Ella's Story: It Can Happen to You

[Maid of Marvels]

You can go to extremes with impossible schemes
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams
And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on the way...​

"Don't I wish!" Ella Synders muttered and turned off the radio with a sigh as she looked up to see nine-year-old Alberto Figueroa peering into the window of her basement apartment making kissy-lips at her. "Hey! Do you know where your parents are?" she hollered, thumb on nose and fingers waggling, when he flipped up his middle finger and grinned before quickly disappearing.

Rent was cheap and jobs were hard to find, but this wasn't such a bad place. Where else in the city could she get an apartment with such an unobstructed and picturesque view of ankles and shoes and trouser cuffs -- oh and the occasional rollerblades and skateboards? Besides, it kept her up-to-date on the latest trends in footwear.

Standing in front of the ancient Frigidaire, refurbished with John Deere Yellow Rust-Oleum that she'd picked up at the dollar store, she tugged on the handle and peered inside, pondering which of the tasty comestibles it held would make her dinner. Pickled onions, cheddar cheese and some week old bread that would make dandy toast, she decided. It was a moveable feast -- or would be if roaches didn't mind the cold.

******​

​

Gather round and cuddle up as chris2c4u and I tell you "Ella's Story".
Just remember:
Fairy tales can come true.

As always, comments, suggestions and critiques are welcome by PM and IM.

Enjoy!
Chris and Maid​

 

[Maid of Marvels]

thump thump thump thump​

Ella grabbed at a pillow and wrapped it around her head. Who needed an alarm clock when the Asian family upstairs had a herd of elephants hidden in their apartment? Knowing it wasn't any use, she rolled onto her back and lay there for a minute, staring up at the ceiling. "Good morning, Viet Nam!"

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she eased her feet into bunny slippers and stood. Scratching at her sweat pants covered butt with one hand she ruffled her short dark hair with the other as she shuffled toward the coffeemaker, inhaling deeply. Ella used it as a back up just in case the Nguyen's decided to sleep in. It was the next best waker upper after the smell of bacon. No one could resist that.

An hour later she was on a cross-town bus headed for her part-time paycheck. It was a catch-as-catch-can sort of job, but the owner had taken her on after copious amounts of begging and pleading when Head Hunters, the salon she'd been working in, shut its doors. The economy was the pits, but Frick's never seemed lacking for clientele.

"Mornin', Mr. Frick," she called out, letting herself in through the employee's entrance. "I got your message last night."

Carter Frick looked up from what he was doing and smiled wanly. Ella kept telling him he needed to get out more, get some color in his cheeks, but he never seemed to find the time since picking up county work. "Lovey Brighton," he said. "Downstairs."

~*~​

"No worries, Ms. Brighton. I'll just cut off the dead ends," Ella said quietly, brandishing her scissors once she had finished applying cosmetics to the face of the woman laying prone on the table. They would place her in the coffin her family had chosen after she was finished.

"They're all dead ends, Ella. I don't know why you insist on talking to the bodies," James Munroe, Mr. Frick's assistant said, coming into the room. "I don't know why you bother trying to make them look... "

"Natural?" she asked, smiling. "Dying is natural, Jimmy. Same as living. It's about respect. It's what I do. It's my job."

"It's weird, Ella. Plain weird. Borderline sicko."

Ella nodded sagely and sighed. "Kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think? Look how you earn your pay."

Jimmy didn't reply and even if he had, she was back to doing what she did when she came to Frick's Funeral Home - applying makeup and doing the hair of the deceased. Too bad most of these folks didn't take the time to pamper themselves when they were alive, she thought sadly.

"You're still making up the bag ladies down at the park? Giving the guys a shave?"

"They're housing challenged, Jimmy. Life challenged. Just folks that fell between society's cracks somewhere along the way. You see enough of them here to know that. Now shoo! I have a lady to make up for her swan song."

Ella Synders next stop was the Rainbow Kitchen followed by the bleak recesses of Union Central, an underground living room where she would become a flittering, chirupping hostess amongst her homeless friends. These few were the ones too sick or worn down to climb to street level every day. And so, she came to them. An angel who brought hot soup and sandwiches and covered them with blankets when the "haves" would rather turn their heads and forget they even existed.

By the time she reached her apartment, she was exhausted yet strangely exhilarated. Doing little things like this made her feel like she was making a dent. After all, that could be her one of these days.

Showering quickly, Ella made herself comfortable in a favorite hot pink tee shirt, her long, thin legs stretching out from the bottoms of a pair of flamingo patterned boxers. Coffee was making and a can of Vegetarian Alphabet Soup was warming on the stove. She'd even swapped off a candy bar for a couple packets of oyster crackers from Doris Ann down the street who had just gotten her Methadone fix and was jonesing for something sweet.

She scanned articles in the local while she waited, looking for any news of St. Gerard's, the orphanage she had grown up in. Abandoned by the Church two decades before, it was barely keeping its doors open now. While there was an upsweep in donations of children, the monetary ones came few and far between. News was, they didn't have much longer before they would shut down completely.

Nothing. Sister Edna would surely have more news tomorrow when she stopped by. Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays were when she "paid back" at St. G's. For all most would consider she "didn't have", Ella considered herself far luckier than most.

She had just finished pouring out her soup when she heard the knocking. At first, Ella thought it must be one of the other apartments, but when it grew louder and more persistent, she walked over to the door and peered through the peephole.

Unlocking one deadbolt after the other though leaving the four chains attached, she opened the door a crack and took a better look. Too well dressed for someone who worried her soul was in danger of hellfire and with no Avon bag in sight, Ella decided he must be lost. "Damn! Did I forget to turn my red light off again?" she asked, her large brown eyes sparkling as she looked the man up and down and down again.

 

[chris2c4u]

The stairs were slippy; George didn't want to imagine what with. He stepped gingerly trying to take care of his dark brogues and descended towards the entrance to the basement apartment.

He adjusted his maroon tie and pulled a small mirror-brush combination from his dark suit's inside pocket and inspected his face. He turned his head a little from side to side in the half light and ran his fingers over his pencil mustache and then checked the lapels of his pale blue shirt. He tucked a newspaper under his arm and knocked on the door.

He knocked again. And again until finally he heard movement behind the metal and shook his head sadly. This must be quite a neighbourhood - how many locks and bolts had been slid so far?

He tilted his head a little and nodded to the small face that appeared behing the chains which still festooned the entrance. "Good afternoon. Ms Synders?"

"Could be if you've come to give me a donation to the rent," she said with a grin but then blushed remembering her red light comment as well.

"Yes, you were a couple of days late with it last week."

More of Ms Synders came into view. A hip stuck out and a fist on it. His eyes travelled down her leg to where a pink bunny tap-tapped on the floor as she began, "Hey! I was just late - has Carlo sent you round just cos of that? I thought he and I had an understanding?" She blushed again. "Not in that way...I mean...he knows I do have some errr...well, you know some weeks I kinda like to eat."

"No, I am not from Carlo."

"Then how do you know?" Ella stopped and looked at him with a puzzled frown.

"I would like to discuss some matters with you." He pulled the newspaper from under his arm and showed her the story about the orphanage. She blinked and looked from it to his face then back to her seat where the same story lay.

"You're quite the do-gooder," he said, with a rather tired sound to his voice. He looked around the littered alley, empty fast food bags blowing by. "Do you have a problem with rodents? Cockroaches perhaps?"

"How'd you know - OK, tell you what. Back up there, on planet Earth," she jerked her head towards the steps, "there's a cafe on the corner a block down. McGuire's. It looks well...sorta run down..."

"Yes, it would around here," George said looking around with distaste.

"Well actually they are really nice people and ..."

"Yes, the Nigerian wife of the Irish owner you are helping with her English." He still didn't look at her as she narrowed her eyes.

"I'll meet you there in...5 minutes. You can buy me something nice while you explain yourself." She closed the door with a flourish but inside she paced around, talking to the bunny slippers. "Who is this guy? Now that was weird, uh?" She scooted over to the pavement glass and looked up in time to see him walking away down the street.

"OK, I'll tell you all about it when I get back," she promised the slippers as she finished dressing.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Ella cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the window of McGuire's, knocking on the glass and waving once she'd spotted him. "Okay, this is a plus," she said to herself as she pulled hard on the door and let herself in. "Bawoni, Nkili! Dia dhuit, Michael!"

The McGuires looked up in unison and greeted their friend. "Wassup, gurrlfrand?" Nkili asked, giving Ella a thumb's up.

"Got a dinner date. He found me in the personals," she replied, pointing toward the man who was studiously examining the time on a pocketwatch. "Hello!" Her eyes sparkled and her smile broadened as she slid into the booth.

"Eight minutes, thirteen seconds," he commented smugly, slipping the ornate timepiece back into his pocket.

"Really? Did I miss something?"

"Miss Synders... "

"Please," she said, taking a menu from between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper holder. "Call me Ella. And I'll call you... "

"George," he replied, wrinkling his nose and trying to make as little contact with the laminated page as possible.

"Their Cuban sandwiches are to die for," she whispered in an aside loud enough to be heard outside.

He rolled his eyes and elicited a resigned sigh. "Perhaps a cup of tea."

Ella grinned. "Oh yeah. You're one of those... "

"Ready?" Michael asked, his pen hovering over an order pad as he perused Ella's friend. All of her friends were a little strange, but this one topped the cake. At least, he thought to himself, she was smart enough to meet him in a public place where people knew her.

"I'll have a large order of fries and a California burger with cheese... " she began, laughing when Michael interjected: "Wrapped and on the side?"

"Uh huh. And he'll have... " she made an exaggerated attempt at a British accent while holding her little finger out. "A cuppa and a strumpet, if you please."

"Well, I don't know about strumpets but I do have English muffins. Do you want jam with that?"

George sighed again as Michael moved away. "Why," he asked, "do you want the cheese wrapped and on the side?"

"Mice," Ella said as if that single word would explain everything.

"Ahh... traps. I see."

Her already large eyes widened even further. "Absolutely not!! Marco has to eat, too, you know."

"Marco?"

"The mouse who shares my apartment with me."

George's eyelids fluttered and he shook his head sadly. "Miss... Ella. Aren't you in the least bit curious as to why I came to your... " he cleared his throat "apartment?"

"Course I am, Georgie. I figured you'd get around to the telling sooner or later."

"It's George, Miss. Yes. Well." He pointed at the newspaper on the table and the article about St. Gerard's. "They're going to close, I believe."

Ella nodded, her voice adamant. "But not if I can help it!"

