The Lass Who Kissed a Frog, Lee, Caroline [i have read the book a hundred times .txt] 📗

no’? Just perfect for one another, which I told ye from the beginning.”

“And we all agreed,” grumbled Broca, “because we’re godmothers. But the house is running fine?”

Grisel, who’d appointed herself Max DeVille’s housekeeper, even before he took that remarkable shoe to Ember and saved her from a life of drudgery, nodded happily. “I’m thrilled to report they both like my cooking, and I can keep a fair house when I need to. And the lad pays wages! I cannae recall the last time I had wages.”

“That is because you do not work,” Evangeline said icily.

“Och, Evie, ye wound me! I’ve worked hard my whole life, but no’ for wages. God’s truth, it isnae hard work, and the lass does the laundry on Sundays when the engraving factory is closed.”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” Willa reported, “but Oliphant Engraving is already taking orders for Ember’s beautiful shoe design. Next season, all the fanciest ladies from Edinburgh to London will be wearing Oliphant shoes!”

Evangeline couldn’t help but feel proud of their accomplishment. “Yes, Ember and Max are a delightful pair, and I’m certain they’ll enjoy their Happily Ever After working together at Oliphant Engraving. I’m pleased to see her taking her place among the clan’s best engravers, as her father had intended. But if we could please move on to current business?”

Broca shifted in her seat irritably. “Ye cannae begrudge us a little celebration.”

Evangeline skewered her with an arch stare. “I seem to recall you lot ‘celebrating’ with them via the crystal ball. The Book has strict rules about using magical devices to spy on intimate moments, which you well know.”

She swept her gaze around the table, and three of the four godmothers refused to meet her eyes, pretending great interest in the ceiling, the tea, or in Grisel’s case, the contents of one ear. Seonag was the only one who smiled and chewed on her pipe as she nodded encouragingly.

“Well, let us move along.” Evangeline pushed her tea away and pulled a pad of paper a little closer. With a pencil, she checked off the first few lines. “We have been called to order, the tea has been served, clearly we’ve discussed old business, and now we are moving on to…current assignments. Willa, perhaps you could update us?”

The young woman cleared her throat twice, then placed her cup and saucer carefully on the table, which was good, because her hand was shaking hard enough to spill a bit of tea over the rim onto the lace cloth. Evangeline stifled her sigh, not wanting to frighten Willa more than necessary.

“Um…aye. Well…” Willa cleared her throat yet again, locked her gaze on the tablecloth, and at last spoke, though the words tumbled over one another, pauses for punctuation non-existent, in their haste to remove themselves from her mouth. “We all ken Roland and Vanessa are meant for one another but she ruined our plans when he heard what she said about his brother she’s no’ a bad person but it’ll be an uphill battle to prove that to him I think.”

Evangeline hummed. “Yes, I agree. Roland’s idea has merit. In his hopes of teaching her a lesson, he’ll learn one as well of course. Have you decided on what shape the story will take?”

Willa peeked up, her gaze darting around to all of them before flashing once to Evangeline. “Number forty-seven, I thought.”

Humming, Evangeline pulled The Book from its place of honor in the middle of the table and began to flip through the pages.

“Number seventeen, twenty-nine— Oh, here’s the one with the apple you’ve been wanting to try, Broca—thirty-eight, forty-three—goats? Why are there goats in— Oh! Here it is.” She ran her finger down the page, reading the particulars, and her lips curled upward. “The frog, eh? Oh, this is good. This will be perfect, Willa! Excellent choice!”

The younger woman flushed at the praise and ducked her chin even further.

“Habben f’r none aftin?” Seonag removed the stem of the pipe from her teeth and pointed it at the book. “Nabs it can bongle!”

Evangeline blinked, then surreptitiously glanced around the table to see if anyone else may have understood the old woman. Broca and Grisel just shrugged helplessly, and all that showed of Willa’s face were her flaming cheeks as she studied the tablecloth.

Hoping Seonag had been agreeing with her and refusing to admit she wasn’t completely in control of the meeting, Evangeline nodded firmly. “So we’re settled then. Number forty-seven will be a delightful way to frame this particular story.” She turned back to Willa. “When it comes to narrative causality, this one is a little trickier since the story could go in all sorts of directions. It isn’t as well-known, you see.”

“Aye,” spoke up Grisel, “but that just means there’s plenty of chances to improvise as ye go!”

“Or for things to go wrong,” grumbled Broca.

“Things will not go wrong,” insisted Evangeline. “We are godmothers, and no matter how it happens, our Happily Ever Afters are guaranteed.”

“Aye, but I just dinnae want to have to be involved personally!”

Evangeline blinked at Broca’s complaint. “Whatever do ye mean?”

“Like last time. Can ye believe Max just—just showed up here? Grisel actually brought him to a meeting!”

“What else could I do?” Grisel shrugged happily as she reached for a biscuit. “The lad asked to visit. He comes from Everland, ye remember, so he must ken of the godmothers there.”

Broca settled back in her seat; her arms crossed. “What kind of hero tracks down the godmothers? Usually, if we have to reveal ourselves, we do it to the lass.”

“Do ye think we might have to in this story?” Willa asked worriedly, peeking up at them.

Breaking her usual stoic demeanor, Evangeline leaned over to pat the girl’s hand. “I don’t know, Willa. This particular story is more complicated—and less known—than usual, but we must trust in the narrative causality.”

As expected, Broca, Willa, and Grisel chimed, “Narrative causality,” in a comforting sort of way, while Seonag grunted, “Gibblins,” with an emphatic nod.

Willa still looked worried, which bothered Evangeline.