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  "We're not freezing or starving,” Myrtle said. “We'll simply convince Glory that we're not a joke."

  "How? Looking like this?” Blossom wailed. “Why, how will she ever recognize me without a bosom? I always had a bosom before."

  Glory appeared at their table. “Now, what can I get you ladies?"

  "You can take a seat and listen to us for just a moment, Glory Chambers Aaronson,” Myrtle said in her sternest voice.

  Unfortunately, in this body, stern came out sort of breathy.

  She hated being a sex-kitten. She longed for her older body. But she couldn't have it, at least not for six months. Realizing she'd have to be stern despite her breathiness, she finished, “We can prove we're who we say we are."

  "Ladies, you can stop the charade now. It won't work,” Glory laughed.

  "Sit down,” Myrtle barked.

  Glory sat.

  Well, at least she hadn't lost her touch, Myrtle thought with a touch of relief. She could overcome her sex-kitten status and still get results.

  "Now, if I've kept my Earth time properly, you and Nick have been married for almost a year,” she said. “You met because of us. He rushed in and put out a fire. We were sued, and you convinced him to defend us."

  Glory shook her head and laughed. “Max could have told you all of that."

  "Ah, but could he have told us about what happened in the judge's chamber?” Blossom asked.

  Fern smiled and added, “You know we don't approve of premarital sex—"

  Blossom interrupted. “But this time we made an exception—"

  "Since we knew you'd be getting married soon,” Fern said.

  "And no, we didn't watch you,” Myrtle said, hoping to calm the frantic look on Glory's face.

  "Myrtle, you can still read minds?” Blossom asked. “Bernie left you that much?"

  "No, it simply didn't take a mind reader to know what Glory was thinking."

  "Bernie?” Glory said weakly.

  "He's still miffed over the whole trial thing, and he went to the Council with a new proposal,” Myrtle said.

  Bernie didn't know the first thing about being miffed, but he would. Why as soon as she got her powers back he'd find out just what annoyed truly was.

  "He made us human,” Blossom said.

  "Human?” Glory asked.

  Fern sighed. “No fairy powers at all, which means we reverted to our natural forms."

  "Not me,” Blossom added. “That awful Bernie kept my bosom."

  "She doesn't have a bosom, she just likes to think she does,” Fern said in a mock-whisper.

  "This is your natural form?” Glory asked weakly, studying all three of them intently. “Why you're all gorgeous. Why on earth would you have gone around like three old—"

  Myrtle cleared her throat.

  "Older,” Glory corrected herself. “Older ladies if you looked like this?"

  "When we first started working as fairy godmothers there were problems,” Fern said. “Big problems.

  Blossom nodded her agreement. “You see, men took one look at us and fell in love."

  "Which made it hard to get them to fall in love with the proper girl,” Fern said.

  "So we decided to change into a more appropriate fairy godmother form,” Myrtle said. “Because we looked older, people took us more seriously."

  "And men don't fall quite so easily for women with saggy breasts,” Fern said sagely.

  "Not that they fall for women with no breasts,” Blossom said morosely. “I mean, did you notice that I'm practically concave, Glory?"

  Glory looked startled. “I'll confess, I wasn't really studying your...” She let the sentence trail off, obviously unsure how to finish it.

  "Well, if you were it wouldn't take long to study since there's nothing there. Darn that Bernie."

  "Anyway, when he asked where we wanted to spend our time, we picked here because you and everyone else we love is here,” Fern said.

  "How much time?” Glory asked.

  "Six months,” Myrtle said.

  She knew that six months for humans was a rather finite concept, whereas in Fairyland six months could stretch into six years worth of living, or conversely, six days. Time worked differently in Fairyland. It stretched and shrank at will. Here it was what it was.

  Six months.

  She shook her head, wondering how they'd last that long.

  "Anyway, as I said, when Bernie asked where we wanted to stay, we said here in Erie where we know people. And so here we are, human, powerless, penniless—"

  "And boobless,” Blossom added.

