The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Too Many Wishes — Margaret

By Paladin

Abazeel woke in another dive of a motel. He rated this one three trash cans out of a possible five—the linens were almost worn through but reasonably clean, he did not stick to the bathroom floor, and was not terrified to touching his bare foot to the carpet. He was also grateful that the typical nighttime caterwauling so typical of these fine establishments was kept to a minimum last night.

He enjoyed is complimentary cheap coffee brewed in the barely functional coffee maker in the bathroom (and wondered for the millionth time why they keep putting them there? Who in the twelve hells thinks this is a good idea?) He took out the box of index cards and looked at the next one on the list. Margaret Rivers, residing in the suburbs of a medium-sized city in a northern state. He looked out the windows at the blustering snow hitting him several states to the south and became a bit worried if his junker of a car would make it.

Of course it would. The powers that be that condemned him to this hellish existence always made sure he could fulfill the duties of his curse, even if there was not a single shred of comfort or happiness in it. Oh well, once he got this one done there were several inches worth of index cards left. Sigh.

Abazeel was not a great genie. His cousin was a mighty djinn and regularly served royalty. His niece was famous for her role on an old TV show. He had to chuckle at the sheer balls it took for her to play a human playing a genie, and to commit to the role so much that she even had her human character age and pass. She was still drinking for free on that story wherever genies gathered. Abazeel sighed. He really didn’t know where they gathered any more—it had been decades since he was allowed enough slack in his curse to socialize like that.

It all went back to a day that he was enjoying the warm mediterranean sun and a fine locally made wine. The young man he was granting wishes to had asked for time to think about it and was scheduled to meet him here any minute. When the young mortal finally appeared, he was carrying a large satchel.

Once the small talk was over, the young man made his first wish. “I wish that no harm or revenge would befall me, my family and friends, or my offspring as a result of these wishes.” An unusually wise wish, but not unheard of. Abazeel granted it with a small roll of thunder. “For my second wish, I wish that once these wishes were granted, you and your kind would leave me completely alone except as outlined in the third wish.” Abazeel sighed. The foolish mortal could have combined the two wishes and saved himself a wish but it was not his job to worry about such things. He studied the excellent colors of the fine vintage as he made the sound effects once again.

“For my third wish, I wish that you would grant the wish outlined here.” At this, the young man plopped a thick tome on the table. Abazeel glanced at it and began to flip pages. He broke out in sweat as he began to realize that each of the several hundred pages was covered in a very small but very precise handwriting. He got more nervous as he realized that the whole thing was written and punctuated as a single thought—a very, very long and complicated single thought.

The sky over Abazeel darked and rumbled as he read more and more of the massive document. Granting wishes to all his offspring for nearly all time? Surrendering control of the details of the wishes to other people to sidestep Article 83, section 12A of the genie contract? (Abazeel now deeply, deeply regretted providing a copy of that for him without making him wish for it. He was going to hear about that lapse, but he had truly just been trying to be helpful.)

He had woven wishes for himself in as well—a reasonable fortune, success in business and with people, health and a long life, good luck in most things... Nowhere in the intricately woven document did he wish for anything that would invalidate it—no deaths, no thrones, nothing eternal or overly large, nothing that would reveal the existence of magic or genies. Where he might have revealed the presence genies or magic, he granted the genie the ability to change memories to cover—a loophole the genie high council had discussed many times but not gotten around to correcting.

By now Abazeel’s head was pounding, and not from the wine. The dark sky was rumbling and winds were tearing at his clothing—while the youth on the other chair was untouched. Abazeel knew he was in deep trouble. With an agonized look towards the heavens, he granted the wishes and immediately vanished at the bidding of the council.

By the time he was back on Earth, he had been stripped of much of his power, and what was left was tightly monitored. He had been granted enough resources to fulfill his commitment to the man’s wish when he was allowed to travel on Earth, and spent the remainder of his time serving the council in ways and in places that he really preferred not to think about.

All of this was long past as Abazeel tried to keep his ‘rent a wreck’ junker on the road in the developing storm. He was still a couple hundred miles from the new wisher’s address and tried to keep from reflecting too much on the past. He had tried to hold onto the hope of redemption, but between the sorts of idiotic wishes most of the man’s offspring kept making and the long-held anger of the council, that looked like less and less of an option as time drudged on.

