Disclaimer for the entire story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week. All names and places are coincidental.
Decided to take a writing break for my present work-in-progress. (Bog's sons have as many issues as their dad and I can't wait to get to the point to give their witchy mother some Marianne karma. Hopefully soon.) Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism. Enjoy!
This is unexpected.
Here he was, leaving his home as in a usual manner but the sight the meets Bog Roi is definitely not usual. Instead of the normal snow-covered trees opposite the normally empty road, he's greeted with the sight of a jean-covered backside adorning the front of a large red F-150. He glimpses wild brown hair from under the truck's open hood and can hear grumbled swearing alongside the sound of scrapping metal but the tempting view is too nice to play the hero right away.
Closing his front door and edging his way toward his driveway, Bog is thankful that he cleaned the snow off his grey Ram 2500 before he got ready so he doesn't have to take his eyes off the interesting sight. A sight that grows more delightful as the petite and attractive woman raises up from the engine and hops onto the ground. The slamming hood is a clear indication of her frustration before she grabs her cell phone from her parka's pocket. He sighs at the prospect of being yelled at for being late but there is no way he couldn't offer his assistance as it's clear that the call she made isn't going well. Her agitated posture only grows before she ends the call and he can swear that she looks ready to break her phone as he walks closer.
"What idiot offers a rental service and then refuses roadside assistance because of the holiday," the brunette growls!
"Can I help you, Miss," Bog questions?
The woman's bright amber eyes flash to him quickly and he suppresses his laughter at how she must not have heard him. Though, her fierce glare and crossed arms tells him that he was unsuccessful in concealing his amusement.
"And you are," the woman questions sharply?
"The owner of the house you parked in front of," Bog remarks, thumbing back to his log cabin.
"I didn't park in front of your house," she corrects. "This useless waste of metal stopped working and the rental service says they can't offer roadside assistance because no garage in the area is open today."
"It's probably the battery because of the cold weather. Give me a few minutes and I'll bring my truck over to jump start it," he offers.
"That would be a bad idea," she remarks. "It is the battery alright but it's not the real cause. It's the alternator."
"How'd you figure that out," Bog asks?
"Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean that I don't know vehicles," she growls.
"I didn't say that," Bog defends, holding his hands up! "I was just wondering how you knew that it's the alternator for sure."
"I lost the radio and the heater before the lights started failing and I just checked the belts but they're fine," she explains. "I think they disconnected the indicator lights and I don't know how many times they've already changed the battery, so it would be a bad idea to jump start it in case the alternator just read its last rites. I'm Marianne, by the way."
He chuckles as Marianne offers her gloved hand, only to squeak and pull it back quickly once she sees the oil stains on it. She groans and glares at the broken-down truck as she notices her parka and jeans are covered in dirt and oil as well.
"I'm Bog," he introduces. "Did you rent this truck at the Valeburg Airport?"
"Good guess," Marianne comments. "I should have gotten a car like Dad did but I wanted to explore the wooded areas and thought the four-wheel drive would be better. At least it didn't have any trouble until after I left the lake, so that's something to be thankful for."
The cold has nothing to do with the shiver coursing through Bog's lanky form. It was definitely something to be thankful for. He really would have hated being called out for a rescue to have found the victim too late again. After a few minutes of polite arguing, he manages to convince the feisty girl to let him drive her into town.
"I'm telling you, they really didn't think this trip through nor even really planned it," Marianne insists through her laughter! "It's a nice town and all but it's really small compared to the city that I'm from. You should have seen everyone's faces when they discovered that you had a bed and breakfast instead of a hotel."
"Don't need a hotel. Plum's is a large enough bed and breakfast," Bog remarks. "Besides, people only pass through during the winter and spring on their way to the ski resort and I doubt they even notice that Sombreville is even a town."
"The Snow Fields is nearly twenty miles away by road, though, and this is the only town between it and Valeburg," she points out. "Surely, you get more business then what I noticed in the past day."
"We do but mostly from people who live around Sombreville because the majority of the residents actually live away from town," he explains. "There is also a great deal of business during the summer and fall because of Foret Lodge down at the lake."
"No wonder since Foret Lodge is impressive," Marianne remarks, noticing her driver's blue eyes shining with pride at that. "I saw it during my walk around the lake but it's a pity that it's closed during the winter."
