by Emma Savant
“I wish there was a Glimmering mall,” I said. “I want all the hidden shops in Portland to just be in one place. Could you maybe use your super-awesome Heir powers to make that happen?”
Olivia snorted. “That’d be such a pain to glamour,” she said.
The last major new Glimmering building had been a hotel. It wasn’t even that large and it had still taken just about forever to get the building approved, constructed, and properly hidden from the Hums. I’d seen updates on the construction in the newspaper for years before the place had finally opened its doors.
Still, I wanted it. The Humdrum mall was a fun place to hang out and people-watch, but it wasn’t like I could do much actual shopping there, at least when it came to stuff like this.
We needed a holiday mall.
A busy, seasonal, Glimmering holiday mall.
I frowned at a stack of duct tape wallets as the gears began turning in my head.
I burst into Olivia’s sitting room. The door banged against a side table and rattled a cluster of potted vines.
“I figured it out!” I announced.
I waited for her praise and admiration. Instead, I was met with a blank look.
“Wait, what?”
So much for a grand entrance. I deflated and dropped onto her couch. She handed me a ready-made glass of sparkling cranberry juice laced with fairy dust. I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up on the couch.
“Nice socks,” she said.
She put her own feet up, too, and I poked her big toe with mine. Our socks matched: They were made of an adorable kawaii panda bear print. Olivia’s toes were edged in pink; mine were in blue. They’d been gifts from our friend Elle right before I headed off to Institut Glänzen.
“So what did you figure out?” she said. She balled up one of the throw pillows and wedged it behind her neck so she could lounge properly.
“Elvira,” I said. “I know how we can help them.”
I knew the problems: Money, exposure, and the lack thereof. And I knew the solution couldn’t be as simple as Olivia holding another press conference. She couldn’t play favorites by publicly endorsing the designers, and the Faerie Queen and Heir’s official wardrobes were already sponsored by carefully selected Glimmering businesses, so that was a dead end.
Aside from making sure a journalist was around when she bought a piece for her personal wardrobe, there really wasn’t much we could do for them.
Until now.
Because I was freaking brilliant.
I held up my hands as if I were spreading out a banner.
“A holiday bazaar,” I said.
I waited for her reaction, and of course there was none, because Olivia always had to think everything through. She but her bottom lip and I could see the gears turning in her head.
I didn’t have time for her to put the pieces together on her own.
“A holiday bazaar,” I repeated. “You can’t play favorites with specific businesses, but you can support a friend’s charity project. I’ll put together a shopping event for Glims, the proceeds will all go to a charity or whatever, and everyone who signs up for a table will make a ton of sales and get a ton of free exposure. And we’ll charge for most of the tables, but we’ll also give away a couple spots and act like it’s from some random drawing or something, and one of the free spots will go to Elvira.” I waved my hands in a grand flourish. “Problem solved.”
“One event isn’t going to earn them enough money to stay open forever,” Olivia said.
“It doesn’t have to,” I said. “Their stuff is awesome. Their biggest problem is getting the word out. That’s what this will do!”
Now, I waited. The gears turned in Olivia’s head. And then, at last, a smile spread across her features.
“Gen,” she said. “That’s kind of brilliant.”
“Obviously,” I said.
She sat up, refilled her juice from the carafe on the coffee table, and topped off my drink. She sprinkled a tiny, Olivia-sized pinch of fairy dust on my drink from the little bowl. I added another one for good measure.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m in. Completely in. What’s the plan?”
It was almost terrifying how quickly it all came together. Having the Heir on my side was the greatest promotion I could ask for. All Olivia had to do was send a press release out with the official seal of the Waterfall Palace, and by the end of the week I had dozens of messages coming in daily on the JinxNet site we’d set up. Glimmering businesses from all over town wanted a piece of the action, and before I knew it, we had over a hundred vendors signed up for tables.
Elvira, unfortunately, wasn’t one of them.
We had barely a week until the event. I wasn’t concerned about throwing the bazaar together in that amount of time. It was a huge undertaking, sure, but I was born for huge undertakings—especially ones involving magic and shopping. But I couldn’t pull Elvira’s name out of the free giveaways hat if they didn’t bother to sign up in the first place.
By the time we were down to five days, I was fed up with waiting. It wasn’t a long trip to their shop—and besides, I had to get away from Maia. She’d volunteered to help with the bazaar, and I regretted letting her get involved more and more with every passing day. This morning, she’d informed me that it really wasn’t appropriate for confectioners to have tables at the event, because chocolates and candies weren’t really the healthiest way to celebrate the holiday.
“It’s a common misconception that weight gain near the holidays is unavoidable,” she’d lectured. “Making wise food choices can save us from a world of regret come January.”
She’d then stuffed her face with an extra pumpkin cookie, because after all, she was “eating for two” and “pumpkin is a wonderful source of fiber!”
I wanted to poke her eye out with my wand.
Instead, I pulled on my hat and gloves and marched out of the house and to the nearest fountain.
Elvira’s shop was warm and smelled like toasted almonds this time. Again, I was hit with the urge to curl up in a corner and live there.
Instead, I marched to the counter. Anastasia was there, hanging necklaces on a tiny glittering Christmas tree.
“Hi!” I said brightly. “How’s it going?”
She smiled, and I thought the expression looked forced.
