14. A Change of Plans
FOURTEEN
A CHANGE OF PLANS
Blending in with Ordinary humans requires mastering their social cues, even when your otherworldly instincts may be triggered.
To prevent unplanned shifts, keep your emotions in check. Sudden noises or scents may excite your animalistic proclivities, but controlled breathing can help you stay calm. If needed, excuse yourself briefly to regain composure.
Avoid rigid or overly alert postures, as humans prefer a more relaxed stance. Prolonged eye contact and certain smiles can be misinterpreted, so maintaining a neutral expression is wise.
Subtle nods and calm gestures will allow you to engage smoothly while staying in control. A true gentleman adopts Ordinary behaviors without drawing attention.
–EXCERPT FROM THE METAMORPHIC MAN: A GENTLEMAN SHAPESHIFTER’S GUIDE TO CULTURED CONDUCT
Arthur’s second port with Will had gone much smoother.
This time, Arthur was ready when Will plunged them both into oblivion.
After two quick steps, they emerged into a Wonderland themed party room, crammed into the back of a Laguna Beach donut shop.
Red paper-covered tables decorated with confetti stood at the ready for a child’s birthday party.
Reflected in the colorfully framed funhouse mirrors that lined the walls, Will looked like a giant, and Arthur appeared short and rotund.
Will inhaled, long and deep. “Smell that, Arthur? This is no ordinary donut shop. It was started by a pair of rabbit shifters but they’ve got a crew of world-class culinary elves doing the baking for them.
” Will pulled two wax paper wrapped bricks from his jacket pockets.
“Ceylon cinnamon and cocoa from Ecuador.” He winked.
“Free use of the portal when you call ahead and bring the elves fresh ingredients.”
“Do you always have to make arrangements to port?” Arthur asked. He was curious about how it worked. Twice they had come through mirrors, but when Will had thrown open the door to the van, the portal seemed to appear from nowhere. And Arthur was pretty sure there wasn’t a mirror in his pantry.
“No.” Will pocketed the powders again. “Anything can be a portal, so long as it’s not warded. It’s just safer to stay on the path. Porting is more predictable when you can call ahead to make sure the coast is clear. Best not to leave some things to chance.”
This was probably the most practical thing that Will had ever said to Arthur, and he found it oddly endearing.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Will offered as they walked towards the front of the sunny, immaculate shop. “We’re a bit early.”
The glass cases held a collection of cleverly shaped and decorated baked goods, frosted in brilliant tones. Amongst the rainbow-colored donuts, Arthur spied crescent moon croissants and kouign-amann pastries adorned with spun sugar and gold leaf crowns.
As hungry as this made him, he wanted to stretch his legs and take a moment to think about his conversation with the Director before he spoke with Maida.
“If it’s all the same to you,” Arthur glanced out the door and down the street as he made his excuse, “I think I’ll go find myself a proper macchiato.”
“Okay, see you soon.” Will waved distractedly and turned back towards the baker to place his order.
Walking down the street, Arthur recalled why he disliked Southern California. He ran hot. Even in the wintertime, it was too warm for him. He unbuttoned his trench coat as he walked alongside the busy coastal highway.
The Director had given him much to think about, but she had said nothing to convince Arthur that he ought to alter his plans.
He believed that the simplest solutions were almost always the best. Therefore, he would begin by asking Maida to assign power of attorney over to him.
He’d handled dozens of difficult clients.
Arthur wasn’t about to let a truculent house tell him how to do his job.
He was still determined to get back to Boston in time for dinner. Without the Ordinary woman in tow.
He paused at a crosswalk. This quaint coastal stretch of the highway was packed with small shops, boutiques, and galleries.
He spied the inevitable gourmet coffee shop a couple of blocks down on the ocean side of the road.
He wasn’t actually fussy about his brew.
That had just been his excuse to go for a walk.
But now that he smelled the roasty aromas wafting his way, he was glad he’d come.
Arthur was just getting ready to press the button to change the signal when the woman almost crashed into him. She seemed to be in a hurry, heading north towards the donut shop, lost in a dream, not paying attention to where she was going.
Thirty years later, and there was still no mistaking her. Those big curious eyes. That crazy hair? He would have recognized Maida Westabrook anywhere.
In general, Arthur tried to avoid eye contact with Ordinary women.
He’d been stalked by besotted court reporters on more than one occasion.
Animal magnetism was a real thing, and it wasn’t only the noble beasts that benefitted.
Even weasels and snake shifters had the power to attract undue attention.
It made Ordinaries easy prey for unsavory shifters. He wanted no part of that.
One interesting thing Arthur had observed: however fascinated an Ordinary might become with a shifter, they couldn’t maintain direct eye contact for more than a moment or two. The instant they saw the magical glints of gold in a shifter’s eyes, their primal senses of self-preservation kicked in.
That didn’t seem to be the case with Ms. Westabrook though.
