Unamused Muse (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Muse Book 2) Read online

“What have you been eating?” He gave me a sly, sideways look while he grabbed his own slice. “Sushi? Goulash? Bangers and mash?”

  I grinned and wiped pizza grease off my chin. “You are so not getting that kind of clue out of me. I honestly can’t tell you where I’ve been.” I paused, chewing thoughtfully. “But I will tell you what I can. I’ve been staying in a dorm. I have my own room, but share a bathroom with two other women. We also share a communal kitchen, but mostly I’ve been eating soup and Pop Tarts because I feel weird using the kitchen. It’s kind of gross, and I don’t want to start cleaning up after other people all the time.”

  “Oh, hell. That sounds terrible.”

  I shrugged. “Probably not much worse than at home.”

  His expression fell. “And I fed you pizza for your first meal back. I’m sorry. Let me cook for you tomorrow night.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “Sorry. I’ve got plans the next two nights.” I grabbed another slice. “Besides, this really was what I needed.”

  We finished the pizza and the beer, and Mark told me stories about how our landlady, Mrs. Terwilliger, tried to evict the Saunders family for having an unsanctioned pet. By the time she got the paperwork together, the turtle in question was gone, since it had only been a loan from Nathan’s sixth-grade classroom over a three-day weekend.

  Sometime after midnight, Mark went home, and I climbed into bed. Despite all the alcohol in my system, it still took me some time to go to sleep. Tomorrow I’d be going to see my mom.

  I hadn’t called her as Hades had ordered. I’d been putting it off. What if she’d continued to deteriorate? What if her mind was even more confused than it had been before I left? Phyllis had reassured me Mom could take care of herself, but I wasn’t so sure.

  After two weeks of not checking in with my mother, I had no idea what to expect.

  Chapter 9

  Mom’s grass was a little overgrown, but not too badly. It bothered me, though. She always kept her yard trimmed. A few patches of brown dotted the lawn, which was even more troubling. Mom loved keeping things green and growing.

  On the way up the walkway, I paused and gave the lawn gnome a pat on the cheek. “Hey, Frank. Good to see you.” I nodded at the pink flamingo the gnome was riding. “George. Looking good, my friend.”

  My silly banter with the inanimate objects calmed my nerves and helped me keep walking until I made it to the door.

  As I always did, I hesitated before deciding whether to knock or walk in unannounced. This time, she hadn’t seen me since I’d left for the Underworld, so she wouldn’t be expecting me to show up. Compound that with my reluctance to find her in worse condition than I’d left her, and I was stuck.

  I wished I’d brought Phyllis with me for moral support. Then again, maybe I was becoming too dependent on my houseplant. It wasn’t exactly normal.

  I bit my lip. It was a catch twenty-two—if I knocked, Mom would probably yell at me for not coming right in. If I walked in, I might find her doing something embarrassing, like practicing a naked fan dance with palm fronds.

  True story. That really happened, once.

  Knocking was the coward’s way. I took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and stepped inside.

  Every damned time, it was something. Every. Damned. Time.

  There was no way to prepare myself for whatever my mother was doing whenever I visited. Each visit started with a shock.

  This time, however, was crazy for its lack of weirdness.

  My mother sat in the living room, blonde hair arranged in an elegant chignon, pearls draping down the front of a blue dress that looked like it had come straight out of a 1950s Sears catalog. She sipped tea, legs crossed and feet covered in dark blue pumps.

  My mother rarely wore shoes, and her long hair was rarely bound by more than a ragged scrunchy.

  Across from my mother sat another women, similarly dressed. She was older than Mom, and her hair only showed a few streaks of a darker blonde through the gray. I’d parked next to a green Prius in the driveway and had barely registered that it wasn’t Mom’s car. If I’d been paying attention, I might not have been so surprised that Mom wasn’t alone.

  When I walked in, the two were laughing in polite titters and sipping their tea, pinkies out.

  I cleared my throat, and they both stopped and turned to look at me.

