Maevis’s eyebrows grew together. “What of it?” she inquired, not sure what her charge was getting at.
“Why can we not sell it? Keep this cottage and one of the others for you, let Ms. Crotlybloom go. Why must we keep that dreadful place? I shall never step foot in there again.”
“Serendipity,” Maevis began, leaning forward, her hands on the table, “we can’t. That’s where all of the doll parts are kept. There’d be no way we could store them all here.”
Nodding, Serendipity suddenly remembered it had not been that long ago that Maevis had asked to sell the last remaining warehouse. It had required making space in the hall for all of the fabric, hair, eyes, bisque heads, what remained of her father’s initial supply of paint--everything Serendipity used to assembly her art. “All of the money from the warehouses is gone then?” she confirmed.
Maevis’s curls bounded up and down as she assured Serendipity such was the case. “You know your mother sold off almost every single one of your father’s assets after the ship went down. Anything she could sell, she did, in an effort to keep her household afloat. The only thing she didn’t sell was the doll warehouses because…”
“Because my father had them listed in my name, as my property.”
“That’s right. We were down to one, just this last one…, and now it’s gone, too. If you were to sell the hall, there wouldn’t be any place left to keep the dolls. And there are so many left, thousands…”
“Seven thousand four hundred and ninety-six,” Serendipity replied, her eyes glossed over in deep thought, her unblinking stare landing somewhere over Maevis’s left shoulder near the front door.
Maevis just shook her head in disbelief, though she realized she should not have been shocked that Serendipity knew precisely how many dolls were left and how many she had completed. “Yes, I suppose so,” she replied. “And we wouldn’t want to displace them.”
“No, we cannot do that,” Serendipity agreed.
“So, we must find a way to continue to pay the few expenses we do have. But I am afraid that managing a courier service at this time is impossible.”
Serendipity’s blonde, matted, frizzy hair waved up and down like a large hat when she nodded her head in response. “Perhaps we could rent it out, a room or two, perhaps?”
Once again, Maevis shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s likely,” she began. The blank expression on her charge’s face led her to realize she would have to say more, despite the fact that she did not want to. After a while, she continued. “No one nearby would want to live at Marwolaeth, Serendipity. And I’m afraid rumors have spread into outlying areas as well. It would be rather difficult to procure a renter of any sorts since most people believe the place is…”
“Haunted?”
“Yes, and cursed.”
Serendipity’s expression shifted for a moment, her eyes narrowing but then rapidly widening. “Is it haunted, Maevis? Have you ever seen… anyone?”
Maevis’s was stone faced for a moment as she contemplated the purpose behind the question. At last she replied simply, “No, I’ve not seen… anyone.”
Whatever spark had momentarily flickered in Serendipity’s eyes was gone now. A moment later, she said simply, “Well, we will have to find a way to keep afloat then.”
Maevis knew there was no sense in pressing the issue just now. Serendipity was clearly exhausted and unable to make any sort of decision. Pushing the idea of selling the dolls would have to wait for another time, one when she was better equipped to make a financial decision. In the meantime, she would find a way to make the household meet at each end. She always had before. “All right, love,” she said returning her focus to the basket she had brought in as Serendipity’s attention returned to whatever she had been working on. “Here are the heads I fired yesterday.” She began to remove the fragile pieces from the basket, sitting them gently next to Lizzette on the table. “The fabric you requested is also here, and I brought you some soup and a couple of apples.”
At the mention of food, Serendipity instinctively wrinkled her nose, causing Maevis to waggle her finger in her direction as she said, “You must find time to eat, Serendipity. Otherwise, you will wither away.”
The shrugging of thin, boney shoulders let Maevis know that her threat was not necessarily a menacing one, and she let out another sigh. She couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for the transformation that had taken shape before her eyes starting with the day her father’s business associate had knocked on the door of Marwolaeth to report his death at sea, and the skittish creature who was afraid of her own mother, as well as her own shadow, had now turned to this grief stricken nearly unrecognizable former shadow of her bubbly self, who had locked herself away in retribution for a sin she would have never committed if Maevis had been present and able to provide her with assistance on that fateful day eight years ago. Several times, Maevis had broached the subject of responsibility with Serendipity, but it never did either of them any good. She insisted it had been her fault that her sisters and mother had died, even going so far as to blame her father’s death on herself as well. While Maevis repeated that it was an accident--everyone knew she had not switched the canisters on purpose, including Deputy Shillingpepper, who had released the young girl into Maevis’s care. There was no question that Serendipity’s actions could have been prevented if only Maevis had been in the kitchen that morning….
