A Fairy Crazy Thanksgiving

By Patricia Otto

All people have problems, most people don't have all of them happening on the same day. Her boss giving her two weeks' notice, her landlord notifying her of a rent hike starting next year, and now a raging stomach bug, Isla Weir is having the worst day ever. When a doctor picks her up from the pavement after she faints, and she stares into his velvety brown eyes, Isla isn't sure if her luck is turning or if she's just hallucinating from lack of fluids.

Dr. Parker Coles cannot take another holiday with his mother nagging him to marry and have a family or, at a minimum, introduce a woman to them for once. But his girlfriend just broke up with him, and there is no time to get another. Then a woman faints at his feet, and a plan takes shape. Convince this woman to pose as his ex for Thanksgiving dinner, and he will return the favor. It works, too, right up until his ex shows up for dessert.

Sparkle, Isla's sassy fairy companion, is looking forward to a holiday feast at a riverside cottage even if Isla is the only human permitted by fairy law to see her. But when Sparkle gets sick, and Isla needs Parker's help, the violation of fairy protocol may cost them all dearly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia S. Otto
• Release date: Oct 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781943860104

Patricia Otto

A few decades ago, I found out that most people don't make up stories about the people they watch while sipping ice tea at a cafe. They do not take a cast of characters from a book or movie and give them a whole new story. Who knew? I thought everyone did that. Then there were the out-of-the-blue-characters. The ones conjured up in my head, telling me their tales, pushing me to write their stories. Sharing them only seemed fair.

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Copyright

A Fairy Crazy Thanksgiving Copyright © 2020 by Patricia Otto

Cover Art by Glass Slipper Web Design. Cover Photos: Deposit Photos

EBooks are not transferable. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the author. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of the copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the internet, any electronic or prints means without the publisher's permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the writer's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

There you are. Parker Coles kissed his mother’s cheek then slid into the booth on the other side of the table. I almost missed you tucked here in the corner. I only have time for a quick lunch.

Do you ever have more than a quick lunch? his mother asked.

Sometimes.

Verna, their favorite waitress at the RiseNShine Diner, took the pencil and pad from her apron pocket. It’s been a while. What can I get you both?

His mother straightened her napkin on her lap. I’ll have chamomile tea, the kale and strawberry salad with the olive oil and vinegar on the side.

Verna glanced at Parker.

Burger, medium, the works, and fries.

To drink?

Water is fine.

I’ll get Jack right on it, the waitress said, heading for the kitchen. And be back with your drinks.

His mother patted the hand he had resting on the table. So, is my son bringing a date for Thanksgiving this year?

Wow, Mom. Way to cut through the bull.

You said you don’t have a lot of time.

I have enough time to ask how the Harvest Festival was?

You would know if you had attended.

Mom, I’ve been to at least twenty of those things. Good cause. Great food. All pretty much the same. He clapped his hands together. Right?

She gave him a hooded look. More or less. You’ll be happy to know that this year we collected a record for the Children’s Hospital Fund.

That’s great, Mom.

I am pleased. And thank you for your donation.

Of course. Just because I don’t country line dance doesn’t mean I think that children shouldn’t have the best care possible.

Verna put their drinks on the table. Food will be up in a minute.

His mother, an elegant petite woman with fair skin and dark eyes, sipped her tea. You are coming, aren’t you?

Of course.

Your sister and the kids are going to be there. Even your brother-in-law will get there eventually.

Is Dad frying the bird?

Absolutely, his mother said with a laugh. You know how much he loves setting everything up on the beach by the river, sitting in his Adirondack chair with his cabernet, and timing that bird in the fryer with a stopwatch.

He is a predictable man.

Completely.

Their food arrived.

His mother got that angelic grin that indicated she was about to say something mischievous. You didn’t answer my question. Are you bringing someone special for dinner? Or perhaps just for dessert?

Parker stared at her, looking down at her salad. Every year, his mom expressed this particular hope that this would be the holiday he would bring a girlfriend to meet the family. Although she was usually more subtle.

He took a bite of his burger.

Maybe Margo was an adequate distraction that would buy him a few years grace period. Margo was pretty enough, could carry on a conversation, and knew which fork to use. Surely, he could make it through one day without giving up too much information. Maybe it was time. It just so happens, Mom, that I was going to let you know that this year, I am bringing a date.

Mom’s eyes brightened. Oh, Park, that’s wonderful. Who is it?

Mom, it’s Margo.

That girl you’ve been dating? Or should I say clashing with?

Mom. He shook his head. She’s a smart woman with very strong opinions, there are bound to be some spirited debates.

About our money, I’ll bet.

She’s in finance. She has her own money.

So why are you always saying that she talks about ours?

Because she has assertive views on growing wealth.

There is a thin line between voicing an opinion and foisting an opinion.

I don’t have to bring her.

No. His mother put her hands on the table. Absolutely not. You will bring her. I want to meet her. She sounds…interesting.

He nodded. What should I bring?

She chuckled. Oh, that’s cute. Bring your usual, sweetie.

Ice and beer it is.

He paid the check then helped her with her coat. What time you want us there?

Anytime. Come Wednesday night or Thursday, whatever fits. Your sister is coming the day of.

Okay, I’ll call when I have details.

Sounds wonderful. She kissed his cheek. Thank you for lunch. Talk to you soon.

# # #

Isla, the scratchy intercom voice said, can you come in here?

Administrative assistant, Isla Weir, grabbed her tablet.

She knocked on her boss’ door before entering.

Yes, Mr. Brant?

Ah, come sit down, Isla.

She sat in the usual chair opposite his desk, put her tablet on her knees, and placed her fingers above the home keys. I’m ready, Mr. Brant.

Oh, no. No. I don’t have anything for you. Uh.

I’m sorry?

Um. He wiped his hand down his face. I am going to have to let you go.

Isla’s mouth dropped open. Her heart pounded. Her head pounded. Her mouth went dried. Wh-what?

I’m sorry. I know heading into the holidays is bad timing, but the company is downsizing. The higher-ups told me I have to cut ten percent from my budget by next week.

I’m the ten percent.

Oh, you are only part of the ten percent.

Lucky me. Who else is in the club, may I ask?

It’s in flux right now.

Isla took a deep breath. Is it possible that I could be un-fluxed?

Mr. Brant exhaled, leaned his forearms on his desk, and tapped his pencil. Ah. No. No. I’m eliminating your position altogether. Hank and I are going to share an assistant, and his assistant has seniority.

She leaned back in her chair, hoping to calm the storm of thoughts. Isla stood. She had to get out of there before she started to cry. I’ll clean out my desk.

Mr. Brant stood. "I-I’m willing to let you stay on until next Wednesday. Then you take the four days over Thanksgiving to relax, polish your resume. I’ll give you a