  "Speak for yourself,” said Fern, thrusting her chest out.

  "Girls, that's enough squabbling. We have more important matters at hand than bosoms,” Myrtle scolded.

  She took a certain amount of comfort that though their world had turned upside down, her sisters remained the same.

  "Sure you can say that because you have one,” Blossom muttered.

  "Okay, I believe you,” Glory said with a sigh. “It's not what you know, or the story you told. It's the talking in circles. No one can do it like the three of you. Let me call in reinforcements and we'll see what we can do."

  She slid out of the booth and stood. “But as for homeless and starving, I think I can handle that. The apartment upstairs is still empty. You can stay there. And you know where the food is kept."

  "Thank you,” said Myrtle.

  One obstacle down. They'd have roof over their head. A small roof, but a roof.

  What were the three of them going to do for six long months of humanness? The only thing Myrtle knew how to do was be a fairy godmother. Solving people's problems, finding a way to make their lives a little better. Maybe even teaching them a thing or two along the way. She wasn't trained for anything else. She didn't want to do anything else.

  "Let's go upstairs and see just what we have to work with,” she said to her sisters.

  "It's got to be more than I have to work with,” Blossom muttered, looking at her chest.

  Myrtle had had enough breast talk. “Come on, Blossom, get your breasts—"

  "Or lack there of,” Fern added.

  "—off your mind. We have a lot of work cut out for us."

  They plodded up the stairway off the kitchen that led to the apartment upstairs.

  "No we don't,” Fern moaned. “We don't have anything to do. Bernie's exiled us. No couples to fix up. No problems to solve. No happily-ever-afters."

  "And no havoc to wreak,” said a new voice.

  They all turned and saw a stately brunette fairy standing behind them on the stairs.

  "Fiona!” Myrtle said. “What are you doing here?"

  "Well, I heard what my husband did.” A splash of color tinged her pale complexion.

  Fern smiled, “Fiona, we love you dearly, and once upon a time would have said we loved Bernie, too—"

  "Despite his overbearing, egotistical, thinks-he's-always-right attitude,” Blossom added.

  Fiona sighed. “Bernie's never quite got over your interference. Not that we're unhappy. We're blissfully happy. I think that's what nettles him the most—that you all knew what he needed before he did. Bernie likes being right."

  "Well, this time he's not. Look, just look, what he's done to us,” Myrtle said as she opened the apartment door.

  A small, boxish room that was sorely in need of ... everything, greeted them.

  Six months? They had to live six months in this? Myrtle groaned. “We're not only human, we're babes. And we're living in a one bedroom apartment that's barely the size of our bathroom at home."

  Myrtle was ever so proud of their fairy-house. She'd designed it herself. It was basically three separate houses connected by one large common great-room. For Fern she's used a lot of natural products, gnome-polished mahogany, troll harvested marble and...

  She sighed as she looked at the small drab square that would be their home for the next half a year. Maybe she could convince Glory to let her at least add some
color to the walls.

  "Listen,” said Fiona, “I don't agree with what Bernie's done, but I can't undo it. I don't have any clout with the Council, so I doubt I can sway their decision, especially since Berrybelle is in favor of it. But I can help. You see, it's been a year and I've studied hard and have finally been appointed my first godchildren."

  "Oh, Fiona, I know that's what you've wanted. Tell us who. Maybe we can help,” Blossom gushed excitedly.

  "After all, we do know a thing or two about godmothering,” Myrtle added.

  Fiona smiled and said, “You."

  "You who?” Myrtle asked.

  Blossom chuckled. “There was a drink named that. Oh, how I loved it. It's been a long time since I had any. Do you think Glory will know if they still make it and where I could buy it? Not that I have money. But if I ask real nice, maybe she'll buy it for me."

  "You who?” Myrtle repeated, ignoring Blossom's prattle.

  "You three,” Fiona said with a grin. “You're my first godchildren."