"You made a wish."

She peered at him suspiciously. "Are you sure Carlo didn't send you? You seem to know an awful lot about me for a stranger."

"I'm sure," George said. "You brought me, Miss. You brought me with your wish."

"Yeah, sure, Georgie. And I'm the Queen of Sheba." Ella leaned back and tilted her head while scrutinizing him. He was cleaner than her friends at the Station and down at the park, but he was gonna end up in Western Psych if he continued knocking on doors and claiming that their wishes brought him to them. Still in all, he seemed like a good sort. He was buying her dinner, wasn't he? She sat forward and stared him in the eyes. "You are going to pay, aren't you?"

 

[chris2c4u]

George nodded at the question of payment and Ella looked at the man in the neat dark suit as he wiped his teasoon on a napkin before stirring the liquid.

She began to eat the burger that Michael brought with a cheery, "Enjoy!"

George peered at the single plastic pot of jam and one of honey before holding up the latter and commenting drily, "I see they keep a bee." Ella laughed and spluttered, not expecting the stiff and rather formal George to have a sense of humour.

"How is it you know so much about me?" she asked, licking her fingers.

He looked around the room absent mindedly before returning to peer at her, his pale blue eyes rather watery.

"I try to find out as much as I can about my clients before working."

She coughed. "Clients?"

He sipped the tea serenly, seeing no need to reply since she had clearly heard what he said.

"What do you mean client? I didn't hire you."

"I know, you wished for something and I'm here because of that."

Ella shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I need to get out more. This is crazy."

He showed her the newspaper again about the orphange and they attempt to buy it by developers. The children would be rehoused by them - but all across the state, split up and scattered.

"And you know that wouldn't be good for children who have already suffered a lot."

She blinked; he seemed to know which bit of the article she was reading and what she was thinking. She swallowed, feeling a little dizzy.

"What was your name again?" she asked.

"George," he said, simply. She looked, waiting for more. "Just George," he said and finished his tea.

"Well, George, how do you suggest we take on this national company -" she scanned the paper for a name. "U. S. I. United Services and Investments."

George sniffed and sat up, adjusting his tie. "Yes, there is a bit of a conundrum there. I am a little short on some essential material and until I find it, the wish really can't be granted."

Ella nodded. "Of course." She had now more or less labelled him as a loon but a fairly harmless one. "And this - essential material is..." She tilted her head and looked the question over to him.

He looked back calmly at her. "A lamp."

She nodded and managed to stay serious in appearance. "A lamp." She by now was realising he wasn't good at verbal cues to keep talking so she continued, "why do you - we - need a lamp?"

"Because you have to rub it to be granted the wishes. Unfortunately, it seems to have become...displaced. However, it is somewhere close, it has to be otherwise I could never have got here."

She nodded again. "Obviously."

Michael came over and winked at Ella, leaving the bill between them.

George frowned, reaching into his jacket pocket from which he seemed to produce much more than it could hold and all of it currencies of various sorts, including what seemed like ancient gold coins.

"Do you think you could check which is suitable? There should be something there. I do a lot of travelling."

Ella looked at the coins and notes and finally found a clip of dollars; she flicked through the crisp twenties and gave up counting at 100. She peeled off one of the bills.

"I'd put this away if I were you," she said, looking round to make sure no one had seen the cash.

"Hmm, yes." He seemed unconcerned and she shook her head and sighed, seeing another waif and stray who had turned up at her door. He might have some cash but his marbles were certainly rattling.

"So, where are you staying?"

He looked at her. "Currently, I don't have a place to stay."

She said it before she could stop herself. "Since you lost your lamp," she grinned.

He nodded. "Precisely."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Ella didn't often take strays home, but this one seemed to be different in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. His clothing was a bit "retro" and that whole lamp gig was totally absurd, but... Maybe he was just lost or something. Frankly, he seemed more the butler type than any genie she'd ever read about.

Taking a deep breath, she placed both of her hands flat on the table and leaned forward. "Okay, Georgie, here's the deal. You can come stay at my place. I have a chair that opens into a bed, see? I get the bedroom. You get the chair. And no, I repeat NO hanky panky."

He blinked.

She nodded. "You seem like a nice guy. Maybe a bit nutty, but nice," Ella smiled winningly. "I don't have a lot of money and you seem to have a wad, so I'd like it if you bought your own food. Me and Carlo have a deal for the rent so that's no problem."

He arched an eyebrow incredulously.

She nodded. Again. "We'll get you some jammies at the Salvation Army tomorrow. I know how guys are and you can't go wandering around in your gotchas or... You get the idea."

He harumped, accepting the change that Michael set on the table between them.

"Cool," she said. "And thanks, Michael. It was great."

"No worries, chickie," he said, scrutinizing her "date" again. "You okay?"

"Peachy keen," Ella grinned, easing out of the booth. "I'm gone. Tell Nkili I'll see her on Sunday after closing. C'mon Georgie Porgie, I've got an early start tomorrow."

******​

Ella skipped ahead, turning to walk backward every now and again while she talked. She told him about her job at the funeral home and her friends in the "living room" at the train station and at the park. She briefly mentioned some classes she was taking at the local college and why St. Gerard's was so important to her. In the course of the few minutes it took them to return to her apartment, George had developed a headache and was pinching the bridge of his nose.

Pulling a bright pink spiral that held more than a few keys from within her dress, Ella began unlocking the deadbolts one by one. "I didn't put them here," she told him. "But I use them anyhow. Good luck to whoever gets in cause there's nothing in here worth stealing. Besides," she commented, pushing the door open at last. "The roaches would help carry the stuff out anyhow. C'mon. Mi casa es su casa."

He said something that sounded suspiciously like heaven forbid followed by a resigned sigh but Ella ignored it, hurrying over to her little kitchenette to put the cheese out for Marco the mouse.

"Have a seat," Ella grinned. "The television works, and we've even got cable. I'm hooked in to the upstairs," she added in a loud whisper. "Oh, and that's yours." She gestured toward a worse-for-wear easy chair on the way to her bedroom. "I need to get out of these clothes," she called out.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ella used the toes of one foot to push the shoe off the other before sliding them into her bunny slippers. "He's a genie," she giggled to them. "Can you imagine? Crazy." As usual, they remained silent. It was sometimes best not to comment on these things.

George was still standing in the middle of the room when she came back out, once again dressed in her hot pink tee shirt and her flamingo boxers. She followed his gaze into the kitchen area where Marco was happily nibbling at a piece of cheese held in his front paws.

"That's Marco. Marco, this is Georgie. He's going to stay with us for awhile." She grinned as Marco paused to give Georgie the once-over before returning to his dinner.

"It's not a mouse," George said, finally.

"Of course it is," Ella rebutted.

"No, Miss. It's a gerbil." It was George's turn to nod. Imperiously even.

"Well, whadya know," she said thoughtfully. "You hear that, Marco? You're a gerbil. That has to be a step up in the evolutionary cycle. You think?"

Turning back to George, a serious look came over her face. "Look. I know this isn't the Ritz, but it's clean and I doubt you'll catch too many diseases. Take a load off. I'll make tea and we can talk. About... stuff."

 

[chris2c4u]

George didn't feel like talking much it seemed and he said he thought he would have an early night as he was likely to be busy the following day. Ella shrugged and wished him goddnight.

She slept late the next morning, waking with a start wondering if she should be at work and realising she didn't. She blinked and wondered what was different and then she noticed - it was quiet. The herd of elephants that normally traversed her ceiling in the morning had clearly moved to a different watering hole.

She sniffed the air - coffee? She sat up and stretched and her feet slipped into the bunny slippers and she padded out to the main room. She blinked again.

"Good morning," said George standing before the table where he had laid a place for her breakfast - which was mixed fruit, greek yoghurt and museli, something, she realised, she really wanted. She walked further into the room and picked up a red and white napkin and a knife and fork - all new.

"I went to the shops first thing, well after I had had a word with the family upstairs. Very nice people - theh didn't realise anyone lived down here so they told me they'd try and be quieter in the future." He poured the coffee.

"I also bought you some food - and cleaned the refrigerator and what passes as a cooker of the evolving life forms within. I took the liberty of buying some tea and a teapot. Charming little craft shop just a block or two away - do you know it?"

Ella sat slowly at the table and looked at George without speaking.

Eventually she looked at the food and said, "I can't really...well - pay you back -"

George sniffed as if the subject of money was vulgar and should never be discussed over breakfast. Ella looked at her bowl and started to eat. "Mmmm," she purred. George sipped his tea and nibbled on some toast.

"George, you're a wonder," Ella said and leaned back in her chair the shocking pink shirt riding up and exposing her midriff which she patted in satisfaction, noticing George's look of somewhat shocked bewilderment.

"What?" She smiled, wondering if he was going to blush.

"Nothing Miss, it is the fashion these days for women to be half naked, even at meal times," he said laconically. He began to gather up the breakfast things and she wondered about asking if he was gay. That is, she thought, not that I was trying to - I didn't mean to show off so much - but hey, I don't look bad...She decided to avoid the subject and wondered instead how long he intended staying.

"I would like your assistance," he said as he marched into the small kitchen area.

"Washing up?" she followed.

"No, this." He picked up a local free newspaper that he had brought back after his foray for foodstuffs. She scanned the small ads and he pointed it out.

Antique and Collectable bazaar, every Wednesday, 10am, 4pm, Turner Market.

"I would like some directions to the market."

"Sure. OK. Err - you a collector?"

"No, I'm looking for my lamp. I rather suspect it might have got misplaced and ended up with some collector. This is a place to start."

"Right, the lamp. OK." She grinned. "Mind if I tag along?"

"If you wish, you can help me look."

"I've gotta meet some people about the orphanage later so maybe we could -"

"Go early, good idea. I wouldn't want my lamp bought before we got there." He folded the wash cloth and dried his hands.

"You'd better get dressed, Miss, if we're to make a move. Is it far?"

****

It wasn't far; the market was roofed and had a metal fence around it. There were stalls set out within and they had in fact reached it before it officially opened. Stallholders were still setting out their goods so they waited in the sunshine.

George wandered around peering through the railings trying to spot likely stalls. Eventually he rubbed his hands and smiled at Ella pointing to one with a large collection of old and new metal cookware and various buckets and other objects, mostly burnished brass.

When they were let in Geoge made for that stall immediately while Ella wandered around, looking for others and suddenly realising that George hadn't described the lamp. She turned around to go back to him and bumped into a man. He caught her elbows to stop her rocking back and she found herself gazing into a pair of deep green eyes atop a smile.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Sheesh!" Ella exclaimed, disconcerted by the stranger's hands on her arms. "Why don't you watch where you're going?"