He rolled up to an apartment complex in a suburb of the snow-engulfed city and went to the indicated apartment. The door was answered by a tall, somewhat heavy woman with a British accent. “Ms. Margaret Rivers?” Abazeel asked. When she nodded yes and corrected him that it was ‘Miss’, not ‘Ms.’, he cast a quick geas on her to trust him and to let him in.

The apartment was warm and tidy and Abazeel gladly sunk into a welcoming couch as she returned to her rocker. Miss Rivers was nearly six feet tall, appeared to be a ‘comfortable’ mid-fifties, and had had a vaguely aristocratic look in her somewhat plump features—which was just reinforced by her accent and her offer of some tea and cookies, which Abazeel gratefully accepted.

“I do not wish to take up much of your time, Miss Rivers, but I am here to grant you seven wishes.” Abazeel said after setting his tea aside and seeing how uncomfortable she was with him in the small room.

“Oh... dear.” She replied, obviously startled. Thankfully, the mild geas allowed her to believe that this was real and that he could indeed grant wishes, otherwise it would have taken forever to get to this point. “I... I don’t know what on Earth I could possibly wish for.”

The reply warmed Abazeel’s heart. He knew a lot about Miss Rivers, thanks to his index cards and native powers. She had many, many secret wishes and nearly as many regrets. Well, not so much ‘regrets’ as occasional twinges over old dreams and missed opportunities. “I’m sure you have at least one desire, something you have wanted for a very long time?” He said warmly, giving her just the slightest nudge mentally.

“Could you really do that? Could you... no, I wish I looked like Jean Harlow” She said gathering up a measure of courage, then immediately breaking into a look of great longing.

Abazeel sighed. “I cannot grant that specific of a wish.” He went on to explain how seven of her friends will be the ones that get to decide what each wish means and how it will be granted. Naturally, that lead into several other discussions—how her friends are chosen, what sorts of things she could wish for or not wish for, and so on. Abazeel sometimes wished he could make a ‘Guide to Your Seven Wishes’ booklet or something to get himself through these times.

He patiently explained that the fates would decide which friends got to define or mold each wish, that she could not wish for things that were too big or eternal—no unlimited wealth or ultimate power sorts of things. No wishing people dead or wishing to enslave another, and that making someone fall in love and the like was a form of slavery. It went on long enough for another pot of tea to be made and drunk.

“OK, I think I get the gist. So, I make the wishes and once you get the other person to tell you how to do it, you will make it so and things will change to match the new reality, correct?” Abazeel nodded and Miss Rivers took a deep breath. “Wish one, to be a natural blonde. Wish two, to be younger. Wish three, to have a smaller waist. Wish four, to be more self confident. Wish five, to be shorter. Wish six, to have a nice home. Wish seven... to enjoy a measure of fame. Oh, dear, I probably should have worked on the order of these better, shouldn’t I have? And I seem to have completely forgotten anything about actually looking like her. Bloody hell—oh, do excuse me!” Abazeel assured her that things would work out and took his leave. As he was shaking her hand, she grasped his. “Please, Mr. Abazeel. Try to help the others understand that I really want to be like Jean Harlow.” He promised her he would do what he could even as he knew how little leeway he was allowed.

The fleabag hotel he was booked in for the night was a step up—only two trash cans worth, and he settled in to determining how to reach the people on the list. Start with the ones nearby, or with those out of town? Usually he worked away from the wisher to get as far away from the the too-often unsatisfied client as he could, but he rather liked Miss Rivers and decided to work from furthest to nearest so he could meet her and see the results. He checked his balance to see if he could possibly fly or bus to the first person on the list, but of course, he couldn’t and damned the council again.

It took days, and by the time he reached the retirement homes in mid-Florida, he was already pretty sick of the heat and humidity. But, the good news is that he was at the home of one Mrs. Abigail Penworth, long time neighbor to Margaret Rivers and granter of the first wish. The elderly woman opened the door and was hit with a version of the geas that would help bypass all the need for lengthy explanations.

