Chapter 2 #2
“Aww, thank you so much,” she gushed for just a split second before snapping right back to her professional persona and asking, “Anyone inside the shop?”
"No. We hadn't opened yet. It was just my boys and me."
“Your boys? They’re with you? How old are they?”
“Yes, ma’am, they are always with me. I never leave home without them.” Pausing for half a second, I quickly added, “Next month the two oldest will be eighty-four, or maybe it’s eighty-five, and the youngest is only forty-two.”
"Good. Good. You're doing great," she coached without so much as stuttering over the age of 'my boys,' at which point I mentally muttered, "Oh, yeah, super great, fan-fuckin-tastic. Just wait ‘til we get to the punchline of the joke that is my life then we’ll see what you think of the Magnificent Martha Dellencourt.”
Thank the Goddess she couldn’t hear my rambling mutters and continued collecting needed information. “What’s the address?”
“11111 Dellencourt Ave.”
(Yep, the street was named after my family.
Nope, we didn't plan it or even ask for it. Just happened when the Great Goddess and the Universe, along with Fate– we can’t forget Fate– picked mom and dad to revive the Dragon Queen population.
It was further solidified, when I bought the dilapidated old building that had once been a grocery store and butcher shop and converted it into my home and place of business.
Of course, the naming of the avenue became utterly carved in the stone of time when Maeve, Dellencourt sister number two, bought the massive brownstone on the next block, and Maisie, the baby of the Clan, bought original Elks’ Lodge when they moved closer to the center of town and turned it into her home. Go figure.)
“Marvelous Martha’s Brew House and Bougie Bags?”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
"Oh, no," the operator cried out, her emotions streaming through the phone, making me feel worse for her than I felt for myself.
She was truly despondent. "That's my favorite coffee shop in the whole world.
I was called into work early today or I would be on my way to see you right this very minute.
Please tell me your little sweeties– Chewy, Arthur, and Otis– are okay. "
“You betcha,” I snickered. “That’s the boys I was referring to.”
“Oh, yeah, duh. Are you…?”
But that was as far as she got before I heard a commotion rivaling two women fighting over the last of my ‘hand bedazzled bags’ during the Black Friday Sale at Marvelous Martha’s Brew House and Bougie Bags.
The absolutely Lovely Tigress I had been speaking with growled, “Well, if you would’ve let me take off the headset before you tried to squeeze your big head into it, we might be tied together tighter than two stalks of hay in bale. ”
Then the other person– the intruder snarled, “Oh, just zip it, Sweetie. That’s my sister on that phone! Give. It. To. Me!”
“Maisie?”
“Did you hear that, Aideen? Was that really…?”
“Martha. Martha, are you okay?” More scuffling, more than a few growls and snarls, a hiss that sounded rather serious and if I wasn’t mistaken the grunts and huffs of two women having a heated battle of tug-0-war over the cord attached to the headset that may or may not have still been on the head of the sweet, but not-to-be-fucked-with, White Tiger.
“Martha!” Maisie’s was at least an octave lower than it had been a moment before, and there was the distinct felling of Dragon Magic streaming across the airwaves.
It was time to consult…
“This is not good,” Aideen warned. “It sure feels like…”
“Martha! This is Maisie! Are you okay? Do you need me? Will you tell Princess Pissy Puss that you. Are. My. Sister.”
Her voice still sounded faraway, but nonetheless fierce and furious.
It was one of the few constants in my life–my boys were always there for me, Maeve was always calm, cool, and collected to the point of almost being boring, and Maisie was a force to be reckoned with every single minute of every single day, and even more so when she thought one of us was in danger.
She was gonna be an awesome mom. There was no doubt about it– especially since I was gonna be there to make sure she kept the helicopter parenting to a minimum.
“I swear to the Ancients, I will watch you…”
“Maisie,” I used the unique telepathic link I shared with her, but there was no answer. Well, other than a whole lot of growling and snarling– and that was just my little sister. The Dragon Queen with whom she shared her soul was just about to blow.
“Maisie, you have to calm down. You’re gonna…”
“I don’t have to do shit!” Yes, I heard her in stereo– both in my mind and in my ear. I had to do something quickly. All hell was about to…
“Give me the damn…”
“Maisie, you don’t need the phone.”
“Yes, I do! What are you… Oooooooh…”
“Yeah, oh” I tried hard not to laugh. Then, both mentally and aloud, I calmly instructed while trying to hurry because my shop was still on fire, “Now, untangle yourself from the nice Tigress and tell her you’re sorry.”
