushed off the spot where Bella had poked her, then looked at Bella.

  A dropped pin would make more noise than there was in the restaurant at that moment and Bella cringed inwardly. She should probably start packing Sophia’s bags—to be followed by her own.

  “I guess that’s been building up a while.” Staci said into the silence with a tentative… smile?

  Okay, who’d taken Anastasia Fontaine and replaced her with this new model?

  Half afraid the attitude was a trick, Bella nodded slowly.

  Staci flipped her hair back, straightened her blouse, smiled a weak little smile, raised her chin, and walked toward the door. No eye contact with anyone, no running, no slinking, no storming. She just walked out the door with her back straight, her shoulders squared, and zero ounce of her normal wiggle.

  And Bella had no idea what she was planning to do.

  Everyone erupted once the door closed, congratulations and “atta-girl”s abounding, but Bella couldn’t celebrate with them. She shouldn’t have lost her temper and now that the adrenaline rush of telling Staci off was subsiding, all she could think about was, God, what had she done?

  ***

  Jonathan scurried out through the cat door Giac had created in one of the windows and followed Staci. This was unprecedented. None of the charts he’d studied had showed this possibility. He had no idea what to do now. All he knew was that he had to follow Staci and if she tried to cause trouble he had to stop her somehow.

  He looked down at his little gray paws. He wasn’t quite sure how he would do that in his present form, but it was safer to tail her in this form than in the human one.

  His mind raced as he dodged the foot traffic. Boy, stilettos took on a whole new meaning when one was ankle high to them.

  He couldn’t believe Bella had finally stood up for herself. He really couldn’t believe it and not because he didn’t believe she had it in her—The Boss knew she did, but He also knew that she tempered it with common sense, something Staci had none of.

  Yet the girl hadn’t gone off on Bella. And that worried Jonathan. When mortals didn’t follow prescribed patterns, they became loose cannons.

  The light changed and Jonathan had to stop. Dodging stilettos was a whole lot less riskier than dodging automobiles.

  Up ahead, Staci turned a corner.

  He was going to lose her.

  Looking around, he didn’t see the proverbial phone booth to make his transformation in. He couldn’t just materialize out of thin air with all these people around.

  Which meant he’d just have to materialize into thin air.

  Scooting beneath a mail box on the off chance that someone would notice a cat poofing out of existence, Jonathan took a calming breath—a necessity to get this transformation to work properly—and willed himself to become a wisp of his former self.

  He had to do something to save his Charge from herself.

  ***

  Staci tried to muster her dignity as she turned onto Pine Street. She couldn’t believe Bella had said those things to her like that. In public.

  Staci cringed. All those people looking at her as if she were…

  Mother.

  Her foot slipped out from under her and she landed hard. In a gob of something. Great. All over her new skirt. Mother would kill her.

  Staci tried to get up, but one of her new Manolos slipped off and went sliding away on something black and slimy. Ugh. Oil. That would never come out. Mother was really going to be pissed.

  Staci couldn’t prevent a shiver. Mother had a very determined nasty streak. The woman could flay the skin off your back with her tongue from across the room, and do it so damn quietly that no one would ever know.

  But Staci… she’d know.

  She stopped trying to get up. Was this what Bella felt all the time around Mother? Like walking on coals, never sure which one would burn her?

  And all those people, staring at her as if she were just like her mother…

  She dropped her hands into her lap. She’d never really thought about what life was like for Bella. Especially since Sal had gone into the hospital.

  Those few months after Mother had married him had been good ones. For the first time, Staci had hoped that they’d found a true home. Sal had treated both her and Drew as if they were his own. But then he’d gone into the hospital and life had gone back to the way it’d been before with Mother, though this time there’d been more money so it’d made Mother’s demands less annoying. Plus, Bella had been there to take the brunt of it all.

  Something slithered beneath Staci’s calf and she scrambled to her feet. The skirt was a goner. Hopefully, Mother wouldn’t notice.

  Fat chance. Mother noticed everything. She’d blame Bella; she always did.

  And she and Drew had always gone along with it.

  Guilt slithered up Staci’s spine like the oil along her leg. Maybe they hadn’t treated Bella all that nicely. After all, Bella’s life had completely changed and not for the better in the space of a year. And as for Sophia… Bella was right. The little girl didn’t have a clue what a normal life was like and it wasn’t fair of them to threaten the life she did have just to keep Bella as their servant. The poor kid had lost enough. Both of them had.

  “Hey, Stace!”

  Drew. Staci tried not to groan. Her sister was cut from such different cloth. Polyester to Staci’s silk. Staci fingered her skirt and for the first time felt pity for her sister instead of derision. “What’s up, Drew?”

  “What happened to you?”

  Staci grimaced. “I slipped on some oil.” She schlepped over to the missing Manolo.

  “You did a lot more than that. Are you sure you didn’t smoke something funny?”

  Staci stopped mid-schlep. “What are you talking about?”

  Drew’s head twitched as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket, waving her hands all over the place. “This. You. Those clothes. The hair. What’d you do?”

