Losing Penny (16 page)

She slowly stood, and the Pirate King’s gaze
raked over her, judging her the way one might select fresh produce,
searching for blemishes, bruises, and bee stings.

Fresh produce?
This is a dream!
Penny’s mind revolted, struggling to wake.

She flinched away as the Pirate King
caressed her cheek with a coarse hand. The dagger clattered to the
floor as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

“Penny!” Drake held her and she felt the now
familiar thump of his heart and inhaled his scent. She wasn’t sure
if paper had a smell, but if it did, it would smell like Drake. He
whispered her name in her ear. “Hush.”

Penny’s heart still raced, but her panic
eased. “What are you doing in here?”

“I think I’m saving you from pirates.” He
chuckled as she slumped against him. “So, pirates have replaced the
Lurk?”

“I guess.” She shuddered, remembering the
pirate and his dagger. “You know, that’s what you need.”

He looked her in the eye. “I need
pirates?”

“Your story—your Viking story. So far the
setup is good, but something needs to happen. You need
pirates.”

Drake frowned. “I don’t think they had
pirates in the eleventh century.”

“Of course they did. They might not have
called them pirates—thieves or marauders maybe. I don’t know…I just
know that you need them,” she added more forcefully.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “My mom’s a light
sleeper.”

He looked through Penny’s open door to the
one just beyond it. His mom’s door. “I can’t lie to my mom. I’ve
never been able to lie to her, yet she’s lying to me.”

“How do you know?”

“My birthday is in a week.”

That bit of information swirled in Penny’s
belly. “Do you think she’ll stay the entire week?”

“Or the entire summer. She’s impossible to
read, which is so unfair, since she can read me like a comic book.”
Drake lay down beside Penny and drew her close so that he could
whisper in her ear. She curled against him. She might be safe from
pirates and marauders, but she was still scared of Drake’s mom.

“When I was little, I truly believed that she
had a secret power—a mom power—that could detect the tiniest fib.
If I even tried to exaggerate or bend the truth, she looked at me
and I would know she knew. I thought she knew everything.”

“Growing up, we had a beagle. My mom called
him Bad Dog Bowser. My dad had bought the beagle because he wanted
a running partner, and he had read that beagles could run for
thirty miles without a break. Bowser couldn’t, or more likely
wouldn’t, run for thirty seconds. Overweight and flatulent, Bowser
was only driven by food. Bowser stole cookies, sandwiches, anything
within beagle reach, but not me. I never stole anything. I tried to
do everything right. Of course, I was just a kid, so I made
mistakes and lived in fear of punishment. Bowser stole food and
weathered the punishment like a man, but I didn’t have the guts of
my dog.”

“Is your dog still alive?” Penny asked.

“No, he died a long time ago.”

“Then you won.”

Drake chuckled, his chest moving up and down
in nearly silent laughter. “Is that how we win? We live?”

“Of course—we live happily ever after.”

“Without pirates.”

“I didn’t say that. There will always be
pirates.”

Drake rested his chin on the top of her head.
“And moms. My mom is a cranky morning person.”

“Is it morning?” Penny looked out the window
at the fading moon and winking stars.

“Not quite.” Drake sat up and gently pushed
Penny’s shoulders back against her pillow. He leaned forward and
kissed her forehead like a parent kissing a child goodnight.

“I don’t
need
pirates,” he murmured as
he left the room, closing the door with a quiet but definite click,
leaving Penny to wonder what he did need.

***

“So,
you
must be Melinda?” Mia’s voice
floated up the stairs.

Penny pressed herself into the mattress and
put her pillow over her head.

“I’m Drake’s mom.”

Melinda muttered something indistinguishable
in return.

“Maggie? Who’s Maggie?”

Where was Drake? He needed to run
interference.

“Magdalena is here?” Mia said in the same
tone she would have used to say “the city is overrun with
rats?”

Penny crawled from her bed, cracked open the
door, and peeked out at the women in the middle of the living room.
They looked like a queen and a princess in a face off. Mia wore a
pair of white slacks, an apricot sweater set, and a pair of
matching sandals, and Melinda wore an apricot pair of straight
cotton pants, a white sweater set, and matching sandals. They were
two peas in a pod—or pits in an apricot. No pit deserved to look so
good in the morning.

A door banged open. “Mom! Melinda?” Drake.
Finally.

