Maudlin's Mayhem (Bewitching Bedlam #2)(11)

The long shot was, as a result we had two guest rooms available, plus my private guest room that I could rent out if I wanted.

The woman stared at me for a second, then nodded. “If you don’t mind if we double up in the rooms, that would be great. Or triple up. We can make do with sleeping bags if necessary.”

Triple up? I instantly regretted making the offer. “I’m really not sure—”

“Gimme your address, doll, and we’ll be over in an hour, after we finish for the day.”

Blankly, because I couldn’t seem to find the words to tell her no—after all, I had knocked her down pretty hard—I handed her my card. She took it, nodded and started down the street.

“Wait a minute,” I called, turning around. “I’m Maddy. What’s your name?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Just call me Snow, babe. Just call me Snow.”





I SAT IN my CR-V, hands on the steering wheel, practicing my speech. “I’m sorry, but it looks like we don’t have the room after all. Here’s a brochure that lists several other hotels in the area. I suggest you try the Viola Hotel. They’re sure to have the room.” I said it over and over until it rolled off my tongue. Then I called Sandy.

“What up?” She was panting, so I knew she was on her treadmill.

“What up is that I think I just invited Snow White to stay at the Bewitching Bedlam.”

The panting stopped. “Come again?”

“I just knocked Snow White down in front of the dry cleaner’s, and ended up inviting her to stay at the Bewitching Bedlam.”

Sandy spoke very slowly. “Honey, does your head still hurt? I thought I just heard you say you knocked down Snow White—”

“Oh, stop it. I’m perfectly fine, except that I seem to have stepped into the world of the Grimm Brothers. Snow White doesn’t really exist, does she? I mean, this has to be cosplay, right?”

Most faerie tales were based on true stories, but somehow the thought of Snow White being a thirty-something, cigarette-smoking, dirndl-wearing goth girl who was about to descend on my house with her dwarves had thrown me for a loop.

Sandy was laughing so hard she was gasping for air.

“Excuse me, but this is a real problem.”

“Right,” she gasped out. Then, after a moment, she sobered enough to talk. “Maddy, love. Whether or not she actually exists doesn’t matter. What does matter is you have someone who either thinks she’s Snow White, is Snow White, or is playing the role of Snow White on the way to your house. If she makes you uncomfortable, tell her to find another place to stay.”

“I hit her hard enough to knock her on her ass. By accident, of course, but I kind of feel like I owe her something.”

“Did you break any bones?”

“Well, no.”

“Did you draw blood?”

I let out a sigh. “No.”

“Then you owe her nothing. Seriously, though, I am coming over to your place. I need to see what the cat dragged in.” She snickered. “Speaking of cats, you didn’t make any stray wishes on Bubba’s belly, did you?”

I glared at the phone. “You’re just being contrary now. Shuddup. I have to go buy something to eat. Aegis forgot to make me anything for lunch, and he warned me that if I ate the snacks for the guests’ tea again, he would let them go hungry.”

Sandy let out another laugh, this one from the gut. “Oh, Maddy. I’ll see you in an hour.” And with that, she hung up.





I FINISHED MY errands—stopping at the post office to pick up my forwarded mail, then at Geek Parade to pick up my new laptop. My old one still worked but it had been making some odd noises lately, and I didn’t want to wait until it blue-screened me or refused to boot up. Last stop was at the Chicken-Chicken Shack for a bucket of chicken, coleslaw, and mac ‘n cheese. I arrived home ten minutes before Snow was supposed to come over. Sandy was waiting for me in the kitchen. Thornton had let her in.

“He’s handy, I’ll tell you that,” she said. “And delicious to look at.”

I stared at her. “Oh, Sandy, you didn’t. What about Max?”

“For fuck’s sake, just because I say a man’s handy doesn’t mean—” Sandy stopped, then raised her mocha at me. “You have me there, but no, I didn’t. Nor am I planning to. I just meant that not only is the place whistle-clean, but he makes a mean mocha.”

Relaxing, I slid into a chair at the table, setting my bags on the floor. “Thank gods, because I really don’t want to find a new housekeeper again.” I glanced around. “Say, have you seen Bubba?”

She shook her head. “He’s probably in some snit over something. Is that chicken I smell?”

I nodded. “Yeah, for us. Not for Snow White, or whoever the hell she is. I swear, this town attracts all types, doesn’t it?” I set the chicken and sides on the table as Sandy grabbed plates and silverware and set them out for us.

“Well, look at the name. You name a town after an asylum, what do you expect?” She helped herself, piling her plate high. The woman ate and ate and never gained an ounce. I ate and ate, and ended up with a nice layer of padding.

Thornton peeked in the kitchen. “A Miss White to see you…with her…friends.” The look on his face was a mix of bewildered and amused.