  “Oh. You like?” Staci did a little twirl. Even with the oil, she was looking fine—though she did wish Mother hadn’t forbidden the ruby red lipstick. She’d made her buy coral, a “more subtle color.” Staci smacked her lips. Subtle? Try colorless. But Mother said it’d get Reese in her clutches, so it was worth it, right?

  “Like it? I guess. But why?” Drew cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. Unlike the brown eyes Staci and Mother had, Drew’s were green, a recessive gene that explained so much.

  “Mother thought I needed a new look.”

  “And you listened?” Drew snorted. “Since when did you turn into Bella and start jumping through Mother’s hoops?”

  Staci slammed her hands to her hips. Damn, she missed how her old long nails pinched into her skin when she was mad. These functional, so-called “classy” ones were so bland. “Of course not, Drew. But if I’m going to interest Reese, this is what he likes, apparently.”

  Drew snorted again. “Yeah, the old you didn’t have much of an impact on him. But that Luke guy… I thought you were interested in him?”

  “I am. Was. But Mother says that Reese could cause trouble for her, so I have to get him interested in me. She thinks dressing like this will do it. And since I’m going to be helping Bella with the party business any way, I ought to look the part.”

  Drew’s mouth dropped open.

  “It’s not all that bad, is it? I can get oil out, can’t I?”

  Drew shook her head, her ginger ponytail bouncing over her shoulder. “Whoa. You’re getting a job? A real job? With Bella? Are you kidding me?”

  Oh, God. She was doing exactly what Mother wanted. Drew actually had a point.

  Staci bit one of the acrylic nails—and ruined the French manicure. She exhaled and tapped her teeth instead. “It made sense at the time.”

  “To who?”

  Staci winced. “Mother.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, me, too.�
�� She guessed. “I mean, you have to admit I look different.” She didn’t really want to think she looked better because that would mean she’d been exactly what her mother had called her.

  “Yeah, it’s definitely different, but you’re giving up the guy you want for Mother’s plans. Just like Bella.”

  Staci gripped her hips harder. Hmm, the acrylic did have some pinch to it after all. “Hey, I’m my own person. Perfectly capable of deciding what I want to do with my life and how I want to live it. And if I want to follow Mother’s suggestion to restyle my hair and choose more sedate, classy clothing, then I will, and it’s none of your damn business.” Staci spun around to leave, then turned back. “And if you thought about it, Drew, you’d realize that Bella doesn’t really have a choice about listening to Mother. I do. See the difference?”

  The words sounded good, but Staci couldn’t squelch the niggling little pointy finger hitting her in the middle of her brain just as sharply as the one Bella had jabbed into her shirt. Did she have that choice or was she as tied to Mother’s apron strings as Bella was?

  Staci swiped her hand over the skirt one more time. She did have control of her own life. And she was going to prove it. She’d start by keeping Friday night a secret. She did, after all, want to go with Luke. What Mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Or, at the very least, it wouldn’t hurt Staci.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. Something big. And that maybe, just maybe, Drew was right.

  ***

  Jonathan leaned back on the window ledge and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Saints alive, (and many of them were, walking the earth among mortals who had no clue), but that had been close.

  And not just for Bella. The Archangel had told him to use whatever means possible, but manipulating another Guardian’s charge without permission was always a little tricky. Far more advanced than Jonathan’s meager skill set, but he’d been desperate to stop Staci from doing something rash like telling Madeleine, so he’d had to improvise.

  The oil had been a last second stroke of brilliance. Not that Jonathan was laying claim to brilliance, but he was encouraged that he’d come up with it so quickly and had put it into play without a snippet of suspicion on anyone’s part.

  But, still, his job was far from over.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bella rolled another gold coin through her fingers and stared at the fountain in the park, feeling more than a little foolish that she was even thinking about making a wish. But given the disaster that was sure to be facing her at home, she was willing to try anything to mitigate it.

  She should have kept her mouth shut. But once the dam had burst, she’d been as powerless to stop it as stopping the water from rushing out of the statue’s jug in the center of the fountain.

  She’d be just as powerless facing Madeleine.

  Bella looked at the coin. This was ridiculous. She didn’t believe in fairy tales or magic amulets or whatever mumbo-jumbo people used to get themselves through the tough spots in life. She’d been in those tough spots before and all her prayers and wishes hadn’t made any difference. They wouldn’t now either, but she was here and had nothing to lose except a gold dollar.

  Well, that and hope.

  No. She wouldn’t lose hope. Hope was what kept her going. As long as she had the ability to stash cash away for the custody battle, she had a chance of winning.

  Bella closed her fist and her eyes. There were so many things to wish for: for her parents to be alive, for Madeleine to never have come into their lives, for Sophia to grow up well-adjusted, for the strength and money necessary to fight for her...

  She couldn’t decide, so, in the end, she left it up to the universe, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

  “Whatever will make it all work out right,” she whispered as she threw the coin into the water.

  She opened her eyes.

  Nothing. Just as she’d expected. No Prince Charming, no glass coach, and definitely no fairy godmother waving a magic wand.

