Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (26 page)

Jesus. She had to stop thinking of her as “Jordan Cast”. The girl’s real name was Opal Jordan Stewart. And it appeared
Opal
might jump at the chance of earning a decent income. Which should make Magda’s proposition even more compelling and enticing.

She waited for Opal and her kid to disappear into the house, and then waited ten more minutes for Opal to finish doing… whatever it was mothers did when their kids got home from school.

Time to rock and roll.

Magda freshened her lipstick, patted her hair, and grabbed the folder with the contract she’d had drawn up in the hopes that—

Hah. No “hoping” about it. She hadn’t gotten where she was today on hope. The contract terms were more than generous, and Magda wasn’t leaving until Opal signed it. And agreed to use the name she’d once gone by. Not that a refusal to use the Jordan Cast name was a deal-breaker, mind you. Magda only had to whisper in the right ears for people to make the connection and generate the kind of publicity that would guarantee an extremely successful launch.

She eased out of the car, slammed the door, and smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. Something fluttered at the edge of her vision and she instinctively turned her head. A man was watching her from the porch of the neighboring house—the one she’d mistakenly thought belonged to Opal.

Magda tossed her hair and flicked him a jaunty little wave. Let him look. She always appreciated an audience.

She sauntered up the path, hyper-conscious of his gaze. And as she raised her hand to the door, she couldn’t help peeking to check whether he was still watching her.

He was.

