Keeping Emma

Chapter 16: The Pantry Plot Thickens

The next morning at breakfast, the three conspirators sat at the dining room table enjoying Mrs. Trumbell's wonderful ham and cheese omelets and home fries. It was a good thing that her father kept his face buried in the papers every morning, Emma thought. One look into her eyes and the entire scheme would be blown. Severus always said he'd never seen anyone as lousy at lying as she was.

"How are you feeling today, Emma?" Viola asked. "I'm sorry you got so tired out yesterday."

"Oh, I'm much better today Mommy," Emma answered.

"Don't forget your potions, Emma," Severus said. "You might want to up your dose of that anti-toxin potion by an extra spoonful. Your ankles were swollen this morning and that's a sign of toxins in the bloodstream. Probably from all that make-up you had on in the store yesterday. I can't believe Muggle women put that poison on their faces."

"Oh, please, that stuff is perfectly harmless," said Natalie.

"No, it isn't," argued Severus. "If you really think you need that stuff, then go talk with Professor Sprout when you get back to school. You can dry and crush various petals and roots, mix with a natural emollient like aloe and have perfectly safe products to use."

"He does have a point, Natalie," said Michael from behind his paper. "All that gunk you had on yesterday made you look silly. And stop using the "M" word, Severus."

"Maybe you should just spend the day on the couch with your feet up, Emma," said Viola. "It'll help with the swelling. I couldn't believe the prices of all that stuff yesterday anyway. I looked at the receipts last night. Did you know you spent twelve dollars on that lipstick alone, Emma? And that bronzing powder was almost twenty dollars."

Emma was shocked. "I spent thirty-two dollars on two things?"

Viola pulled an envelope from her pocket. "Oh, Michael, here is Natalie's charge card and what is left of the cash you gave the girls yesterday, with all the receipts. All total, the girls spent nearly two hundred pounds."

"That's okay, Viola. You didn't have to save receipts."

Under the table, Natalie kicked Emma in the shin while mouthing the words, "Go on."

"Mommy? Natalie told me you're going home on Monday," said Emma. "I thought you'd be staying here until the baby was born."

"Emma, I can't; my tourist visa runs out in three weeks."

"Natalie told me that Dad can take care of that. He does it all the time."

"Well, of course I'll come back when the baby is born, sweetie."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Ms. Gianni," said Severus, "but I can't believe you're being so insensitive. Emma has been put through hell, and the worst of it was thinking she'd never see you again. She's having a baby and most girls like to have their mothers nearby. I can't believe you're putting that restaurant before Emma."

"I am not putting the..." She stopped as Emma suddenly burst out crying.

Viola got up and came around the table and put her arms around Emma. "Oh, sweetie, stop. I'll stay until the baby is born. I promise."

"But what about after?" asked Emma tearfully. "I mean, Severus and I are going to start looking at houses in May, then we'll have to furnish it and get all settled. I thought you were going to be there to help. I thought you were going to come live with us."

"Emma, I'm sure that you and Severus would rather have your home to yourselves."

"Actually," said Severus, "I don't like the idea of Emma being alone once the school year starts up and I'm gone teaching all day. So, really, you might as well apply for permanent residency." Damn, he thought, this pantry plot had better work. Emma's mother was all right, but there was no way he wanted a live-in mother-in-law.

Over her mother's shoulder, Emma could see the profile of her father's face behind the paper. He was smiling and shaking his head. Emma knew that he was onto their manipulations, at least as far as getting her mother to stay. But, he was going along with it.

"Wonderful, Viola," he said. "Why don't you give me your visa? I can take care of it today. Permanent residency does sound the best way to go."

"But I haven't agre..." said Viola.

Emma immediately cut her off, saying, "Oh, Mommy, thank you! I'm so happy you're going to stay."

At that moment came the sound of August's footsteps coming up the hall to the dining room.

"But, what about the apartment? And all our things? I can't just abandon it. The lease isn't up until the end of March. I'd still have to pay all that rent. If I'm not working, how can I do that?"