  Mom’s face broke into a delighted grin. “Wynter! Wonderful timing!”

  The other woman sat frozen, staring at me with the oddest expression on her face. Her cup hung suspended in her hand between her mouth and the saucer.

  “Am I interrupting? I could come back.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Mom hopped up and ran to me, looking as graceful as if she’d spent her whole life in high heels. “Terry, this is my daughter. Isn’t she beautiful?” She hugged me tight, then led me into the living room.

  “She’s just as lovely as you said, Cora.” Terry’s voice sounded choked, and she took a sip from her cup. “Perhaps she’d like some tea?”

  Mom clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Sit down, my darling. I’ll get you a cup.” She took off in a graceful blur.

  I sat on the sofa next to where Mom had been and eyed the woman across from me. Mom didn’t usually have friends over. She was gregarious as hell—charming and funny and people liked her everywhere we went. But she didn’t bring them back with her. Mostly, she spent her time alone at home puttering in her greenhouse out back.

  “So,” I said, trying to break the ice. “How do you and my mother know each other?”

  Terry gave me a sly smile. “Oh, we go way back.” She took a pastry from an arrangement of them on the table. “Scone?”

  If she and my mother had known each other for so long, it was odd that I’d never seen her before. She did look a little familiar, but not like I’d met her. More like she was a movie star and I’d seen her in a film when I was drunk ten years ago.

  “Yes,” Mom said, gliding into the room. “Definitely try the scones. I made them myself.” She set a cup in front of me and poured tea into it. “This is a pomegranate white tea. I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

  I sat holding my steaming cup with one hand and a plate holding what looked like a raspberry scone with the other, feeling awkward and underdressed for the tea party.

  “So.” Mom sat next to me on the sofa and rubbed her hand on my arm. “You went away for work or something. What’s it like? Do you like it?” She paused, her expression worried. “Why are you back so soon? Not that I’m not glad to see you!”

  I set my tea on the table and patted her leg. “I didn’t quit, and I didn’t get fired. They just sent me home for the weekend.”

  Terry leaned forward. “What is it you do, dear? Your mother said it had something to do with customer service?”

  I shook my head. “I used to work in customer service. That was a few jobs ago.” I nibbled the scone in the hopes of avoiding further discussion.

  “I see.” Terry gave me a pinched smile. “But what do you do now?”

  The scone was sweet, buttery, and flaky, and it might as well have been sawdust in my mouth. There was something off about this woman. She was nosy as hell.

  “I’m currently filling in as the personal assistant to the CEO of…” I paused and Terry’s jaw twitched as if she’d caught my hesitation. “A major corporation. I really can’t say more. I signed a non-disclosure agreement.” I gulped my tea and burned my mouth.

  “Filling in,” she said. Her stare was mesmerizing. I was grateful I hadn’t grown up with her as a mother. I wouldn’t have gotten away with anything. “I see. So, what is it you do when you’re not ‘filling in’?”

  “I…uh…I’m a consultant. My company sends me out to assist people on projects.” I met her stare with my own.

  Unless my father had disguised himself when he was with my mother, Mom had to be familiar with the world of the gods. But, whenever I asked her who he was, she gave me a different answer. From that, I gathered she ei
ther knew about the gods and wanted to forget, or she had no idea of their existence. Either way, telling her I worked at the Mt. Olympus Employment Agency was likely to upset her.

  I sure wasn’t going to do that in front of this nosy cow.

  We stared each other down until she finally broke eye contact. She smiled and sat back. For some reason, she looked pleased. “Cora, I like her. You’ve done a fine job.”

  Mom put an arm around me and gave me a squeeze. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” She added a strawberry to my plate. “How’s that young man of yours?”

  And just like that, I forgot about the strange woman in the chair and remembered why I was originally concerned.

  I took my mom’s hand. “Mom, I told you months ago. I broke up with Freddy.”

  She frowned. “Oh. That’s too bad. I’m sorry, honey.” She put a lemon wedge on my plate.

  I ate the strawberry. I wasn’t sure what to do with the lemon.