His smile seemed to grow larger as he eased them off and away, raising them in surrender. "Apologies, Your Highness," he said wryly. "Shall I head immediately for the guillotine or may I buy you a lemonade to redeem myself for such churlish behavior?"

Shaking her head, she couldn't help smiling. "The guillotine sounds a bit extreme, but a day in the stocks wouldn't be a bad thing. As for the lemonade," she added, glancing at her watch (or where one should be if one owned such an item), "you might have considered the early hour and offered coffee. Unless you're a tea drinker, of course." He nodded somberly and let her prattle on uninterrupted. "Besides," she said, "I'm here with a friend and we're looking for... " She almost didn't say it. Almost. "A lamp. A magic lamp."

"I see. His name wouldn't be Aladdin, would it?" the tall, thin man asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

"No. It's actually Georgie." Ella leaned forward and whispered, "He's a little... you know... " She traced circles near her temple with her forefinger and the stranger nodded again.

"Well. I need to go find him before he buys up everything in sight. He needs watching. Carry on."

Before he could say another word, she was skipping off, waggling her fingers and calling out to an elderly gentleman who was perusing items at one of the tables. "Must be Georgie," he muttered in her general direction. "And by the way, my name's Sam. Sam Eldridge. Nice to meet you, too."

******​

"Hey! You can't do that!!"

George looked up at the stallholder as he emptied yet another carton onto the ground. "I believe you are mistaken, Madam," he commented imperiously. "It seems as though I already have and quite possibly will again. You see I'm looking for my lamp... "

"Your lamp?" the woman screeched. "Are you calling me a thief? Why, I should... "

Ella arrived at the near donnybrook just in time to forestall what would have resulted in a serious injury to the top of Georgie's head. "Cripes!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him away while responding to the harridan's indignant shrills with a simple "Nutcase!" though it was not quite clear which of the two she was referring to.

"Close call," came an unbidden comment from a voice who had taken up George's other arm as Ella ushered him away.

"Unhand me, you ruffian!" George objected, trying to free his arm and, in so doing, almost knocking Ella to the ground for the (almost) second time that morning.

Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she turned to face the marauder as George removed a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket and brushed himself off. "Please don't tell me you're employed by the UN's Peacekeeping Forces," she blurted once she saw who it was. "This man," she said pointedly to George, "has a mission in life to go around flea markets knocking people over."

"Didn't knock anyone," Sam protested. "Just trying to help is all."

George harumphed. "Brass lamps. If you know where I can find such an item, speak. If not, take your leave."

"Politeness must run in your family," Sam grumbled. "My name is Sam Eldridge. I met the Queen earlier," he gestured in the general direction of that event and turned back to George. "You must be George."

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," George replied, tucking his handkerchief away while perusing the young man intently. "Well??"

"Well, what??" Sam asked, puzzled and considering whether or not to make a run for it.

"Lamps, of course," Ella snorted. George nodded. "Do you know where we can find some?"

"Magic or otherwise?" Sam grinned, his green eyes lost in her large brown ones.

"Nevermind," Ella said. "Let's go, Georgie."

"W-wait! I might. I might know where you can find... lamps. Well, if you let me show you."

Ella grinned, though George remained poker-faced. "Where?"

Sam told them about an auction he had heard about. "It's in Philadelphia," he said, noting the downcast look that fell on Ella's face. "I could take you if you don't have transportation," he added. "I'm in antiques you see... I have a shop downtown." Sam pulled a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Ella who read it out loud:

PANDORA'S BOX
Antiques
All Kinds, At Fair Prices!

Sam Eldridge, proprietor
142 Mott Street ​

"Catchy name," she commented, handing it to George.

"Very well. Should we go now?" George inquired after a few moments.

"Oh," Sam replied, realizing that George meant now as in 'right that second'. "The auction isn't until Saturday, but I have a catalogue at home if you wouldn't mind me dropping it off to you later today?"

George sighed forlornly and Ella cooed soothingly. "That's only two days off, Georgie. If it's been lost as long as I think... " Maybe they'd find a lamp there, she thought hopefully. Any lamp. Anything to make George happy. She didn't know why it was important to her, but it certainly would do no harm to help the old guy find a piece of tarnished junk before he really did end up getting conked over the head... or worse.

"By the way, Highness," Sam interjected, more than a little uneasy with the strange way the conversation was turning. "Might I give you a lift home?"

Something told Sam that he had to be out of his mind. Even so...

 

[chris2c4u]

"A lift? Well, I'm not going straight home..." She quickly explained her volunteer work at the orphanage and also today was a meeting of the committee that hahd been formed to try and keep it out of the clutches of the developers.

Sam smiled. "Then to where you're going...both going?" He eyed George who was looking around like a meer cat for other possible stalls to rummage through.

"George?" said Ella. He blinked and looked at her with a mildly annoyed frown - quite a good mood for him, Ella thought.

"I'm going to the orphanage - would you like to come?"

"I think I'll stay," he said, eyeing a distant gleam of brass like a hawk spotting prey.

"Do try not to get into trouble - and if you spot your lamp, just pay for it - don't accuse them of stealing it and..."

Sam touched her elbow. "He'll be fine," he whispered. "He seems to have survived for a while with very few scars."

Ella nodded and slowly walked away with a few glances back until George had disappeared into the crowd.

****

On the way to the orphanage Ella explained that she was a volunteer and her reason for her involvement. She also studied the Saab thinking both that the antique business must be lucrative and how nice it would be if Sam could be encouraged to contribute towards the fighting fund.

The meeting, at St Gerald's Church hall, Ella noticed with a slump of her shoulders, was sparsely attended. Still, the main people were here, she thought. After introducing Sam they sat around the battered trestle table which creaked worryingly under the weight of papers, coffee cups and elbows and recalled the position.

"We have 3 months left that the county gave us to come up with good reasons for a review over the future of the building," the chair of the meeting, Josephine Clark intoned, looking over her black framed glasses and tapping the end of her pencil on the table. "We have looked at architectural value..."

Alan Merrit smiled, his white teeth gleaming in contrast with his ebony skin. "Even the historical society couldn't find a reason to think of saving it," he said for Sam's benefit. It was similar with other possible schemes.

There was a silence and they went on to the minutiae of the committee business. AFter the conclusion of that, people made noises in Sam's direction and Ella noticed how he dealt with them cheerfully. She smiled a little; he seemed - interested and even gave his address to Alan and promised to attend the next meeting.

"Sorry," said Ella as she waited for him, pushing a strand of hair back over her ear. He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow in question.

"Well, I'm sure you didn't want to sit through that -"

"It's OK, this is my neighbourhood too, I've lived round here for years, even when the smart money started heading uptown." He shrugged. "Be nice to try and help something that a lot of good people seem to think is a worthy cause." He looked at Ella as he spoke and she bit her lip and blushed a little.

She looked at her wrist where a watch might have been. "Well, Mickey's little hand tells me I need to think about doing some college work - but if you'd like..." She stopped realising she didn't really know what she was going to say.

Sam filled in until he too became a bit hesitant and his voice petered out. "Maybe later, I could get you something to eat? That is, a meal - a restaurant?"

Ella swallowed and nodded. "Sure, that'd be good."

"Errr...How about George?" Sam felt duty bound to ask about her waif and stray.

"Oh, he'll be fine," she said vaguely. "He'll probably let himself in..." For a second she had a tinge of regret that she had let George have the foldaway bed, thinking she'd much rather have Sam...She blushed again and they both quickly began to think of where and when they would meet.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

They decided on the Golden Grill, rather Sam did when Ella didn't seem very forthcoming with suggestions. Despite its ambiguous name, he told her, the restaurant was Italian through and through. "From zuppa to noci," he said. "You do like Italian food, don't you?" Ella smiled vaguely, wondering if pizza and Spaghetti O's counted.

He walked Ella to her door, insisting on escorting her even though she tried to discourage him, and waited until she had unlocked each of the seven deadbolts and stepped inside. "I'll pick you up at six," Sam reiterated as the door closed and he reclimbed the stairs to ground level. Ella watched him through a chink in the curtain as he got back into his car and drove away.

George obviously hadn't beat her home, but she called out to him anyway as, kicking off her shoes then hurriedly retrieving and putting them into her bedroom, she slid her feet into her bunny slippers. She just couldn't bear the thought of hearing that disappointed, woebegone sigh of disapproval that he seemed to make... a LOT. "What ho, Jeeves!"

"You know," she said to them as she started grabbing her textbooks, "I always thought genies were supposed to be congenial." The bunnies didn't comment, but it seemed to her as though they agreed; nodding as she wiggled her toes.

When George did arrive an hour or so later, Ella didn't notice him -- or his sigh. She was laying on her stomach, her waggling feet in the air and crossed at the ankles; books, papers and note cards spread all around herself.

"You there! Get away from that window!"

Ella nearly jumped out of her skin as George strode across the room, waving a wooden coat rack menacingly (God knows where or who he beat up to get such a thing) at Alberto whose distorted face was pressed against the pane. By the time he blew a kiss and flipped George the bird the poor man was fairly apoplectic. "Hooligan! Does no one have manners any more?"

"Well hello to you, too, Georgie," she said with a grin. "That was no hooligan, that was Alberto. He was waving in Italian."

"Good afternoon, Miss," he replied, ignoring her comment.

"So," Ella sat up and crossed her legs Indian style. "Did you find your lamp?" George declined to answer, though he did emit one of his sighs while glancing at her mess and then pointedly toward the kitchen table.

"I'll pick this stuff up, Georgie. Just give me a second, okay? I have a paper due and a ginormous test tomorrow, too." Ella scuttled to comply with his unspoken admonition as he placed the coat rack beside the door and set a kettle of water on to boil.

"Tea, Miss?" he asked as she relocated her study materials.

Ella blinked. He was doing it again... Looking from the papers that were now spread over the entire table to the tea kettle and back again. This time Ella got it right, sighing right along with him. It was almost musical.

Napkins, spoons, two cups of tea and a plate of butter cookies that he took from a tin later, Ella was telling George about the meeting at St. Gerard's. "Three months," she sighed. "It might as well be three days. We've run out of ideas."

"If only I had... "

"I know," she finished his sentence for him. "Your lamp."

"Yes, Miss," George said, getting up and clearing the table. "You may resume your... "

"Study, Georgie. I was studying."

"Yes, Miss."

