Diamonds and Toads: A Modern Fairy Tale (19 page)

She turned and looked at him then. The pain
she saw reflected in his eyes mirrored the pain in her heart. “I
was cursed by a fairy, Sam.”

His jaw visibly tightened. “Stop bullshitting
me and tell me the fucking truth for once.”

“My family has a long history with the fey
folk.”

“Bullsh—”

“This is
not
bullshit, I swear. They
followed us here from the old country. My family is forever
entwined with them. An ancient oath or something. Ask Delilah.
You’d believe her, wouldn’t you? She’s a saint.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her for a
minute. Then he said, “Okay. I’ll play this little game with you a
while longer.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You were cursed
by a fairy. What exactly does that have to do with you telling me
you wanted me to love you?”

“It was the curse.”

Sam flinched.

She put her hand on his arm but he jerked
away from her touch. “Whatever I meant to say and what I ended up
saying were two different things.”

“And what did you mean to say?”

Nope. Not going there.
She shook her
head. “I can’t remember now.”

“So…the curse, it was somehow miraculously
lifted while I was gone to the store?”

Isadora crossed her fingers behind her back.
“Yes. I’m not sure why.”

“That’s what was going on the other night
when I picked you up, right? Let’s see, you had to—what again?
Un-puzzle something or other?”

She shrugged. “I guess I did it without
realizing it. Anyway, I’m not under the influence anymore, thank
God.”

Sam leaned out over the railing. He was quiet
for a long time. So was she. She had no idea what more she could,
or should, say to him. She just knew it was for the best to make as
clean a break as possible with him. Painful, but clean—just as
she’d done the last time—so they could get on with their lives.

“You never loved me, did you?” he said at
last.

Oh Sam! Don’t make me do this.
“No.”
The word left a heavy, bitter taste in her mouth.

He swung around and grabbed hold of her arm.
“Then why did you agree to marry me?”

That
was
the question.
“I
wanted to make Chas jealous.” The acrid taste of that lie burned
her tongue.

“And yet, Delilah’s his bride-to-be, not you.
Was it because he couldn’t make you come?”

She slapped him hard across his face. “That
does not qualify an answer,” she said, and stepped around him to go
back into the ballroom.

He stopped her with both hands on her
shoulders. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t go.
Not yet.”

“I think we’ve said enough. Don’t you?”

His fingers gripped her tender flesh, but
only for a mere second, before they slackened and fell away. “Yeah,
I guess we have.” Then, in a more stiffly formal move, he placed
her hand in the crook of his arm. “I’ll escort you back
inside.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Sam walked back out
onto the balcony. He didn’t know how much more torture he was
willing to put himself through. Isadora was now knee-deep in men
eager to get a taste of what he’d partaken of the night before and
he was having a hard time keeping himself from whaling on them.

Plus, his pathetic attempt at revenge had
backfired. He guessed he just wasn’t the vengeful sort. He’d always
been more of a lover than a fighter when it came to women.

And a woman he was in love with? Well, she
pretty much had him wrapped around her finger. Case in point: She
almost had him believing her about that crazy fairy stuff.
Almost.

No, it was more likely that her ego had
needed a boost after that humiliating fiasco with her mother,
coupled with her discovery of his memoirs, which no doubt made her
think he could ‘fix’ her sexual problem.

And once he was firmly under her thumb and
the lock on her box had been jimmied wide open, she was off on her
next conquest.

He looked at his watch. Ten-twenty. Late
enough to head home.

A couple came through one set of doors,
laughing. As he turned and looked at them, he saw the top of Chas’s
head through the crowd inside. He’d surprised him earlier when he’d
asked Sam to be his best man. But he’d be a liar if he said it
hadn’t pleased him, too. He’d missed their friendship over the
years. ‘Course, he’d nearly blown it with that vulgar outburst
earlier, but thankfully, that was all water under the bridge
now.

So—just Chas and Delilah’s wedding next year,
and then Isadora would be a short, painful blurb in his life’s
history book.

