The men on the boat let out a cheer. “We’ve got her!”
“Haul her in!”
I pushed away the fright that encompassed me every bit as firmly as the net. My wish. I needed to decide. First, I had to get out of being a mermaid. What could I wish for that would also require two legs? Turning to Chrissy, I called, “I want to dance so well with Jason that I’m famous for it—in my normal time period.” I added the last part to ensure she took me back to the present.
Chrissy smiled, self-satisfied, and swished her wand in my direction. “Wish granted.”
Chapter 7
The air around me shimmered with pulses of light. The gazebo, the water, and the sky melted away into a blur of blues and grays. The smell of the net and the weight of it against my skin disappeared. I felt weightless. Everything spun and twisted.
When the air cleared, I found myself standing in a lobby of a fancy resort—no, it was the grand entrance of a mansion. Sweeping stone arches were interspersed with stained glass windows as big as doors. A balcony with an intricate wooden banister wrapped around one part of the room.
Several hallways led into the entrance, and off to my side, stood a pair of elaborately carved wooden double doors. A dozen multilayered candelabras were spread around the room, complete with glowing candles.
I wore a pale yellow gown with green sleeves and a flared skirt that split in the front to show a matching green underskirt. Yellow and green brocade trimmed the sleeves, hem, and collar.
Apparently I was either on my way to the Grammys or a masquerade ball. Even though I knew I was standing, I hiked up my skirt to see my legs. They were right where they were supposed to be, decked out in white stockings and yellow slippers with satin bows on top.
Whoever had designed this outfit had gone all out. I ran my hand along my sleeve, taking in the smooth, delicate material. I had kept one thing from my mermaid story: the pearl bracelet I’d put on earlier still circled my wrist.
Looking around again, I noticed Chrissy at my side. She wore a blue gown with a tight fitting bodice, a long flowing skirt, and puffy sleeves that tapered in at the elbows. The sort of dress fairies wore in elaborately drawn versions of Cinderella. Her hair, now platinum blonde, was piled up on the top of her head in ribboned braids, and her wings had vanished. I hadn’t realized wings were accessories fairies could hide when they wanted.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Your new home. You’re not only famous, you’re rich. I threw that in at no extra charge.” She nodded with a knowing air. “You’re welcome.”
“My home?” This was better than I’d hoped for. I put my hands to my lips, suppressing a squeal of delight. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. Celebrities lived in mansions, and that’s what I’d wished for. I cast another look at the stone arches and indoor balcony, nearly laughing at the grandeur. When Chrissy decided to do rich, she didn’t skimp. “Where’s my family?”
Chrissy pointed her wand at the double doors. “In there, sitting down for supper.”
I hadn’t been away from my parents for long, but I had an overwhelming desire to rush in and throw my arms around each of them. “Thank you!” I gasped out. “Thank you so much!” I was ready to take back everything I’d said about Chrissy being a lousy fairy godmother.
I hurried to the doors, pushed them open, and stepped into a huge dining room. Floor to ceiling carved oak panels spread across the room. Large oil paintings hung next to arched windows, and three long tables were draped in white flowing table cloths. A middle-aged man and woman ate dinner at the middle table. The woman’s light blonde hair was done up in a bun and covered in a lace cap. She wore a formal, long-sleeved crimson dress and looked effortlessly elegant and graceful.
The man sitting beside her was heavy. Not fat exactly, just broad . . . like he needed to eat five times a day because he bench pressed ponies in his spare time. He had receding blond hair, a bushy beard, and he wore a blue vest with a high collar over a shirt with oddly-puffy sleeves.
Two longer tables sat on either side of the middle table, each filled with young women. Eight of them looked enough like the man and woman at the middle table that they must have been related. They had the same wavy blonde hair, pale elegant skin, and high cheek bones.
The other three girls looked like guests. One had red hair and freckles, one was Asian, and one was black. Several people in old-fashioned servants’ attire walked around the room with trays filled with fruit, bread, and cheese. Others carried pitchers or plates of meat. A mandolin player sat in a corner of the room, plucking his instrument and singing a tune.
There were two problems with what I saw. None of the people seated at the tables were my family, and they were all dressed in clothing that made them seem like they belonged in a Renaissance movie. I glanced at my dress again. I didn’t have a mirror, but it probably could be classified as Renaissance too.
A cold trickle of dread crept down my back. I wasn’t just in the wrong house. I was in the wrong century. Again.
The greeting that had been on my lips faltered and sputtered away. I couldn’t do anything but gape at everyone uncomfortably. Servants and eaters stopped talking and stared back at me. Even the mandolin guy quit playing.
The man at the middle table furrowed his brows and set his knife down on the table. “Who let you in here? What is the meaning of this?”
I hadn’t realized Chrissy stood next to me until she spoke. “This is your youngest daughter, Mercedes—Sadie, for short.” Chrissy swished her wand in a circular direction, and a burst of sparkles spread outward, like magical mist. As it reached the people at the table, their expressions changed, relaxed. The diners turned back to the business of eating and talking. The servants made their way around the room again, placing food on the table. The clinking of silverware and the noise of conversation filled the room.
My throat felt tight and it was hard to swallow. “Chrissy, this isn’t my family.”
“It is now,” she said brightly. “The important thing about family is not who they are, it’s that you have a good one. I gave you the best possible—royalty.”
She had done this as a favor? Did she understand anything about humans? Families weren’t interchangeable. I took a horrified step backward. “I don’t want royalty. I want my family.”
Chrissy gave me the sort of look a teacher gives an unreasonable student. “You were willing to leave your family to go on the road to find fame and fortune. I’ve made it so you can have both. It’s those special little extras I provide that make me an excellent fairy godmother—and please remember to use that wording should the FGA contact you with a customer service survey.”
Chrissy waved her wand at the nearest table and it grew several feet longer. A silver plate appeared, flanked by gleaming silverware and a cloth napkin. She motioned toward the table with a magnanimous sweep. “Your seat awaits.”
The king turned away from his conversation with the queen and sent me a disapproving look. “Mercedes, you’re late for supper again.”
The queen smiled and gestured toward the empty plate. “Sadie dear, it isn’t proper for a princess to keep her family waiting.”
The king picked up a turkey leg from his plate. “Which is why we didn’t wait. Sit down before I decide lollygaggers should miss supper altogether.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only shake my head. The Queen’s gaze turned to Chrissy. “Is your friend joining us?” She waved at a passing servant. “Set an extra plate next to Sadie’s, will you?”
Chrissy made a small curtsy. “Many thanks, Your Majesty, but Princess Sadie is about to see me out. She’ll come back and eat with you in a minute.”
The queen nodded, dismissing us. The king no longer paid attention to me. He called to one of the serving girls for more to drink.