It was almost five fifteen by the time Ella finished. "Cripes! I almost forgot! Sam's gonna be here any minute."

"Sam, Miss?"

"Yes, Sam! Sam Eldridge. The antique guy." Shuffling papers into a manageable pile, Ella scooped everything into her arms and headed for her bedroom where she dumped it all onto her bed. "We have a date," she explained. "Dinner. I have to shower and dress."

Neither of those took her long, but when she saw the disapproving look on George's face, she took a deep breath and headed right back into her room to change again. The second time didn't bode any better. The third time, he waggled his hand back and forth as if to say, better but still not...

"Dammit, George! This isn't a formal affair you know. Dinner. Just dinner, for Pete's sake."

The fourth time she could swear he almost smiled. Almost. She was all set to go.

 

[chris2c4u]

Sam Eldridge could manage smart casual; it was why he suggested The Golden Grill; they knew him there and didn't mention he often came with different young ladies. In fact, Maria Verde, the plump, round faced Italian wife of Giuseppe, had decided to take him under her wing.

"Bring them here first. I tell you if they are good enough for you. Then I feed them up, like proper Italian woman."

He had a grandmother like her from the old country and he would take his dates to the Grill obediently. Mostly, Maria tried to smile if he said he liked them, even though she knew they weren't right for him - and she had always been right. Damn her.

He drove his car into the parking lot having picked up Ella and been bowled over by her dress. From inside the house a sound of what he though was self-satisfied humming emerged. Ella had given a grin and quickly pulled the door to and locked the bolts.

The Golden Grill was typically Italian; people sat too close to one another - for the non-Latins in the crowd - and there was never a question of waiting for a table if they could be shoe-horned in.

They found themselves talking with others about an upcoming wedding, a golden jubilee, a Christening, the sad passing of Leo someoneorother...and George's lamp.

Ella had mentioned it to Sam and they soon had to tell the full tale.

People neither of them knew promised to look out for it. A regal looking woman with greying hair leaned in and with a bony hand took Ella's forearm in her grasp.

"We have our genie's too. Maybe he is one of ours." She smiled, her tobacco yellowed teeth revealed before she laughed and leaned away again into the crowd of people eating together.

****

Sam drove her home and they sat in the car in front of her apartment building. She twined a paper napkin in her fingers as she looked down into her lap.

"It was fun." Sam said, looking ahead out of the windshield.

Ella nodded.

"I'd - well - you could come in but...well there's George. I don't know..." she bit off saying, "how he'd be with it."

She went on instead, "I have a test. Tomorrow. College. Course - test. Need to get to bed." She pulled the napkin in two.

"Right. Yes. Of course. No problem." Sam looked around. "Perhaps a kiss?"

Ella stared ahead through the windshield until she felt his hand in her hair and her head turned to him and he kissed her.

It was soft to begin and then she tilted her head and her own hand came to the back of his head. Then she kissed him. They breathed more deeply and their tongues played. They lost track of time.

"I'll pick you...and George up," Sam said eventually, in a husky voice. "The antiques fair."

Ella nodded and felt her lips throb, unable to speak. They kissed again, goodnight.

He didn't tell her that Maria had given the thumbs up to him as they left the restaurant. He smiled on his way home as his erection refused to subside.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Ella let herself into the dark apartment quietly, hoping against hope that George would be asleep. It wasn't that she didn't like him, she just wanted to...

"Cup of tea, Miss?" He asked her from the corner of the livingroom, images from the television casting an eerie kaleidoscope of light and shadow across his face.

Ella whooped as George flicked on the light. "Damn, Georgie! You've gotta stop... No. No tea. I need to get some rest. That test."

"How did your dinner engagement... " George's question fell on deaf ears as Ella kicked off her shoes following them into her bedroom and closed the door. He smiled, nodding sagely to himself as he rechecked the locks and prepared to go to bed himself.

"He is soooo sexy," she informed the bunny slippers as she undressed. "I hope you don't mind if... " She tucked their faces under the dust ruffle and flounced onto the bed naked. If only it could be this easy to get some privacy from George, she thought a little guiltily as her hand slipped between her legs. Sooo sexy.

tap tap-tap tap​

Ella's eyes flew open though she immediately squeezed them tightly shut to keep Sam's face and body as he hovered over her from slipping away.

tap-tap tap tap-tap​

"Noooooooooo!" She wrapped her pillow around her head and tried to ignore George's unwelcome intrusion into her sensual dreamings, but to no avail. It was gone. Sam was gone.

"All right, all right," she grumbled, easing her long legs over the edge of her bed and feeling around for her slippers with her toes. "Good morning, my darlings," Ella cooed. "At least the two of you know how to behave."

Grabbing the chenille robe from the hook behind the door, Ella slipped it on and tied the sash. Once. Then again as she stormed out of her bedroom.

"Your breakfast is ready, Miss," George informed her in that maddeningly supercilious tone he always seemed to use.

And that music! She fumed at the twang of country music that had invaded the habitual and necessary quietude of her morning routine. What in the world was he listening to at this ungodly hour??

She stopped short, a deep crimson blush flooding her face as the last refrains crept through the storm cloud that was hovering over her head.

"In the morning when you open your eyes,
Do the lovers in your dreams wake up, too?
Do the lovers...
lovers...
in your dreams...
Wake up, tooooo?"

George clicked it off as the bathroom door slammed closed behind her.

Ella pressed her forehead against the curled and peeling paint on her side. Did he know? Could George possibly know?? And what if he did. It wasn't his biz. Was it? But what if he did know?

Exactly ten minutes after immersing herself beneath an unusually hot and amazingly strong deluge of water from the showerhead, Ella emerged feeling rather sheepish about her behavior. She'd eat her breakfast now -- no matter what it was -- and no matter how congealed it had become in her absence. She had to make it up to Georgie somehow. After all, he really did mean well. Didn't he?

"Oats," he informed her, setting a bowl on the table as she approached. "No lumps."

"But what if I like lumps?" she countered petulantly, completely forgetting that she had sworn to be nice.

George sighed. "I'll try to remember that for next time, Miss."

She ate it all, and the two eggs that were just coming off the griddle. "I thought you... " Ella bit her tongue. She knew what he had said: 'Breakfast is ready". She might be quirky, but she definitely wasn't crazy. The sooner he found his lamp the better off they'd both be.

******​

Ella knew that she had aced the test, even if she wouldn't have the exact results until the following day. Professor Cunningham had given her a wink and a surreptitious thumb's up. She was one of his best students and he never failed to let her know it.

Two connections, a passel of daydreams involving Sam Eldridge which were followed by sheer panic that she would never hear from him again, and a short walk to and from the Rainbow Kitchen later, Ella found herself at the park.

"I really shouldn't be surprised. I really shouldn't," she said, blinking and blinking again to see if the sight before her was just a mirage. When he turned to face her, Ella knew it was not.

"Well, well," she murmured, walking up to George who had dressed two picnic tables in red and white checked cloths that were reminiscent of those same ones used by her friends at McGuires and laden them with roasted chicken, baked potatoes, broccoli and what smelled like apple pie.

"Looks like Thanksgiving," she enthused

"No, Miss. This is chicken, not turkey."

Ella pinched him and whispered a heartfelt "Thank you" -- both of which George pointedly ignored.

 

[chris2c4u]

Sam pulled up at Ella's building on Saturday morning and looked over at the crumbling steps on which sat a motley collection of children, eyeing the Saab while pretending not to look. The neighbourhood looked no better in the light of day than it had when he'd dropped her off earlier in the week.

He got out of the car and locked the doors remotely when he saw George emerge from an alleyway and begin to cross the road. Alone. Sam wondered if Ella was sending her tame genie with a message...

"Good morning sir," George said when he approached. "Miss Ella will be with us shortly. Her wardrobe is really most - eclectic. I took the liberty of buying her some new items of outer wear yesterday and she is dressing."

Sam nodded wondering about the generosity of this stranger. He opened the door and George took a seat in the back while Sam sat behind the wheel. Eventually Ella emerged, quickly from the alley. She waved at the kids in the street and laughed at something then crossed the road, sliding into the car in new jeans and a sweater. She had teamed George's conservative choices with a long knitted scarf of many colours.

She smiled brightly at Sam who made appreciative noises over her clothes. "Like the scarf." There was an audible groan from the back seat.

"Thanks. My Gran knitted it. She sometimes forgets how to stop so it sort of..grew." She grinned and Sam noticed her dimples.

"I'd have brought flowers," he said, "but decided on this instead. It was in my shop."

He pulled out a rather battered small box. She opened it and laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. The mickey mouse dial of the watch showed the correct time. Sam drove away with a smile.

****

He had a trade pass that got them into the parking underneath the hall and as they got out George was certainly animated. He paced a little back and forth while he waited for the two young people to stop flirting and start on the serious business of lamp hunting. Eventually Sam smiled at him and indicated the elevators. George stepped out smartly, a new overcoat draped over his arm and pressed the call button.

They were early but the fair was open. Sam took Ella off with him on some of his business calls to dealers and George studied the flyer with the plan of the floor. He homed in on the likeliest candidate, dealing in antique lighting.

George felt very excited and his nose almost twitched; he could nearly smell his lamp. After several minutes he noticed at the back a small rather battered brass oil lamp. He quivered and pointed to it; the large lady who was sat doing a crossword at the stall looked back and was a bit disappointed. It wasn't exactly a sale that was going to make her day. She slowly ambled back and collected it.

She made the best pitch she could but George wasn't listening. He turned the lamp over and noticed tell tale scratches and a dent. She sighed and reduced her asking price thinking he was making a silent hard bargaining stance. He nodded quickly and pulled out a gold coin. The woman's eyed widened as she recognised a George IV gold guinea. George handed it over and walked off, carrying the lamp close to his chest. The woman's gaze follwed him and she put the coin away quickly; she had been wrong - the sale had made her day.

****

"George!" Ella squealed and pointed to the lamp. She couldn't believe it but he was actually smiling.

"So, this is it uh?" Sam eyed the item appraisingly. "May I?" He held out his hand and George, somewhat reluctantly, handed his prized possession over.

"I think it needs a bit of cleaning..." Sam said and pulling out his handkerchief, rubbed the somewhat dull metal. George didn't mind; normally, he would have been summoned by this but as the lamp was empty...

Sam was suddenly staring past George's right shoulder and off into the distance. George quickly recovered his lamp as Sam's hands went limp.

Ella waved her hand in front of Sam's eyes. "Hello? Anyone at home?"