Magda shivered, but it was a delicious shiver— prompted more by a thrill than fear. He had a compelling aura about him. Very compelling indeed.

~~~

The chiming doorbell interrupted Sera’s bout of pouting, and Opal couldn’t help feel relieved at the interruption. Since the encounter with Danbur three nights ago she’d been constantly on edge, and prone to snapping at Sera for no reason. Patience was a little thin on the ground right now, and when it came to mid-week spelling homework, she just wanted Sera to get it all done. Now. With the minimum of drama. Which was proving impossible when the English language was anything but logical, and Sera seemed to mistakenly believe she should be able to spell every word correctly on her first try.

“W-W-Write it in the air… th-th-three times,” she told her daughter, whose expression leaned more toward “this is the end of the world!” than a misspelled word. She tweaked one of Sera’s pigtails and smooched the tip of her nose. “It’s a h-h-hard word. I’ll b-b-be back in a m-m-minute and you c-c-can have another g-g-go at it, okay?”

Sera heaved one of her Oscar-worthy sighs. “Yes, Mommy.”

Another chime of the doorbell—longer this time—sounded as Opal exited the kitchen, followed by a series of sharp raps, too. Jeez. Someone needed to learn the art of patience. Though if it turned out to be a certain man she couldn’t quit thinking about, then she might find it in her heart to forgive him. But only after she’d made him work for it. Just a little.

Okay, a whole lot.

She opened the door and the tentative, hope-filled smile curving her lips died an unnatural death. On the stoop stood an immaculately groomed, exquisitely dressed woman. With her take-no-prisoners knife-sharp bob, sculpted cheekbones and strong features, she could have gotten a job as an Anjelica Huston stand-in. Opal put her somewhere between fifty and sixty. And, given the expensive but tasteful accessories—that was a genuine Coach tote or Opal would voluntarily eat mac ’n cheese for a week—this woman was definitely not concerned about her shopping budget. She must have taken a wrong turn and needed directions.

“C-C-Can I h-h-help you?”

The woman blinked, and quickly hid the shock that had rippled across her features behind a wide smile. “I’m banking on it,” she said.

Damned stutter. Opal was sick to death of it. “If y-y-you’re… selling s-s-something, I’m n-n-not—”

“Do I look like a salesperson?” The woman brushed a hand down the front of her suit, paused, and pursed glossy bronze lips. She might have been frowning, too, but it was a little hard to tell given her familiarity with Botox.

“God,” she said. “I do. I look like I’m selling real estate! I
knew
I shouldn’t have let that smarmy little bastard sweet-talk me into
melon
.”

She seemed so genuinely dismayed that Opal felt compelled to reassure her. “It’s a b-b-beautiful c-c-color.”

The smile was back again, this time a little wry. “You’re very diplomatic. It
is
a beautiful color but you and I both know it’s all wrong on
me
. Magda Bliss. May I come in?”

Opal dug about in her brain for a polite excuse but Magda spoke first. “I’m not selling anything, I promise. But I do want to discuss money—enough to make life a whole lot easier for you and your little girl.”

It was Opal’s turn to blink and try to hide her shock. Why would this stranger mention Sera? How did she know about Sera in the first place? Bristling from the instinctive desire to protect her daughter, Opal threw back her shoulders and reassessed Magda through slitted eyes.

Magda chuckled. “You’re looking at me like a momma lioness protecting her litter. How do I know you have a little girl? Easy. I spotted you both walking home while I was sitting across the street in the car checking I had the right address.”

Ah. Opal forced her taut muscles to relax. Completely innocent, then. Except for the whole discussing money thing.

“Could we talk about this inside?” Magda tugged one of the thick gold loops dangling from her earlobes. “Less chance of being overheard by your neighbor. He seemed a little, ah, curious about my visit.”

Warmth rippled through Opal at the idea of Danbur watching her. Waiting for…. Whatever it was he was waiting for. God. Maybe he was waiting for her to quit obsessing over him like some love struck teen. Maybe the vulnerability she’d sensed from him, and responded to, was imagined. Maybe she was reading far more into their encounter than she should.

Bottom line? She’d offered. He’d taken. She was inexperienced and he… wasn’t. Little wonder she’d gotten carried away and allowed him to have his deliciously wicked way with her. It’d been fun—boy had it what! But it was just sex. Nothing more. People hooked up all the time without it dipping into deep-and-meaningful territory. And she needed to get a clue and accept that—like so many men—now he’d had her, he was no longer interested. They’d both gotten what they wanted. So that was it. Done. Over with. Move on.

Opal ripped the band from her hair and scrubbed her fingers over her scalp. Between erotically charged dreams about Danbur disturbing her nights, fretting over how to act if aforementioned man finally got around to paying her a visit, fending off Sera’s questions—it was Danbur this, Danbur that, Danbur, Danbur, Danbur!—and coping with her workload and unpaid bills, she was too weary to summon the guts to be straight up rude and send this woman on her way. Besides, her curiosity was piqued. Magda Bliss wanted something from her. Badly enough to wheedle her way inside.

Stepping back, Opal opened the door wider and gestured Magda inside.

“You won’t regret this, Opal. I promise.” Magda stepped over the threshold and peered curiously around her.

Opal weathered another little shockwave of unease. And told herself to quit being paranoid. Magda was probably an acquaintance of one of Opal’s clients. She probably wanted to offer Opal a cleaning job. Of
course
she would know Opal’s name.

Magda blotted her forehead with the back of her wrist and Opal fell right into the trap. “S-S-Something to d-d-drink?”

“A soda would be lovely. Diet, if you have it.”

“S-S-Sorry. No d-d-diet.”

A wry snort erupted from Magda’s mouth. “Of course you wouldn’t need ‘diet’ anything. Whatever you have is fine.”