“Drake, Melinda tells me that Magdalena is
here.” Mia faced him, arms folded and eyebrows lowered.

Drake swallowed heavily. “Mom, she was.” He
held up his hands to stop her verbal barrage. “I can explain.”

Melinda watched the mother son drama with a
smile tugging at her lips. She fought to suppress it, but she
wasn’t successful. Her eyes glowed with either victory or humor,
Penny wasn’t sure which. Maybe both.

Wolfgang, who had been snoozing on the rag
rug beside her bed, scrambled up and headed toward the door. Penny
tried to grab his collar, but he pushed passed her and clambered
down the stairs. Penny leaned against the wall, her breath
ragged.

“What is that?” Mia asked, clearly
horrified.

“Maggie’s dog,” Melinda told her.

Penny wondered how Mia didn’t see Wolfgang
last night. She peeked out the door and saw Wolfgang nose Drake’s
thigh. Drake scratched the dog’s ears. He smiled when looked up and
caught Penny spying. Penny ducked back behind the door.

This is stupid. This is what happens when I
lie—the dog gets breakfast and I don’t, Penny thought.

The ship climbed one mountainous wave after
another. Pitching high and low, Hans barely registered the dangers
of the roiling seas. His head and heart lingered with Ingrid, and
his thoughts were so heavy, he barely noticed the creature rising
up from the ocean’s deep.

From
Hans and the Sunstone

Drake left the two
women frowning at each other and opened the door for Wolfgang. The
dog bolted and Drake wished he could go with him, even if it meant
peeing on the side of the house.

The only time he’d ever surprised his mom was
when he’d married Magdalena, and as a result, Mia had never even
tried to get to know Magdalena. And Mia had been cold, but polite
to Blair. But last night she had actually warmed to Penny.

Watching his mom go nose-to-nose with
Melinda, he realized that what truly bothered his mom was not the
fact that Melinda wasn’t cowed by her, but that she believed that
Melinda knew something about Drake that she didn’t.
That
was
flea in her panties. He had to talk to his mom in private—soon.

But first he had to talk to his dad, a chore
he usually avoided.

“I tried calling, but you weren’t answering
your phone.” Melinda made it sound like a recrimination.

“I don’t take my phone running,” Drake told
her.

Melinda sniffed. “Well, I just came by to
make sure you’re still on for lunch today with my dad. We’re going
to the Club House and we’ll need reservations,” Melinda said. She
turned to Mia. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Drake fully expected his mom to say that she
needed to get home. Typically his mom was a confirmed homebody, so
he was surprised when she answered, “That would be lovely. I’ve
heard so many wonderful things about your dad.”

“From Drake?” Melinda glowed. “Has he told
you about the book?”

After Mia nodded, Melinda continued, “I’m
really excited about it! Drake showed me his early chapters and
it’s…” She waved her hands in the air as if trying to grab the
correct superlative out of the air. “It’s just so, so—” Sighing
with contentment she broke off. “It’s going to be the best surprise
birthday gift ever.”

Mia raised her eyebrows at Drake, smiling,
and Drake repressed the desire to roll his eyes.

“Well, before lunch, breakfast,” Mia said,
heading into the kitchen. “I’m going to be making Drake some
oatmeal. Would you like some, Melinda?”

“No, thank you. I don’t eat carbs,” Melinda
said.

“Of course you don’t,” Mia said, pulling a
bag of oatmeal from the cupboard that wasn’t there before. She must
have brought it, which could only mean that she meant to stay.
Drake wanted to pound his head against the wall.

“And how about your friend, Penny? Will she
be joining us?”

“Who?” Melinda asked, her antennae up and
alert.

“Drake’s friend, Penny,” Mia said, pulling
out a pot and filling it with water.

“She won’t be coming by this morning,” Drake
said.

Mia shut off the water and turned to fix her
“mom stare” at him. She had caught his lie, and she would use it
against him if he didn’t get rid of Melinda soon.

“You’ve made a new friend?” Melinda
asked.

“What can I say, I’m a friendly guy. Listen,
Melinda,” he looked pointedly at his shorts and sweaty T-shirt. “I
really need to shower, and I’m hoping to bang out a few more
chapters this morning, so…”

Melinda took the hint, said a polite goodbye
to Mia, and left.

