The Doll Maker's Daughter at Christmas Chapter 15

I've been posting the chapters of my newest novel as I finish. If you'd like to follow from the beginning, please click here. Also, keep in mind these have not been edited yet. In this chapter, we actually get to see the real Corey--and I think he's kinda likable. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Leave a comment and let me know if you like the story so far.

Chapter Fifteen

A Charming Carriage Ride

A knock at the door caught the words in Serendipity’s throat. Perhaps it was a good thing, as she wasn’t exactly sure how to reply to Maevis’s statement.  She didn’t know precisely how many times Corey had knocked, but she pulled herself to her feet, wiped the tears away from her eyes, and crossed to the door, all without saying a word.  

She threw off the lock and pulled the door open, blinking against the sun, and saying nothing, she turned to get her coat--her mother’s coat--off of the hook by the door.  Maevis crossed over quickly and helped her put it on, neither of them addressing the man standing in the doorway.

At last, as Serendipity turned to face her, Maevis straightened the fur collar around her neck, and said quietly, “Take care, my darling,” and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Serendipity nodded her head and said quietly, “I will see you soon,” before looking around her cottage one last time and stepping out onto the porch.

The expression of confusion on Corey’s face was telling, and it at least made Maevis remember her manners, if not her charge. “Mr. Cane,” she said, offering him her hand as Serendipity stepped past them off of the porceh, “I’m Maevis Thrinsplit, Serendipity’s caretaker.”

“I see,” he stammered, looking from the older woman to the back of the younger one who was now standing a few feet away, her back to him, waiting as patiently as possible for him to come along. “And--that’s Serendipity?” he asked.

Maevis chuckled, realizing for the first time that he had not seen her since the scrubbing and brushing. “Oh, yes,” she replied. “She looks a bit different once she’s cleaned up, eh?”

Corey could feel his cheeks warming, sure they were turning red as well, something that rarely happened. “Uh, yes,” he replied. “Unrecognizable.”

“Take very good care of her, won’t you, Mr. Cane?” Maevis requested, her eyes narrowing in warning.

“Of course,” he assured her, patting Maevis on the arm.  “She will be in excellent hands.”

Maevis said nothing, only squinted one eye slightly, a look that could only mean Mr. Cane had better keep his promise or suffer her wrath, one way or another.

“Look there!” Serendipity shouted just then and bounded across the yard towards the little copse of trees. Beneath them, in the same vicinity where Maevis had found hoof marks was a sparkling silver sleigh complete with two reindeer fastened outfront, standing perfectly still as if they were statues.  “Aren’t they wonderful?” Serendipity asked as she approached them. She offered her hand, as if to show them she meant no harm, and it was only than that they began to move, both giving a simple nod, as if it was the only way they could signal that they should like to be petted.

“These are two of our finest reindeer,” Corey explained following behind her at a much more leisurely pace.  Maevis closed the door to Serendipity’s cottage and crossed the yard as well.  “This is Dunder, and this is Blixen.” He gestured at each of them as he gave their names, and each one nodded in introduction.

“They’re stunning,” Serendipity exclaimed as she continued to pet them.  “Are they sisters?”

“I’m not sure,” Corey admitted. “I thought they were male…” he glanced down as if he were checking something.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Serendipity replied, “Unless it’s some sort of magic. That is, they fly with full antlers in December, and everyone knows that male reindeer lose their antlers in November. And these reindeer have such enormous antlers. I would say they are just about to lose them in the spring, after they have their babies. Isn’t that right?” The reindeer seemed to agree with her, and Serendipity continued to pet them on their heads, noses, and ears, causing them to lose their statuesque qualities almost immediately and become quite playful.

“How in the world do you know that?” Corey asked, wondering  how this fact had been left out of his bank of knowledge for all of these years when he had grown up in the North Pole.  

“My father taught me,” Serendipity replied, glancing over her shoulder at Corey. “Of course, it’s possible that Christmas reindeer are different than regular reindeer….” The reindeer tossed their heads about as if to say she was correct in her presumption that all reindeer are the same. “But I’m quite certain these ladies are, in fact, ladies.” Serendipity smiled now, genuinely, perhaps for the first time in many years.

