Uninspired Muse (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Muse Book 3) Page 11

  I finally gave it up as a symptom of whatever mental illness he was being treated for. Maybe he had visions or hallucinations on a regular basis and assumed I was one of them. Maybe he hadn’t actually seen me because, despite looking directly at me, he was too busy in his own head to notice .

  Whatever the reason, it was probably related to why he appeared to hear my words sometimes .

  Or maybe it was because our lives were somehow connected by Fate. I’d have asked someone about that one, but I wasn’t supposed to know about it. Polly probably wouldn’t be too thrilled if I approached her for an answer, especially since she wanted me to solve this on my own .

  I shook my head. What a weird day. A long hot bath and a glass or two of wine couldn’t fix anything, but they might make it easier to face the next day .

  “See you tomorrow, bright and early, buddy.” I spun and walked through the closed door before I could find out if he answered me .

  Chapter 12

  A s delightful as a bath and a glass of wine sounded, my day wasn’t quite over. While I was still in Topeka, I wanted to stop at my apartment and grab my quilt. Phoebe may still have been eluding me, but eventually I would find her .

  I drove straight from Gordon’s to my place. Since I had no plans to use my belt and bubbles to break any laws, Polly probably wouldn’t care if I failed to go back into the office and drop them off today. In the morning, I could go straight back to Gordon’s and get an early start on him .

  Something like a plan to help Gordon had begun to form, and I wanted to be there when Elizabeth arrived tomorrow. If they were going on a field trip, I was going , too .

  I parked my car and made my way across the courtyard to my apartment. The entire way, my stomach churned in nervous anticipation of running into Mark .

  My key slipped easily into the lock, and I opened the door .

  “Is that you, Wynter?” My landlady, Mrs. Terwilliger stuck her head out her kitchen window a few apartments down. The woman was nosy as hell and always trying to stir up trouble .

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s me. Just came home for a minute to grab something.” I knew it would be fruitless to attempt to hint that I was in a hurry .

  “I haven’t seen you here much in the last few days.” Her dark bouffant—far too dark for her age for her hair to be her natural color—didn’t move as she shook her head. I doubted she even knew how to do her own hair. For years she’d been having it done twice a week by her niece, Tina, who had a garage-based salon. Mrs. Terwilliger didn’t own so much as a bottle of shampoo .

  “I’ve been staying at my mom’s. She needed some help with…” I paused, trying not to panic. “Her garden! She’s redoing her yard, and I agreed to help her with the work .”

  “That’s so sweet of you. You know, before my Winston passed—God rest his soul—we had a lovely garden. Did I ever tell you about the time we planted turnips ?”

  “Mrs. Terwilliger, I would absolutely love to hear this story, but I’m sort of in a hurry .”

  She blinked at me. “Oh. Well, where are you going ?”

  Of course she would ask me that .

  “Can’t talk! Gotta run!” I waved and ran into my apartment, hoping she’d be gone by the time I had to leave. The door slammed shut behind me, making me cringe. So much for floating in on stealth mode so Mark didn’t notice I was here .

  There wasn’t anything else in the apartment that I needed, so it only took a minute to find my quilt. During my stay in the Underworld, I’d taken it with me as a piece of home and as a reminder to myself that I was no longer the loser who never finished what she started. Once I came home, I had it cleaned, then put it in one of those vacuum sealed bag things so it wouldn’t take up much room under my bed .

  I tucked it under my arm, gave the bedroom a once over, and headed through the apartment to the door. As I passed the kitchen window, I stopped and glanced across the courtyard .

  Mark, arms full of groceries, fumbled with his keys to get his door open. He dropped his keys, bent to pick them up, and lost an orange from one of his bags. It rolled away a few feet and came to a stop. He recovered his keys and let himself in, leaving the orange behind .

  Not sure what to do, I let myself out and locked my door, then retrieved the wayward orange. I stood in front of his door for at least a full minute, glancing between the orange in my hand and Mark’s closed door .