  Terry cleared her throat. “Any other prospects on the horizon?”

  I grimaced. “The people I work with all seem to want to fix me up with someone. And I had the absolute worst date ever last week. So, no. I’m not really on the market.”

  Again, Terry stared at me, though this time with a more thoughtful expression. “You will be. When the time is right.” She looked away, and I would have sworn her expression had turned sad.

  The rest of the hour was a tense affair during which I never did figure out what to do with that lemon wedge—especially once Mom added half a lime and three watermelon seeds to it.

  Most of the things she said made perfect sense, which was a relief. From time to time, she’d veer off again, having another lapse and ask about my boyfriend, the dog we had when I was ten, or my job at the bank—which I’d told her on several occasions I’d quit.

  So, no worse, but no better.

  She refused all help when it came time to clear the table, which left me alone and uncomfortable with Terry.

  The silence hung between us in cloud of awkward.

  Terry picked up her purse from the end table beside her. It was a small taupe clutch that perfectly matched her shoes. “Walk me to the door.” She didn’t ask, she rose from the chair and glided away as if she were at her coronation.

  I followed, because I couldn’t help it.

  I glanced toward the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Mom?”

  To my surprise, Terry pulled out a pair of white gloves and put them on. “She’ll hardly notice and, if she does, she’ll forget I was here in a few minutes.”

  My chest tightened. “I don’t know what to do for her. She’s okay one minute, then she…I don’t know…glitches. But she refuses to go to the doctor.”

  Terry nodded. “I’m keeping an eye on her. She’s fine right now. When she’s not, she’ll come home with me.” She adjusted the fingers on her gloves. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I don’t want you to worry. I will take care of her.”

  She kissed my cheek and left. She was already gone before I thought of anything else to say.

  ~*~

  Terry was right. Mom was disappointed that she’d left without saying goodbye, but she forgot about it five minutes later. In fact, Mom almost seemed surprised to see me when she came back in the room.

  “Wynter.” She blinked a few times, as if not sure whether to believe it was really me. “I’m about to go work in the greenhouse. Do you want to come help?”

  I followed her into the kitchen. Plates and teacups were piled everywhere. “Do you want some help with the dishes first?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a dish stay dirty for more than a few minutes in my mother’s kitchen. This mess was more than just the result of a small tea party.

  She glanced at the sink and frowned. “Where did all those dishes come from? Wynter, did you have friends over?”

  The lost expression on her face gave me chills. “Are you okay, Mom?”

  She blinked a few times, then smiled, her confusion gone. “Terry leaves such a mess when she cooks. You’d think she’d clean some of it up.”

  I put my arms around her and hugged her tight. “You go work in the greenhouse. I’ll take care of this and meet you out there.”

  She hugged me back, then rubbed my arm. “I’ll see you out there.”

  I watched her go out the back door, my heart aching. Her moments of confusion weren’t long, as far as I could tell, but they frightened me.

  I piled the dishes in the sink and ran hot water.

  The fact that I’d never heard of Terry before bothered me. She was a total stranger to me, yet claimed to know my mother well enough to look after her and take Mom into her home if things got too dicey.

  The warm, soapy water was soothing as I washed the delicate plates and cups. Maybe everything would be okay. Four more weeks and I’d be done in the Underworld. I’d move in with Mom myself if I had to. The commute wouldn’t be so bad.

  After I dried the dishes and put them away, I wiped down the counters and hung the dishtowel to dry where Mom liked it. The kitchen finally resembled a place my mom could exist in.

  It made me wonder what Terry’s house was like.

  When I entered the greenhouse, Mom was humming softly and digging her fingers into the rich soil under a large fern.

  I hugged Mom from behind. “What can I do to help?”

  She smiled at me over her shoulder. “Kitchen’s done already? You’re a lot faster now than when you were twelve.”

  “I’m not as easily distracted as I was at twelve.” I grabbed an empty pot and filled it with dirt. “What are we working on, here?”