And her smile was catching. Corey found himself smiling as well, noticing how she had one dimple on the left side of porcelain-like face and how her eyes were still the same shade of icy blue but they also had small flecks of silver-gray in them.  “You’re quite the animal expert, aren’t you, Ms. Fizzlestitch?”

“Please, call me Serendipity,” she replied. “I shouldn’t think of myself as an expert, only someone who really appreciates animals.  That’s why I am looking forward to collecting my sweet Pozzletot as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, of course,” Corey replied, remembering himself and the meaning behind his mission.  “Well then, if I may help you into the carriage, we shall be on our way.” He offered his hand to her so that he could help her inside.

Before she took his outstretched hand, she turned back to Maevis who was standing a few feet behind them. “Goodbye,” she said quietly, throwing her arms around her friend’s neck.

“Goodbye, my sweet,” Maevis whispered. “Give it a go, won’t you?”

The familiar words caught Serendipity’s attention, and her eyes widened for just a second. She wasn’t sure if Maevis had chosen those words--her father’s words--on purpose or not, but they struck home with her. She nodded and managed to stutter out, “Please take care of my other mice friends while I am away.”

“Yes, of course,” Maevis assured her. “I’ll look after them.”

With that, Serendipity took Corey’s gloved hand and pulled herself into the carriage, something she hadn’t done for many years.  With a wave to Maevis, he took his place beside her, picked up the reins in one hand, and then turned to Serendipity and said, “You shall want to hold on tightly.”

“To what?” she asked, her forehead puckering in fear.

“To anything,” he replied. He gave the reins a quick snap, and the entire sleigh, team, and passengers disappeared into the sky. Maevis found herself standing in an empty yard staring at a copse of trees, tears streaming down her face as she began to realize Serendipity was gone and she had no idea of knowing when she might be back.

Serendipity had only a moment to grab ahold of “anything” and so one hand had flown to the handle of the carriage next to her, the other to Corey’s arm.  The sleigh was a small one, possibly built for one large person or two small people, and since she was slight and he was rather regular sized, they fit snuggly.  Nevertheless, once she had her bearings and realized she was not about to topple out, she did not release either of her grips, though her breathing began to steady to a normal rate.

“Are you quite all right?” he asked once they had reached cruising altitude.  They were traveling at a speed he could not quite explain to her, should she ask, but he was able to adjust their own interpretation of that speed so that she could now see a bit of her surroundings. It was nearly dusk now, and she was able to make out a few stars, the ocean beneath them, and the occasional island.

“I’m fine,” she replied after a long pause. “That was some takeoff.”

“Wasn’t it? These are two of our fastest in the stable,” he explained.

“How long shall our journey take?” Serendipity asked. She began to realize that her hand was still grasping Corey’s arm, and she released her grip, sliding her hand from beneath his arm and returning it to her lap, though her grip on the railing to her left did not change.

“Only twenty minutes or so at this speed,” he said.  “We will have to travel through the dome, which is a strange sensation, but not painful, and then we shall be in the Village.”

“The dome?” Serendipity repeated. “And what, precisely, is the dome?”

Corey had answered that  questions many times, but usually the person asking the question did not really want an answer; he or she just wanted assurance that they were not about to meet their demise. Serendipity, however, was different. His typical answer may not suffice for her.  He began to explain. “You see, there’s a sort of a magical force field all around the North Pole and the lands directly in the vicinity. This helps to protect St. Nicholas and his workers from intruders or the overly curious.  The dome helps regulate the temperature in the North Pole. It provides us with day and night similar to what you are used to, rather than months of day followed by months of night, and it provides stabilization to the landmass beneath us, which is mostly made up of large floating blocks of ice.”

Serendipity listened carefully to his explanation, and at its conclusion, she nodded her head and said, “This dome seems very important.”

“It is,” Corey assured her. “It is one of the most important aspects of the North Pole. Without it, we simply could not do what we do.”

