Unamused Muse (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Muse Book 2) (20 page)

When the buzzer went off, I was disappointed. Harrison had been comforting to talk to, and he hadn’t expected anything out of me. The reprieve was necessary. My next date was Max.

I stopped myself before my internal groan became audible.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t call after our date.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t call either. No big deal.”

“No, I should have. You were embarrassed. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have spun you so close to the fountain.”

The conversation was every bit as awkward and painful as I’d anticipated, and there was no building for me to slip into to hide. And it was made more awkward by the fact that I was now aware that he knew who my mother was and wasn’t interested in me so much as my family connections.

We only had three minutes to fill, but half of it was awkward pauses on the conversation.

“So. Um.” He picked at a scab on the back of his hand. “Now that you know who you are, will you be sticking around past six weeks?”

“I don’t expect to, no. I’m sure I’ll be back for visits, though.”

“Well, good. Good.”

The buzzer saved us, and he slunk away looking as relieved as I felt.

The next guy was an older gentleman in a suit and tie. He introduced himself as Glen. “Did you get the rose I left for you in your golf cart?”

“That was you?” I wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed that I’d found my secret admirer or pleased to clear up the mystery. A little of both, probably.

“A lady as lovely as you are deserves to receive flowers from an admirer.”

“Oh. Well. Uh, thank you.” I finished my drink and saw David make a beeline for the bar to get me a refill. The fact that I wasn’t drunk through this was both a mercy and a curse. “Were you also the one who left the stuffed bear and the cupcakes?”

His smile deflated. “No. No I was not.”

The buzzer sent him away.

At this point, I didn’t think I could be surprised anymore. I was wrong. Mandy slid into the seat, her face serious.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I’m hanging in there. Are you…?” I glanced around and didn’t see anyone waiting for her to move out of his way. “Are you my next date?”

“I gave you my phone number, but you never called. I thought maybe if I threw my hat in the ring here, you might take me more seriously.”

“Oh. Well.” I stopped trying to figure out how to put it. “I really like guys, Mandy.”

She shrugged. “I know. But I thought, maybe you might like me, too.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “As far as I know, girls aren’t my thing. But I do like you and kind of wish we could hang out.”

“I get it. We can do the friend thing, if you want.” She smiled. “No pressure.” Her eyes twinkled and I could tell she hadn’t given up on me.

I forced a smile I wasn’t quite feeling. “I appreciate that.” After the night I was having, I really needed a friend. Hopefully one that didn’t want anything more from me. Under the circumstances, I had no way to tell who liked me for me, and who wanted to get in good with the big guy.

As if sensing the reason for my hesitation, her face grew more serious. “Hey. You know you’re pretty spectacular even without famous parents, right? Anybody in this room would be lucky to hang out with you for no other reason than they get to hang out with you.” Her gaze never wavered from my face as she spoke, giving weight to her sincerity.

I relaxed my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how tense they’d been. “That means a lot, Mandy. Thank you.” I scribbled on her rotation list. “I’ll call. But if I forget, here’s my number.”

She’d made me feel a little better. If nobody else in this place liked me for me, at least I’d made one friend.

The buzzer went off, and another date slid in. And then another. And another. They all blurred together at that point, including a minotaur in a business suit who admitted to leaving me cupcakes, and an eighteen-year-old with a peach fuzz mustache who claimed responsibility for the stuffed bear. Only one stood out before the evening ended.

A chubby guy with dishwater blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and thick eyebrows sat down. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m Wynter.”

“I know. I’m Peter.”

I searched through my mental catalog of people I’d met in the Underworld. “Peter the ferryman?” I’d managed to edit myself before it came out of my mouth as Peter the
creepy
ferryman.

Peter’s cheeks turned pink, and he pushed his glasses up his nose. “You remembered. I didn’t…I didn’t think you’d know who I am.”

Of course I remembered him. You don’t forget it when somebody intentionally creeps you out that badly. But I didn’t say so. I smiled and sipped my drink. “You were memorable.” My head swam, and I realized the alcohol was kicking in. “Did you make your costume yourself, or did you buy it?”

His eyes grew wide, and I realized maybe that question wasn’t appropriate. I scanned the room until I caught David’s attention. He glanced at my half-full drink and mouthed the word
coffee
. I nodded back, grateful.

