Damsel Under Stress

Page 27

“Are you exfoliating?” I asked without thinking about what I was saying.
Before I could apologize, he grinned and said, “Yeah. You can tell the difference?”
“You look fresh and well rested.” I thought that was a diplomatic way to avoid saying his skin usually had pores you could drive a truck through.
“Then I guess getting sucked in by that saleswoman at Bloomingdale’s was worth it. I thought maybe she’d give me her phone number if I bought enough stuff. Is Owen around?”
“Departmental meeting,” I replied. “It could be an hour or more. Did you need something?”
He patted the fat envelope he carried. “I’ve got those results on employee magic use for his comparison project.”
“Oh yeah, that. I can take them and give them to him when he gets back, unless there’s something else you needed to talk to him about.”
“No, that’s fine. I can leave them with you.”
He turned to go, but I said, “Can I talk to you a second?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“I don’t know if you know this already, but I’m going home with Owen for Christmas. I was hoping you could give me the scoop on his foster family.”
He gave a low, long whistle. “Oh boy. That’s a topic for a dissertation.”
“That bad?”
“I wouldn’t say bad, but yeah, there are some things I should warn you about.”
That sounded even more ominous than Ethelinda’s blank pages. “Pull up a chair,” I told him.
He grabbed a chair from the lab outside, then turned around and waved his hand at the lab doorway while muttering some words under his breath. “An alarm, so he can’t sneak up on us,” he explained before sitting down. “I don’t know the whole story because I was a kid when James and Gloria took Owen in. They were good to him. There was never any sign of physical or emotional abuse. But they never really warmed to him. I’m not sure why they agreed to bring up a child when they seemed to have no interest in children whatsoever. I don’t even think he was related to them in any way.”
“He sounds like he’s a bit in awe of them.”
“They’re the kind of people you tend to be in awe of. They wouldn’t look out of place wearing crowns. They’re not really all that warm to anyone, to be honest, so I don’t think it’s all directed at Owen.”
“He also makes it sound like they’re very clear on the fact that they’re his foster parents, not real parents.”
“They never adopted him, I know that much, but I don’t know why, and they always had him call them by their names, never anything like ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad.’ But as foster parents they should have been free of their obligations to him when he turned eighteen. He was even prepared for them to cut him loose then. That’s when he went into the custom-spell business at school, so he could stay at Yale even if they quit paying the bills. But nothing at all changed when he turned eighteen. They kept paying his school bills and sending him an allowance even on into graduate school, and they kept expecting him home for holidays until he finished his studies and moved to New York.”
“What are they like, other than being very regal?”
“They’re proper. They’re demanding. They don’t use magic at home—they don’t believe in shortcuts.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to say. If they suggested that Owen invite you—and he wouldn’t have dared unless they suggested it—I think it’s a good sign. They probably think you’re good for Owen, and I’d have to agree with them. They might not act like normal parents toward him, but he’s been the center of their lives since they took him in.”
“So, bottom line, what should I do?”
He shrugged. “Be yourself. Follow their lead. And dress before you go to breakfast.”
“What?”
“Seriously. Owen says he’s never seen them in their pajamas. They get fully dressed before they leave their bedroom, every single day.”
“Wow. Now, that’s formal. Hey, do you think they’re really something nonhuman, only it’s hidden by illusion, and the clothes are somehow part of covering it all up?”
“I have no idea. But if you notice anything unusual, you’ll have to let me know.”
As he left my office, I realized that I might be in for a very interesting Christmas. I faced either magical royalty or some other kind of mysterious being that had fostered my boyfriend.