“Interesting,” Serendipity replied, continuing to ponder his statements.  She felt herself shivering a bit, despite the warm coat Maevis had provided for her, and she pulled it more tightly around her thin shoulders.  Corey must have noticed as he produced a blanket, from where, Serendipity was not quite sure, and he used one hand to help her spread it over her legs as he steered the sleigh with the other.  “Thank you,” she said quietly.  She couldn’t help but notice he was staring at her, which made her feel very uncomfortable.  “Is everything quite all right?” she asked, wondering if one of her hairpins had come undone or if she had somehow managed to get more paint on her face despite Maevis’s careful attempt to prevent such an atrocity from happening.

Corey looked away quickly. “Everything is fine,” he assured her.  Glancing back at her, he caught her smoothing back her hair, and letting out a sigh, he said, “It’s just… you look so much different than you did the first time I came to visit you, that’s all.”

“Oh, that,” Serendipity muttered, pulling the blanket back around her arm as she tucked it inside.  “Well, Maevis insisted that I have a bath and wash my hair before I step foot outside of my cottage. I suppose she was afraid I might frighten someone, what with my paint stained hands and messy hair.”

Corey laughed along with her, remembering clearly what a frazzled state she had been in only a few days ago when he had first met her.  “Yes, you definitely look… cleaner…,” he admitted, choosing not to add that she also smelled much better, but then he added, “but you also look… happier.”

Serendipity was surprised; she wasn’t sure what he meant. “Happier?” she repeated. “How do you mean?”

Clearing his throat, Corey continued, unsure of whether or not the path he had chosen to take was the right one. “Well, I just mean that… seeing you with the deer earlier, seeing you in the sunshine. You seemed… happy--content. Before, you just seemed… angry.”

Pondering his words, Serendipity was silent for several moments.  Finally she said, “Perhaps you just caught be at a bad time. I think I’m usually rather content at home, while I’m making my dolls.”

Shrugging, Corey said, “Possibly.  I don’t have much experience to draw from, that’s for certain.  It’s just that… do you ever feel that sometimes you enjoy doing your job--but it doesn't’ make you happy? I mean really, truly happy?”

The question was an interesting one, and Serendipity couldn’t help but reflect upon it.  “I suppose,” she finally admitted. “I mean, making dolls is my passion; it’s what I’ve dedicated my life to, and I will never be anything other than a doll maker.  I’m not sure if it will always make me truly happy, but it’s what I shall always do.”

“Couldn’t there be more?” Corey asked--the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“More? Whatever do you mean?” she asked, staring at him in fascination.

“I mean, why can’t you be a doll maker and.”

“A doll maker and what?”

“Well, that’s the beauty of it,” he replied, relaxing a bit, realizing he did know where he was going with this after all.  “A doll maker and--anything. A doll maker and a friend. A doll maker and a neighbor.  A doll maker and a reindeer expert.” She chuckled, which pushed him to continue. “A doll maker and an explorer. Whatever adventure you’d like to take on--couldn’t you do that and be a doll maker?”

Serendipity had never, not once in the last fifteen years since her father had passed, ever considered herself anything other than a doll maker--except for perhaps a doll maker in the making when she was very young.  As she watched stars whiz by around her, Corey’s words began to open a small window in her mind, the window of possibility. But she was frightened by what lie on the other side, frightened by the implications; in order to get there, she’d have to forgive herself for what she had done--and she could not even consider that possibility, not at this juncture anyway. Still, as she determined to avoid an answer and turn the focus back on him instead, the window was open, just a crack, but enough to let a small ray of light began to pour in.  “And what of you, Mr. Cornelius Cane? What is your and?”

Corey smiled slyly, the right side of his face turning up more so than the left, and Serendipity realized he was quite charming. “I have several ands,” he assured her. “I am a recruiter, that is true. I am also a collector, as I go back and collect those I recruit.” She chuckled, wondering if he had already classified herself as a successful recruit. “I am a friend, a son, a brother.” That last one came out a bit sharper than Serendipity anticipated, and she wondered to herself if there was some sort of a dispute between Corey and his sibling--or siblings as the case may be. “I am… a lot of things. Perhaps too many things,” he finally admitted with a shrug.

“And are you happy?” she asked, her hand returning to his coat sleeve for just a moment, just long enough for him to glance down at her pale thin fingers, before she pulled it away.