"Viola, I--," Michael was cut off by Emma giving him a sharp kick in the shin under the table.

"Mommy, now that it's known that I'm not dead, can't we get all those travelers checks back? I have enough to cover three months rent," said Emma. She knew damn well that her mother would feel embarrassed if Michael offered to cover the rent and would be on that plane home in a heartbeat.

"That's an excellent idea, Emma," said Michael as he reached down to rub his shin. "I'll call the police today to see about it."

"Oh, I can handle that for you, Ambassador, and Ms. Gianni's visa as well. I can apparate to her apartment and see to putting her furniture into storage. Now, as to your itinerary for the day."

Severus, Emma and Natalie listened intently to the schedule of appointments. They had to know, precisely, just when he would be expected back in the apartment.

"And your final appointment of the day is at 3:30, with Harold Jenkins regarding the Pelton affair. It should not last longer than an hour," August finished at last.

"Daddy?" asked Natalie. "You know Jason Melco? He's one of the Marines guarding the Embassy."

"What about him?" Michael asked.

"Well, he asked me to go to the movies tomorrow night. Can I go, Daddy? I mean, he had to pass your security check to get this assignment, didn't he? The show starts at seven and I'll be back by ten."

"How old is he again?" asked Michael.

"He is just shy of twenty, Ambassador," said August. "He's a non-magical, and he seems a pleasant young fellow."

"I guess it'll be all right," said Michael. "All right, it will be an early day today. Tell Mrs. Trumbell to have dinner ready at five."

On his way out of the dining room, he stopped to drop a kiss on both his daughters' heads.

On their way down to the second floor offices, Michael said, "Darn, I forgot to get Viola's visa."

August opened the folder he always carried and said, "I have her papers right here, Ambassador. I summoned them while I was reading your itinerary. If she begins to put up a stink, I can conveniently lose them. She's going nowhere."

"You're a good man, August."

"I know Ambassador," said August.

At noon, Severus, Natalie, and Emma were sitting around the kitchen table having lunch while Mrs. Trumbell prepared to go to the market. Viola was standing at the counter, listening as the housekeeper gave instructions for the tuna casserole she had prepared for dinner. "I should be back by then, but if I'm not, just put it in at 4:15. Watch it during the last ten minutes so it doesn't dry out. If it looks dry, just stir in a little milk."

"I'm sure I can manage, Mrs. Trumbell," said Viola.

After lunch, Viola sat on the couch, massaging Emma's feet, which were on her lap, while Natalie watched television and Severus read the Daily Prophet.

At around 2:30, Natalie yawned. "This is boring. I think I'm going to take a shower." She switched off the television and went to her room. Once there, she turned on the shower and apparated to the basement and hid behind the massive boiler.

About ten minutes later, Emma asked, "Mommy? Are there any green olives left?"

"Let me check the kitchen, Emma," said Viola, getting up. She soon returned, saying, "Emma, there aren't any left up here. Last week, Mrs. Trumbell showed me the pantry in the basement. There's more down there. I'll go get you some."

Emma looked at her mother, hoping she was doing the right thing by going along with this stunt. "Thank you, Mommy," she said. As Viola turned and headed to the elevator in the foyer, Emma added, "I love you Mommy."

"I know, Baby," Viola said, smiling.

The elevator slid noiselessly to the basement. Viola disembarked, thinking that the basement in this place was nicer than the apartment she and Emma had lived in when Emma was little. Green and beige tiles covered the concrete floor and the cement walls were painted light tan. After leaving the elevator, a large room to the right held an exercise room with sauna. To the left was a locked, heavy metal door. Mrs. Trumbell had explained that the area in that part of the basement held rows upon rows of file cabinets, and that only August went in there.

Beyond the exercise room was the laundry room. At the far end, just before the enormous boiler that heated the entire building, was the second heavy metal door that led to the pantry. She walked over to it and used all her strength to lift the heavy metal bar up from the latch.

