a riverbank next to a rented Caravan, English skin untouched by sun since her last holiday, wearin’ barely enough cloth to cover the naughty bits.” I was marveling at the length of that sentence when she decided to add, “Foolishness always has a price it does. ’Tis no’ a jiggery-pokery. The lass is simply gormless.”
“I don’t know if I wish I understood what you just said or not. I think maybe I got the thing about covering naughty bits. How old are you?”
“In human years?”
“Yes. That’s how I keep time.”
“Well, let me think.” She glanced around. “There’s a converter online. Let me sign in and I’ll…”
“There’s an online program to convert magical years?” She nodded. “When people see it, do they think it’s a joke?”
“By people, you mean Mundies?” I nodded. “They do no’ see it.”
“How is that possible?”
She shrugged. “Same reason Miss Colorful can no’ see the magical artifacts in the store.”
I glanced at the customer again. “Right. Is it a problem that I can’t tell the difference without the windchime?”
“Stop faffin’ around. Anyone could have made that mistake.”
I was beginning to think I’d need a pocket translator for ongoing communication with Maggie. “Alright. I got that last part. And to that I say this. It could not happen to anybody. Other people haven’t been ‘gifted’ with the ability to see magical stuff. They don’t have to wonder is-she-or-isn’t-she?”
“Well, then. Lucky you.”
I looked skyward for a couple of beats before gathering my smile and my best pretend proprietor demeanor, then walked toward the brightly colored person with casual purpose. “Can I help you find something in particular or would you rather browse on your own?”
“American,” the woman said without turning away from her shopping.
I smiled exactly as I would’ve if she’d been looking at me. “That’s right.”
“Hmmm.”
The mother of all conversation stoppers. Okay then. Hmmm you.
“Very good. Someone will be close by should you have a question or wish to make a purchase.”
When I returned to the counter, Maggie said, “You know, the shoes never lie. You can always rely on them.”
“While that’s probably true, there’s a problem with it. I’m a shoe person. I love those red shoes, but not enough to wear them exclusively for the rest of my life. And sometimes it may be too cold. Or rainy. Or muddy if I’m walking with Lochlan and his, um,” I glanced at the customer, “dogs.”
“Ye may have a point about a means of detection when you don other footwear. We’ll give it some thought.” Her eyes wandered the room. “We might even have somethin’ here that would do. O’ course you’ll be payin’ for it same as anybody else.”
“I have to buy my own inventory? I thought I own this place.”
Maggie chuckled. “You own everythin’ Mundies can see and touch. Everythin’ else comes with a price, even for you.”
I shifted my weight to one leg and put on my invisible negotiator hat, one of my least favorites. “If it’s my firstborn, I’ll have to do without. If you’d caught me before she turned twenty, I might’ve said yes. But now I like her more.”
“’Tis no’ your firstborn. Where do ye get such ideas?”
My jaw almost hit the floor. “You think that idea is more outlandish than vampires, pixies, wind devils, and whatever Keir Culain is? Not to mention BANSHEES!”
The customer stopped when I raised my voice at the end of my rant, looked over, and smiled. Apparently, she liked that she was in a curious goods and antiques store where the management was discussing folkloric species. Perhaps it added authenticity to the experience.
“You do no’ truly need another device. In fact, it might be a crutch. You need to develop your own awareness.” I stared, wondering if Maggie fancied herself to be a magical version of a life coach. “Do no’ pretend ye have none. I’ve seen it.”
“You’ve seen it,” I said drily.
“I have. You knew by instinct that Dolan and Olivia are standoffish and could use a little push to be more social.”
“That’s not a magical skill, Maggie.”
“Sure ‘tis.”
“Speaking of Keir. What is he?”
Maggie chuckled. “Nice try. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”
I felt my face form a wicked smile as I sing-songed, “He told me about you.”
“Twas because you’d seen me at my night job and had a fright. The circumstances were different and ye know it,” she scolded.
I did know it. She had me dead to rights. So, I slumped in resignation and ended the dialogue with, “See you at lunch.”