He hesitated.  It was a difficult question.  “I am happy,” he said, but it sounded forced. Her eyebrow went up, and he continued. “I think one can be very successful at his or her place of employment and truly enjoy what he or she does, which leads to happiness. But I also think it’s possible to be so lost in one’s job that one loses perspective and begins to confuse happiness with accomplishment.”

He glanced in her direction and could instantly tell that she already knew what he was not yet willing to admit to himself; he fit in the later category. Was he happy? Of course not. Was he doing what he wanted to do with his life? Well, he had never imagined himself doing anything else.  He changed the subject. “Let me tell you a bit about our facilities,” he began.

“Why?” she asked that right eyebrow arched again. “I’ll only be there for a few moments, just long enough to collect Pozzletot.”

“True,” Corey replied, swallowing hard. “But it is part of my job to do so, and doing my job makes me quite happy, and you do want me to be happy, don’t you, Serendipity?”

There was that charming grin again, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “All right then,” she acquiesced, smiling in return. “I shall humor you.”

“Very good,” he said, continuing to smile. “Each of the toymakers comes from afar to join us in the North Pole.  They all have their own lodging, as big or as small as he or she chooses. Those who bring a family with them naturally want more room.”

“You may bring your family with you?” Serendipity asked, surprised.

“Oh, yes, of course, if you choose to do so, and if your family would like to come.” She nodded, and he continued. “You will also have your own shop in the town square.”

“They have--not I will have,” she corrected him.

“Right, of course. Not you--as you are not staying.  Forgive me.” She chuckled, and he continued. “The artists have a team of elves that work exclusively with them. The artist designs the toys and can be as involved as he or she wants to be. So, you--or they, whichever you prefer--could choose to continue to make the toys alongside the elves, or leave it up to them.  You would have total freedom over how you choose to run your shop so long as quotas are met--and they always are.”

She was still listening, her hand resting on her chin beneath the blanket.  “There are several shops in the Village, as there are in other villages, and anything you might need or want can be procured.  It’s quite lovely--decorated for Christmas year round as you can imagine. There’s also the stable, where I’m sure you would want to spend a great quantity of your free time, that is, if you were going to stay.”

“Which I am not,” she reminded him.

“Which you are not,” he repeated, his hand absently smoothing the peak of his hair.

“It all sounds quite wonderful,” she admitted.  “I’m sure that most people who come here stay.”

“Everyone who comes here stays,” he corrected her.

“What’s that?” she asked, not sure she heard him correctly.

“At least since I’ve been in charge of recruiting,” he clarified. “Not one person has ever chosen to leave.”

“Oh,” she said, the surprise evident in her voice.  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Serendipity continued.

“Why is that?” Corey asked, looking directly at her now.

“Because I should hate to be the one to ruin your perfect record.”

“Then don’t be,” he said smiling.

For a moment, Serendipity lost herself in his eyes, and she began to wonder what it might be like to stay--to make her dolls in the North Pole, to work for St. Nicholas, to play with the reindeer and enjoy the sunshine, perhaps even to be friends with Corey, who seemed to be much more intriguing than she initially thought. And as she began to ponder the slight possibility of giving it a go, he asked another question.

“Do you think your family would like to come?”

And the window slammed shut.

“I haven’t a family,” she replied, turning away from him.  

Corey realized his mistake only a moment too late. Of course he knew she didn’t have a family, knew what had happened to them.  He was so used to asking the question, it slipped out before he could stop himself. She had turned away from him, but he could see she was wiping away tears. He had been so close, almost had her, and then this blunder. He had likely ruined his chances. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the ice cold glass flask he had received from Ingrid. He had been hopeful he wouldn’t have to use it. Now, however, it seemed inevitable.  They were approaching the edge of the dome, and he knew he only had a few more moments to talk her into staying. Sure, there would be other chances once they landed, but the carriage ride was always where he was most successful at convincing recruits to stay. He needed to think of something to say--something intelligent--and do so quickly. Finally, he said the only phrase that seemed to make any sense at all.  Placing his hand gently on her shoulder, he said quietly, “Serendipity, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.  I apologize.”