Taking up the entire back wall of the pantry were large upright refrigerator and freezer units. The wall on the left held a wine rack, filled with dusty bottles of wine. The right side wall had cabinets stocked with various food and dry goods, necessities such as toilet paper, soap. There was also a utility sink. Viola entered the room, flicking on the light switch. The light did not turn on. She'd have to tell Mrs. Trumbell that the bulb needed changing. She'd do it herself, but the ceiling was too high.

She made her way to the cabinets and began to search for the olives, not noticing that the door was slowly swinging shut behind her. The room suddenly went dark, immediately upon which she heard the clang of it closing and the dull thud of the latch falling into its brackets.

"No!" she screamed as she ran to the metal door and began to push at it. But it was firmly locked. She began beating at it with her fists, screaming for help.

Outside the pantry, Natalie smiled to hear that Viola's voice barely made it through the heavy concrete foundation and the metal door. The banging on the metal door was another thing though. She took out her wand and quickly placed a silencing charm on it. Immediately, the noise was gone. She carefully hid the boxes of extra bulbs she'd removed from the room behind the boiler. She had gotten the idea of breaking the light bulb that morning and had brought down a box of candles and a pair of candleholders. Her father would be able to light them with his wand. Candlelight would be much more romantic. When she turned, she saw August, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door to the file room.

"Miss Dalton," he said. "Can you explain exactly why you have locked your sister's mother in the pantry?"

Natalie felt sick. She was busted. She tried to think of a plausible lie but couldn't. "Okay, I'm planning on sending Daddy down here later to rescue her and lock him in too. Any fool can see they belong together."

August nodded. "I see. You'll need anti-disapparition spells on the room you know, as well as anti-blasting spells."

"We already thought of that. Severus already did them, and he'll do a sticking charm as soon as my father is in there too."

"Excellent. Carry on, Miss Dalton. You seem to have thought of everything. I've seen nothing down here today."

Natalie flew at August and hugged him. He wasn't such a dweeb after all, she thought.

"You're a good man, August," she said.

"I know, Miss Dalton," he answered.

She entered the elevator and made her way to the first floor where she spent an hour flirting with the young marine who had asked her out.

Michael returned to the apartment at precisely four o'clock. The place seemed rather quiet. He walked into the kitchen to see Mrs. Trumbell peeking in the oven.

"Oh, Ambassador. I'm sorry, but it seems that nobody remembered to put the tuna casserole into the oven. I got back from the market a half hour ago. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Miss Emma is asleep on the couch in the parlor, and I can't find Ms. Gianni, Miss Natalie, or your son-in-law at all."

"That's odd," he said. He walked into the parlor and saw Emma on the couch, asleep. He knelt in front of the couch and gently jostled her shoulder. Emma sat up, pretending to be groggy with sleep. "What, where am I? Oh, what time is it?"

"It's a bit after four, Emma. Where is everyone?" asked Michael.

"I...I don't know. My mom went down to the basement to get me some olives, but that was right after lunch. Natalie had been taking a shower, and Severus was sitting there, reading. I must have fallen asleep."

Just then, they heard the elevator. Natalie bounced into the room. "Hi! Gosh it's dark in here; turn on some lights." She took out her wand, waved it, and the lights in the parlor lit. "Is dinner ready? Sorry I'm late, but I was downstairs talking to Jason. He's so cute."

"Do you know where Severus is?"

"Yes, he passed by me and Jason about twenty minutes ago. He said he was going to take a walk around the grounds, that he needed some fresh air."

"Emma's mother seems to be missing too. Maybe she is in her room," said Michael. He got up and walked into the foyer, turning up the hall that led to the bedrooms.

In the parlor, Natalie stifled a giggle as Emma began to feel sick to her stomach. The life of a prankster was definitely not for her, she thought.

They heard their father knock on Viola's door, saying, "Viola? Are you in there?" Then they heard him open it. Not a minute later, he came back into the living room and said, "She's not in there either. Did you say she went down to the basement pantry?"

"Yeah, to bring me up some more olives," said Emma.

