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Evie had arrived at Molly’s early and snagged our favorite table by the fire. Esme and I arrived at the same time and hurried over to greet her.

“Hey. Where’s my granddaughter?” I asked.

“Hey, yourself,” said Evie. “Have I been permanently upstaged by the fruit of my loins?”

I laughed. “Of course not, but the fruit is a big deal.”

Evie smiled. “She is.” As we sat, Evie continued talking. “I can’t bring her because Thorn and Squeaky can’t stand being parted from her. The ruckus they raise just isn’t worth it.”

“Who’s Squeaky?” Esme asked.

“The baby dragon.” Evie rolled her eyes. “We call him Squeaky because, when he vocalizes, he sounds just like a rusty gate hinge.”

“Does that mean Rhiannon can’t leave home? Ever?” I asked. “’Cause there aren’t that many places in the world that advertise ‘unicorns and dragons allowed on the patio’.”

“Not in this world,” Evie said. “But we can take the circus most places in our world.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that’s right.”

I stood corrected, confronting the fact that my only child spent the great majority of her time in a different world. One where I couldn’t go without both invitation and escort. It meant there’d never be a question of dropping in without calling first. Not that I would.

I brushed that aside. The three of us were out for a girls’ coffee. Or whatever they were having.

“Unicorn?” Esme blinked at both of us. Apparently, her brain had seized on something said earlier.

“You haven’t heard about the unicorn?” I said, amazed. “Evie! You have to tell her about the unicorn because, you know, he’s like an indirect gift from her!”

“What?” Esme said.

Evie related the story about Thunder became Thorn and how Esme’s mother had appeared in spirit form while a rapt and fascinated Esmerelda stared.

When Evie reached the end of the tale, Esme hesitated for a few seconds before saying, “Wow.”

“I know. She only gets to keep him until puberty though,” Evie said.

“Bottom line. Rhiannon is good?”

“Excellent,” Evie said. Turning to Esme, she asked, “How ‘bout you? Tell me about the experience.”

Esme seemed more reserved than usual. I was wondering if she’d been permanently shaken in a way that had altered her core personality.

She smiled at Evie. “Getting back into the swing. Don’t make me do details.”

“Too soon?” Evie asked.

Esmerelda nodded.

I rushed to change the subject. “So. The party?”

My daughter rolled her eyes and grabbed her hair at the temples. “My wish for my daughter is that someday, when she meets her soul mate, he comes with a sane mother-in-law.”

I laughed. “I know your husband. He’s worth the trouble.”

“Well, if you put it like that,” Evie said. “One good thing that came from Esme’s nightmare experience was the dogs. Oh, my gods, does he love those dogs! He even looks younger.”

I chuckled. “He already looked young, Evie.”

“Oh, I know. But now he looks like he’s been photoshopped.”

“You all look like you’ve been photoshopped!” I said. When there was no response to that, I forged ahead. “But please don’t bring the dogs around. I’m afraid my pups wouldn’t know what to make of talking dogs.”

“Duly noted,” Evie said. “As for the party, Maeve is in her element which means she’s driving everyone either employed or related crazy.”

“That’s a given,” I said. “It’s Maeve!”

“Yeah. ‘Nuff said. Right?”

“So,” I said to Esmerelda, “I’ll bet this experience has changed Kagan.”

“In what way?” Esme asked.

“I don’t know. More confidence? Maybe this was the thing that finally put to rest his inferiority issues.”

Esmerelda’s eyes were wide enough to show white all around her irises. “ What inferiority issues?”

Sometimes my mouth works faster than my brain.

It’s an unfortunate condition, and a wonder I’ve survived with such a handicap.

Without thinking it through or bothering to recall that I’d made my husband a solemn promise of confidentiality, even going so far as to state that I’m good at keeping secrets, I said, “You know. The thing Maeve said to him about being ‘made’, not born.”

Lines formed between Esme’s brows. “I know nothing about this.”

As you can imagine, having coffee with these two women, there was no way I was going to escape Molly’s without telling them what I meant. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, girls, here’s the thing. I gave Keir a vow that I would never tell. But I just got carried away and spilled beans that need to stay unspilled. Can you let me off the hook? I can’t say more.”

Evie smirked. “What do you think?”

I gave her my best pleading look. “Please?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “But we can give you the same promise you gave Keir.”

ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

“You’re not going to give me a pass?”

Both shook their heads.

“It doesn’t do me any good for you to swear secrecy unless you’re better at keeping secrets than I am.”

“I can keep the secret,” Esme said, and I believed her.

“Sure. Why not?” Evie said, and I didn’t believe her for an instant.