Maevis watched for a few moments as Serendipity worked at her craft table, laying out the hair for her next project and readying her tools. Clearly, she was not in the mood to talk today. Occasionally, when Maevis came to the cottage to visit, Serendipity would want to converse, but Maevis could never predict what circumstances would cause her to be chatty and what would prevent her from voicing whatever was on her mind. Maevis glanced around the room one last time, looking to see if there was anything else she could do to straighten the space. The lanterns were still full, since Serendipity rarely turned them on. Everything seemed to be in its place, and she was just about to turn to leave when something white caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, Maevis noticed an object that shouldn’t be in the cottage and turned to look at the suspect item. “What’s that?” she asked, staring in the direction of Serendipity’s rocking chair.Serend
It hadn’t taken long for Serendipity to get over her shock at Maevis’s departing words. She was certain that, even if Maevis had read the letter correctly, the information had to be incorrect, or else someone was playing a prank on her. She was quite certain that St. Nicholas was not trying to recruit her services. If there was such a person as Santa Claus in the first place, and she had stopped believing in him the year her father had passed away, there was little doubt in her mind that murderers could be on the Nice List, and why would St. Nicholas look to recruit a doll maker who wasn’t even on his list of those who deserved a gift?Serendipity had been extremely busy since the day the letter had arrived, not because of its existence, but because of the conversation she had carried out with Maevis that afternoon. The money was almost gone, which meant there would soon be no place for the dolls. She needed to finish them. At the rate she was going, it woul
Corey could hear in her voice that she was no one to be trifled with--not that day anyway. He had been in similar situations before, though never with someone in their youth such as Ms. Fizzlestitch. Generally speaking, the younger the crafter, the more capable he or she was of believing in magic. This was particularly true when it came to young ladies. Nevertheless, Serendipity was beginning to challenge him, and while he was up for the challenge, he was not up for the rain; snow was one thing--rain was something else entirely. “Very well, then,” he replied. “Might I trouble you for a drink of water then?” he called, hoping that he would make more progress with her if he could meet her face to face. Then, she could look into his dazzling green eyes and fall captive to his mesmerizing gaze as so many young ladies had before her.Serendipity was puzzled. She had not expected him to give up so quickly, nor had she expected him to make any requests of her
Serendipity looked at his hand as if she had no idea why he had held it out in her general direction. She adjusted Pozzletot on her shoulder. “Thank you for contemplating my work, Mr.….”“Cane, Cornelius Cane. But, please, call me Corey. All of my friends do,” he smiled, his hand still waiting for hers.“Mr. Cane,” Serendipity continued, “but I assure you I am not right for your team. And while I appreciate your consideration, I have neither the desire nor the ability to join you in the North Pole. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much work to do.”“But that’s the beauty of joining us,” Corey prodded, finally withdrawing his hand, glancing at it as if he were the one with some sort of unsightly stain before resting it on his hip. “There will be hundreds of elves assigned to your shop, Ms. Fizzlestitch. You’ll be in charge of supervising each of them so every doll is crafte
It didn’t take too long for Corey to navigate back to his home, considering he had magic traveling powers of his own, much like Santa’s though not as powerful, particularly when it came to speed and the manipulation of time. Nevertheless, he found himself pulling into what was now deemed the “airport” landing strip in no time, and the elves who oversaw the transfer of the flying teams to and from the barn quickly set to work freeing the reindeer from their harnesses, inspecting their condition, and moving them back to their stalls where they would be brushed, fed, and watered.Corey did not pause to speak to either the reindeer who had gotten him to and from his destination safely and speedily or the elves that greeted him as they went about their jobs. Instead, still keeping one hand securely in the pocket of his topcoat, he made his way swiftly back to his own lodgings, mindlessly nodding in response to a few passersby who yelled out to him in greeti
Before she even finished her sentence, Corey was up and making his way toward the swinging kitchen door. Once he entered the kitchen, he could see there was simply no excuse for Mr. Waddlebug not answering him when he had yelled for his servant earlier. He was sitting at the round kitchen table, one elbow supporting his rather large noggin, a well-worn book in one hand and a cup of steaming tea at the ready. When Corey entered, he didn’t even look up, as if he was mentally transported away by the story in hand. “Waddlebug!” Corey spat out in a sharp whisper. The sound of his name caught his attention, and the old elf sat up quickly, rattling the table and sending droplets of tea onto the wooden surface with a splash, his spoon clattering against the side of the china cup.“Sorry, sir,” he replied, righting his spoon and setting the book aside. “I didn’t hear you come in.”Corey had no time to argue.“Get me a j
When Maevis stopped by later that evening, she found Serendipity fast at work as usual. She was certainly not in a talkative mood either, not that she usually was, but on this particular night, she only made the occasional grunting noise to either agree or disagree with Maevis’s questions. This was particularly true when it came to Maevis’s inquiries about whether or not there had been any follow up to the letter she had discovered earlier.She had asked almost immediately if one of St. Nicholas’s assistants had ever come to speak with her. Serendipity had made an awful noise in the back of her throat, one Maevis took as either a stern “no” or a complete refusal to discuss the matter, so she had dropped the subject, no matter how badly the urge to press further raged within her.After a few more minor attempts at starting a conversation, Maevis finally made an ethereal noise of her own, and crossing her arms sternly said, “Fine then. I
If Maevis didn’t know Serendipity as well as she did, she might’ve allowed herself to become offended at the dismissive statement. But she knew better than to let Serendipity’s poor manners insult her. The possibility of pressing on anyway crossed her mind, and Maevis opened her mouth to ask another question, but then he closed it abruptly when she realized that Serendipity was done with the conversation before it even began. Giving up, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, picked up the basket she had brought with her off of the table, and turned to the door. As she pulled it open, she said, “You should have told me.” There was no answer.“Be careful,” she added as she stepped out, pulling the door to behind her.As she made her way down off of the rickety front steps, she noticed the same footprints in the mud outside.How had she missed them before? There were two matching sets. One that distinctly led up to t