He turned and went back inside the ballroom.
He’d say his farewells, then get the hell out of here. As he
approached the table, he saw a middle-aged society matron speaking
to Isadora and the two sniping girlfriends of hers that had seated
themselves at their table a few minutes ago.

After the woman moved off to greet another
table of guests, Isadora said to her friends, “So she had
cancer—big
deal
. Must we
hear
her drone
on
and
on
about it, for Christ’s sake?”

Her friends tittered. “Good heavens, Isadora,
it is
so
good to have you back!” the dark-haired anorexic
one said.

“Yes,” the one with the fire-engine red lips
and loud perfume said, “we thought you’d lost your mind, like your
father—or gotten Tourette’s or something. Didn’t we Missy?”

In that instant, he decided he’d dance with
Isadora first, and then he’d leave.

He swept her up onto her feet and led her to
the floor without saying a word. They’d only danced a few steps
before he said, “You know, I prefer the real Isadora. This society
bitch façade doesn’t fit you well.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking
about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that I’ve seen
you nearly drop from weariness for lack of sleep when we worked
forty-eight hours straight to get donations to the Red Cross. I’m
talking about the fact that I’ve seen you neck-deep in clothing and
supplies for the rescue workers.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ve seen
you
cry
, Iz. Like a baby, when you read all those thank-you
letters from the victims. It’s what made me fall in love with
you.”

“That’s not me. I was doing that as part of
my extra credit grade for Contemporary History. You know that.”

“So the real you is this hard, brittle
bitch?”

She tossed her head. “I guess it is. Just
like the real
you
is a two-bit man-whore.” Her short,
derisive laugh exploded from her throat like a gunshot. “I’m trying
to envision Jacinda James, that old cow, bouncing on top of you
like thread on a bad spool pin.”

“Believe me, she didn’t take nearly as long
to prime.” Isadora stiffened in his embrace but her expression
remained smooth. She didn’t need to know he’d made that part up—how
would he know about old Mrs. James? His clients had been younger,
his mother’s friends. And, technically, he hadn’t been a gigolo in
the strictest sense. He’d been a nineteen-year-old guy enjoying the
amorous attentions of a few forty-something socialites. It had been
the publishing house who’d thought up the title.

A couple danced past them and the man said,
“Good evening, Isadora.”

She turned her head and nodded, and as she
did so, the scent of her hair crowded his senses. For a split
second, he was transported back to last night, to this morning.
“Come away with me, Izzy,” he said in a rush. “I’m leaving on a
private expedition soon to Micronesia. Tomorrow, I’m heading back
to Hawaii—I’m a marine biologist there, did you know that?—Go with
me.”

For a moment, a spark of wild enthusiasm
flared in her eyes, and her bosom rose and fell with excited
breaths. Then her eyes shuttered once again. “Not a chance,” she
said. With a laugh, she shook her head. “Live with you on some
nautical motel? On sea rations? Are you insane?”

His ears burned with the heat of
self-castigation. Dropping his arms to his sides, he stepped away.
“Well then, I guess this is goodbye. Have a nice life.”

He turned and strode away.

* * *

Isadora’s smile was brittle as she walked,
with tunnel vision and as much nonchalance as she could muster,
back to her seat at the table. Being abandoned on the dance floor
was humiliating to the nth degree, but she couldn’t blame Sam. Not
really. She’d been ruthless; she’d had to be. And what she’d said,
how she’d behaved, was nothing compared to what he’d have endured
had her mother gotten wind of his scheme.

“How
rude!
” her mother said as Isadora
sat down. “Why
ever
Chas wants
him
for a best man, I
shall
never
comprehend!”

Isadora lifted an eyebrow and floated down to
her seat. “Yes, well, Chas always has had an affinity for the
eccentric.”

Her mother nodded and changed the subject.
“
Tomorrow
you must go back to the
library
and find
that
fairy
.”

Isadora’s heart leapt into her throat. She’d
been trying to think of a way—or at least wait for the right time
to present itself—to tell her mother what had really happened. But
fear of being once again in the woman’s bad graces had stifled her
tongue.

She took a deep breath and swiveled around on
her seat to face her mother. Then she leaned in and whispered, “I
found her, Mother.”

