Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

One Day at a Time

Satrine

“You’re going towhat?”

“Mom, chill out,” I whispered.

She was pacing, wearing a satin and lace negligee set that was everything.

I was up on her bed, my legs curled under me, wearing much the same, but mine didn’t have lace, and it was clear Edgar skimped on a few things, because Mom’s bedclothes were rad and mine were just awesome.

Maxine was out like a light in Mom’s bed due to the “draught” the doctor had given us to help her sleep.

Yes, the doctor had come and gone.

He did this with Mom flatly refusing to let Maxine go back to the hospital.

With Loren, Ansley, Maitland, the doctor and me all watching her, while she wore an outfit Carling unearthed from the rafters (or wherever) that was okay, but it wasn’t like any of mine (mine were more Victorian Cinderella, hers was more Dangerous Liaisons vixen), she decreed, “She’s mine now. I have her back. We’ll arrange instruction so we can learn what we’re doing. We’ll hire a nurse who just knows what she’s doing. We’ll come to you for regular appointments so she continues to have the care she needs. What we’re not going to do is let her go again.”

Damn, Mom was into being Corliss of this world.

The doctor seemed thrilled by this and replied, “She’s grieved for you greatly.”

“Well, that’s over,” Mom returned.

“Being with her loved ones in a stable environment will do her wonders,” the doctor continued.

“Marvelous!” Mom cried, twirling her hand in the air. “We’re all agreed!”

She then stopped just short of raising her fist to the heavens and exclaiming, “We’ll never go hungry again!” which meant she was a bit overdoing it, but, whatevs.

So, apparently, imprisonment in a dungeon for nearly a month with her daughter-not-daughter and meals of gruel and broth wasn’t enough to break my mother.

I should have known.

Obviously, they’d had their baths, eaten, and gotten dressed. Then Mom settled Maxine in with some sketchbooks by a window, met Ansley, Loren, Maitland, and the doctor came and went.

Mom returned to Maxine.

I wanted to go with her and get to know my “sister,” but Loren took me aside before I could do that.

“There’s much to be done,” he declared.

I was thinking wedding.

“I’m sure.”

“We need to go to the constabulary and make our statements.”

Oh, well then.

Not wedding.

“Father and I’ll do it now. We’ll take you and your mother tomorrow.”

I nodded. “Right.”

“We’ll be needing to make other arrangements.”

I should not push this, considering the fact I was going to find a witch as fast as I could and let Loren off the hook, but still.

I hoped this world had peonies.

“Carling had a chat with Father as you were demonstrating how much you enjoy my mouth.”

I squinted my eyes. “It wasn’t like you didn’t have a bit of fun, mister.”

“Oh, I did indeed,” he whispered, a lazy, sexy look in his eyes.

My clitoris pulsed.

Yikes.

Mental note: he was better at the comeback than me.

“Hello, fancypants Marquess. Carling?”

There you go. He was way better with the comeback.

He grinned.

God, he was going to kill me.

Gorgeous, normally.

Knock-you-off-your-feet when he was happy.

The grin died and he said, “Not for now, but Carling shared some things that were concerning. Your mother’s return will cause a sensation. Your existence will as well. But it’s untoward me, or Father, or even Marlow stay with you.”

“Bummer,” I muttered.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“Um…nothing. It’s French,” I said hopefully.

“What?”

Oh shit!

“Fleuridian,” I amended.

“It is?”

“Do you speak Fleuridian?”

“Fluently.”

Ah hell.

“Let’s stay on track, shall we?” I sidestepped and prompted, “You can’t stay.”

“Your mother would be an acceptable chaperone, but we have a townhome two blocks from here. There’d be no reason why we’d be staying, especially me, except one. You’ll have enough interest coming your way, we don’t need to provide reason for more.”

Yet more proof they were prudish here.

Not fun.

“Right,” I replied.

“There’ll be guards at the front and back doors.”

Wait.

“Why?”

“Your father didn’t keep great company and regularly had unsavory visitors.”

“Wonderful,” I said to the ceiling.

“Satrine,” he called.

God, I hated that he couldn’t call me by my real name with that beautiful voice of his.

I looked back to him.

“This will be over soon.”

“Okay.”

“There’s that word. What does it mean again?”

Man, I needed to keep my guard up.

And that, too, sucked.

“It’s a language Mom and I made up. It means ‘all right’ or ‘fine’ or ‘good.’ At least it does this time.”

There you go times two. I was getting good at lying on the fly (Lord help me).

His lips curled up. “Okay.”

Yes, he was killing me.

I smiled at him.

He bent and kissed my forehead, which was outrageously adorable and sweet.

When he backed away, he bid, “Enjoy your reunion. I’ll return for breakfast at nine.”

“Righty ho.”

He shot me a hot smirk, a fabulous wink, and then he took off.

I couldn’t spend a lot of time with Maxine because she didn’t need to be overstimulated while she was getting used to being out of basement prison and in this house with me and Mom. Mom was her constant, so Mom stuck with her.

Though, before he left, the doc assured me that with time, she’d warm to me. I just had to be patient.

As for me, I went about checking out the house, making sure Idina was good, and casing the joint for stuff we might be able to sell or just plain steal so we could have our own pocket money (and then some) should anything go south, or we found a witch for hire, and we’d need the cash to actually hire her. I scored by finding two books that taught French/Fleuridian in the library. I also dealt with the fact that the servants were practically dancing on air (there was a definite feel of “Ding Dong, The King is Dead, Long Live the Queen!”).