After Sam didn't respond they both looked where he was still staring. Walking towards them was a tall woman with lustrous blonde hair. The dark dress was more suited to a high class cocktail party; it hugged her voluptuous figure and was low cut. She walked slowly towards them, her deep blue eyes on Sam's face.

George and Ella sighed simultaneously. Without acknowledging them the woman went over to Sam and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hello Mr Eldridge," she purred. "Perhaps you'd like to have coffee before you decide what I can do for you." Sam smiled and made a squeaking noise, half in a trance. The woman slid her hand down his side and into Sam's palm.

Ella frowned. "Hey...Sam? Friend of yours?" She moved around in front of the pair as the mystery woman started to lead Sam towards the refreshments. She turned her gaze on Ella who shivered, the thought coming into her head: Ice Queen. She stepped aside and watched Sam being led away.

She blinked and turned to George, looking woebegone. George however was frowning.

"Most odd. Very strange. This is my lamp but..."

Ella walked over to George as he mumbled to himself and peered down the spout into the lamp.

"Shall we get the bus home? You got money for a cab?" Ella's sad voice drew him out of his study.

"No Miss, we're not leaving just yet. I need to speak with that young Djinn. The whipersnapper."

It was Ella's turn to sigh.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Totally confuzzled and more than a little disheartened at being dumped by Sam, Ella picked up gin and whip from Georgie's reply, but little else. "Hogeaters," she murmured, wondering why so many were into that kind of scene. "You think she's a dominatrix?"

"Who?" A rather high-pitched voice squeaked into her ear. "Where?"

Ella turned to glare at the short and rather nerdily-dressed eavesdropper who had obviously intruded on her private musings. Plaid and stripes! Did she have a sign over her head that said: Weirdo Wanted??

"Personal space!!" She grumbled, not wanting to encourage any further conversation, and glared again. Ella jabbed him with the tip of her index finger, forcing him back a couple of steps.

"Owww!" He grinned, but she was already walking away and failed to notice the glazed look in his eyes and the sheen of sweat that had broken out on his forehead. "Mistress... " he whispered breathlessly, pushed his thick glasses up on his nose and scurried to catch up.

******​

"A word if I may?" George said stiffly. The tone of his voice brooked no argument but the Djinn interloper clearly ignored him. Nevertheless, he persisted. His fingers, now wrapped around her upper arm, gained him a vaguely disdainful look and a thwap of brightly enamelled fingernails against his nose that made his eyes water.

"You're drooling."

It was George's turn to glare, but Ella hadn't been speaking to him; her eyes were riveted on Sam Eldridge.

"I'm pretty sure prostitution isn't allowed on these premises," Ella continued, her fingers clenching and unclenching. "Maybe you should head back to your street corner."

When the Djinn dismissed her comment with a supercilious flick of her hand and Sam took no notice of her at all, Ella sighed; not a bad imitation of George's "usual". She could have worn a dress like that, Ella thought to herself -- if that's what Sam likes. Maybe she should have slept with him, too. Two dates and she hadn't given up more than a kiss. Who could blame him for going all gaga over this blonde bombshell? She sighed again. Well, I'll show him! Two can play at this game!

Her eyes searched the room for someone "suitable". Someone who would make Sam Eldridge think twice. She almost laughed. He was thinking twice -- probably even three times. (She was afraid to look.) If his eyeballs stuck out any further he'd be making a nosedive straight into that woman's cleavage.

"Mistress... "

An almost melodramatically creepy voice whispered in her ear disrailing her train of thought as the short hairs on her neck stood on end and gooseflesh erupted over her entire body. "Ewww!" Ella shuddered and dared to peek, already sensing who it was. She wasn't wrong.

"Oh," she said, trying to maintain her composure. "It's... you." She waved her fingers, indicating that the nerdy guy should back up. "Today is not a good day to get on my last nerve."

His voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes wide with awe and something that made Ella shiver in a disgusting sort of way. "Forgive me, Mistress." He shuffled back a step or two. "Arnold. My name is Arnold Fishbein... Mistress."

"Listen, kid. How young are you anyhow? You know I'm old enough to be your mother, right?"

That seemed to please him somehow but it made Ella sigh. Again. Tilting her head to one side, she rolled her eyes toward the blonde and gestured with her thumb. "She's more your type."

Arnold glanced briefly in the blonde's direction and back. He shook his head. "Nope."

"Sit!" she barked at Arnold and turned to face George who seemed to be observing Sam's sultry seductress while fishing in the inner pocket of his jacket. "Hey, Georgie?" His eyes were almost glowing as his hand emerged, holding something which he quickly palmed.

Ella watched curiously as he leaned toward Sam and dropped it into his cup of coffee. "Wha... "

***POOF!***​

The Djinn levitated, growing larger and larger as she swirled around to face the man who had disturbed her mid-wish. "How dare you!" she howled. "Do you know who I am??"

"Oh, I dare, Miss. Yes, indeed, I do," George replied quite calmly. "As to who you are," he continued, his voice dangerously low, "You are an interloper, Miss. An intruder. A squatter!. And you have stolen my lamp!!"

 

[chris2c4u]

"Oh, I dare, Miss. Yes, indeed, I do," George replied quite calmly. "As to who you are," he continued, his voice dangerously low, "You are an interloper, Miss. An intruder. A squatter!. And you have stolen my lamp!!"[/i]

George cleared his throat and resumed his normal speaking voice.

"You do seem to be one for the - melodramatic," George said, waving his hand in front of him to clear the smoke the Djinn had generated. "This and the - young lady." He looked over the form she "wore," despite her rather enhanced size.

The Djinn, seeing her machinations had not succeeded in frightening George, returned to the proportions of the temptress.

"You are brave - or foolhardy," she said, her voice still recognisably feminine but with a tinge at its edges as of a distant rumbling. "You are old, even for a Genie."

George sniffed and smoothed his mustache. "Age before beauty," he said, seemingly unruffled. "I believe you have my lamp. I demand its return."

The Djinn shook back the golden tresses she had adorned herself with and laughed. "Your lamp? I think not - it was empty - had been for years according to the other Genies sniffing round the bazaar stall holder I bought it from. That lamp is mine."

"I think not. You know you needed to check with the HLD - and I know you did not, since I have been searching for my abode for some not inconsiderable time." There was a steely glint in George's eyes now as he gave some indication of his annoyance by the tone of his voice.

"The Habitable Lamps Department?" She gave a humourless laugh. "They're a mere bureaucratic sop to aged Genies unable to claim their own lamps any more by - other means. Like you." She prodded George in the chest with a manicured finger.

George straightened his tie. "Also, technically, given the situation re housing - i.e. you are an interloper, I believe that the wish of Mr Eldridge is, actually, mine to grant."

"PAH!" the Djinn turned away and quickly wheeled about; a blast of green flame shot towards George, engulfing his figure and seeming to glow incandescently around him. The Djinn's smile emulated the flames but then she frowned. And blinked.

George was still there. The flames died away; a small wisp of smoke rose from his thinning hair and he sighed and gave a polite cough, blowing a smoke ring.

The Djinn put her hands on her voluptuous hips and tapped her foot, trying to look unconcerned. She thought she had caught him off guard and that he would be - well, at least scurrying through some distant dimension with his trousers on fire.

"That really was most remiss of you," George said as he flicked a few spots of ash off his suit. "As you might be beginning to gather in that - young - Djinn mind of yours, I am not any-old "old" Genie. The reason my lamp was empty," George took a step forward, "was because I had been on a special mission for the Grand Council. A long mission. Do you recall, from any of your mis-spent youth and time in training, what type of Genie they send on such missions for the Grand Council?"

She looked around and seemed to notice that the smoke she had created was still swirling around. She peered into it and giggled.

"The - type who can - stop time?" her voice rose an octave. The Djinn smiled, then giggled and stepped forward, pressing against George with her curves and linked her arm through his. She now knew only too well what genies got those missions. What their powers were.

"Georgie," she simpered, "I can see we got off on the wrong foot..."

"The whole leg, I would say, Miss. Perhaps we could start to put it right?"

"Well, Georgie..of course...what would you like?" She turned and he had to pull back from her breasts and look up to see her face; she had a finger turning through his hair and a large smile.

****

The Djinn looked - put out, as she sat at the table with the geek. She kept trying to keep his hands off her.

"Any wish? I can really have any wish?" His glasses steamed up again.

"Just one," she said and looked at the young man with, if possible, even more distaste. He giggled and ogled her again. She looked at George who smiled serenely at his solution to the recent problems re wishes and went back to where Sam was sitting with Ella.

"It's strange," he was saying, "I just don't seem to remember anything from the time George - the lamp..."

Ella felt Sam's forhead (again) and stroked his hair (again). "Poor you," she said dreamily.

George sat down next to them and put his lamp on his lap; it wouldn't do right now for anyone else to start rubbing it until he had a chance to inspect his home and correct any "alterations" the Djinn had made to his abode.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Is that it, George? The one you've been looking for?" Sam asked, his eyes flickering over the lamp as he reached out then retracted his hand after noting its location and the "don't-you-dare" look on George's face.

"You look... exhausted," Ella murmured, turning to George for validation. "Doesn't he look exhausted, Georgie?"

"Yes, Miss," he agreed in a manner which seemed to convey his own weariness with the entire universe. "Perhaps you should accompany Mr. Eldridge to his lodgings. I will make my own way... "

The young couple agreed, in unison, that George should not be left to his own devices. Though neither of them were exactly sure of the current reason, they cited his previous skirmishes as proof-positive that they were in the right and would drop him off at Ella's place. As for George, having noted by the expression on the Djinn's face that the young man had made his wish at last, he accepted their offer without argument.

******​

Making sure that all seven deadbolts and their accompanying chains were fastened securely, George let himself into the apartment with a sigh. At last he could ease the deathgrip he'd held on his lamp since regaining possession. Setting it down gently and almost lovingly on the kitchen table he put on the kettle. "A cup of tea," he murmured, sensing that he would need fortification before venturing inside.

Tea things cleared away, George gathered featherduster, mop and broom, paper towels and various other cleaning implements and walked over to his lamp; he had opened the lid to air it out while he drank his tea. "Here goes nothing, old boy."

It had been so long. So very long.

In a mere blink of his eyes, George found himself home at last. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed. He was surrounded by pink! Everything was pink!! And what was...

Yip! Yip, yip, yip. Grrrrrr!

Something small and pink was gnawing at his ankle. George glared and picked it up with a grin. "Just a statue of a pink poodle," he said drolly. "Just the sort of thing Ella would like." He'd remember to present it to her later. As for now... it was time do do some major redecorating.

