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Then it was time to dig in, and we worked our way around the table to fill our plates. As Ethan put a slice of turkey on my plate, he whispered to me, “Is something wrong? You look stressed.”
I debated whether I should tell him, but I felt like I needed one sure ally in case things got weird. “I figured out yesterday that my mom’s immune to magic. That must be where I got it.”
He nodded. “I see. So now you’re constantly worried about what she’s going to notice.”
“Yeah. I almost ran out of explanations yesterday. Please don’t say anything about work. I want to get her home to Texas without having to tell her the whole story. You’re as immune as I am—as she is. Help me look out for anything I’d need to explain. And please don’t tell anyone about this when we go back to the office.”
“What are you so worried about?”
“I just—I just want things to be normal. I can handle my job being totally whacked out, that my boss is Merlin, and that I have a fairy in the office next to me. I can even handle the fact that on every date I try to go on things tend to zap in and out of existence, or scary things try to hurt me, or even that people who think they used to be frogs serenade me.” I noticed his confused look and said, “Long story. But I need my family to be normal. Not for me, but for them. My life has changed. Theirs doesn’t have to. I want them to be able to go home and be happy, understand?”
“I think I see your point,” he whispered.
“What are you two lovebirds doing whispering over the turkey?” my mom called out from across the room.
“Of course, with my family, ‘normal’ is a relative term,” I said with a sigh.
Ethan laughed and handed me a glass of Mom’s traditional cranberry punch. “I’m not sure any family is truly normal,” he said.
There wasn’t room for us to sit at the table with all the food on it, so we took our plates to the living room and sat on the floor, the dining chairs, or the sofa. I tried to think of a safe conversation to start, but Mom beat me to the punch.
“I hope you like everything. I’m sure it’s different from what y’all eat for Thanksgiving up here, but it’s traditional for us back home.”
There were mumbles around the room about how good the food was. Food seemed to be a safe topic. “I know a few people were surprised by the corn bread dressing I made last year,” I said.
“My mom used to make oyster dressing, before she gave up cooking entirely,” Ethan commented. Mom looked like he’d uttered a blasphemy. Okay, so maybe food wasn’t such a safe topic. I’d seen from my oldest brother’s marriage that what to serve for holidays was a bigger source of marital strife than money or sex. A corn bread dressing person and a sausage stuffing person weren’t likely to see eye-to-eye. Oysters in the dressing could be grounds for a holy war. I noticed with great relief that Ethan didn’t seem to have any problems eating the dressing we’d made.
Mom had taken on the role of hostess, and she spoke up again to keep the conversation rolling. “Ethan, we ran into a friend of yours the other night,” she said. “Or maybe ‘friend’ isn’t the right word. He said some very mean things about you, and I’ll have you know I didn’t believe a word of it.”
Ethan shot an utterly baffled look at me, which I returned, equally baffled. I had no idea what she was talking about. “My friend?” Ethan asked.
“Yes, he was at the restaurant where we had dinner Monday night,” she explained. “He came over to talk to Katie—very rude young man. He didn’t so much as acknowledge us, though I suppose Katie should have made the introductions.”
Only then did I realize what she meant. Oh no, she’d thought Idris was talking about Ethan when he referred to my boyfriend. It was a natural assumption to make, but it was a misunderstanding right out of a bad sitcom, and I couldn’t think of a way out of it. I’d been so worried about getting tangled up in magical problems that I hadn’t considered the potential for maternal-meddling complications.
Mom continued, oblivious to my discomfort. “Now, I know you do more than walk Katie to and from work. I’m sure you take her to some very nice places. That boy was just being mean.”
Realization dawned in Ethan’s eyes. I knew he’d figured out exactly who Idris was referring to as my boyfriend. I wished I could play it cool and insist that it was just Idris being a jerk, but I felt my face growing warm. Ethan frowned and nodded slightly, and I was sure he’d noticed. He might not have had magical powers, but I felt like he could see right through me.
A split second later he managed to compose himself. “If it’s who I think it was, you can ignore anything he said. I beat him in a tough negotiation once, and he’s never forgiven me.” Then he abruptly changed the subject. “What do you think of New York so far?” I could have kissed him. Well, I wanted to kiss him anyway, in spite of what he might have thought at that moment, but his coming to my rescue made me want to even more.
“It’s interesting,” Dad said with a nod. “I’d like to get a better look at the park. You know, I’ve got this new fertilizer in stock that might help them. I wonder what they’re using now.”
“Was the city what you expected?” Ethan clarified his question.
“I knew it would be kind of strange,” Mom said, then dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “But I wasn’t expecting all those alternative lifestyle people.”
“Alternative lifestyle people?” Gemma asked. “Katie, you didn’t take your parents to the West Village, did you?”
“No, just Times Square,” I said, trying not to grit my teeth.
“We saw this woman wearing fairy wings in public,” Mom said. “Very odd.”
“No, odd would have been a man wearing fairy wings in public,” Gemma said with a laugh. “Preferably with pink tights and a tutu.”
“Oh, we saw one of those, too,” Mom said. “Though not with the tights and tutu. But he had wings.”
“There wasn’t anything that strange about that woman,” Dad said. “Lois just thought she was a street performer and tried to tip her. And the man was a park ranger with a backpack on, not wings.”