It took her several moments to respond.  She had been swiping away at tears, absently wondering how long it would take for them to freeze.  The feel of his hand on her shoulder brought her back out of the abyss.  She turned to face him, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He smiled at her, but this smile was different. While still charming, it seemed sincere.  It was as if he truly felt her pain and understood what it must be like to have lived with her consequences everyday for these past eight years.  She took a deep breath and looked away, leaning back in her seat, and Corey removed his hand as she did so, taking the reins in both hands now.  They rode on, both lost in the solace of their own minds.

A few minutes later, Serendipity realized the night sky was getting rapidly lighter.  The stars began to fade, and looking below, she could see nothing but fields of ice and snow.

“We’re almost to the dome,” Corey explained.  “When we go through, you’ll notice a sort of an odd sensation, like you’re sliding through a thin layer of jam.”

That didn’t sound particularly pleasant to Serendipity, but she supposed she could handle it in order to get Pozzletot back.  “All right. Is there anything in particular I need to do?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, “Only make sure you keep your whole self inside of the carriage.  The magic knows what belongs and what doesn’t. It recognizes the carriage but not you. So, stay inside of the carriage.”

Serendipity nodded and promptly removed her hand from the railing, just in case her fingers would somehow be severed from her body. Corey laughed and wrapped his arm around her as they flew into the outer edge of the dome.  Serendipity closed her eyes tightly as the strange sensation of being covered with a thin layer of slime came over her body. And just as soon as the feeling was there, it was gone, and they had entered back into nighttime.

Corey pulled his arm from around her, and she looked him in the eyes, waiting for his assurance that they were safe. He nodded, and she pulled herself to the side of the sleigh, looking intently over the edge as they flew over the outer mountain range. She saw what appeared to be a sparkling palace high atop a mountainous peak. There were waterfalls, icebergs floating down winding rivers, and as they drew closer to the ground, she could see groups of polar bears and penguins playing together in the snow. She gasped in delight and giggled with glee as she watched two baby polar bears play catch with a snowball. “Is this real?” she asked in amazement.

“Yes, quite real,” Corey assured her, “with a touch of magic.”

“How wonderful!” Serendipity exclaimed. Then, before her eyes rose a towering structure made solidly of wood. It appeared to be a giant snow lodge of some sort with animals carved into the logs--polar bears, penguins, and of course, reindeer.  Through the windows, she could see hundred of elves in brightly colored costumes of red and green working.  The other buildings were smaller but of similar design. Corey circled around so she could see each of them, all adorned with thousand of twinkling lights.  “How do they work?” she asked, pointing to the dazzling display.

“Magic,” he replied, “and electricity.”

“Elect--what?” she asked having never heard of such a thing.

He laughed. “You’ll see. Now come on; it’s time to land.”

The reindeer instinctively slowed down as the runway came into view.  The stop was not at all jarring and before she knew it, Serendipity was back on solid ground, or at least what seemed to be solid ground. For all she knew, she was perched atop a floating iceberg. There were two jolly looking, stocky men, one with a long gray beard and the other with a shorter brown one, there to greet them, and Serendipity couldn’t help but giggle with glee as they made their way to the sleigh. One of them waved hello and went directly to the reindeer. The other, the gray bearded gentleman,  stopped next to Corey as if he were awaiting direction.

Corey stepped lithely out of the carriage and presented his hand for Serendipity, who was now jumping up and down with excitement. She grabbed a hold of his hand and swung herself out of the carriage, landing in the snow in front of him.  “Hello there!” she called to the elf who was standing nearby.

“Ms. Serendipity,” he said, bowing, “it’s quite wonderful to make your acquaintance. We have heard much about you--though not all of it is true,” he added under his breath.

If she understood this last part, she did not let on. “I’m delighted to be here,” she squealed, momentarily forgetting her abhoration at the thought only hours ago.

Corey did catch the last part of the elf’s comment, however, and he was not amused. “Castleberry,” he said sharply, “please help Hillstent take care of the reindeer. The sleigh is in perfect order and is in no need of repairs at this time.”