******​

"Do you want to go get something to eat?" Sam asked as they drove away after dropping George off.

"Not unless you do," Ella replied; her thoughts were on George and his lamp and one of the first things he'd said to her when they met - that he could grant her a wish once he had it back in his possession. Of course it had been only the ramblings of a crazy man, but wouldn't it be nice...

"We're here."

Ella blinked and looked around as Sam parked the car in front of an old brownstone. "This is where you live?" She hadn't figured he lived in a neighborhood like hers, but she'd never imagined that he was this posh either.

Sam laughed. "Third floor. It was made into apartments in the nineties," he told her as he came around to open the car door. "Nothing fancy. Just a few flights higher than your place."

Ella nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as he led her inside and over to an old birdcage elevator. "Up we go," he murmured, pulling into his arms and kissing her. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

"Me, too," she squeaked, breathlessly. "Lead on." Truth, she was glad she wouldn't have to climb three flights of stairs; her knees were knocking like a schoolgirl's and her heart was fluttering like a butterfly's.

 

[chris2c4u]

Sam had fumbled with the front door key, dropped it and finally managed to open the door.

"Not so many bolts," Ella grinned. Sam looked confused. "As mine."

"Ahhh...Yes. Well - welcome."

The place was reasonably neat, she concluded for a bachelor. She didn't know had been up at 6am tidying in case she would come back with him; he hoped she didn't open the closet door and become engulfed in the hurried hidden flotsam and jetsam of the single life.

She stood in the living room and looked out of the window while he got them coffee and still tasted her lips on his own. He returned and she still looked out of the window; he put the cup in front of her and she turned and smiled. His freed hand moved to the small of her back.

"Nice view," she said, sipping the drink.

"Yes," he said, looking at her. She grinned without moving her gaze from the window, knowing he wasn't looking at the bus crawling up 1st. She still didn't turn her head when he pushed back her hair and kissed her earlobe. As she began to turn his way he took the coffee cup, then her hand and led her to the couch.

They sat together and she looked at him, pushing her hair back over her ears. He grinned, looking in her eyes as his hand came to her cheek, his thumb stroking, his fingers reaching into her hair, to the nape of her neck. He moved towards her and pulled her towards him.

They met in the middle of a kiss that went on. And on. They made small noises as the kiss explored their connection, as it deepened it, as they played. Slowly, through it, their bodies warmed, the touches became more insistent. His hands on her blouse now caressed her breasts through the fabric, moving the bra beneath. Her fingers ran over his broad chest, sliding in between the buttons of his shirt feeling skin beneath.

If they hadn't known before, they knew now. The kiss was broken and they breathed hard, not speaking what they knew. The tops were undone and they played again, dishevelled, hands and mouths on shoulders, chest, breasts. They knew they would make love.

****

It was much later when she returned to her own apartment, thoughts and feelings running round in their heads as they sat outside in his car.

"So, what do you think George will do?" Sam asked.

Ella blinked; she had pushed George out of her mind and now felt a bit guilty for leaving him for so long, though she didn't know why.

"Now he's got his home back?" They both grinned at the absurdity of the idea.

"Poor Georgie," Ella said and sighed. They kissed again for minutes.

"Want to come around to the shop tomorrow?" Sam breathed, holding her close.

"That would be nice," she said, trying to think what she was supposed to be doing the following day. She remembered something about the orphanage and suggested they could think of possible ways of raising enough money to save it. They said goodbye. Slowly.

****

Ella bit her lip to stifle a laugh when she got inside. George was sat at the table, wearing a pinafore. A duster and a bottle of surface cleaner sat beside him; he was fast alseep, his head fallen back. Ella decided to close the door heavily.

George's head sprang forward and he blinked, looking round as if trying to recollect where he was. He saw Ella and murmured sleepily, "Tea, Miss?"

"No, no that's OK Georgie I'm fine. So - you've been busy? Lamp cleaning?"

"Quite so, Miss. And redecorating. Not an easy..."

Ella had wandered into the bedroom and George heard a yelp. He stood and walked quickly after her. She stood in the doorway and pointed, open mouthed, to the coral-coloured statue of a poodle in mid bark.

George smiled. "I thought you'd like it," he said with a nod.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The statue was incredibly lifelike, a ceramic taxidermist's delight, but the eyes... Ella moved a little to the right and then to the left before taking a leap back to the spot she'd started in. "Georgie... "

"Yes, Miss?"

"Where did you get this?"

"It was in my lamp, Miss."

She nodded. "Did you notice anything... strange... about it?"

"Aside from the color, Miss?"

Ella nodded again.

"No, Miss," he replied. "Have you?"

She took a deep breath and turned to face her friend, whispering. "It's the eyes, George. They follow me where ever I move."

"An optical illusion, I'm sure, Miss. Are you certain you wouldn't like a cup of tea?"

This time Ella accepted the offer, though she swapped her shoes for her more familiar bunny slippers first. "They did follow me," she told them in a conspiratorial whisper. "Keep your eyes on him while I have tea and let me know what you think later."

A new edition of the daily was on the kitchen table when she sat down and George sat quietly as she read the latest news about St. Gerard's. "It doesn't look good, George."

"No, Miss."

She tapped her teaspoon against the end of her nose as she finished the article and turned her gaze to the brightly polished lamp. "George?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"Are you really a... " Ella wasn't sure if she dared to ask, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd rushed in where angels dared to tread. " ...genie?"

He harumphed imperiously, an insulted tone flavoring his reply. "You don't believe me." The statement was rhetorical. How could he possibly help her if she didn't... believe? He busied himself clearing the table.

"It isn't that, George," Ella said, her eyes filling with tears. "I owe them so much and I just can't bear the thought of... "

"Good night, Miss."

Ella knew better than to press him. Besides, she could see his point. She talked to bunny slippers and thought a ceramic dog's eyes followed every move she made. Ella swung around to glare at the outrageously pink statue and nodded. It was watching her, dammit! So why couldn't she believe that George was a genie?

Desperately saddened at having hurt the man's feelings, she picked up the poodle, cradling it in her arms, and the four of them headed for bed. She'd talk to Sam in the morning and they'd figure everything out. He was supposed to come for breakfast.

Ella sighed again. She hoped he liked toast and alphabet soup. Aside from making a killer cup of coffee, she wasn't a very good cook at all.

 

[chris2c4u]

Ella walked back and forth in the bedroom.

"Stop...looking...at...me." She spoke clearly to the pink poodle statue and sighed when it took no notice.

"Fine. Guys - we're not to speak to the poodle til it does as it's told," she instructed the bunny slippers. She shook her head, opening the bedroom door.

"Morning George..." the word petered out as George was nowhere to be seen. Not even breakfast made. She had a look round for his lamp - not that he was likely to have left it in plain view. It too was gone.

She shrugged thinking that he might have gone out to the shops. "Probably ran out of tea," she mumbled and picked up the phone.

"Hi, sweetie," she said as Sam picked up the receiver. She found herself kneeling on the kitchen chair and curling her finger in her hair girlishly.

"I just thought I'd call cos I wasn't right beside you this minute. And to see how soon you'll be here." She frowned and suddenly seemed to hear herself speaking like a lovesick school girl.

"Anyhow, look, hey - George isn't about. He took his lamp too."

****

It wasn't quite wake up sex - they'd both been awake for a while after all - but but was hot and torrid. She'd had to put the bunnies under the bed and the statue in the other room before she crawled onto the bed on all fours and looked over her shoulder at him. He didn't need another invitation.

It was afterwards she got the statue back in the room and they stood side by side beside the bed.

"OK - now, look...go that way..." Ella said. They shuffled sideways together.

"Now back. See? Didn't they?"

He shrugged. "Things often seem to do that - paintings, you know."

"But not pink poodles. From out of the lamps of genies."

He turned his head and kissed her shoulder running a finger up the curve of her spine.

"Want to go out and eat? I could eat pancakes, bacon...you..." He chuckled and kissed her mouth. It took them a little while to dress.

On the way to the diner they passed Hart's Department Store. Sam, his finger in the loop of her jeans, stopped and tugged Ella round. He pointed to the collection of statues of pink poodles in the window. Half Price or Less! the ticket proclaimed.

"Want to see if their eyes follow us around? Or ask inside if they have any lamps?"

Ella looked at the pack of poodles. "Maybe he got it here," she said but somehow didn't quite believe it - or didn't want to.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

They had brunch at McGuire's though the busy hour didn't allow for much more than cursory introductions to Nkili and Michael, who invited Sam to accompany Ella for a late night dinner the next time she came to tutor his wife. "Is there anyone you don't know," Sam asked as they left. Ella shrugged. "There's no such thing as strangers, Sam. Only new friends waiting to be made. Can we use your car now?"

Sam nodded. "Of course. Where did you want to go?"

"You'll see," she replied in a mysterious tone, her eyes sparkling.

The longer Sam knew Ella, the quirkier she seemed and the more he found himself wanting to be her constant champion, her protector, her lover... and everything in between. It was a shame that George had disappeared like that, but on the up side, it would allow them to be together more often and in a very special and private way. "Ella... " he began when they reached his car which was, surprisingly, still in possession of all four tires and their covers.

Ella looked at Sam and smiled. "Yes, Sam. I want to make love with you, too... " She tapped the passenger side door and gestured with her head. "But this one thing first, okay?"

How could he refuse?

The one thing turned out to be several. A stop at the Rainbow Kitchen produced soup and sandwiches enough to feed more than a score of people. They refused his cash, but made him promise to volunteer on Thursdays. Oh, and could he bring some beef and soup bones? Early as possible, they added. Soup took a while.

The next stop was the park where Ella introduced him to her friends. "You see, Sam? Not strange or even strangers now." To be frank, he'd never really thought about the homeless that hung out here before and was more than a little amazed to learn that one of the women had once been a school teacher and an elderly gentleman who reminded him a bit of George had been an engineer.

As they returned to his car, Sam found himself wondering about the last box of soup and sandwiches, but refrained from asking. He knew he'd find out soon enough. "Where to?" he asked hopefully when she slid over on the seat and threw her arms around his neck.

"The living room."

Gods it had been years since he'd had sex anywhere but in a bed. Sam grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "I kind of like that idea."

Ella laughed and directed him to the train station. "Here???"

She nodded. "Uh huh." He noticed that she didn't waggle her eyebrows though.