“Evie…”

“Just kidding, Mom. I swear on Rhiannon’s zoo that I will never breathe a word of what you’re about to tell us.”

“You better mean it because I think there’s a place in hel reserved for queens who swear on unicorns and break their oath.”

She held up the Girl Scout salute. That was the one thing that would make me feel okay about telling. After all, the Girl Scout salute is the only thing in the universe more sacred and binding than a pinky swear.

After faithfully recounting what Keir had told me about the incident between Kagan and Maeve and how it had changed him, Esme took out a beautiful linen handkerchief with fine Irish lace around the edges and dabbed at her eyes.

“I hate her,” Esme said.

“Join the club.” Evie pursed her lips.

“You know there’s a twist in the middle of this story that makes it the stuff of legend,” I said.

That got Evie’s attention because she was on her way to a doctorate in Myths, Legends, and Folklore when she learned these things are real and became one with them. “Well, say it,” she ordered imperiously.

“Listen here, missy,” I said. “Some people may call you queen, but you’re still my kid. Don’t be a brat.”

Adding an insincere snigger to clearly being unabashed, she faked a, “Sorry. May we please hear your thoughts on the subject, Mother?”

Of course, I gave her a look of warning that she was quickly moving away from joke zone, crossing the impertinence boundary.

“Esme broke up with Kagan because she thought he was out of her league. Turns out she’s a demigoddess.

Kagan had been wondering all along if he was good enough for Esme because he was burdened with the belief that ‘born’ is superior to ‘made’.

It turned out that the two of them are circling very lofty airspace where they’re vying for power couple of the year. ”

Yes. It was a little bit of an overstatement. Diarmuid and Evie were the unquestioned power couple. But it couldn’t hurt to point out that Kagan and Esme were both elites. No one could question that. With the possible exception of gods-cursed Maeve.

Quiet descended on our little trio as each retreated into reflection.

We deliberately scheduled our get-togethers at a mid-morning time between breakfast and lunch when Molly’s was dead.

That way, we could sit by the fire and chat openly without fear of being overheard.

The silence that followed my insight made me aware, for the first time since arriving, that the fire was vying for attention. Snap. Crackle. Whistle. Pop.

“Well. It was just a thought,” I ventured, wishing I hadn’t verbalized my observation. “Let’s get to the important stuff. Like, what are you wearing?” I asked.

“Red velvet.”

“No. Not eating. Wearing! ” I teased.

“Haha. I made a copy of a dress I really loved, but in deep red velvet. Maybe you’d call it crimson? Or scarlet? I’m not entirely sure I know the difference.”

Esme spoke up as if she’d been asked to clarify. “Crimson is deeper and darker with a purplish undertone. Scarlet is bright. Vivid. With just a hint of orange underneath.”

“Okay,” Evie said. “In that case, I’m saying it’s crimson. Just as glad because I don’t like the sound of scarlet. Reminds me of that Civil War movie you made me watch when I was thirteen. The one with the awful woman.”

“ Gone with the Wind ?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Well, now that you can make your own clothes, I guess you don’t need me,” Esme said, deliberately trying to sound pitiful.

“Don’t worry, Esme,” I said. “I’ll never make my own clothes. I couldn’t leave home without you to dress me first.”

“Do you think Kagan…?” Esme began, but stopped. “Since you brought it up, I do think Kagan seems more, ah, I don’t know, confident?”

I grinned. “He’s certainly earned that.”

“Agree,” Evie said. “The bards will sing sagas of his heroics.”

“In what time machine?” I asked.

Though Maeve had moved to the queen mum's castle after Diarmuid’s coronation, it couldn’t really be said that it was a step down in lifestyle.

Not to ever be outdone, she’d gone to some trouble to make sure her residence was the largest and grandest with the widest staircases, the most exotic plants in the garden, and the tallest guards.

The king didn’t care. When Evie mentioned it, he just laughed and said, “Aye. Sounds like Mum.”

Evie would never understand how someone like Maeve could’ve birthed and raised someone like Diarmuid. It would remain one of the all-time great mysteries.

“I think we should tell your mother no presents.”

Diarmuid laughed out loud. “Good luck. The dogs and I’ll be huntin’.”

“For what?”

“Hamburgers.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “When did you become a comedian?”

“Always been funny, love. All the lasses say so. Can no’ help it.”

She lunged at him. “I HATE it when you do that ‘all the lasses’ thing!”

He was laughing and playing keep-away with his body. “I know. ‘Tis why I do it.”

She stopped. “You deliberately set out to vex me?”

“Aye. Full attention on me. No one and no thing other than me.”