  "Now, Fiona, we're you're godmothers, so there's no way we can be your godchildren,” Fern said. “That would be ... Well, it's just not done."

  "Ah, but I got special dispensation. I'm pregnant—by the way, thank you Blossom for the wish. Bernie wanted to wait, but I wanted a baby so much—and you know how Council likes to humor pregnant fairies. We're not an overly prolific race."

  "Which is a good thing since we're immortal except for accidents,” Myrtle said. “Too many babies would severely overtax Fairyland's resources."

  "Right. But since I'm going to have a baby, they're pleased to humor me. They caved with barely a whisper of a fight. So here I am, you're newly appointed godmother. And I can't give you back your powers, but I can do everything in my power to make things more comfortable. Let's start with this apartment."

  Fiona waved her wand and they were standing in the middle of their Fairyland living room. Myrtle recognized every piece of fabric, every carefully placed crystal ... everything. For the first time since Bernie's visit she felt at home and began to relax a bit.

  If she had her home, she just might make it through the next six months.

  "Fiona, how did you get us back in Fairyland?” Blossom asked. “I thought we were banished for six months. Oh, I'm so delighted. I—"

  "She didn't,” Myrtle said, hating to see Blossom's hopes dashed.

  "Myrtle's right, I didn't,” Fiona said. “The Council is quite firm on your staying the full six months. I simply brought your house to you."

  "You don't think the mortals are going to notice a huge house suddenly appearing in the middle of the city?” Fern asked.

  Keeping mortals from noticing was an important rule.

  "Oh, no. I just squeezed it all into the apartment Glory said you can use. For the next six month, your house will be here, you'll have all the room, all the comforts, but no one will be able to tell from the outside."

  "What about from the inside?” Myrtle asked. “Why this living room alone takes up more space than the entire apartment did. You don't think a visitor would notice that?"

  "I guess you'll just have to make sure you don't have any visitors. Oh, and when you look in your closets, you'll notice I replaced all your clothes with ones more fitting for your new appearances."

  "Not our new appearances, our real appearances,” Fern said.

  "Whatever. I think my work is done, for now. Bernie doesn't want me overtaxing myself, and I'm probably in enough trouble without having him bellow about that, too. He's making me dinner. Did I tell you what a great cook he is? Fern, I can't believe the two of you never considered that common ground."

  "I can't picture Bernie cooking.” Fern closed her eyes. “Nope. I can't picture it at all."

  "Well, he does, and quite nicely, too."

  "So, he knows you're here?” Myrtle asked.

  "Not yet. But he will. I'll tell you all about the fight.” Fiona nodded her head and was gone in the blink of an eye.

  "Now what?” asked Blossom, flopping onto the overstuffed couch and putting her beautifully shaped legs up onto the coffee table. “What are we going to do with ourselves for six whole months?"

  "Well, we've obviously got a comfortable place to stay, that's a start,” Myrtle said, sitting in the leather winged-back reading chair she'd picked up in Italy just a few months ago. “Now all we have to do is figure out something to keep us busy. I can't imagine just sitting around doing nothing."

  "We could go back and work at Glory's, I bet,” Blossom said, sitting next to Fern on the couch. “You know we were great at the restaurant. It would be good to see some of our old friends."

  "But they wouldn't know it was us, and we couldn't tell them,” Fern said. “That would be so hard, and if we're there every day, one of us might slip and say something to make them suspicious."

  Myrtle and Fern both looked at Blossom.

  If any of them was the one of us who might slip, it was Blossom.

  Glory came hurrying into the apartment. “Oh, my. What did you do?"

  "Not us,” Fern said. “We're not going to take the heat on this one. It was Fiona, our godmother. She thought we'd be more comfortable in our own house."

  "I thought you three were her godmothers,” Glory said as she walked over and joined the group, sitting in the chair next to Myrtle.

  Fern said, “We are. And she is our godchild, as well as our godmother."

  "Which is highly unusual,” Myrtle added.