A few minutes later, Sam Eldridge knew what the Living Room was and sat watching Ella as she flitted from friend to friend, a combination of hostess and little mother. It was really going to kill her when St. Gerard's closed. "Hey, Ella?" he called out from where he sat hand-feeding a man whose name was Sebastiano. He'd lost most of his fingers to frostbite and infection and, Ella had told him not-so-privately, he preferred to keep himself to himself. Ie: Sebastiano didn't speak.

"Yes, Sam?"

"When do you go to St. Gerard's again?"

"Tomorrow," Sebastiano replied, soup dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

Sam grinned, wiping his chin. "Thank you." He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but he knew why Ella did this and made a solemn promise to himself that he would accompany her as often as possible.

It was nearly six by the time they returned to Ella's, though neither was hungry for anything except each other. They undressed on their way into the living room. Ella waggled her eyebrows this time... and a few other things as well.

Sam was more than obliging as they entered the kitchen for... snacks. He ate first, declaring it to be the most sumptuous feast he had ever partaken of. Ella giggled, both pleased and elated.

Their third course took them to the bedroom. A tee shirt over the poodle's head and the bunny slippers safely tucked away under the bed, the two lovers took their time discovering things about each other that no one else had ever taken the time to find out.

Sam spent the night. They woke up famished and started all over again.

"Uncle!" Sam croaked, his arms and legs splayed like Da Vinci's Vetruvian Man, as Ella crumbled onto his chest.

"Do I look like someone's uncle?" she asked, heart pounding as he slipped from her depths.

"Not exactly," he whispered into her hair. "But we'll have to save further anatomy lessons for later." Was it his imagination or had he heard giggles from under the bed?

By noon they were standing in front of St. Gerard's. "Are you sure you want to come in with me?" she asked.

"You bet. I want to take another look around." Truth was, he couldn't believe that a building this old didn't have a secret or two hidden away that might be worth a few hundred dollars... Or more. With Sister Edna's permission, he intended to take a closer look than he'd been afforded on his last visit.

 

[chris2c4u]

George pulled the homburg down against the wind that swirled under the railway viaduct. The same wind caught at the fire in the oil drum, a make-shift brazier and flames and sparks flew up into the night. He looked around and in the flickering light saw a pile of blankets beside the brick. It moved, a woolly hat poking out as the figure tried to get more comfortable.

A few men sat around the fire passing a bottle between them. They eyed him, suspicious at first and then one of them waved.

"Georgie, you're back!"

He stepped towards the bear-like man who stood unsteadily from the broken lawn chair he was occupying.

"Yes, Tex, I am," he said simply. The big man put his arm around George's shoulders.

"No sweat, look we got stuff from Walmart refuse - they throw good shit away in that place, you know? Damn waste. We'll eat good tonight."

George settled into the circle and Tex introduced him to the other drifters and homeless men.

"George here come to us a while back, see? He'd lost everyhting, ain't that right George? He's an all round upper crusty - bit down on your luck, eh?"

"To the contrary, Tex, I've been most fortunate."

Tex held out the bottle to George, who refused and passed it on to the next in the circle.

"How's that George?"

"I found it," George said. Tex looked befuddled.

"The lamp. My home." George said by way of explanation.

Tex slapped his own thigh. "Damn yeah. You were lookin' for it, you said. Well, hell George, where is it?"

George pulled out a parcel wrapped in newspaper and exposed the brass of the lamp.

"What's it worth?" a voice said from across the fire.

"Very little," George said.

"But you got it. Hot shit George, I'm pleased for you." Tex's eyes shone like brake lights in the glow of the fire as he killed the bottle that had come full circle.

George smiled at the big man's enthusiasm.

"So, now what George?" Tex asked.

"I had someone in mind. A young woman." There were snickers and cat calls at this but George ignored them.

"She spends a lot of time helping others - the soup kitchen at the Rainbow," he mused.

"Now that's a good place for an afternoon," another voice came across the fire.

"You got in with one of there do-gooders?" Tex asked. "Man, you have had some luck."

"I thought she might need some help but perhaps she can manage without me," George said more to himself than anyone else.

"You stay cosy with her George, it's good to get with these guys."

"Perhaps. I just felt she could do more - if she just believed in me. She doesn't seem to though."

Tex thought for a moment and uncorked another bottle he'd had stashed away.

"You know, Georgie, sometimes you have to believe in them, too," he said.

George looked at the big man as he lifted the bottle to his lips.

"Of course," George said as if this was some sort of revelation. He reached into his overcoat pocket and pulled out a clip of dollars. He put it into Tex's hand as he shook it.

"Why not go and see the people about that help you can get," he said in a low voice so only Tex could hear. "You know Brenda will have you back if you quit drinking. And the truck company is hiring when you're clean."

George patted Tex's shoulder and stood up and walked away out of the ring of the firelight. Tex stared. When did he ever tell George about his wife and his former job? He stood and walked a few unsteady paces into the dark but George was nowhere to be seen.

****

George walked up the steps of St Gerard's and lifted his hat to the nun who greeted him.

"I'm looking for Mr Eldridge and Miss Cynders?"

The nun smiled and led him to an office, from which he was directed to the attic by way of several staircases. At the top of the last and most rickety he paused to get his breath and then pressed on to the sound of scrabbling and voices.

Shafts of sunlight penetrated the dirty windows and caught the dust motes.

"Well, I'm sure, it's good of you both to try but I don't think there's much up here," said Sister Edna in her Dublin brogue, still pronounced after forty years in the country. She watched as the pair pulled off books that were stacked on shelves bowed with age.

George advanced and cleared his throat.

"Georgie!" Ella squealed and scampered around the box strewn floor to hug him.

George stood rather stiffly and moved his lamp to prevent it being crushed. She leaned back, her hands on his shoulders and grinned. he noticed her dimples and couldn't suppress the faintest of smiles.

"Wanna help?" she said. George looked around.

"It's why I'm here," he said and looked off into a gloomy corner. "Why don't you have a look over there Miss?"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Over where?" Ella asked, looking around. There were so many things here - St. Gerard's attic was the repository of the ages - or so it seemed.

"There," George said, pointing toward a stack of boxes and crates in the corner; and more specifically, a trunk.

All eyes followed the direction of the elderly man's finger, though it was Ella who reached the trunk first. "A pirate's treasure!" she squealed with delight.

"Treasure, indeed," George murmured.

"Is it locked?" Sam asked, sneezing when Ella knelt before it and stirred up a veritable windstorm of dust while wiping it off.

It was. She looked over her shoulder at George. "Do you think you could... "

He was beside her in two strides and, leaning down, jiggled the latch which popped open immediately. "It must have been stuck, Miss," he said with a nod as he stepped back again. "Open it."

The trunk was large, an old steamer that had seen better days, and covered with various stickers denoting the places it had been - Bangkok, Paris, London, New York. Ella held her breath and gently lifted the lid. A gentle whiff of lavender intermingled with age rose from within. Her fingers trailed over the material of a christening gown, the lace yellowed with senescence and the material stiff to the touch. "Baby clothes?"

Sam sighed, thinking it was just more junk when Ella let out a squeal. "Sam!" she cried. "There's a letter in here! A letter for... " She peered down at the xanthous envelope, eyes wide with wonder. "Me?"

Inscribed on the front were the words: For my daughter, Ella.

Ella turned it over and back again, murmuring as she sought out Sister Edna who was standing with her hands clasped over her mouth. "Surely there have been many Ella's at St. Gerard's?"

"I had forgotten!" She blurted out as she lowered her hands. "I remember that... Oh, Ella, dear! Please forgive me! It was so long ago. I just didn't... "

Ella smiled and stood, walking over to the elderly woman who had played such an important part in her life. "Don't be silly, Sister. It's not as if you had nothing else on your mind."

Sister Edna blinked back tears. "Well?" she said in the tone she often used for reprimand.

"Well... what?" Ella repeated wide-eyed and unsure of what she had done.

"Aren't you going to read it?" Sam interjected, understanding that Sister Edna's brusqueness was an echo of his own curiosity and impatience to learn the contents of the envelope.

"OH!" Ella looked around nervously and tried her best to smile. "I thought maybe we could look in the trunk first." Truth was, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it said - or why she had been left at St. Gerard's all those years ago.

Sam placed his hand on her shoulder and nodded, thinking that perhaps he understood her reticence. "Want me to hold it?"

Ella nodded, the paper crackling as he took it gently from her. In a blink, she was back in front of the trunk, lifting things from it one by one. These must have been hers, she thought - her swollen, pounding heart moving up into her throat to choke back the tears that threatened to flow.

And then she saw something else. A box. A rather large box. In fact, there were three large boxes lining the bottom of the trunk. Sam had spotted them at the same time and leaned over to lift one out for her. "Here."

Ella inhaled sharply, even more nervous than before. "What do you think is in here?" she whispered, more to herself than to the others who were waiting expectantly.

"You won't know till you open one," Sam chuckled.

Ella nodded, but her hands were trembling too much to manage lifting even one of the lids. "Sam?"

Placing his hands over hers, they lifted the cover from the first box together. There was a layer of fine vellum over the top of the papers the box held - their gasp a chorus of sound in the silent attic as she removed it gingerly. Ella looked around to George, her eyes wide then back to the pictures as she lifted one and then another from their nest. She swallowed. "Birds?"

Sam whistled long and low. "Miss Synders," he said at long last. "I believe this is an unbound copy of James Audubon's Birds of America. Perhaps," he added, combing his hair back, he drew in his breath and, when Ella nodded that he might, lifted off the cover to the next box. "Perhaps the entire... Do you have any idea what this might be worth?"

"Perhaps, Miss," George said quietly. "You should read your letter now."

 

[chris2c4u]

"Later, George, later," Sam said about the letter and he began pacing and running both hands through his hair. He came to a halt before Ella and Sister Edna. "These definitely belong to Ella?" Edna nodded and went to study the pictures again.

"Beautiful. Quite beautiful," she said.

Sam kept pacing off nervous energy.

"We need to get these into a controlled climate - and a secure place." he took Ella's elbow and while Sister Edna examined the pictures they had taken out he said, "I think your wishes have just come true."

Ella blinked. "They're worth something?" she already knew that but things had moved so fast she didn't know what else to say.

George cleared his throat. "If this is a comparable set, the highest price was, I believe, close to nine million dollars."

Ella looked at George and craned her neck, unintentionally mimicking an image of a pelican Sister Edna was cooing over.

"You keep up with the news in antique books George," said Sam.

George just tilted his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. He flicked dust from his shoulder. "Perhaps we should get the boxes into your car Sir? I presume you have a place we could examine the items more fully?"