Serendipity looked at Corey in wonder. Why had he, the second they landed, become that gruff matter-of-fact person she didn’t quite like once again? “Is everything all right?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“Fine,” he replied, forcing a smile. “Now come along. We have one stop to make before we can collect Pozzletot and have you on your way.”

“A stop?” Serendipity repeated. “But I thought…”

“It shall only take a moment,” Corey assured her, offering his arm.

Serendipity did not take it, the questioning expression still on her face. Instead, she turned back to Castleberry and said, “It was wonderful to meet you. Thank you ever so much for your help.”

He smiled in return, peering at her beneath his thick glasses, and she offered a wave to Hillstent as he unhooked the reindeer and led them towards the barn, returning the gesture as he did so.

She followed Corey through the snow, which covered most of her boots with each step. His pace was quicker than she was used to, having only walked to and fro in her own living room most of the last several years, and she struggled to keep up. As they passed the barn, however, she stopped altogether, and it took him several seconds to realize he had lost her. With an audible sigh, he turned back around to see she was captivated by the dozens of large brown eyes that watched her from various pens.  “Can I go in?” she asked that look of wonder causing her eyes to sparkle.

“All right then,” Corey finally acquiesced.  She bounded off through the open barn door, and he begrudgingly followed, not sure why he was in such a hurry anyway; the longer she stayed on her own, the more likely she was to stay permanently without any interference on is part. Still, he was in a rush to get this over with. If he was going to have to force her to stay, he’d rather get it done with.

Serendipity stopped at each stall to pet the inhabitants on the head, feed them carrots offered to her by an elf she learned was called Snowshoes, and to scratch behind every ear.  She went down one side and was just about to make her way up the other when she covered her mouth with both hands and gasped in excitement. “Look at him!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t he precious?”

“This is our newest addition,” Snowshoes explained. “He was born last spring.”

“Not even a year old yet!” Serendipity squealed as she stepped forward to pet the youngster on the head. “How sweet!” He began to lick her hands, and she leaned down and let him lick her face. Corey stood behind her, off to the side, a look of disgust on his face, his arms crossed. “What’s your name, sweet boy?” she asked the deer.

“He hasn’t got one yet,” Snowshoes explained.  “We’ve tried different ones out on him, but nothing seems just right, you know?”

“Yes, I do,” Serendipity replied, nodding her head. “I had the same issue with Pozzletot. Now, you might think that is a strange name, but I tried all sorts of regular names with him before I finally settled on that one. He hated being called Harold or Frederick. But when I began to call him Pozzletot, well, that’s when I knew we would be best of friends.”

Snowshoes nodded, stroking his long gray beard as he did so. “That’s kinda like me,” he explained. “My ma didn’t know what to call me either until she realized I had size twelve feet at two months old.”

Serendipity glanced down. While he did have rather large feet, she was certain he was joking; surely he was joking.  “Everyone needs a name that fits,” she said still staring lovingly at the eyes of the baby reindeer which continued to kiss her.

“Guess your ma named you right,” Snowshoes offered, causing her to pause and look at him questioningly. “I mean, it sure is good fortune that you’re here with us now.”

For a brief moment, the weight of his words caused her to stop petting the creature, until he moved his head under her hand and made her realize she needed to continue.  As she did so, she said absently, “Actually, my father named me Serendipity.”

“Smart man,” Snowshoes replied.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, not sure she agreed. And then, turning to the baby, she said, “Oh, I could stay here and pet you all night, darling, but I must go now.” He licked her one more time, causing her to temporarily forget the wayward comment. “Such a sweet boy.” She patted him on the nose one more time and then stepped away. Turning to speak to Snowshoes, to tell him goodbye, she noticed something odd hanging on a hook behind his head. “Whatever is that?” she asked.

He glanced up, not sure what she was referring to, and then realizing what she meant, he said, “Oh this?  Well, this little guys is quick as lightening, and it turns out he’s real good at finding things that get lost--like a stray carrot, or a jingle bell that comes off of the reins, or…

“A giant elf slipper,” Castleberry offered as he walked by with more food for Dunder and Blixen.