"If you saw the lodge then how come you didn't you see the warning signs," Bog questions sarcastically?
"What warning signs? There weren't any signs and I can prove it," she comments, shaking her camera.
Marianne hands her camera over to Bog after he pulls the truck to the side of the road and tries to suppress her laughter at his grumbled curses. He obviously didn't like being proved wrong but there is no way that she was going to look like a fool in front of him. Bad enough that she didn't exactly make a good impression.
With him fully occupied, she gives herself permission to fully occupy herself with his profile. She can't see much of his hair thanks to the gray knit cap but the short stubble lining the sharp angles of his face is jet black. His grey wool pea coat and pressed black dress slacks are immaculate and only serves to boost his elegant features. She may have thought this whole trip was a waste of time for the purpose it was made but at least she got to see the interesting views in this remote area, including the photos she managed to get. Marianne snaps out of her staring as Bog hands back her camera and she prays that he doesn't notice her blush.
"I can't believe those idiots forgot to post the signs," Bog grumbles. "I told them a thousand times that we needed to broadcast about the dangers that surrounded the lake during winter. Didn't Plum warn you about anything when you left Plum's this morning?"
"The only thing she mentioned when I left around seven was to take this road and to remind me that she doesn't serve Thanksgiving dinner," Marianne answers. "Although, she did tell me that if I didn't see a flock of turkeys on my way to the lake that I should postpone my sightseeing until later."
"That's about as much warning as I could expect from Plum," he chuckles. "It might be a good idea to get some pamphlets made and have them available around town."
"I take it that the truck might have been the least of my worries and that I have a lot more to be thankful for today," she comments.
Bog groans and pulls the truck back onto the road, clearly reluctant to explain. Prodding him doesn't give any answers but her persistence makes him sigh before gesturing to the mountains looming past the lake.
"The ski resort is on the opposite side of those mountains and despite the abundance of trees on this side, we do have the occasional avalanche caused by their avalanche-prevention methods," Bog explains. "The wild turkeys are a good warning system to anyone visiting the area around the lake and they are given feed to keep them around. Unfortunately, they aren't much help with alerting to the sudden snow squalls that happen or the other dangers during the winter. Not only does the landscape keep changing thanks to the snow but it's easy to get lost in the thick forest because it's hard to gauge how late in the day it's getting until it's too late and then there is the occasional ice jam and flooding on the lake and the surrounding rivers. Last year, a new resident either wasn't told of the warnings or didn't heed them and when we were alerted to her being missing and sent a rescue out, it was too late. We're not entirely sure which of the hazards caused her to become that lost but since there is no cell phone service in that area, she had no way of contacting anyone or even finding her way back to the lodge."
"That's a little scary to think of what might have happened," Marianne admits. "I was a bit concerned about Plum telling me to look out for the turkeys and had decided to only explore the areas where I could still see them. Who would have thought that I need to be thankful to those birds for keeping me safe? Not like it's going to stop me from eating their domestic cousin."
Marianne joins Bog in his laughter as they finally cross into the outskirts of Sombreville and slowly, buildings are added between the snow-covered trees. She has to admit that it is a quaint little town with its own brand of charm. The modern housing blends in with the older styles in a mishmash that should be visually jarring but it isn't and she can't resist grabbing her camera for some moving shots as they get closer to the town's center. She was a little worried that she wouldn't be able to get the pictures she wanted before they left and she isn't going to waste the opportunity now. She flashes a smile toward Bog as he drives slowly around the town's park, giving her the chance to snap several photos of the large cornucopia that was set up soon after her arrival.
"We arrived too late yesterday and caught the tail-end of your Thanksgiving parade," she remarks as he turns down the road toward Plum's. "I wasn't able to get any pictures but what I did see was rather nice and a little eccentric. I've never seen pyrotechnics in a Thanksgiving parade before."
"We like to be a little flashy," Bog chuckles.
"I've also never seen live turkeys being paraded down the street either," Marianne comments. "My sister couldn't stop cooing over how cute that was and I was stuck sharing a room with her last night."
"Hopefully she didn't get too attached to them because those were all the turkeys chosen for today's dinner at Primrose Diner," he murmurs.