She followed Opal into the kitchen, and before Opal could suggest the lounge as a better option, sank into the chair opposite Sera at the small dining table.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Magda held out her hand for Sera to shake. “I’m Magda—a friend of your mom’s.”

Friend? Presumptuous, much? Opal let it slide and waited for Sera’s reaction to this glamorous woman who would turn even Sienna Mitchell—the most painfully snobbish person Opal knew—green with envy.

Sera hesitated, and Opal figured it was because she felt uncomfortable calling a strange adult by her first name.

Magda smiled. “I do have a last name, but my friends call me Magda.”

Sera glanced sideways, obviously still unsure. And when Opal nodded, she gravely shook Magda’s still outstretched hand. “Hello, Magda. I’m Seraphine.” A pause while she nibbled her lip, and then with a rush, “But my friends call me Sera.”

Hmm. Interesting that Magda had been put on Sera’s “possible friend” list.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Sera,” Magda said.

Opal rummaged in the fridge for two sodas. She set them on the counter and as she turned to grab a glass, Sera said, “I think I’ve got it now. Can you test me on this last word, please, Mommy?”

“I’ll do it,” Opal heard Magda say. There was a longish pause and then, “Wow. That is one yucky word, Sera. Your teacher must have been in a real bad mood when she set your homework.”

“She was,” Sera said. “The Bunnies wouldn’t stop giggling and she got real mad. She said she was gonna give us all detention if we didn’t quiet down.”

“Bunnies?”

“The popular girls in my grade. They’re real mean to everyone. And they all dress the same and try to look the same, too. One of them even got her mom to dye her hair blonde.”

“Stupid,” Magda said. “Kids your age shouldn’t being dyeing their hair.”

“That’s what Mommy said when I asked if I could dye mine.”

Opal squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Sera didn’t have the easiest time at school but Opal had hoped she’d gotten over this dyeing her hair thing. Because merely changing the color of her hair wouldn’t make Sera acceptable to girls like the Bunnies. It’d take the right clothes, too. And a nicer house. Not to mention a mother with a more socially acceptable job. Sera didn’t stand a chance at being admitted to their inner circle. And, having met a couple of Bunnies, Opal couldn’t help feeling grateful for that. Those little girls could give a stereotypical bitchy cheerleader-type in any current TV show a run for her money.

When she opened her eyes again Magda was saying, “Well, your Mom’s right, Sera. To dye
your
hair blonde would take a lot of nasty chemicals that would strip out all that lovely vibrant red. They also smell really bad and can burn your skin if you’re not careful. Some people are even allergic to the chemicals. But the worse thing is, your hair keeps growing in its natural color, so you’d have to keep on dyeing it every few weeks or you’d have a very unattractive bright red skunk-stripe. And if you decided you didn’t like the new color and wanted to go back, it’d be
really
hard to find a dye to match your beautiful natural one.”

Huh. That little speech was somewhat surprising considering Magda didn’t have a single gray hair despite her age. Opal had picked Magda as the type who’d be all for giving little girls a makeover to fit in with their peers.

“Veronica has a dark brown skunk-stripe,” Sera said. “It looks weird.”

“I bet,” Magda said. “Embrace your hair, Sera. It’s unique and the color is absolutely unforgettable… and I’m just not saying that to be
diplomatic
. When you’re older, and can style it yourself, girls are gonna envy the hell out your hair. In the meantime, leave all that carry-on until you’re old enough to know how to make good decisions about your body. Now, let’s try this word you’ve learned, shall we?”

Opal’s lips twitched at the “diplomatic” dig. And then she smothered a groan. Dammit, she was really starting to like this woman. She fished a drinking straw from the cutlery drawer and popped the tab on one of the cans.

“You have to ask me to spell it, Magda,” Sera said. “Then I make a picture of it in my head and spell each letter aloud, okay?”

“Okay. Spell ‘misbehavior’ for me, please, Sera.”

“M-i-s-b-e-h-a-v-e-i…. No. Um… h-a-v-i-o-r.”

“One more time,” Magda said. “Just to be sure.”

“M-i-s-b-e-h-a-v-i-o-r. Misbehavior.”

“Correct!”

Opal turned around in time to see Sera give Magda an enthusiastic hi-five. “I got it right, Mommy!” she crowed.

Opal carried the second unopened can and a glass to the table. She set them in front of Magda, and tousled Sera’s hair before pulling out a chair. “W-W-Well done, sweetie. W-W-Would you l-l-like to w-w-watch TV for a b-b-bit?”

Sera’s gaze flashed to the can of soda. Opal wasn’t surprised to glimpse longing flitting across her daughter’s face. Soda was saved for special treats. She pointed to the opened can and the straw on the counter.

Sera’s eyes went huge. “A whole can?”

Opal nodded and held up a finger to indicate “just this one time”.

“Wow. You must need lots of time for a grown-up talk with Magda, huh?” Sera was already out of her chair and reaching for the can.

“Ch-Ch-Cheeky monkey. Scoot!” Opal made shooing motions.

“I promise I won’t spill any on the floor. And I’ll do the rest of my homework after Magda leaves.”

Opal took a seat. Magda was watching Sera nursing the can in both hands like it was something infinitely precious. Opal knew her daughter’s brow would be scrunched with concentration and the tip of her tongue would be poking from between her lips. And she would look so endearing she’d melt hearts.

Magda swiveled in the chair. “Your daughter’s a little sweetheart,” she said, her voice harboring a warmth Opal felt compelled to believe was genuine. “She’s got fabulous genes. Loads of potential.”

“F-F-For wh-wh-what, exactly?”

Showing reckless disregard for her manicure, Magda popped the tab on her soda and poured half a glass. She offered the can to Opal. “If I drink a whole one I’ll be making restroom stops all the way home. And some of those public restrooms are plain nasty.”

Opal accepted the can and set it on the table. She traced the condensation on the label with a fingertip while she waited for Magda to fill the silence.