Her mother beamed. “
Excellent,
child.
Why
ever
did you not
tell
me!” She leaned in even
closer to Isadora. “What ability did she bestow upon you?”

Isadora opened her mouth to speak, but her
mother cut her off. “Whatever it is, we’re sure to be back on the
society rolls in no time. Good work, good work.” Clearly, her
mother’s excitement over the news had made her forget to continue
her speech affectation.

“Mother! Listen.” Isadora took hold of her
mother’s chilled, bejeweled hand and squeezed it. “I was cursed,
not blessed.”

“Wha—what are you saying?”

Isadora’s throat constricted. Moist, clammy
heat suffused her armpits and palms. She released her mother’s
hand. “That day at the library—I found the fairy and I…I made her
angry.”

Her mother sucked in a breath.
“Nooo!”

Grasping her mother’s wrist, she said, “But,
Mother, she didn’t look the same as when Delilah met her! She
looked like one of those uptight tax attorneys that had our
family’s estate auctioned off after Papa’s downfall.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she scanned
Isadora from head to waist. “And this curse—it was the reason for
your strange behavior these past days?”

“Yes.”

Her mother yanked her wrist from Isadora’s
light grasp. “Idiot.”

Isadora gripped her hands together in her
lap. “But—but Mother! I’m not cursed anymore! The fairy lifted
it.”

“Is there any chance of a blessing from her
now?”

“No.”

“I shall never,
ever,
forgive you
this. NEVER! As much as Delilah’s ability and engagement has aided
our cause, we are not returned to our prior position. You were our
last chance to regain our standing and now you’ve lost it
forever.”

The level of force it took to maintain her
cool, unexcited expression was almost more than Isadora could bear,
but somehow she managed it. “It was the phone. If only I’d given
her that damned phone back when it fell at my feet, she would have
blessed me. I just
know
it.”

Her mother sat up straight. “
Phone?
Are you saying you have her
phone?
”

“Y-yes. Why?”

Her mother’s eyes glittered with glee. She
took hold of Isadora’s hand and encased it between her own. “Don’t
you see? That phone contains magic.” Her eyes darted around the
room and then settled on Isadora again. She came in closer. “It’s
not as good—not
nearly
—as a
blessing
would have been.
But, my
girl
, all is not
lost!
” She looked Isadora up
and down. “Now, where is it? In your clutch?” Her hand flew toward
it, but Isadora shook her head.

“No, Mother. The phone’s at home.”

“We must leave! Isadora, go tell your sister
and Chas that I have a sudden migraine and we have to leave. Make
haste! Make haste! I’ll be awaiting you in the limo.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, her bedroom,
bathroom and closet a shambles, Isadora plopped onto the edge of
her bed and gnawed on her thumbnail.

“Where
is
it, Isadora!?”

“I—I don’t
know
! I’ve looked
everywhere
, Mother.”

“
Tell
me you didn’t leave it at that
scuba
diver’s house. I shall
die
on the
spot
of heart failure. I
swear
it.”

Isadora’s face crumpled. “Yes. I—I think I
did.” She leapt to her feet. “But I’ll go get it. Right now. Don’t
worry and please, just…just don’t be mad. Okay? I won’t fail you
again. I promise.”

Her mother crossed her arms over her chest
and regarded Isadora for a long moment. “Fine. But don’t dally.
Time is of the essence. We have no idea how long the magic will
linger in that phone.” She swirled around and walked toward the
door. “I only hope the fairy doesn’t decide to take it from
you.”

“Me too, Mother. Me too.”

* * *

Isadora slid her shoes off and stepped onto
the houseboat. If the blasted phone was somewhere on the deck, then
she wouldn’t have to face Sam again tonight. A thing she was pretty
sure would send her into his arms and out of her mother’s good
graces forever should she give in to the impulse.

Please, fairy phone. Be here.
She
looked on the table, under the table, on the chair cushions, but no
luck. She’d have to start an inch-by-inch search of the deck—in the
dark, and with only the glow of the inside lights to guide her.