Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball

  Sandy stood and bounced on her toes. “Look at all the people, Simon. This is going to be so much fun.”

  Simon did look at the couples going toward the street exit, but he also looked at the cars they passed. The cars told more about the mixture of guests at the Wizards’ Ball than the costumes they wore. After all, his old-fashioned cutaway tuxedo and his sister’s extravagant pink princess gown didn’t reflect the true Simon and Sandy Derrick. But his serviceable family car did. They passed minivans, older sedans, a few super-economy small cars, and a couple of SUVs. No upper-end, luxury models, and no sports cars were parked in the row of vehicles.

  Another Wizards’ Ball employee, dressed as a page, motioned them toward the exit. On the street, Sandy gasped and pointed. “A red carpet. We’re going to walk on a red carpet.”

  Both ends of the block were barricaded so no traffic cruised the street. A wide carpet paved the way from one curb to the other and then into the brightly lit doors of the Melchior Hotel.

  “Ooh!” Sandy clapped her hands.

  “Hold your skirt up until we reach the carpet. The sidewalk will be grimy.”

  She did as she was told. “I wish Cora was here. Maybe she’ll surprise us. Maybe she’ll be inside waiting for us.”

  Simon ignored the comment. Best to keep Sandy focused on the pleasure at hand and try to keep her mind off of Cora.

  They stepped off the curb. “You can let go of your skirt now. This rug won’t soil your dress.”

  Sandy did and promptly wound her arm around Simon’s. “Cora’ll be inside.”

  Simon clenched his jaw. “I doubt it, Candy-Sandy. Mrs. Hudson said she was firm about not coming. And she said no when I called.”

  “We should have gone by her apartment. I think if you had asked her in person, she would have come.”

  Simon didn’t want to answer that. The idea of his making a personal plea hadn’t even entered his mind. Why would she …? He took a deep breath. Maybe Cora liked him. He certainly liked her. She loved Christ and was kind, thoughtful, vulnerable, sweet, and kissable.

  He blinked hard. Yes, kissable. She looked like a good snuggler too. His face heated, and with a little more speed, he guided his sister toward their destination.

  At the front door, William Wizbotterdad, dressed in elaborate wizard garb, sat on a high chair behind a podium, collecting tickets and assigning tables. He took the two tickets Simon offered.

  “Simon Derrick, Miss Derrick.” He checked his list and frowned. “There were three in your party. A Miss Cora Crowden?”

  “Crowder,” snapped Simon. He cleared his throat. “Miss Crowder could not make it tonight.”

  “I am so sorry.” Looking disappointed, the bookshop owner handed them a six-inch round wooden placard with a golden number twelve painted on one side. “Here’s your table number.”

  Simon smiled, trying to dispel the chill he felt coming from the host. “Sandy, this is Mr. Wizbotterdad from the bookshop. He’s one of the sponsors of the ball.”

  Sandy made a little curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”

  The old man relaxed and gave her a gentle smile. “And I am honored to meet Princess Sandy.”

  “Are you a real wizard?”

  “Tonight I am as real a wizard as you are likely to meet anywhere.”

  Sandy giggled. “That’s not a yes or a no, is it?”

  William’s eyes twinkled. He leaned forward and whispered. “That’s a yes.” He winked and turned to acknowledge the next couple entering the hotel.

  As they moved on, Simon spotted a secretive, yet desperate, gesture by William Wizbotterdad. Bill Wizbotterdad came over, and an intense, whispered conversation ensued. They both looked up and caught Simon staring. The elder pressed his lips together and shook his head. What had Simon done to displease these characters? This was no time for borrowing trouble. Simon vowed to put all his attention and concentration on Sandy.

  16

  Cora sat on the floor with Skippy in her lap. The kittens climbed her legs as if they were scaling Mount Everest.

  “We really should do something Christmasy,” she told the feline family.

  Maybe that would raise her spirits. She rubbed her furry friend’s neck. Moping was not going to make anything better.

  The cat twisted and presented her belly to be attended to.

  Cora stroked the soft fur. “You’re regaining your figure.”

  Skippy purred.

  The kittens must have smelled milk, because they scrambled toward their mother. She reluctantly rolled off her comfortable roost and allowed the babies to attach themselves for a snack.