  I stuck my chin out and swallowed hard. This was ridiculous. We were friends. If I hung in there through the inevitable awkward first moments, maybe we could put this whole stupid mess behind us and start over. I took a step forward to knock .

  The doorknob turned as I moved. Panic tangled in my belly, and my hand shot to my belt, flipping me into invisible mode. My other hand, flailing in desperation, dropped the orange and nearly lost the quilt tucked under the same arm .

  Mark opened the door in time to see the fruit roll toward him. He followed its progress to his feet, then looked around, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. For a brief instant, his glance paused where I was standing, and I thought my belt hadn’t worked, but he moved on, scanning the courtyard and apparently coming up empty. He bent to pick up the orange, straightened, shot a last look around, then stepped inside and closed the door .

  I covered my invisible face with both untrustworthy hands. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been about to go in and clear things up. How was I supposed to do that now? Knock on the door and say “Hi, sorry I panicked and went invisible on you. Hope your orange isn’t damaged .”

  This entire situation had gotten away from me, and I had no idea how to recover. And I really missed him .

  I turned toward the parking lot, shifting my shrink-wrapped quilt from under one arm to the other .

  “He probably doesn’t even think much about me anyway. Why would he? I acted like an idiot.” I took a few steps toward my car and stopped, glancing over my shoulder at Mark’s door .

  “No. Absolutely not. That would be so wrong.” The fact that I was talking to myself was probably a sign that my frame of mind was already slightly off. My mouth gave me good advice. My feet and head totally ignored it .

  I didn’t even pause as I walked through Mark’s door and into his kitchen .

  He stood in front of his open refrigerator, staring at a head of lettuce in his hand. After a moment, he dropped it into the crisper and resumed unpacking his groceries .

  I watched him move around the kitchen with a smooth grace I’d never really paid attention to before. He was meticulous in where he put things away, lining up cereal boxes by height and stacking soup cans so the labels faced out. When the food was all put away, he folded the plastic bags in quarters and stuffed them into a dispenser that hung on the inside of a cupboard door .

  This wasn’t the first time I’d watched unseen as Mark went about his business. It was the first time I’d done it when he wasn’t my client, though. So far, he hadn’t done anything private or important, but any minute, he could strip off his clothes and talk to himself about all the women he’d ever slept with. I couldn’t think of a reason why he’d do such a thing, but that wasn’t the point .

  I was stalking him. And that wasn’t cool .

  I wasn’t sure what, exactly, I’d expected to find. Pictures of me taped to all the walls? All my favorite things to eat stacked on his counters? Signs that some woman had already made a move after I, basket case that I was, had rejected him ?

  Whatever my reasoning, I hadn’t expected to find him inspecting lettuce and going about his business as if nothing had happened .

  “Why aren’t you devastated? Didn’t you miss me?” I sighed and hugged my plastic-wrapped quilt to my chest, knowing I was being ridiculous .

  Mark closed the fridge and moved to the sink. He braced his hands against the counter, ducked his head, and looked outside. I moved behind him and tried to see what he was looking at .

  My apartment was straight across the courtyard and in his direct line of sight .
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  He stared at my empty kitchen window for what seemed an eternity before letting out a deep sigh and turning his back to it. He ran his hand through his already messy hair .

  I’d hoped he would say something so I could tell what he was thinking. Apparently, not everyone talked to themselves. Without a word, he headed for the bathroom and closed the door .

  Okay. So, maybe he did miss me. Interesting that he closed the bathroom door, even when he thought he was alone in the house .

  “I should leave.” I didn’t want to. I wanted to curl up on his couch and watch old movies with him. But standing there in his kitchen as an invisible stalker was wrong. Unhappy and feeling twice as stupid as I’d felt before I’d come in, I left Mark’s apartment with my quilt and headed to Mom’s house .

  I f I’d had the remotest thought that the worst part of my day was behind me, it disappeared the minute I pulled into Mom’s driveway and saw the grass had grown to waist high since I’d left that morning. My grandmother’s car was already parked next to my spot .

