Mr. O'Grady's Magic Box (3 page)

"Aye, and you must be Miss Jules. Will you
be starting the interview tonight, then?"

"The sooner the better so I can write the
piece and have it drawn up for next month's issue."

He lowered his glasses to study her. She
squirmed under his blue-eyed stare, wondering what he was searching
for, but before she could ask, he sighed with a shake of his head.
"You're a nonbeliever then. I can see the doubt in your eyes as
plain as if you shouted it out."

Her brows drew together. "I wouldn't
say—"

"No matter." He waved his hand in dismissal.
"Some must be shown to believe. After you settle in, I'll show you
the box and you'll be seeing the truth for yourself. Will you be
needing help with your luggage? My grandson's around here somewhere
and will be glad to lend a hand."

"No thank you, I can manage."

"Well then, we'll be seeing you later on for
tea and scones."

"I don't think—"

"Oh sure, you'll be needing to relax and
could use a bit of nourishment before you become all business-like.
I wouldn't have it any other way."

She had a hunch he'd make it difficult to
refuse, and she needed him to cooperate. "All right. Tea and
scones, it is."

Mr. O'Grady slid the key card over to her.
"Just take the stair behind you to the second floor."

"Thank you."

As Aubrey made her way up the stairs, she
admired the rosewood handrail with its lovely ornate carvings.
She'd done her homework. The hotel, originally a home for the
O'Grady family, was built in the late eighteen hundreds. Later, it
became a boarding house, a hotel, until finally a renowned
bed-and-breakfast getaway. A lot of care went into the hand-picked
wallpaper, antiqued furniture, and decorative quilts depicting an
era of long ago. It wouldn't be difficult for couples to imagine
magic played a role in their romance. Ambience was everything for a
good story, and she could bet these walls had heard it all.

Chapter Four

The library located on the first floor
served as the tearoom. Two cushioned green striped chairs faced the
fireplace for a more cozy setting. At the far wall, tables and
chairs were stationed for those who wished to enjoy a cup of tea or
perhaps a late night snack. She chose an empty table, not wanting
to intrude on anyone's romantic interlude.

Four couples were already enjoying their
teas and scones before Mr. O'Grady arrived with a freshly brewed
pot for her. "Is your room to your liking, Miss Jules?" he asked,
doing the honors of pouring the tea into a dainty rosebud cup.

"Yes, it's lovely."

"Splendid. Give me a moment to tend to the
other guests, and I'll sit with you a spell."

Her lips curved. "I'll be here."

He bustled out of the room with spry steps.
Obviously, he enjoyed his job.

Aubrey bit into a scone and instantly
thought she'd died and gone to heaven. She'd have to see if she
could finagle the recipe out of the cook.

After her second scone and two cups of tea,
she decided to make herself at home, looking around the room,
admiring the knickknacks and old books lining the mahogany
bookcases. She leaned forward to peer into the curio cabinet. On
the upper shelf, a resin faery stood forever posed with a bouquet
of flowers in her hand. Below it, her gaze landed on a replica of
Bunratty Castle. She'd seen the real one in Ireland. The impressive
ruins were now restored to the castle's original splendor. Tourists
could experience castle life with entertainment and elaborate
banquets.

"Oh, I see you found it."

Startled, she turned to find Mr. O'Grady
looking over her shoulder. She wondered how he'd been so quiet on
his feet. "I found it?" Her eyebrows rose in question.

"The magic box."

Her attention drew back to the cabinet, her
gaze locking onto the box in question. Funny, she hadn't seen it
there a moment ago stashed between the shamrock paperweight and
Blarney Castle teapot.

Mr. O'Grady moved around her to unlock the
curio cabinet, rearranging the items so he could reach the box
without tipping anything over. His age-spotted hands handled the
box as if it were made of fine china instead of sturdy oak.

"Tell me a little about it," she asked,
curious to know the history. "How does the magic work? What's the
trick?"

"Trick?
Harrumph
, trick indeed. This
here box isn't your average Tomfoolery with nothing but smoke and
mirrors. No, the box is older than time—and crafted by the wee
folk."