  She waved at a line of potted plants on the worktable. “All of these need to be repotted. Some of them are doing okay, but several are struggling. I have no idea how they grew so fast. Or if maybe I just didn’t notice.” She paused in her digging, a concerned look on her face, then shook it off and continued her work.

  I chose a pot with withered pink Gerber daisies in it. “This one doesn’t look too happy.”

  She nodded. “Definitely needs more room. I’m surprised it’s flowering at all.”

  We worked side by side, rescuing her plants, while I worried over why they needed rescuing in the first place. It wasn’t like her to let things like this go. It was totally like me, but never her—especially when it came to anything green and growing.

  “What’s up with the brown spots on your lawn, Mom?”

  She finished crumbling the knotted-up roots of a peony so they weren’t a solid mass before replanting. “It’s been a dry year. I didn’t want to waste all that water. It’s not like the queen’s coming to play croquet on it or anything.”

  That seemed reasonable. But it still bothered me. I swept spilled soil into an empty pot. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

  “Always.”

  I took a deep breath. Maybe today would be the day. “Will you tell me about my father?”

  Her hands kept working as she gave me a sideways glance. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” I had no real hope that she’d answer me straight this time, but I had to try.

  She sighed. “I wish I could understand why it’s so important all of a sudden.”

  It had always been important. I’d been asking since I was seven. But now it was really important. Finding out who my dad was would fill in the hole in my personnel file. As a Legacy—instead of a Lost—I’d have higher pay, increased benefits, and a safety net if I screwed up again. If I’d known who the god in my lineage was, I would have been hired as a Legacy.

  But I couldn’t tell her that.

  “It’s just…what if I get sick? I should know my family medical history. I should know who I am.”

  She stopped what she was doing and wiped her hands on her pristine, white apron, leaving dark smudges behind. “You’re not going to get sick.” She touched my cheek. “And I know exactly who you are. If you’re ever unsure, ask me.”

  He
r blue eyes were clear and sincere. But they were also full of resolve.

  I tried one more time. “Not even a name?”

  Her face took on a faraway, dreamy look. “He was a French archaeologist. Rene. Rene Belloq.” She dropped her gaze and looked sad. “He died in the war. In an electrical storm. Terrible luck.”

  I shook my head. Today was not the day to get the truth out of her. It was doubtful my father was a fictional character from Raiders of the Lost Ark. “Fine.”

  She went back to piling dirt. “Tell me about this new job of yours. What’s the name of the company again? I can’t remember what you said.”

  Of course, I hadn’t said. I bit my lip and considered how to answer. Would it be so bad if I told her what was going on? At some point in her life, she’d slept with a god. Did she know that, or would she think I was crazy?

  I set the trowel I was using on the table, faced her, and wiped my hands on my jeans. “Mom, I’m working for the Mt. Olympus Employment Agency.” I waited for her reaction.

  Was there a slight hesitation? Maybe. I wasn’t sure.

  She pinched a dry leaf from a begonia. “That’s an odd name. And you said it’s not a temp agency?”

  I shook my head. “I have a contract for two years.” I watched her for any change in facial expression. Nothing.

  “Oh?” She still didn’t look at me. “So, what exactly do you do, sweetheart?”

  I dropped it like a hot brick. “I’m a Muse, Mom. I work at Mt. Olympus in the Muse department.” I couldn’t be plainer than that.

  Her hands stilled, and she turned her head toward me. Her face held no clues to what she was thinking. “That sounds like a line of punk clothing. Or a club. Are you working in a club, Wynter?” She turned back to her begonia. “You know what? I’m thirsty. Let’s go inside for a little while.”

  And that was all she would say on the matter for the rest of the day.

  Chapter 10

  I had every intention of spending Sunday watching television, paying bills, and packing—all by myself. Mark had other plans.

  The morning began with donuts and coffee at my door. I didn’t know that when the pounding started at 8:00 AM, so I wasn’t my most charming when I crawled out of bed, trudged to the kitchen, and threw the door open with a growl.