"H-hello?" she said tentatively.

"May I speak with Christine Canady, please?" The woman's voice was unfamiliar, but pleasant sounding.

"This is she." CC clicked the remote and paused The Witches of Eastwick.

"Miss Canady, this is Jess Brown from Woodland Hills Resort in Branson, Missouri. I'm calling to tell you that your parents, Elinor and Herb, have given you a weekend in Branson at our beautiful resort for your twenty-second birthday! Happy Birthday, Miss Canady!" CC could almost see Jess Brown beaming in delight all the way from Branson. Wherever that was.

"Twenty-fifth," was all she could make her mouth say.

"Pardon?"

"It's my twenty-fifth birthday, not my twenty-second."

"No." Through the phone came the sound of papers being frantically rustled. "No, it says right here—Christine Canady, twenty-second birthday."

"But I'm not."

"Not Christine Canady?" Jess sounded worried.

"Not twenty-two!" CC eyed the newly opened second bottle of champagne. Maybe she was drunk and hallucinating.

II

"But you are Christine Canady?"

"Yes."

"And your parents are Elinor and Herb Canady?"

"Yes."

"Well, as long as you're really you, I suppose the rest doesn't matter." Jess was obviously relieved.

"I guess not." CC shrugged helplessly. She decided she might as well join the madness.

"Good!" Jess's perkiness was back in place. "Now, just a few little details you should know. You can plan your weekend anytime in the next year, but you will need to call to reserve your cabin…"

Cabin? CC's mind whirred. What had they done?

"… at least one month ahead of time or we cannot guarantee availability. And, of course, this gift is just for your personal use, but if you would like to bring a friend, the resort would be willing to allow him or her to join you for a nominal fee—orfor totally free if he or she would be willing to attend a short informational meeting about our time share facility."

CC closed her eyes and rubbed her right temple where the echo of a headache was just beginning.

"And along with your wonderful Woodland weekend," Jess Brown alliterated, "your parents have generously reserved a ticket for you to the Andy Williams Moon River Theater, one of the most popular and long-running shows in Branson!"

CC couldn't stop the bleak groan that escaped her lips.

"Oh, I can well understand your excitement!" Jess gushed. "We'll be sending you the official information packet in the mail. Just let me double-check your address…"

CC heard herself woodenly confirming her address.

"Okay! I think that's all the information we need. You have a lovely evening, Miss Canady, and a very happy twenty-second birthday!" Jess Brown cheerfully clicked off the line.

"But where is Branson?" CC asked the dial tone.

"That's right!" CC scouted at the TV, sloshing champagne onto the carpet as she raised her glass dramatically. "Click him off, girlfriends! Jack Nicholson wasn't cute, anyway—it was the three of you who really had the magic the whole time."

CC hardly noticed her unsteadiness as she got to her feet to dance the Woman's Magic Victory Dance while the movie credits rolled.

"Mr. Phone." She took a break from her Victory Dance to catch her breath. Fleetingly, she wondered just who had eaten all that KFC.

Mr. Phone seemed to be smiling at her from his place on the couch.

"Do you know that women have all the magic?"

He didn't answer.

"Of course you don't—you're a phone!" CC giggled. "You didn't even know I was twenty-five instead of twenty-two." She laughed until she snorted. "But you do now. And after watching that most excellent movie, you should know that women have magic, too."

Mr. Phone seemed skeptical.

"It's true! Didn't Cher and Michelle and Susan just prove it?" CC wobbled, but only a little. "Oh, I see what you mean. You thinkthey have magic, but you don't really believe that anordinary woman, like me, could have magic."

CC couldn't be entirely sure, but he appeared to be willing to listen.

"Okay. You may be right, but what if you're not? What if women really do have something within them, and we just have to find it? Like they did." CC felt the spark of an idea, and her brow wrinkled in an attempt at concentration. "They didn't believe it at first, either, but that didn't stop it from working. Maybe it doesn't matter if you're ordinary-looking, or if you're new somewhere and you don't have any friends yet." Or, CC's mind added, if your birthday has been forgotten. "Maybe all it takes is a leap of faith."

And a milky light flashed in the corner of her left eye, breaking her concentration.

What the…? A little shiver of trepidation fingered its way down the nape of her neck.

The light was coming from behind the closed drapes that shrouded the patio doors leading to her balcony.

CC checked the VCR clock. The digital numbers read 10:05 p.m.

"Must be the streetlights," she told Mr. Phone, but her eyes remained riveted on the captivating glimpse of brightness. The sliver of light she could see had an odd quality, totally unlike the sterile brightness of streetlights.

"Could be headlights from a parked car." But as she said it she knew it couldn't be true. Not in her top floor apartment. Car headlights didn't shineup. They also didn't have a quality of warmth that made her want to bathe herself in them.

CC's feet took her to the drapes before she consciously told them to move.

"You asked for some magic," she whispered. Slowly, like she was moving through the sweet twilight between awake and asleep, she reached up and parted the curtains.

"Oh…" The word came out on a breath. "It is magic."

The full moon hung perfect and luminous above her as if the goddess Diana herself had placed it there as a birthday offering. It bathed the riot of potted plants that crowded the balcony in a warm, opal-like glow. She quickly unlatched the glass doors and stepped out into the gentle warmth of a late October night.

CC's balcony was large, and it looked out on a greenbelt that divided the apartment complex and an upscale neighborhood. The amazing balcony was the reason she had decided to stretch her budget and afford the rent for the pricey apartment. She loved to sit there and let the comforting sounds of the greenery melt away the tension that too often clung to her from work and could even stubbornly stay with her through her kick-boxing class and the warm bubble bath soak she so often took after class. She had spent many evenings there, as was evident by the comfortable wicker rocking chair and the matching whatnot table that was just the right size to hold a book and a glass of something cold. Nestled in the middle of the lush plants was her favorite piece of balcony furniture, a mini version of a chimenea.

Tonight the creamy color of the chimenea caught the moon's caress and reflected its light like moonlight off the sands of an exotic beach.

Suddenly, she tilted her head back and spread her arms, as if she could embrace the night. The full moon filled her vision and she felt her body flush, like she was being saturated in the light of another world.

And her head snapped up.

"It is true," she said to the listening night. "It must be true."

And an idea was born, conceived of champagne and moonlight. CC grinned and whirled back through the open glass doors. Practically skipping, she rushed to her bedroom, already unbuttoning her air force uniform. The dark blue skirt and light blue blouse pooled with her pantyhose and bra.

"Step one."

Naked, CC pulled open her pajama drawer and pawed through it until she found the long, silk nightgown that lay at the bottom, ignored for her more practical cotton nightshirts. A uniform is good for work, but not for magic, she told herself and pulled the pale gown over her head, loving the erotic feel of it as it slid down her naked body.