Wishful Thinking Read online

  “So why doesn’t she just leave us alone?” Rory demanded. “I’ve had enough of her gifts, anyway. Who wants to sounds like a bird when they try to sing?” She opened her mouth to demonstrate and let loose with a nightingale warble that made the waitress passing by stare. Cass kicked her under the table and she shut up abruptly.

  “We’ve been over this time and again. Anyone with even a drop of fairy blood gets assigned a fairy godmother—kind of like being assigned an attorney in court if you can’t afford one. The Fairy Council would have her wand if she stopped at least pretending to keep an eye on us,” Phil said grimly. “So we’re as stuck with her as she is with us. The FG is here to stay so I need to decide on a wish.”

  It was surprisingly hard to keep coming up with wishes that wouldn’t backfire and ruin your life, as they had all discovered the hard way. Rory had once wished to be able to talk to dogs, and had been turned into a Schnauzer—not at all what she’d had in mind. Phil and Cass had an awful time hiding the disaster from their excitable Nana. They’d had to use their allowances to buy their baby sister dog food until their fairy godmother had finally bothered to show up and reverse her badly cast magic. And that was one of the lesser birthday wish disasters Phil could remember.

  “What about a good parking spot everywhere you go?” Rory suggested.

  “Did it.” Cass raised a hand. “That was what I wished last year. We never go shopping without each other so that would be a wasted wish. Speaking of which, when are we going to go look for a new bathing suit for your office beach party, Phil? You know your old one is a write off because Nana accidentally bleached it.”

  “Can’t be tomorrow because Christian probably has something planned for my birthday.” Phil coughed self-consciously and her sisters let it pass. “And I can’t do it Tuesday either. Maybe Wednesday since the pre-Fourth of July beach party is on Thursday.” She took a sip of wine. “Now, come on—back to the wishes.”

  “Wish that your tea will always be hot, no matter how long you let it sit,” Rory suggested.

  “I did that my freshman year of college during finals when I was taking a summer semester. I didn’t want to have to keep getting up to steep a fresh pot while I was studying,” Phil said. It had been one of her better wishes, actually. One of the few she didn’t regret and hadn’t had to beg their fairy godmother to reverse. Simple wishes worked the best, they had found. The more complicated a wish got, the more room for disaster there was.

  “Well, what about—?”

  “Excuse me, ladies.” Their waiter, a nice-looking young man with a neatly clipped mustache and dark hair, was standing at Phil’s elbow with a covered tray. He leaned toward her confidentially and she nearly groaned when he half lifted the lid and she saw what was on it.

  “I heard you talking about a birthday and thought the lady might want dessert,” he said, smiling at her politely. “Compliments of the house, of course.”

  “Of course,” Phil said weakly, knowing there was no point in protesting.

  “Ooo, what is it?” Rory, who had an insatiable sweet tooth, leaned over to look at the tray.

  “What do you think it is?” Cass demanded. “It’s what it always is.”

  “Oh.” Rory looked disappointed and both sisters said in unison, “Éclair.”

  “Well…yes.” The waiter lifted the tray completely, looking faintly surprised. He deposited the cold dish with its chocolaty, creamy treat in front of Phil, who tried to suppress a shudder at the sight.

  She had made an ill thought-out birthday wish at the age of eight that she could have an éclair every day for the rest of her life. And ever since, no matter where she was or what she was doing, at some point before the clock struck midnight and the new day began, someone offered her an éclair. It might be a waiter, a family member or even a complete stranger on the street, but come what may, she got her éclair even though she had long since become thoroughly sick of them.

  Once she had locked herself in the bathroom for the entire day and refused to come out, trying to avoid the gooey desert. It hadn’t worked—the magic had compelled Cass to go to the bakery and use her allowance to buy one, even though she very much didn’t want to. She had shoved it under the bathroom door complaining bitterly about people who didn’t face up to the consequences of their wishes. Phil had never tried to hide from her daily éclair again.