Yep, I was going to pay for that last comment, but I had to do it. After all, I was the oldest sister and Dragon Queen. I had to get my kicks where I could.
I heard a muffled, “Sorry about that. I kinda lost my mind. I think it must be all the pregnancy hormones.”
“I’m sure it is, Dr. Walton,” the Tigress sweetly replied, and surprisingly, I could tell that she meant it. Damn, she really was good at her job.
But there were other pressing matters than my sister’s apology and the Tigress’s professional aptitude.
My. Shop. Was. On. Fire. (Yes, feel free to sing the Alicia Keyes song, substituting shop for my girl.
Why not? For better or worse, this was my circus, and these were my clowns, why not add a little music to the shit show?)
“I’m really sorry. I promise to make it up to you. How about a gift card to Martha’s shop. I heard you say…”
“A gift certificate to ‘Martha’s Shop’…”
Yes, my tone was dripping with sarcasm and more than a little fear.
“…won’t be worth the paper it’s written on if somebody doesn’t call the Fire Brigade!”
As you can imagine, along with being more than a little sarcastic, I was yelling into the phone and into my sister’s pregnancy-hormone-soaked mind.
“Oh, no, Martha!” They chorused. Finally, the attention was back to me.
Oh, no! The attention was back on me. What had I done? I was going to have to…
“Are you okay?” Maisie asked. “Are you hurt? Are the boys okay?”
Whew! Maybe I was going to get out of this situation without being forced to explain what happened. Was Fate finally on my side? Could it be?
“Martha? Are you there?” I could envision Maisie’s jaw tightly clenched, her crystal blue eyes narrowed to tiny slits, and each word being forced through gritted teeth.
I could imagine it because I had seen way too many times.
“Martha… Answer me or I’m callin’ Arthur. He, tis, and Chewy are okay, right?””
And with those words, she snapped me right out of my stupor and my lips were moving of their own volition.
“Of course, the boys are okay. I got the big boys headed to the door and scooped Chewy up the second I snee… I mean, smelled the smoke."
Smiling, despite the catastrophic turn my life had taken, I looked down into three sets of big brown eyes and knew everything would be okay.
Seeing those three furry faces gazing up at me was all it took to melt my heart.
We’d been through a lot together, and they’d be the first to tell you that my tendency was to jump headfirst into any and all situations without a plan.
They’d also agree that more times than not we made out better than when we started.
I had to believe that the flames eating away at the back of my shop was all part of some grand plan, and as long as we had each other we could get through anything.
"Yeah, the boys are just fine. They’re munching on turkey jerky."
"Oh, good," Maisie and the Tigress breathed in unison.
Then my little sister added, "When you first introduced me to Arthur and Chewy, I was a little freaked out," she chuckled. "I mean, talk about Mutt and Jeff– no pun intended. Chewy looks like a cross between a Wookiee and an Ewok from Star Wars, and don’t even get me started about Arthur. He is the spitting imagine of the Wolfman before he learned to walk upright.”
“And what about me?” Otis asked. “Of course, she thought I was the most handsome specimen of male Wolfhound she’d ever seen, right?”
“Right,” I mouthed, nodding wildly while praying that Maisie was going to stop with the trip down Memory Lane and get back to calling the Fire Brigade.
Of course, that didn’t happen. Instead, the Tigress 911 Operator jumped on the Canine Appreciation Cruise, and we were headed for the high seas.
“And you can’t forget about Otis. He is the just such a gentle giant, and I love his long, dark, slate gray fur. I look as forward to seeing all of them every morning.”
She paused for a split second, and three things flashed into my mind: (1) Now, maybe they’ll call the Fire Brigade.
(2) Why didn’t I just call the Fire Brigade?
Goddess knows this call wasn’t going the way I thought it would.
(3) Is this chick not happy to see me every morning? Is it really all about the boys?
Oh, and number four” Why the hell do I care? My shop is on fire.
Then the Tigress added, “And you Martha. I so look forward to seeing you in one of your bedazzled T-shirts and inhaling the scent of brewing coffee and freshly baked goodies. It is the…"
Interrupted by the pop and static of a radio, I head the operator talking to someone on the radio right before Maisie loudly announced directly into my brain, "She’s dispatching all available trucks.
She told them to hurry like their lives depended on it – ‘cause they just might. This girl is so sweet, Martha. We really have to give her free coffee for life… Maybe even a Danish or cinnamon roll, too.”
“We?”