  Cora could bake cookies. But then she’d eat them. She could call a few friends for a quick Christmas greeting, but she’d end up telling them her tale of woe. “I’m all alone. My sister stole my dress. The love of my life is only the like of my life, and the promising beginning was railroaded by the same conniving sister. Woe is me.”

  She raked her hands through her hair. It was the kind of drama her family dished out. Who wanted to hear all that? She didn’t even want to hear it. But she’d probably still be voicing the negative if she hadn’t lived with the Bells. She needed a distraction.

  Brownies! Christmas brownies. She could only eat half a pan of brownies. Much better for her than three dozen Christmas-tree cookies with colored icing and sprinkles.

  In the kitchen she looked at the clock. Six forty-eight. She’d better eat dinner first, or she would eat the whole pan.

  She opened the fridge. “Nada.”

  She opened the freezer. “Frozen chicken wings—buffalo or teriyaki? No thanks.”

  She reached for the pantry door, but the doorbell interrupted her browsing. Who can that be? Simon? No, not Simon. Oh, not Zee! Please, not Zee.

  She smoothed down her straggly locks and batted at the cat hairs clinging to her sweats as she trudged through the apartment.

  Through the peephole, Cora saw the distorted figures of Betty and Bonnie Booterbaw carrying a large bundle.

  She opened the door. “Hello!”

  “Christmas greetings, dear girl,” said Betty as she pushed past Cora, dragging her sister and package along. “We discovered something absolutely disastrous, and we’ve come to make things right.”

  Winter cold clung to their thick coats.

  “Please, come in.”

  “We’re already in,” said Bonnie. “Close the door before those kitties get out.”

  Cora closed the door. “Can I get you something warm to drink? Tea? Hot cocoa? Cider? How did you know about my kittens?”

  “I can see the kittens, dear.” Bonnie placed her end of the package on the seat of a stuffed chair, and Betty draped the other over the back.

  “No time for a drink,” said Betty. “You’re already late for the ball.”

  Cora pointed at the long bundle. “That’s a dress.”

  “Yes dear, and it’s all our fault. We should have remembered about that fabric and time and unexpected properties.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Betty and Bonnie nodded in unison. Bonnie reached out and patted Cora’s arm. “But we do, dear Cora, and we can fix it.”

  Betty clapped her hands together and said, “We must hustle. We have a driver downstairs to take us to the Wizards’ Ball.”

  As they peeled off their coats, Cora tried to explain. “I’m not going.”

  Betty tossed her coat on the sofa where Skippy sat observing the new arrivals. The kittens ignored them completely. They had a toy with a bell to capture. The shopkeeper ripped the paper from the gown. The kittens perked their ears then and looked on with more interest.

  Bonnie rushed to help her sister. “I’m not surprised! Your dress probably dissolved into tatters soon after it left the hanger. Age, you know, and disreputable—”

  “Ahem!” Betty gave her sister a nudge.

  “Fabric.” Bonnie lifted the dress from the shambles of the paper bag, and Cora gasped.

  The cats, mother
and kitties, tackled the abandoned wrappings.

  “It’s gorgeous!” She reached trembling fingers to caress the soft gold satin. An underskirt of white velvet peeked out from beneath the draped satin. The scoop-necked bodice was a marvel of gold-threaded embroidery and beads on white satin brocade. Glittery trim accented the lines of the dress, and the sleeves billowed in a gossamer fabric down to tight three-inch cuffs that matched the bodice.

  “Where’s the hat? Where’s the hat?” demanded Bonnie, looking over her shoulder. “Here!”

  She held up a gold medieval cone hat. A veil of sparkling fabric matched the dress sleeves.

  Cora put her hands over her mouth. “I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t have my ticket. My hair’s a mess. I don’t have a way to get there.”

  Betty put an arm around her shoulders and pushed her toward the bedroom. “I told you we have a driver downstairs. It’s Bill Wizbotterdad from the bookstore. He’s happy to drive us. It’s an old-fashioned limousine. Almost a relic. Such fun to ride in and plenty of room for your dress.”

  Bonnie gently pushed her toward the bedroom. “We’ll take care of everything.”