We sipped more tea (this time, a cheap tea bag in contrast to Miss Brooke’s much better loose-leaf blend), and the rather scatter-minded Mrs. Penworth had babbled on quite a bit. Abazeel was glad she got a rather simple wish. “As I mentioned, your job is simply to help us decide what Miss Rivers means by ‘naturally blonde’, and how it came about.”

“Well, that does not help much, now does it young man? What shade of blonde? Do I have to decide how long or thick her hair is? It is just so confusing!”

“Would it help to have an image to work with?” Abazeel asked. When the nodded wearily, Abazeel used his cheap phone to pull up a picture of Jean Harlow in her youth. “I believe she had something like this in mind,” he offered, glad he could flex the rigid rules this much at least.

“Oh, now she is adorable! She looks familiar. Is that Margaret when she was younger? Oh, of course it isn’t, that’s that actress. I cannot seem to think of her name. Well, I wish Margaret had hair just like that if that is what she wants.” Abazeel prodded her a bit more, asking how she got that sort of hair. “Well from her parents, of course!’ Mrs. Penworth snapped. “Of all the foolish things...” and she faded off into mumbling as Abazeel slipped away.

Margaret was working as a shift supervisor in a call center that handled a variety of accounts, mostly dealing with billing issues, when she felt something... like the bun of her greying black hair suddenly... exploded? She finished up the current call and got coverage to use the restroom. She looked at her hair amazed at what she saw. It was thick, shoulder length, and had a natural wave to it, and was almost pure white. She tugged on it and it felt thick and strong. She carefully examined the roots and they appeared blonde all the way down. Even her eyebrows were lighter—a soft brown color instead of the darker shade they were—it seemed that her complexion paled a bit overall as well.

Yes, the hair was still shot through with stiffer grey hairs, at about the same rate her dark hair had been, but this was glorious! It looked so much better than when she would try to dye or bleach it when she was younger. She peered at it again... it was! It was just like Jean Harlow’s! She blessed Abazeel in her heart and went back to work with a smile on her face and in her voice.

As she worked, she noticed that her memories of her parents was... a bit wobbly somehow. Wasn’t her da dark Irish? For some reason, she kept thinking that he had more Scandinavian blood in him, like her Swedish ma. Swedish? Scottish, wasn’t it? That was silly, she was clearly of Swedish descent with that hair and slender body. She was just living in Scotland when her pa met her. She shook her head to clear the confusion and went back to work.

Abazeel watched carefully as the universe corrected itself—there was always a risk of some unforeseen element creeping in when you retroactively changed things like this. The Law of Unintended Consequences was the genie version of Murphy’s Law and they kept a tight watch out for it. Margaret was apparently unaware that her taste for tea now included milk, or that she had lost a little weight—her new Scandinavian heritage granted her a slightly smaller frame than the previous Northern Britain version did. Overall, the ripples settled down satisfactorily.

The next stop was near Atlanta, and it took some work to find the right place. Her next friend was a cousin that tended to move a lot and Margaret had only Facebooked with the last few years. Abazeel found her living with some other friends in a small home in the outskirts of an outskirt suburb. He cast a geas on everyone in the house and invited himself into the party.

Gina Davidson was a party girl when she was younger, and still tried to live the rock and roll lifestyle as a bit of a burn-out. Abazeel tried to get her to focus on the issue at hand, but neither his geas nor his limited powers were enough to cut through her buzz.

“Younger?” The pushing-forty woman giggled. “That is pretty cool. You can really do that? Can you do it for me, too?” Abazeel told her that he was on a mission and could not do anything for Gina at this time, but if she was on the list, he would be back and help her out. “Damn. That sucks. If it’s up to me, I would wish her to be... twenty-two, point two two two two two two....” She drifted off, singing ‘two’ over and over to herself. Abazeel figured she had used the last of her available brain cells and gladly exited the place, brushing himself off as he did so.

Margaret was nearing the end of her shift when the world spun for a moment. “That was weird.” She commented to her co-worker as she cleared her station. “Oh well, good night!”