  Thanks goodness, she thought, looking down at the chocolate and cream confection, that she hadn’t wished that she could actually eat an éclair every day of her life or she would have had to become bulimic by now. As soon as the waiter left she shoved the plate towards Rory who dug in philosophically. Chocolate was chocolate, as far as her little sister was concerned.

  She glanced at her watch and saw that their pre-birthday planning session was almost over and she still hadn’t gotten any good wish ideas. She had to think of something good, something small, something that wouldn’t change her life forever…

  Suddenly a muffled rendition of “Pachelbel’s Canon” began to resound from inside her sensible black purse.

  “Hey, Phil, your purse is ringing,” Cass said smugly. Her own phone rang the X-men theme and Rory’s changed according to who was calling her. Phil dug the cell out of her purse and glanced at the number.

  “It’s Christian. I’d better go.”

  “Honestly, before I’d let a man order me around like that…” Cass grumbled. Rory just shrugged, her mouth full of éclair.

  “He’s not ordering me—we have plans. And if you hadn’t spent the whole strategy session dishing, I’d have a plan too,” Phil groused. Her magically induced mild temperament insured that she never completely lost her cool, but she came closest with her annoying younger sister.

  “Whatever. You better get the phone before Christian has a coronary. You know how he gets when he has to wait for anything,” Cass said, raising an eyebrow at her.

  Phil flipped open the phone.

  “Hey, babe.” Christian’s voice filled her ear. “Look, I don’t like to rush you when you’re with your sisters but you know we have a big night planned tonight.”

  “Hi, hon.” Phil suppressed a small sigh. She had gotten upset with her sisters for saying that she was always out “entertaining” her fiancé’s important clients but it was the truth. Sometimes she wished that things could go back to the way they’d been before Christian graduated law school and got his job as a hotshot attorney. As crazy as it sounded, she kind of missed the nights when they just sat home and ate sandwiches together because they couldn’t afford anything else. At least then they’d had time to talk—to really connect. In the past year since Christian had been working so hard all day and entertaining clients all evening, she felt like she hardly knew him anymore.

  Phil pushed her disloyal thought to the back of her mind and tried to sound happy. “So who are we entertaining tonight? And where are we going?” she asked brightly.

  “We’re taking out Heidi and George Ghent. And I made reservations for four at Berns.” He laughed and Phil winced. Berns was one of the most expensive and exclusive steak houses in Tampa. The restaurant had dry aged steaks and a wine list that was supposedly unequaled anywhere in the country. “Couldn’t have afforded that this time last year, huh, Philly-babe?” Christian continued. “Gotta love that expense account. But as my senior partner says, the client is always right and that’s where Ghent wanted to go. This could be a very important account for us.”

  “Sounds…wonderful,” Phil said, hoping he couldn’t hear the hesitation in her voice. It seemed like every client represented an important account but she had never dreamed that Christian would spend as much time wining and dining prospective clients as practicing law. Certainly that wasn’t what she hoped to do when she got through law school herself. Phil intended to be a civil rights attorney and stand up for people whose rights were being trampled on. Somehow she didn’t think most of her clients would be bigwigs who demanded to be taken to the most expensive restaurants in town.<
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  “…so you need to get back here if you’re gonna have time to get gorgeous for tonight.” Christian’s voice continued in her ear and Phil realized she had spaced out, daydreaming of her own future legal career.

  “Oh, yeah?” she said, hoping he hadn’t noticed her momentary lapse of concentration.

  “Yeah,” Christian said, apparently unaware that she had tuned him out. “I know how long it takes you ladies to get ready and don’t say I’m being a sexist pig, either, Phil. You know it takes you twice as long as me to look ravishing.”

  “But I’m always ravishing,” Phil reminded him. It was an old joke between them and Christian usually replied with a naughty come-on about exactly how much he wanted to “ravish” her.

  But this time he just said, “Uh-huh. Look, babe, I got a few more things to take care of on my end. Will I see you soon?”

  “You bet,” Phil said, feeling deflated. But then, she couldn’t expect him to remember every old joke they’d ever shared, could she? “I’m leaving right now,” she told him. “See you soon. Love you.”