  “Yes dear,” said Betty, “Bonnie is so good at fixing a hairdo, and I’ll put on your nail polish. We brought shoes too.”

  “What if they don’t fit?”

  “Well, they aren’t glass slippers so you don’t have to worry about them breaking and getting slivers in your foot. I always said that was a nonsensical style, even for a ball.”

  Bonnie came up behind them with the dress. “They could do the slippers with acrylic now.”

  “But still,” said Betty, “think what your toes would look like all squished together, and the sweat.”

  Bonnie let out a huge sigh. “Practical. Betty has always been the most practical of all the sisters. I prefer a little more fairy-tale perspective in my life. God has created such a fantastical world …”

  Betty pushed Cora down to sit on her bed. “Oh yes. Like pearls from oysters.”

  “Or the blue morpho butterfly of South America.” Bonnie clutched the dress and smiled. “A waterfall.”

  Betty thought for a moment. “The thoughtful expression in the eyes of a gentle burro.”

  “Fairies!” exclaimed Bonnie.

  “Ahem!” The practical sister gave her an arched eyebrow. “We must get Cora ready.”

  Cora’s emotions ricocheted, leaving her breathless, giggly, weepy, and confused. “Wait!”

  “Wait?” asked Betty and Bonnie in unison.

  “I … I have to decide if I want to go.” She looked up at the two kind old ladies. “I’d decided it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I didn’t get to go. I don’t need a night at a ball.”

  Bonnie took her hands. “Dear Cora, sometimes God gives us things we don’t need. And the best of the gifts He gives us is someone to share all the silly and grand, frivolous and spectacular—”

  Betty nodded solemnly. “—sad and heartbreaking—”

  Bonnie’s grip tightened on Cora’s fingers. “—joyous and exquisite moments of our lives.”

  “You really think I should go?” Cora’s voice quivered.

  The two old ladies smiled and answered in unison, “Oh yes.”

  17

  Elegant round tables surrounded the dance floor. Sandy matched their placard with the number on their table and bounced on her toes. Simon frowned at the beautiful decorations and the tableware set for three, while Sandy bubbled with enthusiasm. How did the organizers of this event know so much? It seemed they knew lots of details about the guests, whereas the guests knew very few about the ball. A ticket with no information, a Web site with no purchase details, last-minute e-mails with instructions—the whole thing was crazy.

  Sandy giggled. “Look at the ostrich.”

  A big bird strutted through the crowd in front of them. The people gasped in astonishment and readily cleared a path for the bird. The ostrich looked real, except for the cream colored feathers, iridescent with pink and purple. Simon squinted at the plumage. He shook his head and looked closer.

  Although it moved with as much grace as any real ostrich he’d seen at the zoo, it had to be a mechanical bird. He suspected the organizers had borrowed it from some fancy movie special-effects department. The ostrich glided toward them. Sandy giggled nervously and backed up against her big brother. He put his arm around her.

  “It’s all right. It’s only a—”

  The bird stopped in front of them, stared Simon in the eye, looked at Sandy and made a soft, throaty noise, then moved on.

  “I think she’s real,” said Sandy.

  Simon swallowed the word ‘robot’ and nodded. “Let’s sit down.”

  “There you are, Mrs. Finnfeather.” A lady in a flowing golden wizard robe chased after the bird. “You promised to be good if I brought you along.”

  Simon and Sandy exchanged glances and burst into laughter.

  As soon as they settled, a server appeared at Simon’s elbow. His apparel was understated-wizard, rather than the flamboyant robes they’d seen on older gentlemen.

  “Sir. Milady.” He nodded toward Simon and then Sandy.

  Sandy blushed.

  “My name is Billy, and my pleasure is to ensure your delight in this evening’s activities. Call upon me for any of your needs.” He handed them each a small disk with a button marked “Billy.”

  Simon muttered his thanks as he examined the apparatus. Sandy pushed the button. The voice of a woman yodeling sounded from Billy. He grinned and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. He held up a circle-shaped apparatus that had their number on it.

  Billy clicked a switch and replaced his gadget. “Dinner is served at nine. The dance floor is open now, and the side rooms offer appetizers and beverages or games for your entertainment.”