When she got to her locker, she reached in to pull out her well-worn but warm parka and was confused at the cute jacket she found instead. “What?” She looked around, making sure it was her locker and noticed herself in the mirror. For some reason, seeing the face of a tall young blonde in the mirror confused her, but she wasn’t sure why. After all, she just turned twenty-two a few months ago. She fluffed her thick locks, her pride and joy, as she gathered her cute jacket and adorable purse and headed out into the winter. She felt another wave of confusion when she didn’t see her old SUV before she noticed that she had parked her used little sporty sedan right over there.

On the ride home, she thought about stopping over at her parent’s place for a while, feeling an odd sense as some ghost of a memory tried to tell her that they had both passed years ago. She shook off the thought and turned on a pop station, bopping along to the beat.

Arriving home was the last straw. it was her old apartment but it was decorated wrong. Where were the things she had collected over her travels, over what travels? She had not gone anywhere but Minneapolis and Milwaukee—well, and a school trip to DC. Her parents were young, blonde, healthy, dark haired and dead. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of white wine, suddenly missing her tea kettle that always used to sit right over there.

With a shaking hand she called Abazeel. “What’s happening? I’m so confused!” She started to cry.

“It was just a big change, Miss Rivers. It will be fine, I promise you. It’s probably still a bit early there isn’t it? Why don’t you take a short nap? It’ll help.” Margaret sniffled and blew her nose, then finished the wine and took him up on his suggestion.

She woke an hour later feeling much better. She had the weirdest dreams of being an old woman, of moving to America as a young adult... at the age of five, of having worked at the call center she just started at for decades, and, sadly, of her parents having died long ago. Then, she remembered the genie and that they weren’t just dreams, but that was OK somehow. When she was fully awake, she called her mom and they talked for an hour. The rest of the evening was much better for young Maggy and she went to bed happy.

The next day was her day off. Being one of the newest hires at the center, she got a pretty crappy schedule—her days off were Monday and Thursday, and she worked a bewildering mix of shifts, some back to backs, some splits, and more. It sucked, but she remembered from experience that people quickly got used to it and that she would start to earn better shifts soon. She fed her fish (wondering briefly when she got fish), did some laundry (thinking how odd it was that things she had never seen before would have been worn and dirty), and so on. The odd memory twinges tended to excite her as she compared new to old lives and she laughed aloud as the idea that her whole future was open to her again, and she still had five wishes coming up.

Karen was a friend from the new reality. She and Maggy had graduated high school together before her dad got transferred to Atlanta. She was wondering why she had let this rather shabbily dressed stranger into her parent’s house, and she was wondering why that did not bother her more.

“A thinner waist, huh? That sort of makes sense, I guess. They used to call her ‘Large marge’, but even that was mostly because of her height, not her waist. It seems odd that she didn’t wish for something like some confidence in herself, or maybe a hot boyfriend, or a killer body... or is that part of another wish?” She looked up inquisitively. Abazeel reminded her that he could not tell her too much about the other wishes. “OK, so, like maybe she is just thinner overall? She’s really tall, so maybe like she should be more like her mom. She’s not super-skinny, but she is pretty slender.”

“So, she should have the same waist size as her mom?” Me made some notes.

“Well, yeah, and just overall be more shaped like her. Could you do that?” Abazeel checked his notes. In this reality, her mom was a tall, slender woman with about a 24″ waist. Overall, she was 36-24-36, and Margaret right now was much thicker than that all over. He thought about the goal of looking more like Harlow and how the younger and shorter wishes might work into this. It would take some fiddling, but... He took his leave and hit the road again for a longish trip.

In the middle of vacuuming the living room carpet, Margaret’s clothes changed. She’d been wearing old sweatpants and a faded band tee-shirt with a bandana in her hair when she was suddenly wearing shorts, a tank top, and adorable flip flops. ‘OK, this is just weird’ she thought as she looked for a mirror. The full length mirror in the bedroom closet showed a tall, trim blonde girl with some curves and a modest bust. She looked a lot like her mom, she thought before chiding herself about it. Well, of course she did. Who else would she look like, she chided herself as she examined herself.

She liked the way things worked together—her short blonde hair bounced delightfully over her trim shoulders. Her small waist was well-displayed in the snug clothes she favored. She ran her hands over her 34-22-34 figure and giggled delightedly. Abazeel had obviously done it again, although she was a bit fuzzy on what ‘it’ was exactly. As long as she was in the closet, she checked and sure enough—everything was there and fit properly... although she sort of missed some of her favorite snuggly clothes. She had a flash of her old woman’s warm wraps or the pudgier version’s well-worn sweats.