Maida was staring right back at him, staring for a full ten seconds which was an all-time record for an Ordinary. He was so surprised, he almost forgot to breathe.
Was Director Berman right? Did she recognize him, too?
His foolish heart skipped a beat at the idea of this. But then she looked away, which was probably for the best.
She leaned forward to press the button for the crosswalk in the other direction, then stared down at her feet while waiting for it to change. He caught her scent on the breeze as she stood beside him. She smelled fresh, like meadow plants. Bee balm and mountain mint, with a hint of honeysuckle.
Fauns and leprechauns!
His head was swimming. She smelled so good that it was making him twitch and salivate. If he’d ever found such a delectably fragrant patch of earth in his stag form, he would have flung himself down and gleefully rolled about on it.
Arthur felt his skin tingle. He stood up straighter.
Her proximity was shaking his molecules into a pre-shift state.
He used the trick of counting and cataloging the bones in his human skeleton, working his way from the ground up as he waited for the moment to pass.
He’d have to banish himself back to Ireland forever if he unintentionally shifted in front of her again.
The prospect of it was mortifying. He would not succumb.
But he felt the phantom of his antlers aching with the effort of it.
By the time his breathing calmed, he was already up to his patella. When the light changed, he practically bolted across the road.
Reaching the ocean side of the highway, Arthur turned west towards the Pacific Ocean.
He cut down a side street, walking briskly towards a weather-beaten sign posted beside a steep staircase.
It was only two stories down to the sand.
Once on the beach, he kicked off his shoes and rolled his pant legs up to his knees.
Then he walked straight into the water. He let the painfully icy surf smack his feet and ankles, washing away his ill-advised urge to make that woman laugh again like she had as a child.
Ten minutes later, and ten minutes late for their meeting, Arthur lingered outside the shop for one last moment, spying on Will and Maida through the window. Their interactions were easy, familiar.
He watched Will take a large bite from a lavish pink donut, grinning with impish delight.
The fae PA was having far too much fun, given the serious nature of the situation.
But it was Maida who held his attention more.
Her pale hair looked almost opalescent, and he wished he could hear her laughing through the glass.
Will and Maida were clearly comfortable with one another, joking like they were siblings.
There wasn’t anything more between them.
Even though he felt sure of this, Arthur still felt an unexpected stab of possessive jealousy when Will playfully smashed his donut against Maida’s face.
Arthur checked the contents of his briefcase one last time. The documents were still in order. Once she signed them, it would be done. He and Will would be on their way. He’d probably never have occasion to see her again.
Will waved to greet Arthur as he pushed through the door, but Maida was busy perusing a paper menu. She didn’t look up until he was standing right in front of her.
When she did, she smiled warmly. “Hey, I know you!” she said. Her face was so open and unguarded it made the ache start all over again.
“Do you?” The words tumbled out of him, feeling sticky, sandy and stuck together as he wondered again if she had instantly known him, the way he’d known her.
“Sure—from the crosswalk.” Her smile grew brighter. “You’re the solicitor?”
“Yes.” A curt nod was the best he could manage, as he felt that sensation of plummeting in his chest again. He hated to admit to himself that Director Berman’s words had gotten his hopes up. For what?
Of course, Maida didn’t remember their childhood encounter. Why should she remember it? She had been five years old. And her memory had been muddled. Their childhood encounter had rearranged his entire life, but for her, it had been just another ordinary Tuesday.
It meant nothing.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hart.” Maida stuck out a hand. “I’m Maida.”
“You can call me Arthur.” He busied himself fiddling with his briefcase, pretending not to notice her gesture. He couldn’t trust himself to touch her at the moment. Not now that he’d finally cleared the scent of her from his nose. It was best not to take chances. His nostrils quivered.
“Sit down, Arthur!” Will jumped up, gesturing for Arthur to take a seat on the bench opposite Maida, in the booth. Arthur slid in and moved towards the window, placing himself as far from her as he could.
“Hopefully, I won’t take up too much of your time this morning Ms. Westabrook.
If you could just sign the papers I’ve drafted, I’ll be authorized to act as your agent and handle the sale or reassignment of the house for you.
” He removed the stack of papers from his briefcase and placed them on the table.
“What if she doesn’t want to give up her house?” Will nudged Maida to slide further into the booth and took the seat next to her. She was now sitting directly across from Arthur, their knees knocking.
It took a few extra seconds for Will’s words to penetrate the static filling Arthur’s head.
“Wait. What do you mean?” Arthur stared icily at Will.
Will drummed his fingers against his jaw and gazed skyward, as if he were genuinely pondering the issue.
“Well, I was just thinking that Maida should probably examine the property herself, before signing her rights away. As a solicitor, wouldn’t that be the most prudent course of action to advise your client? ”
If Will hadn’t been his ticket back to Boston, Arthur would have reached across the table and wrung his neck.