"Are you telling me that we arrived at your town in time to watch turkeys march to their own funeral," she questions, snickering at the thought?
"Sort of," he admits. "It's an old tradition that PETA has been trying to sue us for. It started decades ago when the turkey farmer's wagon broke down a few days before Thanksgiving and he decided to march the turkeys through the town to the diner. Everyone liked it so much that we just continued it throughout the years. After a few years, the parade started taking place during the day of the turkey march because it used to be on the morning of Thanksgiving Day."
"Plum didn't mention anything about the reason for the turkeys in the parade," Marianne comments.
"Probably because newcomers always tend to think that the turkey march is a little barbaric," Bog remarks, grinning at her answering snort. "We see it as a reminder of what Thanksgiving Day really is about and not what has been commercially told. It's a day to remind us to be thankful for what we have and to be grateful to the things that were sacrificed so that we could have what we have."
"That's rather profound and definitely different than everyone else's opinions of the holiday. Not that I'm saying that I don't agree with you," she reassures. "Plum told us that it was a Sombreville tradition for everyone in the community to gather together at the Primrose Diner for all major holiday dinners. It's a nice tradition, kind of like the whole community is one big family. My family has always had Thanksgiving dinner together, no matter what or where. Hence why my sister and I followed Dad instead of staying in the city where my sanity wouldn't be constantly tested."
"I take it that the truck is the least of your complaints this lovely holiday," he comments.
"Have you ever been forced to be polite or at least non-homicidal around a person where you seriously contemplate if it would be murder or charity to kill them," Marianne questions, chuckling at his answering groan? "Yeah, well, a guy I stupidly dated a few times is traveling with us and he's been trying to get me to agree to another date. Not only is that not going to happen but he might wind up in your lake if he suggests sharing a room one more time."
"I know all about dealing with holiday-spirit-damaging idiots," Bog mentions. "A lot of residents lost their joy from the parade yesterday because of an evening meeting with the new owner of The Snow Fields. It's bad enough that they bought the failing ski resort last year without really checking into the surrounding area but then they got the bright idea to try and buy Foret Lodge as well. We chased off one idiot during the summer but he came back with his boss yesterday."
Marianne hums thoughtfully before groaning as Bog pulls into the bed and breakfast's empty parking lot. Everyone must have left for the diner already but she really needed to change out of her dirty clothes before joining them.
"Don't worry. Plum never locks the doors," Bog reassures. "I'm heading to the diner myself, so I'll give you a ride."
Giving the charming man another smile, Marianne grabs her belongings and rushes into the building to her rented room. She notices the waiting note from Dawn on their shared bed and grins at the desperate writing begging her to dress nicely. Well, who is she to ignore her sister's begging?
"It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone or anything," Marianne mutters, opening her luggage and quickly finding her desired attire. "Dawn's the one who packed this stuff into my luggage."
The dark purple halter dress fits her toned figure nicely and the black knee-length lace-up boots make up for the knee length of the dress. Donning her amethyst butterfly necklace, a dash of perfume, and styling her short hair, Marianne gives herself a critical look in the mirror before grabbing her burgundy duffle coat and dashing out of the room.
"That was quick," Bog comments as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"I have a younger sister who's been a magnet for disaster since she could crawl, so dressing quickly is a big sister's superpower," Marianne chuckles. "Out of curiosity, how did your holiday-joy-ruining meeting go?"
"Honestly, not that bad," he admits. "Mr Crown seems to be a nice enough guy but his employee is a complete scumbag who's definitely compensating for something."
"I can believe that," she mutters.
"To top it off, we explained to Mr Squire several times last summer why Sombreville will not give up its rights to this side of the mountain and then we had to do it again several times yesterday. The guy just doesn't know how to take no for an answer," Bog continues. "You've seen Foret Lodge. Do you really think it'd be a nice idea to tear down the vast majority of the forest just to extend The Snow Fields to this side of the mountain?"
"No way. I haven't been to The Snow Fields yet but from the pictures I've seen it's quite obvious that it just needs better management and it will do fine," she remarks.
"Precisely," he affirms happily! "I was beginning to think that we were the only ones who thought so. When it first opened several years ago, the ski resort did fine but they stopped taking care of it properly in the past few years and then the owners were forced to sell to pay back the debt they racked up. It was already sold by the time we even heard about them selling and we've been hoping that the new owner will set things to right."