  I turned off the engine and exited slowly, shutting the door without slamming it, as if whatever had happened might start up again if I made any sudden movements or loud noises. I was aware of the faulty logic, but I was more than a little freaked. My reasoning was squishy .

  The plastic wrapped around my quilt stuck to the inside of my arm as I made my way up the walkway to the front door. This morning, Mom’s yard gnome had been hanging out with a pink flamingo in a clearing between bushes. Now he was buried in leaves and branches. Only his right eye, part of his beard, and the tip of the flamingo’s beak were visible .

  “What the hell happened here, Frank?” I whispered the question, still afraid of bringing attention to myself but needing the comfort of my routine greeting with the brightly painted lawn ornament .

  Grass from the lawn covered half the walkway, and I had to kick some of it out of the way to get the front door open. When I closed the door behind myself, bright green tufts were caught in the jamb as if trying to take over the inside of the house as well .

  I dropped the quilt and my purse on the table by the door and flipped on some lights. What little sunlight was left to the day was obscured by the overgrown shrubs outside the windows .

  Blinking, I glanced around the living room. “Phyllis?” I muttered a prayer to whatever gods might be listening. It hadn’t crossed my mind until I’d come inside, but what had happened outside probably happened to Phyllis, too. My skin grew cold, and my stomach flipped. “Phyllis?” Panic laced the edges of the word, and I trotted through the silent house .

  Phyllis lay on the kitchen floor, her roots exposed, and the pot I’d replanted her in shattered around her .

  She was nearly as long as I was tall .

  “Holy crap, Phyllis.” I rushed to her and knelt beside her, careful not to cut myself on shards of pottery .

  To my relief, she reached a branch toward me. “Wynter. Thank goodness. She’s outside by the greenhouse .”

  I knew she had to be talking about my grandmother. Demeter’s powers must’ve had a doozy of a glitch this time. “What happened? Are you okay ?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart.” She stroked my hand with a long leaf. The edges were curled up and dry. “She got me out of the pot before any harm could be done. Take care of me later. Go find your grandmama. She needs you .”

  I gave her a doubtful expression and prodded the dirt around her exposed roots. “How long have you been like this ?”

  “Not long. A few hours, maybe .”

  I scowled and walked around her to the kitchen sink, then came back with a spray bottle. “You’re drying out fast. You can’t stay like this much longer.” I spritzed her entire root system until it was saturated, then gave her a few rounds directly on her leaves for good measure .

  “I’m fine.” She flapped an alarmingly long branch, flicking water at me. “Go find Demeter. She needs your help , too .”

  I bit my lip and glanced out the window in the door to the backyard. “If you’re sure you’ll be okay. I’ll be right back .”

  She stretched her branches, and her leaves shook, making a quiet sigh. “I’m not going anywhere .”

  I left her that way, splayed out and exposed on the kitchen floor, and went outside to find my goddess grandmother. Part of me stayed behind, though. Over the past half year, Phyllis had become my mentor, my confidant, and my best friend. Leaving her vulnerable hurt my heart .

  Outside, a breeze kicked up, bending the waist-high blades of grass in waves like an enormous emerald sea. The path to the greenhouse was obscured. I stepped off the back porch and waded through lawn, cutting my own path as I went .

  If Grandmama didn’t get herself under control, I’d need a machete to get to my car for work in the morning .

  The roof of the greenhouse made a stark outline against the darkening sky. I trudged toward it, hoping she was there and that I’d be able to get the door open .

  “Grandmama?” I cupped my hands around my mouth and called to her. “If you’re in there, come out! I want to help.” A rustling to the left drew my attention, and I stopped. “Grandmama ?”

  The wind stilled, as if the Earth were holding its breath. I took a step backward and lost my footing on the edge of the paving stones I couldn’t see. Flailing my arms, I managed to regain my balance without landing on my butt. A second later, a doe vaulted over the hedges into Mom’s yard and bounded across the grass. Four more deer appeared, leaping their way across the lawn, crossing my path and disappearing into the neighbor’s garden. I took a step forward and was nearly laid flat by a straggler, smaller than the rest, but in no less of a hurry .