"Right. Olives. I'll go check down there," he said.

Severus saw the elevator stop in the basement and the doors slide open. Emma's father walked decidedly toward him, not knowing that Severus was hidden behind the gurgling and whirring boiler. Michael lifted the latch on the pantry door, opened it, and yelled out, "Viola!"

The light from the ceiling fixture in the basement hall cast its glow on Viola sitting on an overturned bucket near the utility sink. She was hugging herself, shaking, her face streaked with tears.

"Michael," she screamed, as she got up and ran toward him. He met her in the center of the room and wrapped his arms around her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know. The door shut behind me and I couldn't get out," Viola began. "I've been in here all afternoon. I was so scared."

"Viola," said Michael, "I'm so sor--" Suddenly, the room went dark as the door clanged shut behind him.

"No!" screamed Viola, "Not again!" She ran to the door and pushed on it, but it was locked tight as before.

"Don't worry," said Michael, taking out his wand. He held it aloft. "Lumos," he said, and the wand emitted a pale glow that allowed them enough light to see. He pointed the wand at the door and said, "Alohomora." The spell hit the door with a hollow thud. The door remained closed. "What the hell?" he said. He tried it again. "Alohomora." Once more, the spell failed.

"Why isn't it working?" asked Viola.

"I don't know. Someone must have put a sticking spell on it. Viola, I'm going to apparate just outside to the hall and open the latch. Don't worry; you'll be out in a couple seconds."

Viola sniffed. "Okay," she said.

Michael took a little step and was suddenly knocked flat onto his back.

"What happened?" she asked. "Are you all right?" She kneeled next to him, not knowing what to do.

Michael felt like he'd gotten a full body slam by that Hulk Hogan character. "I...I'm okay. I just got the wind knocked out of me. I think someone put an anti-disapparition spell on the room. I remember that Mrs. Trumbell once mentioned that she thought that someone was sneaking some supplies out of here, but I didn't think she go to these measures over a few missing cans of cling peaches. Go stand to the side of that freezer, Viola. I'm going to try a blasting spell. I'll just fix the door when we're out."

"Okay, Michael," she said. It was dark in the room once more, so she carefully made her way to the freezer, feeling her way, and crouched down by its side. She heard Michael call out, "Eradico," and saw a stream of red light hit the door. The entire door glowed for a few seconds, as if molten, and then it faded. The door held firm.

Michael was stymied. He'd never been in a situation where he wasn't in control. He decided to pulverize the door completely. "Confringo," he called out. Once more the spell failed. He held his wand aloft again and said, "Lumos," and once more the room was bathed in a soft light.

"There's a box of candles in that first cabinet," said Viola. "But there are no matches."

"I can light them," he said. He found the candles and an old pair of brass candleholders next to the box. He held his wand in his teeth as he placed a candle in each. Then he took his wand from his mouth and lit them with it. Finally they had some steady light.

"What are we going to do, Michael?" she asked.

"Natalie and Emma know I came down here looking for you. When we don't come back up, they'll come looking for us. Don't worry," he said, staring at the door with an expression of disbelief. What the hell was Mrs. Trumbell thinking?

"We're not going to run out of air, are we?"

"No, Viola. The door isn't air tight. See? There is a sliver of light coming from the hall."

"Oh, right. That's good," she said. "It's so chilly in here, Michael. I can't believe the boiler is just outside."

"The heat isn't vented in here, to keep the wine the right temperature," he explained. He took off his jacket and put it around her. "Here," he said. Then he put one candle on the floor and carried the other to the cabinets to see what he could find for them to use. He found a few old comforters and even a pillow in one. He spread a couple on the cold tile floor and told Viola to sit down on it.

"Well, we might as well get something to eat while we wait," he said, opening the refrigerator unit. The light helped to illuminate the room even more. "Viola, didn't you ever think of opening the refrigerator to get some light?"

"No, I just panicked," she admitted. "I figured that one of the kids would come looking for me when I didn't return."