Her phone alarm went off and she suddenly remembered she had to be at work soon. She was so glad she got the job in the backroom of the boutique. She laughed at the close call where she almost accepted a boring job at a call center. Working with nice clothes was so much more fun, and she loved the discounts she got!

Maggie’s week went as they usually do for the tall slender blonde. Lots of time on Facebook with mostly some casual school friends, watching her favorite shows, her weekly visit to her parents for supper, and of course, listening to her mom go on about how there are no men in her life. She explained again that she just liked her quiet life and had plenty of friends. Her ma rolled her eyes and served some delicious cake for dessert, even as she reminded her daughter to watch her figure. Only her ma could tell her ‘Eat up, you are too skinny!’ and ‘You really should be watching your figure, you know young lady!’ in the same conversation.

Margaret’s fourth wish took Abazeel to Fort Benning in Georgia to meet a young man. Chris Howards had a bit of a crush on the quiet young woman. He never had the guts to do anything about it, or for that matter, to do anything too exciting in his life until he decided to join the Army after graduation. Abazeel was granted enough influence to get through security and meet Sgt. Howards in his small duty office. “Yeah, I guess Maggie could have used more self confidence. She was even shyer than I was back in school. I bet a lot of our classmates never even noticed her sitting in the back. You know, I still wish I had talked to her more back then.

“Well, to work. I wish Margaret Rivers had all the self-confidence she ever wanted. She learned self-confidence from her very confident and successful parents, and from classes in things like dance and martial arts she took growing up. How’s that?” The young soldier asked.

“Perfect!” Abazeel smiled. As he let the geas go, he left a tendril and Chris wondered what Maggie was up to lately. Maybe she was on Facebook? He made a note to check after work.

Maggie was in the back room of the boutique putting away the most recent shipment as she pulled out the correct size dress for her customer. She gracefully glided back onto the sales floor to show it to one of her favorite customers. “This should look wonderful with your eyes and figure” She said as she helped the woman in the dressing room. Merry felt no embarrassment to be next to the very attractive woman, even though she knew she should have been mortified! And to be on the sales floor? Dressed like... well, she was dressed perfectly. The clothes suited her slender figure nicely, with a delightful decolletage and just that perfect short length that drew eyes without looking like it was trying.

Merry, as all of her friends called her because of her happy nature, shook her head and focused on her customer’s needs. Once she was rung up and Merry had a tidy commission, she took a moment to review what had happened. As Maggie or Margaret, she was a wallflower, a mouse, someone who did not want to be noticed and had no faith in her own abilities. As Merry she was a happy, friendly, outgoing social butterfly with a huge circle of friends, a few young men she was keeping circling her at all times, and just not enough hours in the day to do all she wanted. She was one of the boutique’s best salespeople, and was close friends with many of her co-workers—even the shy stock girl that reminded her of... well, her. From before, or from her dreams, or something.

She glanced in one of the many mirrors in the shop and winked at her perfectly made-up reflection. One benefit of this timeline was that she finally had the confidence to pull off make-up. Oddly, she found she most loved to recreate looks from old movies. Those femme fatales fascinated her, especially Jean Harlow. She had worn a modernized version of Harlow’s hair for a few years now. More recently, she used her skills to look more like the beautiful woman and succeeded to a great degree.

The background music changed and Merry found herself singing and dancing to it as she tidied up the shop. She was so thankful that her parent’s were well-enough off that they could afford those classes for her! She loved dancing, and at least one of her beaus was taking lessons as well, just to improve his odds with her. When Yvonne, her boss, came in, she listened and watched as the tall woman enjoyed herself. When Merry saw her, she swept her up and the two women danced together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Driving from the south back to the north was a long haul. He’d been a good boy this trip. So far he had not had pushed the rules or crossed the council on this assignment, and he’d been thriftier than usual. When he got to Peoria, he decided to splurge a little and visited a pub that was occasionally frequented by beings of his ilk. He was delighted to find someone who knew his cousin Jeannie. The two had a nice night together sharing stories and gripes. He woke up feeling pretty queasy, but counted it as a great night. He was actually looking forward to his next stops. It was almost nightfall by the time he was back in Margaret’s hometown so he hit another roadside lodge and decided to visit the next friend in the morning.

