Over lunch she brought up the idea of donating her house to Doris’s synagogue, the way Doris had donated her own small house before she’d moved in with Joey. The synagogue had an extensive community service program, and used such spaces for emergency housing for people who lost their homes to wildfires and other disasters.
After that discussion, the six of them talked over all Jen’s adventures, and the two couples promised to come to Jen’s and Nikos’s wedding.
The Gang of Four met the next afternoon at Linette’s, before the writing group.
“So you’re moving for good to that Greek isle?” Godiva asked. “It must be some place!”
“It is,” Jen said. “Nikos lives in an old castle on a hill.”
“Not medieval plumbing, I hope!”
“No. I’m not that crazy! It’s been modernized. Solar powered heating and cooling, mineral springs, it’s great. I’ll be back to visit, maybe not every week, but at least once or twice a month, now that I’m writing again.”
Godiva’s smile broadened to a grin—and then her phone rang. She scowled at it, then blinked. “A 212 area code. That’s New York City. Has to be someone at the publishing house. Maybe I better answer, and set up a different time for a call,” she muttered.
Because Godiva always put cell calls on speakerphone, Jen and Doris and Bird listened in surprise as a familiar voice, a well-known television personality, began to speak. “Ms. Hidalgo, I got your number from your agent. We would like to invite you to New York to film an interview concurrent with the release of your new mystery—”
“No,” Godiva said, and punched the OFF button. “Have to fire that agent,” she muttered. “I thought she knew better.”
Bird said softly, “Wouldn’t an interview sell books?”
“They sell fine without my prune face plastered all over a TV screen, ignoring nosy questions,” Godiva stated. “Jen. Back to your hunk o’burning love and his castle.”
The interview subject was clearly over. So Jen went on to describe the ancient mosaics, and the clear water scuba diving, and the labyrinth of blue and red tile roofed houses in the city. Godiva listened eagerly until Mikhail, Joey, and Nikos turned up, ready to attend the writing group.
Jen found herself as excited and nervous as her very first reading.
Godiva read an excellent chapter from her mystery, now heading for its climax. Bird read her children’s story about the dolls that came alive, and Doris brought Persian saffron pudding in tiny cups, adapted from an ancient recipe.
When it was Jen’s turn, she couldn’t help looking at her audience as she laid each page down. Nikos beamed proudly, of course. Doris and Godiva and Bird leaned forward intently, loyal and true. But though everything had changed in Jen’s life, and her pages were filled with magic, that magic wasn’t reaching everyone. Cassandra rattled her bracelets and fussed in her purse. Bill Champlain sat with his arms crossed and his knees wide, taking up more than his share of space, his expression a study in boredom.
Then Jen happened to glance at Angelique, the thin little college student who wrote young adult novels. She was listening raptly, her lips parted. Jen saw others also immersed, and she read with more confidence. Yes. The magic was there, for those who wanted it. That was all she could ask.
The rest of the meeting went as it usually did. She fizzed inside, reveling in her happiness as the three couples walked out into the balmy night.
Nikos’s unicorn said, Now there are three. Three and three, a balance for our old alliance—
“I have to say,” Godiva said, catching up with Jen and Nikos, “you know I don’t much like airy-fairy stuff. Magic and all that. But for a few moments there, you got me feeling that anything is possible. Nice work, Jen. Great imagination there.”
Jen smiled as Godiva gave a cackle, and she found herself automatically reaching on the mythic plane.
And gave a soft gasp. She blinked, and turned to Nikos, who looked back in question. Both turned to Joey, who was watching Godiva as he said too softly for anyone but the two of them to hear, “What you saw was real. There is one for her—and he’s coming.”