Sam nodded then turned to Ella again. "Sweetheart - this could save St Gerald's and leave you set up for life."

"I think I need to sit down," she said.

"Tell you what," Sam said giving her the keys to the car. "Go take a seat and George and me we'll bring down the boxes. You can stand guard while we come back for the rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks!" She guessed bird books weren't top of the wish-list of the local small time crooks.

****

Sam sat down in the back office of his shop under the clean fluorescent light. They were surrounded by boxes and had worked into the evening. Reference books were strewn around and web pages consulted.

"It's complete," he said. "Every last page, everything a collector could want. One of the original 82 subscriber editions."

Ella sat on her hands and shook her head in disbelief for the hundreth time that evening. Sam was talking about getting independent verification and setting up an auction. "If I do it, there's no commission to pay outside, more for - well you - and I guess St Gerald's."

George brought tea and put it well away from the Audubon.

Ella walked over to Sam and smiled and then started crying. She put her head into his chest and held him round the middle.

Sam laughed comfortingly and stroked her hair.

"I just can't believe it," she said.

"It's amazing," Sam agreed.

She looked up her eyes still wet. "Do you have a handkerchief?" She grinned, recovering her humour and plucked at his angora sweater. She made nasal noises and moved her face towards it as if to use it instead.

"No you don't," he backed away laughing and waved a tissue at her like a matador. She took it and blew her nose noisily.

She drew a deep breath and looked at George who was polishing his lamp.

"Hey Georgie, maybe you could be the live-in help when I get my mansion? Fancy a new home?"

George tapped his lamp. "I have my old one, thank you Miss. I would, though like to stay and ensure everything is resolved satisfactorily before I leave."

Ella looked at Sam. "Leave?" she said, questioningly.

George didn't answer. "You have a leter to read, I believe Miss?"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The letter! Amid the wonderment at their incredible find, Sam and Ella had forgotten all about the letter and looked at each other sheepishly when George reminded them of it. "Do you still... " she began as Sam fished it from the pocket of his shirt where he had placed it hours before.

"Are you ready?" he asked in turn, hesitating before placing it in her trembling hand. They both held their breath as she accepted the long lost missive and an ornately carved ivory letter opener from Sam.

"Here goes nothing!" Ella squeaked nervously, slipping the tip of the opener under the letter's flap and drawing it carefully across its top. After some time, she pulled out a sheet of thin, pink parchment that smelled of... she almost giggled... a perfume she had come across aeons ago. "Heaven Sent," she murmured quietly, inhaling the ethereal fragrance that remained.

To My Darling Daughter, Ella ~

I can picture you in my mind's eye - a beautiful young woman with great dark eyes - reading a letter from a woman who is a virtual stranger to you (aside from having given you birth and quite as suddenly given you away into the hands of strangers. How you must hate me.

I don't ask your forgiveness; it isn't my right to expect that. I would like this one chance to at least try to explain the why of it all.

Ella looked up at Sam who nodded and moved silently to her side. She continued to read...

I am quite ill, my darling heart. Quite ill indeed. And you, you are my little miracle. The baby that the doctor's said would never be born. They were quite angry with me for refusing treatment in the hope that...

There was a lump in Ella's throat, pushing the tears up and out of her eyes. Her vision blurred as they streamed down her cheeks, she handed the letter to Sam to continue reading aloud.

The chemicals they would have used to treat me with would have been your undoing, you see.

The letter went on and on. Three pages worth. It explained how she, Elizabeth Synders, Ella's mother, had decided that rather than take the chance of her baby daughter going to "just anyone", she had chosen St. Gerard's - having never heard a bad word or scandal about the institution. She explained how the Audubon had been her own legacy and how she had kept it safe for Ella. How her own parents had been long deceased, and how now, as Ella read this, so would she be.

She asked for understanding rather than forgiveness, for she felt vindicated in what she had done; certain that Ella would have this inheritance when she was able to appreciate the beauty and value of it.

Sam slid his arm gently around Ella's shoulders as he continued to read, her head nestled against his neck as her shoulders heaved and her tears continued to flow.

They stood together in silence long after he had uttered the last words, his tears joining hers, as Sam sheltered Ella in his arms. Neither of them heard George leave.

******​

"You don't hate her, do you?" Sam asked as they lay together in bed many hours later.

"Of course not!" Ella retorted, propping herself on one elbow and glaring down at him. "How can you think that?? I thought you knew me better than... "

"In the Biblical sense?" he leered, waggling his eyebrows.

"Umm... I don't know what you mean," Ella replied, her great, dark eyes challenging his. "Maybe you better show me."

Sam pulled her down into his arms. "For the rest of our lives?"

Ella nodded. "Well, except for tomorrow. I'm due at Frick's by noon after all. And after that... "

Sam nodded. The Rainbow Kitchen and hopefully a sighting of George somewhere among the park denizens - or at least in the living room. "That gives us a bit of time," he whispered into her hair. "C'mere."

The lovers had no further need of conversation. There would be plenty of time for chit-chat after what they believed to be James Audubon's "Birds of America" was authenticated and put it up for auction. By Sam, of course. The last edition had sold for nearly nine million dollars less than a decade before.

 

[chris2c4u]

Ella sat on the bed and sighed. She was surrounded by newspapers dating from a few days after their discovery of "the bird books," as she still called them. She told the bunny slippers the story again.

"And so everyone say they're the real deal - and.." She held up the most prized of the reports with the headline St Gerard's Saved by the Birds - If...

"It's that if," she said. "If Sam can sell them for more than five million we'll be all right." She bit her lip and stood up, putting the papers into a box.

She finished dressing and set off for Fricks, a bag over her arm with her college work in.

"It's not going to change me," she remembered saying to Sam the other night. "If we..I...us...well, whatever, if there's any money left over."

He had smiled and run his hand through her hair, pulling her close and kissing her. "It had better not. You're pretty good just as you are."

She smiled at the memory and then looked at the table, with the plate she'd used the night before for a late night snack still lying there. She sighed. "Where are you Georgie?" She made a note to keep an eye out for him later that day when she visited the Living Room where Sam was picking her up.

****

"So, you excited about tomorrow?" Sam asked, eating a slice of pizza at McGuire's Cafe. Ella waggled her head from side to side and tucked her side order of cheese into her pocket.

"Excited. Worried. All those sort of things."

He squeezed her hand. "It'll be fine. You have the best auction house in the country looking atfter you." He made an imitation of straightening a tie - which wouldn't have gone well with the white tee-shirt he was actually wearing.

"Thanks for doing this," she said and looked in his eyes, remembering he'd always said there would be no commission charged on the sale, it was all for the fund.

"Hey, I'm only doing it cos you have great tits."

She blinked.

"And blue ones. And Eagles. And blackbirds and..." She groaned and threw a piece of greenery from her salad at him.

"Besides," he chuckled, "once I've sold this, my business will go through the roof. So our relationship's purely professional, you understand."

"Of course," she said and nodded, looking at her Mickey Mouse watch. "Oh, is that the time? I'd better be getting home to my gerbil."

"But sweetheart, aren't you going to slake my lust?"

"I'm not that sort of a professional," she winked and they leaned forward over the table and kissed.

They talked and strolled towards her apartment. Sam mentioned George and Ella shrugged into his shoulder where she leaned into him. "I asked around today. People at the Living Room said they'd try and find word of him. Looks like he might have moved on somewhere."

Sam kissed her and she unlocked the door, remembering Marco's treat before they went to bed.

****

Ella answered some questions for the TV news crew who had gathered outside Sam's auction house. She had bought a floral print dress for the occasion and photographers seemed taken with her, so she kept squinting under the TV lights and flash photography.

"Yes, that's right," she said, peering to see the interviewer's face. "The orphanage gets the 5 million it needs - if we get that much." She smiled and held up crossed fingers.

Finally she was allowed inside, into the relative quiet of the room itself. People were already manning phones for overseas buyers and some seats were reserved. Sam had got her one off to the side so she could watch the bidding.

Sam emerged from the back of the room and she eyed him admiringly. "Look at you," she said, eyeing his charcoal grey suit and his tie depicting a bird of paradise and plum blossom.

"You scrub up well for a market stall holder," she said with a grin, fingering the tie.

"One tries," he said, kissing the top of her head then peered down to his neckware. "A bird of good omen. Japanese legends," he said with a wink. "Ready?"

She nodded and looked at the thin catalogue that sat on her chair. A one item sale. She drew a deep breath.

"I'm going to go practise looking all cool and nonchalent like I sell million dollar pieces every day. She you after to celebrate," he said and hugged her before heading off back to his podium.

The room began to fill up; a few people went to Ella to wish her luck. Her friends from the cafe waved from the back of the room and she felt a shower of butterflies go for a spin around her insides. The room was beginning to get warm despite air conditioning and she fanned herself with the catalogue.

Sam consulted with those on the phones and scanned the assembled people for those who had said they would be there. He checked his watch and shook hands with his assistants before stepping up to the microphone exactly on ten o'clock.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, welcome to S. Eldridge Auction House for a rather special sale today of a very rare literary item. You have all had a chance to see the verification from the Library of Congress and independent experts so naturally we're hoping for a lot of interest in this Audobon collection. I'm ready to make a start and I have an offer on the books with me to begin of 3.6 million dollars."

Ella rocked in her seat and there was a murmur running around the back of the room.

"Good morning Miss," a familiar voice said from Ella's left. She looked around and saw George. She wanted to hug him but instead asked, "where have you been?"

"Round and about," he said non-commitally. "But I did say I would be back to see how you got on."

When they looked back to the stage Ella had made another half million. However, the bidding was slow to climb into the 4 millions. Sam didn't look flustered, he had another bid on his books that took them to 4.5 million and then a telephone bid added another 100k.

"How much do you need Miss?" George asked.

"At least 5 million for the orphanage," she whispered. "I do hope we get it."

"Why don't you make a wish?" George said.

She looked around and stifled a guffaw as George held out the battered old lamp to her.

"Doesn't hurt," she giggled and rubbed the old bronze. "I wish for," she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, plucking a figure at random from the air. "Eight milion dollars!"

She grinned and George took his lamp back.

Sam looked as a telephone assistant waved her phone. He beamed and nodded.

"Five million dollars!" he said into the microphone and looked over at Ella, who wriggled in her seat, wanting to leap up excitedly. Sam nodded to George also and then noticed a new bidder.

"5.2 million," he said, his eyes flicking expertly around the room at the sudden increase in bids. He allowed himself a small smile. As did George.