Abazeel rapped on Yvonne’s door in rare high spirits. Yvonne welcomed him in, accepted the geas without struggle, and was soon contemplating his odd request.

“Why on Earth would that girl want to be shorter? She’s such a great dancer and such a wonderful person, and I have to think that a lot of it is because of her height. I mean, look at me! I’m only 5′2″ and I would LOVE to be her height! I wish we could just swap heights somehow.”

Abazeel felt a tingle he had not felt in a long time. He checked his magic and was amazed to see that the wish was accepted as is! There was going to be an oddly-shaped ripple to cover the changes, but as far as Abazeel could determine, this fell square in middle of the Heartfelt Wish Of A Pure Soul Clause of the genie contract. Wonderful! He bid her a good day and took off whistling.

Merry was sitting at the table having breakfast when she felt a bit discombobulated. It felt more odd than when she was an older woman, or a heavier girl, or had suddenly become a girl. Everything around her was suddenly... so big! She scooted off the chair and dropped a bit before her feet hit the floor and ran to the bedroom mirror, startled by how much higher the doorknobs were!

The much lower mounted mirror clearly showed her slender body, blonde hair, youthful face, and tastefully sexy clothes all neatly arranged around her now-short body. She looked up to where her nearly six foot tall head would have been in relation to the door frame and got dizzy at the thought. Had she really been that tall? It seemed impossible, and yet she remembered it as if it was yesterday... or just a few minutes ago actually.

She sat on her now much lower and smaller bed—it had been a king, now it was a queen. It used to be raised a little to accommodate her long legs, now it was just a bit too tall for her to sit on the edge comfortably. Much of her furniture was smaller and somehow cuter. She remembered inheriting her height from her rather short and cute ma as her da towered over the two of them in all her photos.

But it was time to head in to work. She dressed, slipping on heels taller than any she dared wear before lest she loom over everyone and being glad that she could now wear such darling shoes, as she had for years. Driving was a bit of a challenge—everything was off for her, and she seemed to be fighting some war between brain memory and muscle memory. She made it in safely and enjoyed her morning opening routine.

A bit later Yvonne showed up, all six feet of her. Merry loved Yvonne and looked up to the woman in more ways than one. She blushed a bit as she remembered them dancing and smiling at the memory of Yvonne only coming up to her chest. If Yvonne was that short now, she’d only be, what... four feet tall? She gave her boss and mentor a big welcoming hug and got to work.

Abazeel drove up to the beautiful home of Aunt Joann. Merry’s aunt was sort of the family matriarch, married to a successful man who passed away some years ago. She maintained the family history and hosted most family holidays. The regal woman greeted him at the door, nearly turning him away thinking he was just a beggar of some sort. With the geas applied, however, she let him into her chambers.

He explained his mission and her role. “A nicer home? But her parent’s home is just sitting there empty, waiting for her to move in. Why doesn’t she just move in there? It is one of the nicest homes in the area.”

Abazeel would have had a heart attack if he had had a mortal heart. She was an Artifact! He cursed the heavens and underworld for this terrible thing! With all the ripples and changes wishes create, there is always the risk that someone or something will be resistant to them, or be bypassed by them, or something. The fact was, no one really knew why it happened—maybe changing them would create some sort of paradox that would end life as we knew it, or maybe the universe was just lazy.

To Aunt Joann, Merry’s parents were dead and wealthy. That means she was caught between a couple different ripples or in some sort of reality loop. If he allowed her to make this the official wish, it would suck Merry into it as well! He had to figure something out before...

“Let’s not dilly dally. I wish Merry would have already moved into her family’s home years ago and be done with it.”

Noooooooo! Abazeel fell to his knees, weeping over Merry’s having to lose her parents again.

At work, Merry was weeping on Yvonne’s shoulder. Yvonne had gotten on one knee to hold her friend as she had suddenly burst out crying. “I miss my parents so much, Yvonne. I don’t know why it came over me like this, but I can’t help it!” Yvonne patted and comforted her as she guided the smaller woman to the office.