In the refrigerator, he found juice, bricks of cheese, bread, even a platter of chicken from the previous day's dinner. There were also two plates, silver place settings, and wine glasses.

Suddenly, the light went on. Not the light in the room, but the one in his head. He turned his head and looked at Viola kneeling on the comforter, frightened, her big brown eyes looking to him to make this okay. Then, he looked back at the two wine glasses. How convenient, he thought--comforters, a pillow, wine glasses, silver, plates, candlesticks, food that should be upstairs--those girls had set them up. They were a pair of lying, diabolical sneaks. They were...were...freaking brilliant. Michael realized that they would not be getting let out anytime soon, and that was actually...okay.

"Well, Viola. Let's at least have something to eat," he said, bringing the platter of chicken over to the comforter. He opened a bottle of wine and filled the glasses. Then he joined Viola on the comforter. "Here you go, love," he said, handing her a glass. "It'll help keep you warm."

While eating the food and nearly finishing off the wine, Viola kept wondering where Emma and Natalie were and why it was taking them so long to realize they were missing. But she was so glad she wasn't alone down here in the dark. And at least they had food and weren't going to run out of oxygen. Michael shifted to sit behind her. He kept telling her not to worry and began gently massaging her shoulders. Viola turned her face and let her lips softly skim over his hand, saying, "Oh, Michael, that feels so nice," the wine slurring her words somewhat.

Michael laid back, his head on the pillow, pulling Viola down with him. "Just lay on me, Viola," he said. "We have to stay close to keep warm."

"Michael," she said.

"What, love?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Hell, I hadn't thought about that," he said. He sat up and looked around. He spotted the bucket. "We'll have to use the bucket, Viola."

He put the bucket to the side of the freezer, at least partially hidden. "There you go, Viola."

"You gotta keep your back turned, okay?" she said. When he laughed, she added, "I mean it, Michael."

"I know; I won't look. Scout's honor."

"You were never a Boy Scout, Michael."

"True. But Boy Scouts and magic don't mix too well, Viola. They're a pretty fundamentalist Christian organization."

While Viola was peeing in the bucket, Michael took off his shoes and belt. Then he removed his tie and shirt.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting comfortable," he said. "For some reason, they don't seem to have realized we're missing. Knowing Natalie, she probably went out, and Emma and Severus are probably in bed. We may be here all night, Viola. We need to get some rest."

"You're right, Michael," she said. She removed her shoes too and sat back down on the comforter. Michael began to put the remains of their feast back into the refrigerator and refilled their wine glasses with the last of the wine. When he turned around, she had pulled her arms out of her sleeves and was squiggling around.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm taking my bra off," she said. "You said we should get comfortable. You try getting any rest with stiff pieces of plastic digging into you all the time." Under her sweater, she pulled the straps from her shoulders and then undid the hooks. She pulled it from the front of her shirt and hid it under the comforter.

"I've seen bras before, Viola," he said, amused.

"Sometimes I think I'd be better off taking a trip out to Amish territory and getting fitted for a harness. It couldn't be any more uncomfortable," she said.

"That's a rather disturbing image," he said. He lay next to her, their heads sharing that pillow. He brought his hand up and stroked her hair, pulling her face closer to his.

She opened her lips to say something but he covered them with his own so quickly her words disappeared from her mind. His lips were still so soft, she thought, just like she remembered. She wondered how many nights she had lain with other men, her eyes closed, trying to pretend they were Michael. She had never succeeded. She had always lain there, wanting them to finish so she could wash their scent from her. She allowed her hands the luxury of slipping up his undershirt, feeling the hard muscles of his back. Even after all these years, her fingertips seemed to know each hill and valley. She tasted the wine on his lips.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her. "Viola, please, make love to me," he said.

In answer, she sat up. She reached down and pulled her sweater up over her head. Then, her hands went to the opening of her jeans. She lay back as she slipped them down her legs.

He kissed her like a man entering his home after a long journey.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close as possible. They just stayed that way, not moving, for heaven only knew how long. Tears ran down her face as she worshiped the divine connection between them.