“…used to be the standard dress code for ferryman.”

Too late, I realized Peter was speaking and I’d missed part of it. I bobbed my head in a show of earnest concentration. “I see.”

“They give us the choice, now.” His lip curled in disgust. “As you know, Hal wears what he wants.”

I decided I didn’t care what this guy thought. He was weird, I was a little drunk, and I felt like the top-shelf prize at a game booth in a carnival. “So do you.”

His glasses had slipped, and he peered over them at me. “What?”

“You wear what you want, too. You said it’s a choice.”

“What I wear is traditional. It has style. He dresses like someone’s dad.”

“You choose to scare people on their way in. Hal chooses to offer a friendly welcome.” I didn’t care for the insulting way he was talking about my friend. “Your way may have style, but it’s kind of mean, don’t you think?”

David brought me a cup of coffee. He eyed my current date, gave me a comical wink, then turned away.

Peter sat scowling at me. “Tradition isn’t
mean
, Ms. Greene. It’s how things were done in the past and how it should always be done.”

“Times change, Peter. New traditions form.”

He snorted. “You would say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I held my coffee cup with white knuckles. This guy seemed to want to piss me off. He was doing an excellent job.

“Nothing.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“Oh, it definitely meant something. You want to tell me what’s crawled up your robe and died?”

The buzzer went off, and Peter and I continued to sit there, glaring at each other.

After a moment, he broke first and stood. “Some of us around here miss what it was like before everything turned brown and stopped growing. People lost a lot when your mother ran off.”

He marched away without saying goodbye, leaving me to wonder how many other people in the Underworld were upset with my mother.

And how many resented me for being the reason she went away. 

Chapter 21

So much interaction with so many people left me wrung out and exhausted. By the time I made it back to the mansion, all I wanted to do was climb into bed and never come out again.

Lita met me at the door and put her arm around me. “Nyx called to tell us where you were.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “My poor darling. What a wretched ordeal. Are you alright?”

I gave her a weak smile. Wretched seemed like a strong word to use for something that was supposed to be fun. But it still felt appropriate under the circumstances. “Just tired. It wore me out, especially since I didn’t know I’d have to do it.”

She gave me a one-armed hug and led me up the stairs. “Nyx didn’t try to make you choose one, did she?”

I shook my head. “No. But I did get the impression that I was supposed to name some favorites and go out with them. That’s how it’s done, right?”

“Is that what you want?”

“No. I want to sleep. And then I want to be left alone.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do.” She opened the door to my new bedroom and directed me to the bed. “You sleep in as long as you like tomorrow. Otis will make you breakfast when you’re ready. Forget about speed dating and get some rest. This is your home, now. You do whatever you like.” She kissed my cheek and left, closing the door behind her.

“Speed dating?” Phyllis sat in the window, a UV light shining on her leaves. “Wynter, what did you do?”

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. “I got suckered. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

She snickered. “I look forward to it. Will you turn off my light before you climb into bed? I’ve had enough fake sun for one day.”

“Sure.” I changed into the pajamas Lita had put out for me, then snapped the lights off and climbed into a bed so soft it felt like I’d be sleeping on a bed of mashed potatoes. Or maybe that was my tired brain. I started to doze, then startled awake. “Phyllis?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Am I…will I be forced to get married because of some law or prophecy about the queen’s daughter?”

Phyllis chuckled in the dark. “No, honey. That’s only in movies. Get some sleep.”

I was out seconds later.

~*~

The next morning, I slept until nine, showered, dressed, and wandered down the stairs by ten to find some breakfast. I didn’t feel like a houseguest, but I didn’t exactly feel at home, either. I wished Mom were there to show me around.

Everyone—including Hades—appeared to be waiting for me. Otis was cooking bacon, Lita handed me a cup of coffee, and Hades nudged a stool with the toe of his white sneaker.

“Have a seat,” he said, grinning. “Did you sleep well?”

Hades wore a blue velour tracksuit with a light blue T-shirt underneath it. Knowing that the Lord of the Dead dressed that way at home made me uncomfortable.

“I did. Thank you.” I squirmed onto the stool under the gaze of three watchful, expectant eyes. I had no idea what they wanted. Or maybe they didn’t want anything except to have me there.