“Relax in here. I’ll drive you home if you want to go.” She stayed with the disconsolate woman for a bit longer until she got called to the front.

Merry’s memories were raging through her mind. Her parents were dead years ago, but also alive and blonde, poor but wildly successful. Her ma was a kaleidoscope of heights, hair colors, and ages. Her da nearly as bad. She remembered two distinct sets of graves and markers, two very different funerals, and a virtual parade of different homes.

Her phone rang and she could barely answer. “Hello?” She mumbled.

“Margaret? It’s me, Abazeel. I am so sorry this happened. How are you doing?”

She wept to him, then grew angry with him, then began to insist it was all a horrible dream. As she worked through her feelings, Abazeel just let her rant and rage. When she was more settled, she asked. “I guess I live in the big house now, huh?” Abazeel told her yes. “I guess I remember that. I had it redecorated, didn’t I, with the money they left me.” Abazeel agreed again. “Will it feel like home?” Her tone broke Abazeel’s heart but he promised her it would be OK.

She drove home on autopilot, right up the big driveway, right into the multicar garage with the remote that was where it always was but never had been before. She went to the master bedroom with all of her things in it and collapsed on the bed.

Things were better in the morning. Her parents were dead and she missed them, but she had been through the grief process and had lots of friends to help. She called her high school sweetheart Josh to see if he could come over for a while and the two spent a pleasant morning together. The house had an indoor pool, so they got a good swim in. Part of the inheritance provided for a couple staff. The maid/cook started a lunch for them while the butler/caretaker was busy clearing the walks and drive. All too soon, it was time for the two to head off to their jobs.

Merry greeted her partner at the shop in much higher spirits than when she left. She gave Yvonne a big hug and thanked her for her support before the two started on the books. She really felt like she should be doing something like stocking the back room, but they had a perfectly competent girl for that. Maybe she should be working the phones? She shook her head clear—they didn’t get that many calls to need a call center... although maybe in a few years they could launch an on-line store and need one then? It would be easy enough to do the script and set up the account, she pondered.

She thanked the day she decided to invest some of her inheritance in the small store she loved so much, and was having a pleasant talk with her friend and partner.

Abazeel, on the other hand, was talking to Josh.

When Abazeel mentioned fame, all Josh could do for a moment was think of the theme song from the old movie, or was it a series? ‘FAME! I’m gonna live forever! I gonna learn how to fly HIGH! I feel it coming together. People will see me and cry!’.

“Merry can already sing like an angel and dance like a butterfly. I guess she could be famous for that. But, I know she loves those old movies and the women in them. Who is that one she loves so much, Loretta Young? Marilyn Monroe? I don’t remember. Anyway, I guess I wish that she would find fame as a leading Hollywood starlet in the footsteps of her favorite actress.” Abazeel nodded, knowing full well that there was a good chance the two of them would never see each other again, but already trying to think of a way to keep that from happening.

Margaux Rivera, as she was widely known by, was still sitting in the store’s office tinkering with the books. She did not know why she bothered. Yvonne was a wonderful partner and general manager, and they had a battery of accountants and lawyers to do this for her. On the other hand, she liked to keep involved. After all, ‘Merry’s Boutique’ was her first and most successful business venture outside her movies. The only thing she did not love was having go through the back door to prevent being mobbed.

She stretched, appreciating the chance to do what she wanted and visiting friends back home between movies. Her critically-acclaimed remake of the old Jean Harlow movie “Dinner at Eight” was still a big box office draw, and a modern version of “Hell’s Angels” (WWI pilots, not bikers) was due out for the holiday season. She was especially excited to play Maria in a remake of the classic “Metropolis”. She could not figure out why playing a robot excited her so much, but she was looking forward to shooting starting in a couple months.

She went to the small patio behind the shop to wait for her ride. She noticed an older car off to the side with a vaguely familiar face in it. She waved at the man. He smiled back, then just drove away. He seemed to be whistling. Curious.

Just then her cell phone rang. Josh was only a block away from picking her up. Her fiance was so great! She was so glad she had reconnected with her childhood friend when she was in town to start Merry’s. He was so supportive and helpful. Thanks to him, her life was just perfect.