  I waited for my heartbeat to regain its composure and squinted toward the darkening building ahead. A tall oak grew to the right of the entrance. It didn’t look too much taller than it had been, so at least I wouldn’t have to call in a tree trimmer. As I came closer, I made out the figure of my grandmother huddled at the base, grass covering much of her lower body but leaving her arms free to use them to cover her face .

  “Hey.” I flattened some grass with my hand and sat next to her. “Are you alright ?”

  She pulled her hands down and focused her blue eyes on mine. “I am so sorry, Wynter. I’ve made such a mess here. And I put Phyllis in danger again. I’m…I’m a mess.” Her eyes filled with tears and she lowered her head .

  I grabbed her hand and held it in both of mine. The tips of her fingers were cold, and I rubbed them to try to give them some warmth. “Don’t worry about Phyllis. I made her comfortable for the moment, and I’ll take care of her later. You’re the one I’m worried about right now. Can you tell me what happened ?”

  That wasn’t entirely truthful. I was worried sick over Phyllis. But one problem at a time .

  “I came by to…I brought you some jams I made. I suppose it could have waited, but I was in such a good mood. I thought maybe we could have dinner together after you were done with work .”

  I gave her an encouraging smile. “That would have been nice. I’m sorry I wasn’t here .”

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “You’re a busy girl. It’s alright .”

  “We’ll do it later this week.” I squeezed her hand. “What happened when you got here ?”

  She rolled her eyes and tipped her head against the tree behind us. Her voice was little more than a whisper. “He called me .”

  “He?” I frowned, then widened my eyes in understanding. “He as in the farmer who lives next door to you? What’s his name? Craig ?”

  “Greg.” Her expression became dreamy, and a bit of ivy growing up the side of the greenhouse grew thicker and climbed to the roof. She didn’t appear to realize it was happening, so I didn’t point it out .

  If simply thinking about the fact that this Greg guy had called her made a vine grow over the greenhouse, it shouldn’t be a surprise that the actual call caused the Garden of Eden to erupt in my mother’s yard .

  And in her house . />
  I scooted in front of Demeter and took her other hand in mine. “We need to get this under control, Grandmama. You live on a farm, and so does he. Has this ever happened to you in the past ?”

  She shook her head, then looked away. “Except…” She trailed off, her eyes unfocused. “Except when I was young.” She made a rueful chuckle. “That was a very long time ago. Before your mother was born, in fact .”

  “So, what? Goddess puberty ?”

  “Something like that . Yes .”

  I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to ask the next question. I had to get to the bottom of the problem if I had any hope of helping her fix it. “Was it hormones back then, do you think? Are you, maybe, you know, going through the opposite now ?”

  She stared at me for a moment, her eyebrows raised and curled almost like question marks. Her lips pressed together, then she coughed as if trying to cover a giggle. “You think I’m menopausal? Is that what you’re trying to say?” The light in her eyes twinkled with her amusement .

  It was my turn to look away. “I’m sorry. I just thought maybe it was something simple like that. Something we could, I don’t know. Control .”

  Demeter’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close. “Oh, my darling girl. I keep forgetting how little you know about the gods.” She stroked my back with the palm of her hand and rested her cheek on my shoulder with a sigh. “I know you want to help, sweetheart, but unless you’ve got a magic spell that’ll anchor my powers and keep my emotions from blowing them up, then I’m just going to have to live through this until the newness of love wears off and I go back to normal .”

  I held still in her arms, thinking about what she’d said. Something about her words echoed and reminded me of something. I couldn’t quite figure it out at first .

  My head snapped up. “I know exactly what you need. I can fix this .”

  Chapter 13

  I stood in my mother’s bedroom rummaging through her jewelry box, muttering to myself and probably tangling the chains of several of her necklaces .