Eventually, I shared dinner with Mom and Maxine (who was timid and quiet, but I was right, really sweet), then preparing for bed.

Which brought us to now.

And me telling Mom I was marrying Loren.

“Okay, babe,” Mom said while pacing, “the man is gorgeous, like, whoa, what? gorgeous, but this is not a good idea.”

“I know. That’s why I have an alternate plan.”

She stopped and gave me her look that said, Spill.

“We’re going to steal a few of Dad-not-Dad’s things we can sell, and otherwise purloin whatever we can so we have a stash so we’re not destitute should he cut us off, which Loren tells me he can, and considering he’s a massive douchebag, he will.”

“Damn,” Mom mumbled.

Good to know I wasn’t dim. She hadn’t thought of that either.

“Then we’re going to find a witch.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“I don’t know. This world is cray-cray. They probably have storefronts. We’ll just wander town. Ask around.”

“What I mean is, how are we going to find one, explain what we need, and get home without that other witch’s curse turning everything to shit because we told someone else we’re from a parallel universe?”

Oh man.

I hadn’t thought of that.

She put her hands on her hips, glanced at Maxine, then looked to me.

“Honey, I think we’re stuck here.”

Something happened inside me that felt suspiciously like my heart leaping in joy, but I not only didn’t let on, I didn’t even admit to the feeling.

“What about Keith?”

She looked away.

Yeah, she liked Keith. He was a good, solid guy. One of the first who treated her right.

Really right.

“Mom, we’ll get home.”

She turned back. “How?”

“I don’t know. Two days ago, it seemed impossible to spring you. Now, you’re sprung and wearing satin. We just can’t give up.”

“And complicating things by marrying a hunk? How will that help?”

“I didn’t say it would help. I just said I was doing it. Or letting him think I am.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants to marry me, and he crushed Edgar’s hand for me after…” I pointed to my eye, “this.”

Mom’s face got hard.

“Good,” she snapped. “But you know, he also showed up downstairs, doing this making no sound, even while breaking in a locked door. It just happened that I was staring at that door longingly, which I’d become prone to do, and I caught him coming in. He snuck up on that jerk who was watching us and, zzzzzziiiiip, slit his throat.”

Holy cow.

Eek!

“Didn’t blink,” she stated. “Not even a flinch. The guy dropped. He nabbed his keys. His buddy tossed a blanket over him so Maxine, who was thankfully sleeping, wouldn’t see. And then he came to the bars, opened the door, and said, ‘How do you do, my lady? I’m Loren Copeland, Marquess of Remington, and your daughter sent me to fetch you.’’”

“Cold,” I muttered on a shiver, though it was also totally hot, and I had feelings of pride (and instantly denied them) and wonder (and instantly denied those too) and maybe titillation (because that was badass, and I didn’t deny that part).

“Ice.” She shook her head. “Now, our guard was always eyeing Maxine. Coming in too close. Touching her. Freaking her out. It was a matter of time, especially with that Edgar and you gone, which meant Edgar wasn’t coming down checking on us regularly, before he took liberties. And he wasn’t real gentle with me. Still.”

Mom grew alert, her eyes locking on me.

Then she whispered a warning, “Maxie…”

“Satrine,” I hissed. “And this is all effed up. That guy was gonna rape Maxine and he was rough with you?”

“He’s very dead now. Your fiancé slashed his throat.”

I was oh-so-totally okay with that.

Which was nuts.

I caught myself from falling back and hitting Maxine, and instead fell forward and moaned, “God, we’re in crazytown.”

Again, her gaze slid to Maxine. “She hit her head falling off a horse as a little girl?”

My momma had fallen in love.

That wasn’t surprising either.

“Yes,” I confirmed softly, gave her a second with that, and then pressed on. “Mom, we have to go to the constabulary. We have to get our story straight. Fleuridia. Where we lived. How we lived. How Dad-not-Dad brought us back. Who knows what he’s going to do and say?”

She came and sat in front of me on the bed. “Not much he can say, baby. You look exactly like her. And I look exactly like a portrait in his study. If no one knows of our world, then what other explanation can he have?”

I’d noticed that painting, after Loren kissed me stupid, when we were on the way out.

At least we had that going for us.

“We have to have it down,” I pushed. “Twenty years of it. Or an outline we can stick to. And you’re going to have to have a crash course in living in his world and doing it like a lady. And sorry to say, that part is going to have to start tonight too. Loren’s going to be here at nine for breakfast.”

“You like him.”

“He saved you.”

“No, you like him.”

“He’s hot.

“No, you like him.”

Gods damn it!

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I like him.”

She assumed an expression I never saw on her. A mix of sad and worried and happy and hopeful.

I totally got that expression.

Living it.

“You’re right, as ever, my brilliant daughter,” she said softly. “We have no choice. We go at this one day at a time.”

Yes.

That was it.

That was always it, what we always did.

I grabbed her hand and held on.

And repeated, “Yeah, Mom. One day at a time.”

Mom then struck her claim (again).

“You, me and, well…Maxine.”

I held fast and repeated firmly.

“You, me and our Maxine.”