"But after yesterday's meeting you're beginning to have doubts, right," Marianne asks?
"It's only been under new management for a year and we've gotten a lot of traffic from those heading toward the resort, such as yourself, but it's too soon to tell if Mr Crown will be able to keep the numbers once the newness wears off," Bog comments. "Sombreville does fine by itself but the extra cash flow from passing-through traffic during the winter and the spring would be a nice boost to the town."
"So would having the garage available despite the holidays," she counters. "It's a good thing the truck broke down outside your cabin but it's still a problem for me. I don't want to be forced to strain my sanity any further by having to ride next to the idiot extraordinaire twenty miles to the ski resort. Any chance that you'll help me convince the town mechanic to tow that stupid scrap heap today instead of waiting until tomorrow?"
"I would help but...," he starts, cringing as her hopeful look falls. "Sombreville doesn't have any professional mechanics. Whatever we can't do on our own vehicles we take to the garage in Valeburg."
"That's fifteen miles away! There's no way Dad will let me wait in Sombreville alone," Marianne groans. "It's bad enough that he panics every time I leave the house by myself for something other than going to the high school."
Bog takes a quick glance at his passenger as he pulls into Primrose Diner's parking lot and parks the truck. He was sure that she was in her late twenties but he is apparently wrong. Good thing he didn't make a fool of himself and flirt with her. Nothing scarier than a parent's wrath.
"I'm sure your dad is well-meaning," he offers.
"Yeah, he is but it's frustrating to still be treated like his little girl at twenty-seven," she remarks, not noticing Bog's sigh of relief. "I know, I look like a kid thanks to my babyface and the bartenders back home refuse to believe that I'm not using a fake id but still."
"Not to be rude but what are you doing in high school," Bog asks?
"I teach an automotive program," Marianne explains.
"That explains how you knew for sure about that truck having alternator problems," he remarks, exiting and running around the front to open the passenger door for her.
"Not that I'm not grateful that you're a gentleman but are you trying to show off," she questions with a smirk?
"You have an overprotective father and I have a nagging mother and father," Bog confesses. "I'm going to be in enough trouble for being late and if someone is looking out into the parking lot and sees that I didn't open the door for you then I won't have any peace until spring."
If she thought the town was unique and quaint then it didn't have a candle against the Primrose Diner. Marianne was expecting the average small town diners that she's seen in all her adventures but this was not like those. This is more of a large fancy restaurant and she now understood how a diner could hold a Thanksgiving dinner that involved the entire community.
She stares at the foyer in amazement while sluggishly taking her coat off. The stone-like tiles accent the cherry oak walls beautifully along with the hanging yellow lanterns and she can see the design carries on into the main dining area through the arched hallway past the hostess' station. Marianne also catches a glimpse of the skylight roof from her position.
Her astonishment, though, doesn't distract her from the surprising but completely delightful view as Bog takes off his own coat to reveal a black tuxedo hugging his lean but toned figure the coat had hidden. She's seen muscular men before but this man struck her as power under control instead of the incredible hulk. If he looked this good with a suit, she couldn't help but wonder how good he looked in less formal clothing.
At least now she didn't feel like she over-dressed. Instead, she felt a little like Goldilocks as she feels Bog's appraising blue eyes once he notices her own coat's absence. Definitely just right.
"You look lovely," Bog murmurs.
"Thank you. You look very handsome yourself," she responds, grinning at his blush.
Bog's responding answer is cut off as a stocky brunette woman rushes into the foyer and levels him with a flat glare. Marianne finds it odd that the hostess, obvious by her uniform, is clearly unhappy with the taller man and has no qualms about showing it.
"Where have you been?! You should have been here ten minutes ago to do the Thanksgiving speech," she lectures lowly.
"I had something important to do, Stuff," Bog explains before leveling the hostess with his own glare. "Something that may have been avoided if someone had put up the warning signs at Foret Lodge as I told them to."
"That was Thang's job," Stuff mutters. "Anyway, we got a bigger problem. Mr Crown and his guests are here."
"What," Bog nearly shouts!
"Yeah, and Squire has been disturbing everyone with his opinion about you, especially about you being late," Stuff comments. "If that's not bad enough, Griselda had me seat them next to her table."