  "And she wanted us to be comfortable, so she brought our house from Fairyland,” Blossom added. “You have to admit this is ever so much more comfortable than that apartment."

  "Not that we weren't grateful for the offer of the apartment,” Fern hastily added.

  "Oh.” Glory looked around the room. “I can see why you prefer your own home. This is absolutely lovely."

  "Thank you,” Myrtle said, swelling with pride. “I designed it myself."

  "Grace and Joy will be here soon,” Glory said.

  "What about the men?” Fern asked.

  "We thought this was a time for women to pull together,” Glory said. “We'll clue the men in tonight. We just told them we were having a family dinner here."

  "So they don't know about our circumstance?” Myrtle asked.

  "Not yet."

  "Oh, this is going to be...” Myrtle paused a pregnant moment. “Interesting."

  Chapter Two

  Blossom

  "Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Blossom muttered as she set out on her own the next morning.

  She felt a little guilty. After all, she knew Myrtle and Fern would be upset about her going out on her own, especially since she'd slipped out before either of them were out of bed. But she figured if she was already gone, they couldn't try to argue her out of going.

  "They don't think I can handle myself,” she muttered again.

  That had seemed to be the theme of last night's dinner. Everyone worried that she would somehow slip up and give away their fairy status.

  According to Max, who was a psychiatrist, if you were a human who thought you were a fairy, there were all sorts of ramifications. Ramifications that could mean being tossed into a padded cell and locked away.

  Of course, Max would testify she wasn't nuts, but Blossom knew they all wanted to avoid that—because after all, he'd have to testify that fairies had introduced him to his wife and arranged their happily-ever-after. Once he'd done that, his medical opinion might not mean very much.

  They were all worried about keeping her in line.

  "Well, I'm not anyone's problem,” she muttered.

  Although, muttering to yourself couldn't be a good sign of mental health, either.

  Maybe she should make that appointment with Max. This might be the first step in losing her mind. Not in a fairy-thinking-she-was-a-human sort of way, but in a fairy-trapped-in-a-human-existence sort of way.

  Blossom put away worries about fairy-sanity and walked through the city simply e
njoying ... everything.

  She spread out her arms, wishing she could simply embrace the whole city at once. She felt alive. So totally, absolutely in sync with everything. The city bustling with early morning traffic. The buildings, tall and stately or small and cozy. The smells and sounds of spring, warm and moist, bursting with new life.

  It was breezy and a little cool.

  Cool.

  That was something she rarely noticed as a fairy. Fairyland was always a perfect temperature, always a perfect blue sky or starry night. She looked at the dark gray clouds blowing in over the lake and thought she rather enjoyed a little less-than-perfect weather.

  Blossom thought she'd enjoy a less than perfect life, at least if this morning was any indication.

  Ah, now that was something to think about. Living as a human meant dealing with things as they came. No fairy-fixes, no magical solutions.

  Being human.

  She breathed deep and would have sworn that just the air smelled different to her human senses.

  So what was she going to do with her humanness?

  What was she going to do with the next six months?

  She wasn't a fairy godmother anymore, and there were no happily-ever-afters to find for godchildren. Heck, there were no godchildren to worry about.

  So maybe she needed to find her own happily-ever-after. That thought had kept her up most of the night, though she didn't feel the least bit tired this morning.

  What would make her happy?

  What would make her happy? She repeated the question over and over, but no answer magically appeared.

  Maybe that was part of being human as well, finding the answers without magic, finding them on your own.

  As a fairy, making other people happy had always been her job. So, now that she was human it stood to reason she should try to make herself happy as well. Not that Myrtle or Fern thought she could handle herself.

  "Of course you can,” said a voice.

  "Fiona?” Blossom said to her fairy friend walking beside her. “You're here."

  "In the flesh—the fairy flesh. No one else can see me though, remember? So be careful. You don't want them to think you're crazy, walking around town talking to yourself."

  Blossom walked toward a quiet corner of the park. “What are you doing here?"