Aubrey hid a smile behind her hand and
cleared her throat in hopes of swallowing a chuckle. She didn't
want to offend the old man. He believed in the box and what it
could do.

Her gaze studied the box with its intricate
Celtic knots and ancient carvings surrounding all sides, including
the lid. She had to admit, there was something rather otherworldly
about it. She had the urge to run her fingers along the etched
lines. "Our sources told us it grants soul mates."

He glanced around him as if he feared they'd
be overheard. Then he stepped closer. "Aye, that it does."

She concentrated on stopping her lips from
twitching into a smile. "Really?"

"You don't believe me." He let out a breath
that was half frustration and half impatience. "Don't go denying
it, now. I can hear it in your voice. No matter, it's what it
is."

His feelings were hurt and that wasn't her
intention. This wasn't personal. She was here for her job, not on a
quest to prove anything. "I apologize. I'm not trying to be
disrespectful. There's been very little magic in my life, and it's
difficult for me to believe in the impossible. So, please forgive
me."

It took a moment, but his gaze softened. He
gave her a nod. "As the story goes, a man by the name of Thomas was
the one to wrestle it away. He was quick-witted and managed to
outsmart a leprechaun."

"I thought leprechauns were known to keep
pots of gold." She knew her Irish lore. She kept a large volume of
the legends on the bookshelf in her office.

"And so they do, among other treasures. Now,
Thomas, being a smart man of twenty, knew the box be more valuable
than gold. It was a magic box with the ability to find one's soul
mate, but only if one was worthy.

Aubrey glanced at the box again. It was no
more than six inches by twelve. "I hope the soul mate doesn't
appear in the box."

Mr. O'Grady's warm chuckle vibrated from his
chest. "You're a real corker, Miss Jules. The box doesn't conjure
up a soul mate. It's sort of a mailbox to the wee folk who grant
the wishes. You write what it is you be wanting in a soul mate.
Then you place the note in the box and close the lid. You must
chant the words and if you open the lid and your slip of paper is
gone; your wish will be granted."

"Just like that, like in that moment, in a
week, or what?"

"The wee folk have no concept of time. It
could be a day or a few weeks, but you'll be knowing when the magic
is there."

"Mmm-hmm." She wasn't convinced. It was all
too convenient that the wee folk could decide whenever they pleased
to grant the wish. "What are the carvings down the side?"

"That's the ancient writing. Ogham, a prayer
of sorts."

"May I photograph you holding the box?" Her
hand slipped into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out her
digital camera.

"To be sure." He held the box up for her,
blinking as the flash went off.

"So, was Thomas granted his wish?" she
asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Oh aye, he wished for a woman with charm
and beauty. He was married fifty years, if not a day more."

"You seem to know a lot about this Thomas."
She studied the carvings closely.

"I should. He was me own
great-granddad."

Her gaze met his with interest. "Oh. So this
is a
family
heirloom."

"Aye, I suppose it is at that. Do you want
to give it a gander? You can be the first for this season." He
somehow conjured up a pen and paper to hand to her.

"Me? I wouldn't even know what to wish for
in a so-called soul mate."

"Come now, Miss Jules. You must have an
inkling of what the perfect man of your dreams would be like."

Aubrey thought the legend of the magic box
held a certain charm, but she didn't believe in destined soul
mates, only well-chosen partners who shared in your fundamental
beliefs. "I don't—"

"Do you remember your first kiss?"

"What?"

"Do you remember your first true kiss that
set your toes a-curling within your shoes?"

She was about to say she never lost herself
that completely, but then a memory surfaced with vivid
recollection.
Ian's kiss had done that and more
. Her lips
pursed together. This was the second time this week she thought of
him.

The kiss, yes, she remembered all too well.
Ian and she were in Dublin, in the park across the street from
Marion Square, where Oscar Wilde's statue stood on display in a
lackadaisical pose with his impish grin, greeting the people who
walked by. Ian's gaze met hers, sending a rush of desire coiling
through her. Then his gaze shifted to her lips. Her palms were
sweaty and her heart beat against her ribcage threatening to
escape, but she didn't move. He leaned down, covering her mouth
with a sweet, slow drugging kiss she never wanted to end. She loved
him.