"Why would she do that," Bog questions?
"Seems that Mr Crown has his daughters with him," Stuff mentions, snickering at the low growl. "Don't worry, Griselda found out that they're both in a relationship and both of their boyfriends are here, one of them being Squire, so you're free from her matchmaking."
Marianne could feel her own growl working its way up but it turns into a chuckle as Stuff finally turns her attention to her. The woman's complete and utter shock makes her wish that she still had her camera. Though, she becomes a little worried about Stuff's neck as the woman rapidly shifts her gaze back and forth between the two in front of her.
"You brought a date," Stuff whispers in shock.
"No, no, no, no, no, she's not my date," Bog quickly denies!
His denial falls on deaf ears as Stuff runs back into the main room and Bog groans before burying his face in his large hands. Marianne covers her own mouth to conceal her laughter, a lost cause when a happy squeal of "Finally!" is heard throughout the building. This trip is getting more interesting by the moment.
Bog groans again as he peeks around the corner and notices everyone's expectant gazes facing the foyer entrance. Stuff was in a lot of trouble when he gets his hand on that little goblin. It seemed that everybody heard the gossip she relayed to his parents and any that didn't have an obvious hint displayed by the extra seating at their table. He should have had Marianne enter the diner before him and saved them both the trouble.
"I am so sorry," he mutters. "Everyone is going to think that we're on a date. One of the problems with a town that is dedicated to the community is that everybody knows everybody's business and since I'm late, no one is going to believe that I was just offering you a ride."
"Well, a truck parked in a secluded woods is prime makeout territory," Marianne quips.
He tries desperately to stifle his laughter but it doesn't do any good for the blush he can feel creeping from his collar to his ears. His only consolation is the light blush adorning Marianne's cheeks. He steps back towards the coat check room and glares at the snickering Thang before accepting the shorter man's help. Straightening his black bow tie and brushing his thick black short hair into place, Bog offers his arm to Marianne once she hands her belongings to Thang.
"We're going to have everyone's attention the second we walk through that doorway," he warns.
"Don't worry, I don't mind having the most handsome guy as my Thanksgiving date," she reassures, linking her arm around his. "And for the record, Roland isn't just a normal idiot but he's a very delusional idiot. The elder Miss Crown is currently single."
"What? Wait, you mean you're...," Bog trails off.
"Marianne Crown at your service, Mayor Roi," Marianne purrs, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "You're not only very good company but you've given me great enjoyment at the trouble and embarrassment you caused Roland yesterday. If I had known that you were the mayor then I wouldn't have snapped at you earlier because I was planning on thanking you for thrashing his ego."
"How did you know that I'm the mayor," he asks?
"Plum told us that the mayor always gives the Thanksgiving speech before the food is served," she remarks. "She also said that you're also a part of the Sombreville's fire department and volunteer search and rescue. Now, why don't you save me and also give Roland's ego another bruising at the same time?"
He doesn't bother concealing his smug grin as they walk into the filled room. A grin that gets smugger as he notices a certain blonde's scowl as he escorts Marianne to the empty chair next to his mother instead of the empty chair next to Roland Squire. Introductions are quickly made as Marianne takes the offered seat and Bog shakes his head in exasperation at Griselda's beaming smile and Loch's smug grin. Honestly, his parents could make a mountain out of a molehill. Not that he couldn't enjoy the confusion adorning the faces of Mr Crown and the young couple sitting with him or the thunderous expression on Squire's face.
Ignoring the awaiting drama, Bog heads toward the raised platform in the center of the room and turns to face the crowd. He snickers at the thought that at least he wasn't about to be yelled at for being late since he's sure that everyone is more interested in his relationship with Marianne. At this point, he's more likely to be yelled at if he doesn't take her on a real date.
"I apologize for being late and as penance, I'll ignore the long speech I had prepared about the dangers of being unthankful," Bog comments, grinning at the responding laughter. "Since before Sombreville's founding, we have taken pride in our belief that though we are not all connected by blood, we are family. So let us, as a family this Thanksgiving Day, remember to give thanks every day for all that we enjoy and give thanks for all that came before. Let us remember and be thankful for those who are no longer with us. Let us be thankful and receptive to those who will join us, including temporary pests who dampened our holiday joy this season."