“All right, wise guy,” Snowshoes offered. “Anyways, sometimes things get lost in the coal mine, or out in the snowdrifts, so we was trying to come up with a way to attach a light to this guy’s head, so he could see better in them dark places, help us find missing stuff.”

“Oh,” Serendipity nodded. “And why is it red?”

“The light’s red because it don’t have the same kinda glare as a regular white light.”

“I see.  May I?” she asked, gesturing to take it off of the wall.

“Sure,” he said, helping her remove the contraption.  It was a simple red light, though how it was powered she wasn’t sure--perhaps by that electricity thing Corey spoke of earlier--and it had two straps. Snowshoe showed her how it fit around the top of the baby reindeer’s head. He stood perfectly still as they put it on him. “Only problem is,” he began as the light slipped down off of the reindeer’s head and over his eyes, “we can’t figure out a way to get it to stay in place without it being too tight.”

Serendipity pondered the design for a second. She could see what he was saying. If the strap that went around his head was any tighter, it would hurt him. The one that went under his chin seemed just about right, but that didn’t prevent it from slipping down over his eyes. Then, she had an idea. “What if you… hooked it around here, like so, over his ears, and then rested it on his nose?” she asked, demonstrating the best she could as she spoke.

“You mean, light up his nose instead of his forehead?” Snowshoes asked.

“Yes, that way, if it slipped at all, it wouldn’t slide over his eyes,” Serendipity continued.

“Hey now, that ain’t a bad idea,” Snowshoes replied, studying the design. “That ain’t a bad idea at all!” Castleberry and Hillstent, who had been listening nearby agreed. “Boy, you’re somethin’ else, Ms. Fizzlestitch.”

“Please, call me Serendipity,” she smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be off. I’m afraid I’ve made Mr. Cane wait long enough.”

“Thanks a lot, Ms…. Serendipity,” Snowshoes called after her.

Serendipity turned and waved over her shoulder and then turned her attention to Corey, who seemed to be peering at her rather closely. “What is it?” she asked, holding back a grin.

“I’m just making sure you don’t have any reindeer slobber on your face,” he replied, leading her back out into the softly falling snow.

Serendipity glanced up in amazement; it had been years since she had walked in a snowfall.  Still snickering at Corey’s remark, she tipped her head back and let the snowflakes land on her tongue, laughing with joy each time she caught one.  Finally, seeing him shake his head at her out of her corner of her eye, she asked, “What? Haven’t you ever caught snowflakes before?”

“Perhaps. A long time ago. When I was a child,” he admitted shrugging.

“Well, why not now?” she asked. “Oh, Corey, can’t you see the magic all around you? or are you so close to it that it’s blinded you?”

The twinkle in her eye caught his attention for a moment, and for just that instance, he almost considered taking her up on her offer. But then, seeing her rub her hands together, another thought crossed his mind, one with less wild abandon.  “I have a different sort of magic,” he replied, “a more practical kind.” With the wave of his hands, he produced a warm pair of mittens in a shade of red that matched her coat almost exactly.

“Oh, my,” she gasped. “How ever did you do that?”

“Real magic,” he said nonchalantly.

As she slipped the mittens on, her hands instantly becoming warm, she asked, “And do you think my sort of magic, the simple kind, to be childish then?”

“Not at all,” he replied, shaking his head. “In fact, I think it suits you well.  And I’m happy to see you so joyful.”

His choice of words was not lost on her. Smiling, she slipped her arm through his and said, “I’m overjoyed to see you so happy.”

He genuinely smiled then, something that was rare despite the amount of times he plastered a grin on his face each day. “Come along, Ms. Fizzlestitch,” he said as he led her down the winding path amidst the twinkling lights, the draped greenery, and the bright red bows. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

“Is he magic, too?” she asked, fairly certain who it was.

“Oh, yes,” Corey assured her. “He makes my magic look like… child’s play.”

As they walked along, arm in arm, Serendipity couldn’t help but think back to a long-haired blonde, frightened child who was desperately in need of some magic, and she wondered if that little girl could find it in her heart to forgive the one she had called upon so many years ago to save her--the one who had been nowhere to be found.