The whole thing was weird. And yet, perfectly natural at the same time.

Hades ate breakfast with me—he liked his eggs scrambled—and we talked about normal family things, like work, how my evening had gone, and whether or not to paint the kitchen yellow.

That weird but natural feeling persisted.

“Have you called your mother today?” Hades took a sip of his coffee, his expression nonchalant. The stiffness in his back and the set of his shoulders called his face a liar.

“I planned to call after breakfast. She sleeps late on Saturdays.”

His eyes misted. “I remember.” He cleared his throat. “Let me know how she sounds.”

“I will.”

After breakfast, I climbed the winding stairs and sat next to Phyllis in the window seat to call. Mom answered on the second ring.

“Wynter! Is everything alright? What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

“Well, I just saw. You don’t usually call this often.”

She was right. I was a terrible daughter. “I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m going to call every day.”

“Oh, honey. I appreciate the thought, but
every
day?” She sighed, and I heard someone murmuring in the background.

“Mom, are you by yourself? Is Terry…
Demeter
there with you?”

“She stopped by for brunch.”

I knew I was being irrational. Logically, there was nothing wrong with my mother having brunch with my grandmother. Under normal circumstances, it was sweet. But it made me uncomfortable to have that woman anywhere near my mom. Demeter was manipulative and selfish. I wouldn’t trust her with a pet goldfish, let alone with my mother.

“How are you feeling? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Everything’s wonderful. The spots in the lawn are green again, all that repotting we did has my plants thriving, and I’m not forgetting things anymore. I feel great.” She did sound great, to be honest. More alert and present in a way she hadn’t been for years.

“Alright. If you’re sure. But call me if you need anything, okay? I can come right back.”

“I will. No worries.” There was a pause and she and Demeter spoke just out of my hearing before she came back. “Your grandmother said to tell you she loves you.”

“Oh. Well. Tell her I said…um…hi.” No. Not at all awkward.

“I will. I love you, my darling. And love to that handsome boyfriend of yours. Bye bye.”

She hung up, leaving me with my jaw hanging open. She was fine right up until the end when she forgot I didn’t have a boyfriend. Or maybe she was teasing me about all the times she couldn’t remember.

I didn’t know what to do.

I ran down the stairs, my hand on the railing to keep myself from pitching forward and snapping my neck in my hurry.

Hades met me at the bottom of the stairs, his face clouded with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“She sounded great. Demeter was there, too, but Mom sounded normal.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“She asked about my boyfriend.” I sank to sit on a step.

“Boyfriend? I thought you didn’t have….” His puzzled expression cleared as he understood. “She’s losing her grip faster than I expected.”

“So, what do we do?”

He sat next to me on the stairs and ran his hand through his red hair. “I don’t want to force her to come back, but I can’t allow her to leave me—us—forever.”

We sat in silence, each slumped and casting around for a solution.

I straightened. “Wait, explain it to me again. The pomegranate seeds were a one-off temporary fix, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the only way to bring her back long-term is with ambrosia.”

“Right.”

“And ambrosia loses its properties in the human world. Correct?”

He nodded. “Correct. It has to do with air pollution and solar radiation.”

That stopped me. I looked at him sideways for a moment before continuing. “So, if she won’t come to the Underworld, she can still go to Mt. Olympus and eat it there, right?”

“Well, yes. It wouldn’t bring her home, but she’d be halfway, at least.” He tapped his fingers on his knees. “How do you propose to get her to Mt. Olympus?”

“I could tell her I want her to see my desk in the Muse department, maybe.” I chewed my bottom lip. “Or maybe we could just tell her the truth. Would that be so bad?”

“I suppose not.”

I touched the back of his hand and made my voice as gentle as possible. “You could always go with me and talk to her yourself.”

His eyes grew wide. “What? No. I can’t talk to her out there. She has to come home on her own.”

I sighed. They were both being so irrational. “Okay, fine. But it sure would be easier to convince her you’re a good guy if you were there.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. But I’ll take care of everything from this end. Bring her to Mt. Olympus. Get her there, and maybe everything will be okay.”

~*~

When I got to Mom’s, no one was there.