Mia waited until Melinda was safely behind
the hedge before rounding on Drake. He held up his hands to defend
himself. “Mom, just listen before you start.”

“What sort of game are you playing here,
Drake?” She shook a wooden spoon at him.

“It’s not what you think.”

“You can’t keep using girls like they’re
pieces of tissue to be used and thrown away!”

Drake caught sight of Penny limping down the
stairs, so he resisted yelling at his mom. Whispering went against
his nature, but he really didn’t want Penny to hear his mother’s
wrangling.
He
didn’t want to hear his mother’s wrangling.
“Stop, please. Penny is…” he debated. He knew that his mom watched
Penny’s show. She had watched it with him several times when he’d
been so down after Blair and Magdalena. Still, that was Penny’s
secret to share, not his. He caught Penny’s eye and she rescued
him.

“I have a stalker,” Penny said, coming into
the kitchen. “I’m hiding from a stalker.”

“Goodness,” Mia said, surprised.

“Drake’s helping me,” Penny explained.

Mia gave her son a slant-eyed look. “Yes, I
could see he was being extremely helpful last night.”

Penny blushed a lovely pink color. He hoped
to make her blush again.

“He’s been telling people I’m Maggie—short
for Magdalena.”

“But you’re nothing like Magdalena.”

“Thank goodness,” Drake added.

“Anyone can see—”

“No one around here met Magdalena, including
Melinda,” Drake said.

Mia’s eyes widened with comprehension, and
she pointed her spatula at Drake. “You’re doing this to throw off
Melinda.”

“No, I’m doing this to help Penny.” Drake sat
down at the kitchen table.

“Is it working?” Mia asked.

“Not really,” Penny said.

“Sort of,” Drake said.

“Is that for Drake?” Penny limped into the
kitchen and peered into the oatmeal pot. “You should add some
bananas to that. Yesterday Helene told us that Drake needed banana
and whole grains to help him sleep.”

“But Drake doesn’t like bananas,” Mia said
with a scowl.

“Doesn’t matter,” Penny said. She grabbed a
bag of slivered almonds from the cupboard, and before Mia could say
anything, Penny tossed in a handful. “Helene said he needs these
too.”

Drake didn’t think he could handle any more
women domination, so he picked up his phone and banged out the
door.

“Drake honey, where are you going?” his mom
called after him. “This is almost done.” She turned to Penny. “No
one likes cold oatmeal. It turns to wallpaper paste.”

As if Mia had ever tasted wallpaper paste.
Drake crossed the lawn, went down the bank, sat on a piece of
driftwood, and called his dad. He took a few deep breaths while the
phone rang.

“Why is mom here?” Drake asked without a
greeting.

Instead of answering Drake’s question,
Drake’s dad launched into his inevitable rant that had nothing to
do with his mom and everything to do with Drake “stopping his
foolishness, putting down his cursed novels, and coming home and
take over the family business.”

“What does my job to do with Mom?” Drake
picked up a rock and threw it at a seagull. The bird flew away.

“If you came and worked for me, I would have
more time for your mom. She’s just lonely and bored.”

“You say that, but you know it isn’t true. If
I joined the firm, you wouldn’t work any less.”

“Of course I would,” his dad returned.

“No, you wouldn’t. You don’t have to work
now, and everyone knows it.”

“Someone in this family has to work.”

How had he gotten sucked back into this tired
whirlpool? It was always the same with his dad. Malcolm Islington
was much too important and busy to do anything for anyone, and
there was Drake wasting time with a book. Again. “I work. I even
get regular paychecks, a fact that you choose to ignore. And I’m an
author. I don’t ‘play’ on the computer. My books aren’t a waste of
time.”

Drake picked up another rock and lobbed it
another gull. That bird also flew away. He’d never hit the birds.
He’d never please his dad.

“I have a multi-million dollar business, and
someday it will be yours whether you want it or not. It’s high time
you show your face around the office…and some gratitude.”

Drake wanted to say, “Dad, I don’t want your
business. I want you to sell your business. Take your millions of
dollars and take mom on a trip somewhere far, far away.” But
instead of confronting his dad, instead of telling his dad exactly
what he could do with his money and business, he let his dad’s
words roll away. Since his dad would never understand, he sat
through the harangue without comment and without even really
listening. Malcolm Islington worked like a dog with a prize bone
and he didn’t have time to pull his wife out of his son’s hair.