  So much for her nickname.

  Bella made it to the front stoop of her home just as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed the hour. Fifteen minutes left before Sophia’s bus arrived.

  Fifteen minutes left to undo whatever Madeleine was planning to do. Or, at least come up with countermeasures.

  Except there were no countermeasures to be made. Madeleine would make whatever decision she wanted about Sophia’s education and there was nothing Bella could do about it.

  Fourteen minutes.

  Bella straightened her shoulders. She was wasting precious time. Best get this over with before Sophia arrived home to witness it. Bella would keep her little sister in the dark about their living arrangements for as long as she could.

  She opened the door. “Hello? Anyone here?” She looked in the living room, but the only thing that moved was the clock’s pendulum, softly marking time in its etched glass-fronted case.

  The Jaws theme would be more appropriate.

  No one was in the dining room. Nor the family room. A glance into the kitchen showed someone had poured a drink and left the empty glass on the island. Typical.

  Where were they? She knew they were here; the Fontaine vibe was insidious, crawling through the house like the ribbon of dread that wound around her heart at the thought of what was going to happen with the confrontation. She should never have let her temper get the best of her.

  She opened the French doors and Staci looked up from a magazine. “Hello, Bella.”

  What? No screaming? No sarcasm? No fingernails clawing at her eyeballs?

  Bella stepped purposefully onto the faded uneven bricks. “About earlier...”

  Staci stood and—

  Smiled? Again? What in heaven’s name was going on?

  “Before you say anything,” Staci said calmly, “I’d like to say that I’m sorry for the way I’ve threatened you with Sophia over the years. You’re right. I did forget that your sister was the one really affected by all of this.” Surprisingly, she held out her hand. “Can we go forward from here?”

  Bella felt as if someone had knocked her into the Twilight Zone. First Staci had wanted a job, then she’d gone for an extreme makeover, and now… this? “What’s going on, Staci?”

  Staci bristled for a moment.

  Aha! A normal reaction. To be followed, Bella was sure, by a tirade.

  But Staci surprised her yet again.

  Releasing a taught breath, Staci’s eyes actually filled with tears.

  Bella didn’t think her stepsister was that good an actress. “What’s happened? Is it Sophia? Is she okay?”

  Staci shook her head. “Sophia’s fine.” She pulled a chair out from the table and motioned for Bella to sit.

  Bella slid into it, never once taking her eyes from her stepsister.

  Staci looked up, nibbled on her upper lip, and grimaced. “It finally hit home with me today, all you’ve gone through, and all we’ve put you through. I mean, I’ve always known my mother was manipulative, but I never considered the effects of what she did.” She clasped her hands together on the tabletop and Bella saw the knuckles go white.

  Another deep breath. “Now, my mother is trying to manipulate me, and, well, I’ve found out it stinks. She’s making me go after Reese and I don’t want to. I like Luke.” She unclasped her hands and smiled a genuine smile this time. Small, but genuine. “Your little tantrum thingy actually opened my eyes to what she’s doing and I just want to tell you that I won’t use Sophia as a threat anymore. And I’ve talked to Drew. I don’t think she will either. I’m not going to mention this conversation to Mother, so you don’t have to worry about that either.” And now she actually reached out and grasped Bella’s hand—and not to dig her nails into her flesh. “I’ll stay away from Reese, too, Bella. Mother never has to know. But I would like to continue working with you. I know I have a lot to learn, but I will. I promise.”

  Bella felt as if t
he wind had been knocked out of her. All the anxiety, all the sick feelings, the wish-making, and now this? She glanced skyward and sent a silent “thank you” to whoever was looking out for her Up There.

  Jonathan Griff, stacking shoe boxes in the back of his store, did a little jig.

  ***

  Forty-five minutes later, Bella’s good mood disappeared.

  Madeleine had arrived home.

  “I want an invitation to the auction.” The witch swept into the kitchen as if she were a debutante at her first ball. Madeleine always made an entrance. Bella could only imagine the kind she’d make at the auction.

  Actually, she didn’t want to imagine it. She didn’t want the woman to even be there.

  Bella looked up from the dinner preparations and glanced at Sophia who was sitting at the table absorbed in her homework. She considered her next words carefully. Telling Madeleine no was always risky, but after Staci’s capitulation, Bella was starting to feel empowered.

  “Tickets to the event aren’t part of the contract, Madeleine.”

  The woman patted her never-out-of-place ebony hair, brushing some imaginary strands to the back. “Did I mention that I’m meeting with a gentleman next week who has offered to buy the restaurant? It might be in your best interests to ensure accepting his offer would be less favorable than what being the owner of Casteleoni’s can do for me.”

  Bella dropped the asparagus into the steamer, clipping off more than a few tips. So much for being empowered.

  Buy the restaurant? Sure, Madeleine had threatened it before, but this was the first time she’d mentioned an actual buyer. Bella was not going to lose Sophia and her family’s legacy.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I thought you’d see things my way.” Madeleine slid her bony talons to Sophia’s shoulders. “Hello, Sophia. Did you have a nice day at school?”