The green Prius wasn’t parked in the driveway, though I did spot Mom’s station wagon when I peeked through the garage window. To my astonishment, when I tried to go in through the front door, I found it locked.

Mom never locked her door during the day if she was home, and half the time when she wasn’t. I went back the way I came and lifted the garden gnome to pick up the spare key. “Sorry, Frank.” I patted the flamingo on its plastic rump. “Keep up the good work, George.”

I returned to the door and let myself into the dark house. “Mom?” I flipped on some lights and tried again. “Mom?”

I moved from room to room, finding nothing more than emptiness.

“Don’t panic, Wynter. Get a grip.” I checked the kitchen for dirty dishes. The sink was clean. “They probably just went to the store or something.”

The house wasn’t that big. I ran out of rooms to search fairly quickly. Mom wasn’t there. I stopped in the bathroom to splash water on my face and regain some composure.

A sticky note hung on the mirror at eye level. An address was written on it in Mom’s swirly handwriting.

“Mayetta, Kansas? Mom, what are you doing?” I yanked the note from the glass and stuck it in my pocket.

For most people, leaving a sticky note in the bathroom would be weird, but for my mother, it was the most logical place. In fact, I should have started looking there, since that’s where she used to leave me notes when I was growing up. Everyone, she’d reasoned, ended up in the bathroom eventually, even if they avoided all the other rooms.

If Mom had left the address in there, it was because she wanted me to find it—which meant I was supposed to follow her.

I locked the house and climbed into my car. Mayetta was about an hour away—rural and full of back roads and fields. Demeter must’ve taken her to the farm, and if Mom was leaving me clues, she was probably going out there against her will.

“I’m coming, Mom. Hang on.”

~*~

I got lost three times. The roads were mostly paved, but they all had numbers for names, and it was hard to remember which one I was supposed to take next when they were so similar. A GPS would have been a lot easier.

On one particular stretch, I drove past the same house twice. The owner sat astride his ride-on lawnmower, cruising over a great expanse of lush grass. He waved both times, and I waved back. In the country, that’s what people did.

I made the correct turn on my second try, and the paved road turned to gravel. I followed it for another two miles, then made a left onto a driveway with a mailbox painted with stalks of wheat.

Sure. Any farmer might choose to decorate with wheat stalks, but this was the current residence of the Greek goddess of the harvest. Wheat was kind of a thing for her.

In fact, what seemed like miles of wheat grew in the fields bordering the driveway, once I had driven a short way in. The driveway was ridiculously long, and with all that wheat, I felt a little claustrophobic.

The fields ended abruptly, the driveway curved to the right, and a house appeared—two stories, wraparound deck, gingerbread trim, and painted in browns and tans. It blended in well with all the wheat.

I pulled the car up next to Demeter’s Prius and climbed out. Bugs hummed around me, and birds twittered and sang from the roof of the house. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

“Wynter?” Mom’s voice floated out from inside the house, and her face appeared behind the screen door a moment later.

I waved and gave a nervous smile. “I’m here.”

She bustled out onto the porch, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “How did you find me?” Her voice sounded puzzled, but her expression was not. The way her eyes darted side to side like a mouse waiting for a cat to pounce put the scene together for me.

By slipping in the bit about my non-existent boyfriend at the end of our phone call, she’d been trying to get me to help her without alerting Demeter. And the address on the bathroom mirror was something only I would have expected.

Mom’s mind wasn’t slipping at all. Not yet, anyway.

Demeter slammed open the screen door. Wisps of hair that had escaped from her bun floated around her scowling face. “Sephie, who are you talking to out here?” She froze when she saw me, her expression softening. “Wynter. You came! How did you…? Never mind. I’m just happy you’re here.”

Well, that was unexpected.

She made a hurried, coaxing gesture and disappeared into the house. I glanced at Mom for confirmation that I should follow. She shrugged and entered behind her.

I took a deep breath and followed my mother into the house.

~*~

Demeter’s house smelled like fresh-baked bread and furniture polish. I’d never had a grandmother before—that I knew of—but this house was exactly how I’d always imagined my grandmother’s home would be. It was warm and welcoming, with soft furniture and shiny hardwood.

The only thing that wasn’t what I’d expected was my grandmother herself.