Bog can't suppress his borderline-evil smirk as the vast majority of the diner's occupants turn their annoyed attention to the uneasy Squire. A little revenge is so sweet.
"Therefore, let us keep our thankful attitude with the ever-present hope that all trouble we come across is but temporary and will be dealt with soon enough. Correct, Miss Marianne Crown," he questions, stifling his laughter as Squire shrinks from Marianne's glare? "Well, I'm sure you're all very hungry by now and definitely have something new to be thankful for. So without further ado, bring in the bird and let's eat."
"I think that's his best speech yet," Loch chuckles.
Marianne snickers at the older man's amusement. If that was his best speech then she couldn't help but wonder what his other speeches were like. At least Roland seems to have stopped posturing now that it is made perfectly clear that Sombreville's residents do not like him and are at their limit of tolerating him. Maybe her dad will finally acknowledge that Roland's charming personality only extends to those he's trying to impress and realize that keeping the ski resort's former manager is a bad idea.
"I thought you went nature exploring, my dear," Donald remarks. "How did you run into Mayor Roi?"
"The truck broke down outside his cabin on my way back to town and he offered me a ride," Marianne comments.
"You didn't go to Foret Lodge, did you," Griselda questions, exchanging a worried look with her husband?
"Yes, she did," Bog affirms, taking his seat next to Marianne. "It seems someone didn't follow my instructions about putting up the warning signs. Right, Isabella Tuffen?"
Stuff snorts at his pointed look and takes Marianne's order for her dinner before moving out of the way of the incoming food carts. Conversation is put on hold as the waiters and waitresses transfer the covered plates to the waiting diners and the smell of hot turkey fills the air.
"Oh, this looks delicious," Dawn squeals, grabbing a warm bun from her plate and taking a bit! "Tastes good, too!"
"It may be different here than in the city but they make good food," Sunny comments, taking a bite of his turkey. "So, what's so bad about Foret Lodge?"
"As we tried to explain to Mr Squire and then to Mr Crown, it's dangerous around the lake during the winter. A few of the dangers are small avalanches, unexpected snow squalls, ice jams in the lake and rivers, and most of all is the fact that there is no cell phone service in that area," Bog explains. "Just last year, we had to interrupt our Thanksgiving dinner when a new resident was noticed to be missing and unfortunately we found her too late."
"Oh dear, I didn't realize that it was that serious when you mentioned about it being dangerous. I thought you were just saying that because you didn't want to listen to my proposal," Donald murmurs. "My apologies, Mayor Roi. I should have listened to your reasonings."
"And we should have explained it better," Bog amends. "We acted hostile toward you yesterday because it felt to us as though you were deeming us ignorant since we had already explained all of this to Mr Squire last summer."
"I shall look into that matter later," Donald comments, looking at the sullen Roland before returning his attention to Bog. "Thank you for taking care of my little girl, Mayor Roi. Though, Marianne, I am quite curious how this all happened. I thought you said that there wasn't a guy who existed that you didn't want to hit."
"Not in all the places I've traveled but apparently I didn't travel far enough," Marianne quips. "Besides, Bog offered to be my date and rescue me from Roland's unwanted advances since he can't understand the word no."
"Ah, come on, my little nightingale. That hurts," Roland moans, holding his hand over his heart.
"What will hurt is what I'll do if you don't keep your mouth shut for the rest of your stay in Sombreville," Marianne warns. "Do I make myself clear?"
"I'm not doing anything wrong," Roland mutters. "It's a free country and I have my rights for freedom of speech."
"You're entirely right," Marianne concedes before smirking. "I also have my rights, the right for peace and you're disturbing it. I'm sure the judge would agree to my temporary insanity plea."
"Fine," Roland sulks. "I won't make any more remarks about this hick town. I'm just here to get the bird anyway."
Marianne's eye twitches and she takes a deep breath to let it out slowly. To anyone else that would seem to be an innocent comment but she knew better after dealing with the idiot for nearly two years. She is sorely tempted to carry out the threat she told Bog about and she's sure that he would help her.
"Roland, if this wasn't a family restaurant, I would definitely give you the bird," Marianne murmurs, rapping her middle finger on the table.
Tea Blend.