  “You too, babe. See ya.”

  “Bye.” She closed the phone and stood up to gather her things. “I have to go.”

  Rory swallowed her mouthful of éclair hastily. “But we haven’t thought of the perfect wish yet. You have to be careful, Phil! Don’t forget the year you wished to always have on pretty shoes and then those spike heeled pumps were stuck on your feet for two weeks.”

  Cass snorted. “Yeah—pretty they were. Comfortable? Not so much.”

  Phil winced. “Don’t remind me. It’s a wonder I don’t have fallen arches from that little wish fiasco.” She leaned over and brushed a light kiss across her youngest sister’s cheek. “But don’t worry about me—I’ll think of something.”

  “You better,” Cass said grimly. “And you better have it ready by six fifteen tomorrow night—the exact time you were born. Or the FG will choose for you and you know what her choices are like.” Sadly, they all did. One didn’t have to look any farther than their dramatic hair and eyes, Rory’s songbird voice and Phil’s mild temperament to know that their fairy godmother was either completely out of touch with reality, or else watching way too much Disney Channel.

  “Look, just keep an eye on Nana for me and call me if she gets into trouble,” she said, bending to kiss Cass on the cheek as well. “And don’t worry about me, all right? I’ll be okay.”

  But she couldn’t help feeling the tension sitting in her stomach like a cold éclair. Her birthday was coming and she was completely unprepared.

  Chapter Two

  “Guess what the flavor of the month is.”

  The voice on the other end of her cell phone perked Phil up considerably. She’d been moping on the sofa ever since they’d gotten home from the night out with Christian’s clients at Berns. Or at least that was what Christian had called it—Phil called it feeling blue. And she couldn’t help it—not considering the way her night had turned out. Especially when she’d been feeling so good at the beginning of the evening.

  Even though their dinner company had been less than pleasant (Mister Ghent was a boor who liked to brag about his investments and Mrs. Ghent was a snob whose main conversation consisted of how hard it was to find a good maid service that wouldn’t chip her Waterford crystal) Phil had still managed to have a good time.

  On the ride home she’d snuggled up next to her fiancé, feeling the effects of the ungodly expensive vintage the client had ordered from Berns’ famous wine list like a warm tingling in her veins. Champagne tended to make her silly and what Cass would call horny. Phil chose to think of it as amorous and since she couldn’t remember the last time she and Christian had made love, it seemed like a good thing. But her fiancé hadn’t felt the same way.

  “Stop it, Phil. Can’t you see I’m trying to drive?” he’d demanded when she nibbled his ear.

  Since they were practically the only car on the back road he had chosen to take, it didn’t seem like a big deal to Phil. “Come on, Christian,” she’d murmured in her sexiest voice. “Loosen up. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “We could get pulled over and I’d get a DUI,” he’d growled irritably. “How would that look on my record? My career would go straight in the toilet, all because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself until we got home.”

  “Sorry.” Phil had slid back to her side of the car with a sigh. Why was it lately that every time she wanted to make love Christian put her off? He was always too busy or preoccupied with work to have time for them. It made Phil feel sad and cut off from him, like there was a distance between them she couldn’t bridge no matter how hard she tried—not that she would admit as much to Cass or Rory. In fact, she wouldn’t have been admitting it to herself if she hadn’t had several glasses of bubbly fizzing around inside her. Well, she told herself, maybe he was just concerned with his driving and he’d be in a better mood once they got back to their apartment.

  Only he hadn’t been. With barely a look at Phil, he’d brushed by her the moment she opened the door and went straight for the spare bedroom he’d designated as his study the day they moved in.

  “Sorry Philly-Babe, lots of work to do,” he’d thrown over his shoulder when she protested.

  And that was how she’d wound up sitting on the couch, painting her toenails and feeling blue and neglected. Was it her imagination or were things just not right between her and Christian anymore? He seemed so preoccupied lately. Of course Phil knew he was doing demanding work but still, it seemed like he could have found some time to be with her. Well, maybe he was busy planning something big for her birthday. In which case she would gladly forgive him for tonight. She decided to put the whole thing out of her mind and concentrate on something else.