They stayed at a hotel that night, wanting
privacy the hostels didn't provide. He was her first and later, he
confessed she was his. He seduced her with long slow kisses that
clouded her mind and left her breathless. She remembered how he
trembled when she worked her way from his neck to his abdomen then
down to the waistband of his jeans. Her time with him was the most
loving experience she ever had to this day, and the most
painful.

Silly of her, she knew that now. She'd
thought they would marry, maybe not soon, but eventually. However,
in the light of day, he was gone, not a word, not a note, just
gone. She'd cried for two days before she became angry with herself
for being so stupid. He'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? Even
thinking he'd used her, it was difficult to erase the time they'd
shared. It had been magical and sweet, and she held onto those
memories, not wanting to dwell on the cruel way he'd left her.

She frowned, her lips pressed into a fine
line of disapproval as well as surprise. Her first thought of a
toe-curling kiss had been of a man she hadn't seen in a decade and
one who had jilted her no less.
What's wrong with me? I should
be thinking of Nelson's kisses, my boyfriend now, not Ian's kisses
of long ago.

Mr. O'Grady's wide knowing grin made her
moment down memory lane seem even worse. Heat rushed to her face
and she knew her cheeks were a nice shade of crimson, proving her
guilt. She closed her eyes in a deliberate blink.
For heaven's
sake, it's not like I cheated on Nelson. It was only a
memory.

"You've recalled the kiss," Mr. O'Grady
coaxed. "Aye?"

She waved her hand as if to brush the heated
memory aside. "My first true kiss, the way it felt to be in love."
Her gaze locked with his. "And the way it hurt."

"Hmm." His head bobbed up and down. "The
pain only reaffirms it was real. You wouldn't be caring otherwise.
Go back and hold onto the blissful moment." He handed her the slip
of paper and pen. "Now write down what you wish for in a soul
mate."

She stared at him for a blink of a moment
then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Why not?" What harm could
there be in playing along? With a few strokes of the pen, she
sealed her fate.

Mr. O'Grady held out the box. "Now put the
note inside and close the lid. You must hold the box when you make
your wish."

Her hands gripped the wood. For a moment,
she longed for the possibility of a soul mate. Her eyes widened as
an electrical current flowed from the box, coursing a path from her
palms to her fingertips.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Mr. O'Grady
inquired.

Her brows furrowed. She felt something. She
threw open the lid, her gaze landing on the floor of the box where
her note should be.

She wasn't that gullible. Of course, there
was a trick to the box, a fake compartment. She turned it over and
looked. Then she shook it, causing Mr. O'Grady to chuckle.

"Your request is being considered, Miss
Jules. It's out there now, written in the wind and it can't be
taken back. The fairies are fickle that way. Whatever you asked for
will be granted. Hopefully, it's something you're prepared to
embrace."

She handed him the box with a shake of her
head. "It was a lovely trick, Mr. O'Grady, but I have a difficult
time believing in fanciful things as soul mates and wishes in a
blink of an eye."

He placed the box back in the cabinet,
locking it behind the clear glass. "Only time will tell." He rested
his hand on her arm. "You look to be needing a little magic in your
life. It could be the reason you came to stay with us." He left her
with those parting words.

"Magic," she muttered with exasperation, but
leaned down, looking at the box with a smidgen of hope. She hadn't
believed in magic for a long time.

Chapter Five

Wanting to take in the view before she
started on her article for the magazine, Aubrey ventured outside,
heading for the patio area overlooking the ocean. She caught sight
of the couples passing by, holding hands and leaning close as they
whispered. They were so involved with their love for each other,
the world around them ceased to exist.

She leaned against the railing and looked
below to where the water broke upon the ledges and jutting rocks in
a magnificent spray before receding back out to sea again. Seagulls
flew overhead and she could make out sailboats in the distance,
drifting back to shore. No wonder couples were drawn here. "The
view is breathtaking."