  Simon nodded. “Thank you.” He watched their server. “Are you Billy Wizbotterdad, the computer whiz?”

  His eyebrows arched. “Yes, I am.”

  “Did you construct the Web site?”

  Billy beamed. “That’s my work.”

  Simon considered how to put his remark tactfully. “There are some holes in the information provided.”

  The young wizard put his hands up in a stop motion. “Not my call. I am only allowed to put up what the older wizards give me. They like to be mysterious, and I cater to their whims.”

  A mechanical voice sang an aria. He pulled out a different round apparatus, checked the number, and winked at Sandy. “Gotta run.”

  He scooted off before Simon could ask another question.

  Sandy clasped her hands together. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  Simon guided his little sister toward the outer doors that led to a broad hallway circling the ballroom. “This is probably where they make their money, Sandy. I didn’t bring a lot of cash with me, so we can probably only get a drink and something small to snack on while we wait for dinner.”

  “I don’t mind, Simon. I’m having lots of fun. I wish Cora would come.”

  “I don’t think she will. Remember? She doesn’t have a dress.”

  “There’s her dress.” Sandy pointed down the hall. “See the fairy wings? I helped pick them, so I know.”

  Simon looked and spotted an azure blue gown with fairy wings. The woman wearing it passed into one of the side rooms before he could see her face, but her coloring and bearing strongly reminded him of Cora’s sister.

  Sandy grabbed his sleeve and hauled him down the corridor, dodging other guests. “Let’s catch her.”

  The walls and ceiling of the passage sparkled with miniature Christmas tree lights. Tiny clear bulbs dotted a white textured substance.

  “Ooh. It’s like walking through a snow cave.” Sandy paused to gaze at her surroundings. “It’s sooo pretty.” Then she jerked on Simon’s arm. “Come on. Follow that dress!”

  They turned into the side room and found carnival-type booths. Simon closed his mouth after a moment of surprise. The wi
zards had glitzed up many standard games. He saw traditional Skee-Ball, ringtoss, milk-jug bowling, a crane for scooping prizes out of an enclosed pile, and a spinning wheel. All performed the usual functions, but with much more style and sparkle than any arcade games Simon had ever seen.

  “There she is.” Sandy pulled Simon across the room as he got a glimpse of the back of the ball gown with fairy wings going through another door.

  In the next room, hors d’oeuvres decorated round tables, and punch flowed from silver fountains. They caught up to the wearer of the dress.

  “Zee,” Simon addressed the young lady filling her plate with petite and pretty sandwiches. “I didn’t know you were coming. Let me introduce my sister.”

  Zee swirled, the dress skirt spinning with her body and settling into lovely layers. She smiled. “Simon! How fortunate. I don’t believe I’ve met one person here who wasn’t firmly attached to a member of the opposite sex.”

  Simon refrained from pointing out that the purpose of the ball was for couples to have an enjoyable evening. “My sister, Sandy. Sandy, this is Cora’s sister.”

  Zee’s eyes slid to take in Sandy’s face and went right back to Simon. “I’m so glad to be here. I believe I’ll be sitting with you for dinner. We can continue the interesting conversation we started the other day.”

  “Cora’s coming.” Sandy’s soft voice held a note of authority. “We can get another chair for you.”

  Zee’s practiced laugh raked over Simon’s nerves. “No, I know for a fact that my sister isn’t coming. After all, she gave me her dress to wear and her ticket.”

  She extended her arm to emphasize the lovely gown. A patch of material dripped from the sleeve and floated to the floor. Zee frowned and grasped the fabric. She twisted the torn spot into her view. A handful of cloth came off, leaving a bigger hole.

  Zee opened her fist and, with a look of disgust, examined the disintegrating swatch of blue in her hand. She wiggled her fingers, and fine powder poured off her palm. “What?”

  “Uh-oh,” said Sandy, pointing to the floor around Zee.

  A ring of blue dust circled Cora’s sister. The hem of her gown hung in tatters, losing more fabric with each move she made. Zee gasped and picked up her skirt. At the points where her fingers pinched the material, two strips of cloth fell to the floor. Her hands sprang back as if she’d been scorched.