  She knew she ought to be trying to think of a wish but her mind was still fuzzy from the champagne and she didn’t feel like wracking her brains at the moment. Surely she would think of something before her birthday moment rolled around. Wouldn’t she?

  And that was when her phone rang, pulling her out of her blues.

  “Guess the flavor,” the familiar voice urged. “C’mon, Swann. It’s one of your favorites.”

  “Uh…chocolate fudge mocha?” she guessed.

  “Nope but warm. As warm as ice cream gets, anyway.” Josh, her best friend from work chuckled. His deep voice warmed her, even across the phone.

  “Peanut butter ripple,” Phil said, putting down the bottle of nail polish and getting into it. This was a game she and Josh played every week when the flavors at I Scream, U Scream, one of their favorite hang-outs changed. It was supposed to be the flavor of the month but in actuality, it changed more often than that. Which was as good excuse as any to eat ice cream in Phil’s opinion.

  “Wrong again and cold, Swann. Really cold.” Josh still sounded amused.

  “Okay, something with chocolate then.” Phil closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. The champagne buzz was wearing off now and she was feeling more like herself. “Uh, don’t tell me. It’s not…it can’t be…”

  “Love Potion Number Nine!” Josh finished for her. “Your favorite. Wanna get some? I can be there in five minutes to pick you up.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Josh…” Phil glanced at her watch to look at the time. “It’s really late and besides, I don’t know how Christian would feel if I left now.”

  “I’m sorry, Swann.” His voice was subdued. “Am I uh, interrupting some kind of pre-birthday celebration? Were you two about to paint the town red?”

  “Huh? Oh, no.” Phil blushed even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Not unless painting my toenails red counts.”

  “Red toenails? Wow, hot stuff coming through. I better let you go then.” Josh sounded like he was about to hang up but suddenly Phil didn’t want him to.

  “No, wait.” She stood up, walking carefully on her heels so she wouldn’t smudge her pedicure. “Let me just tell Christian I’m going out for a few minutes. I could
use some Love Potion Number Nine right now.” In more than one way, she told herself as she hobbled to the study door. But she pushed the thought aside. Her fiancé was just busy and preoccupied with work. Things would be better soon, she was sure. Just as soon as he got really settled in his job he wouldn’t have to work so hard and they would get close again.

  “Christian,” she said as she opened the door. “Josh and I are going to go grab a snack from I Scream. You want anything?”

  He was on the cell phone with someone and he turned to give her an irritated look. “Hang on a minute,” he told whoever was on the other end. Then he frowned at Phil. “Now, what?”

  She repeated herself adding, “They have Love Potion Number Nine right now. You want some?”

  “No, babe. Go have fun and don’t worry about me.”

  “Okay.” She smiled at him. “Guess I’ll see you later then.”

  “Yeah. Hey, don’t wait up for me when you get back. I’m liable to be working on this stuff half the night.” He indicated the stacks of paper he had strewn over his desk and ran a hand through his dark blond hair.

  “Oh,” Phil said in a small voice. “I thought…thought maybe you’d want to get to bed a little earlier tonight.”

  “Can’t. Sorry, babe—too much work.” Christian went back to his conversation, obviously not taking her hint, and Phil sighed. So much for a night of passionate love-making. Well, there was still chocolate ice cream with her best friend to look forward to. Now she was twice as glad Josh had called.

  “So we’re on?” Josh asked when she closed the door and brought the phone back to her ear.

  “Oh, did you hear that?” Phil felt her cheeks growing red. She hoped Josh hadn’t heard her ask Christian if he was coming to bed early. It was bad enough to be turned down by her fiancé, she didn’t need an audience for her shame.

  “Some of it,” Josh said tactfully. “Just enough to know we’re going. I’ll be there in five—is that enough time for your toes to dry?”