“It’s great,” she lied. I could feel the lie in the air between us; what was worse was that I could tell it wasn’t being told out of malice or even a desire to follow the rules of polite small talk. She was really trying to convince herself. “Is there anything I can help you find?”
“I’m here to promote Heir Olivia’s charity bazaar,” I said. I pulled a flyer out of my pocket, unfolded it, and smoothed it on the counter. The words First Annual Holiday Bazaar were written across the crimson paper in sparkling gold letters, followed by Theme: Glimmering Garlands in silver. The smell of fresh pine needles wafted up from the paper, thanks to a charm I’d cleverly enchanted into the ink.
“I heard about that,” Anastasia said. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear.
“It’s a great opportunity to get some exposure in the Glimmering community,” I said. “Tables are available for only two gold suns, and we’re renting out larger booths near the front for two suns and a moon. Proceeds go to support the Little Match Girl Children’s Fund.”
Anxiety rose off her as I spoke; not strong, but enough that it rippled across the bare skin of my hands and face.
“Thanks for the information,” Anastasia said.
It was code for no. It was also my cue. I pulled another piece of paper out of my pocket, this one small and white and covered with blank lines.
“We’re also giving away three spots for free,” I said. “We’ll be holding the drawing for the winning tables tomorrow. I love your stuff here and I wanted to be sure you had a chance to enter.”
Anastasia’s polite smile warmed up a few degrees. She pulled the green paper toward her and skimmed over the tex
t, taking in the time and location. I put the white paper on the table, followed by a pen.
She pursed her lips, then took a deep breath and nodded quickly.
“What the heck,” she said. “May as well.”
She filled it out quickly, her handwriting round and fluid. Then, as if she were afraid of changing her mind, she shoved the paper at me. I almost felt her heart flutter.
If she was this nervous about entering, I could only imagine how excited she’d be when they won.
“Thanks,” she said, as I pocketed the paper and pen again.
“I hope you get one of them!” I said, hoping my lying didn’t come across to her as obviously as hers had to me. It wasn’t exactly a lie. I did want them to win. It just couldn’t be classified as anything so wishy-washy as a hope.
“Me too,” she said.
“Good luck!” I said, and turned to leave.
“Wait one second,” she said. She reached for a small tray of business cards sitting on the counter and handed me a card. “We’re going to be downsizing in a couple of months, but we’ll still have merchandise available on the JinxNet. Keep us in mind.”
I took the card. “Will do,” I said.
Not that I’d be needing it. As far as I was concerned, Elvira wasn’t going anywhere.
“You,” I said, staring down at my nieces and nephews with the most stern expression I could muster. “Go. Away. Now.”
The twins cracked up laughing at me, and the toddler looked between me and them and back at me, and then he burst into high-pitched squeals, too. He had exactly three teeth and they all showed when he started shrieking.
Those teeth were so freaking cute it almost made me angry.
I grabbed him, cuddled him and kissed his chubby cheeks, and then set him back on the carpet.
“Seriously,” I said. “Scram.”
The other two dove for my legs. I stood there while they hugged me as hard as they could, staring back over my shoulder at Olivia.
I was obviously in dire need of the assistance of my best friend and future queen.
So, of course, she sat on my bed and smirked.
Finally, they got bored and ran off down the hallways, screaming at the tops of their lungs and banging on the walls with their tiny sticky hands.
I closed the door and locked it with a charm.
“You do actually like them,” Olivia said. I wasn’t sure if it was an accusation or a question. Whatever the comment, I refused to dignify it with an answer.
I took my mirror off my desk and propped it on the bed. This mirror had a bright teal mosaic edge and a kickstand on the back to keep it upright, which did exactly nothing on my fluffy comforter. I threw a quick charm onto the bed, creating a flat surface of hard air for the mirror to rest on.
Then I nudged Olivia toward the wall and curled up next to her.
The mirror found Elvira quickly this time. Its silvery surface rippled and smoothed, revealing the four of them sitting at a large table in someone’s house, each hunched over a pile of fabric or whirring sewing machine.
“Do they ever just sit around and play games on their phones?” I said. I’d never seen them be anything but busy. For that matter, everything I’d seen them do was basically about making other people happy. It was almost enough to make a person feel insecure.
Irene pulled a piece of fabric away from her machine and clipped off the threads. She lifted the fabric and shook it out. She’d made a scarf—a pretty, multicolored scarf composed of dozens of tiny scraps, all stitched together in a whimsical pattern that made no sense and delighted my eyes. She handed the scarf up the table to Violet, who ran her hands over the fabric and then began snipping at stray threads. It looked like mundane work, but I knew elf magic when I saw it. Elves were master crafters, and Violet was working a spell into that scarf, I was sure of it.
“What’s our total?” Elliot asked.
Violet folded the scarf and tucked it into a large cardboard box, which was already heaped with other Elvira creations.
“Fifty-three,” she said.
“Five to go,” Irene said.
“Six,” Anastasia corrected.
“I thought there were fifty-eight,” Irene said.
Anastasia shook her head and added a scrap to the scarf she was working on. “Nope, I checked the notes before we started. Fifty-nine foster kids total. We should probably round it to sixty anyway.”
Irene groaned, but held up a hand when Anastasia started to speak.
“It’s fine,” Irene said. “I’ve about hit my limit on how long I can sit at a machine, but we can get through six or seven more. It’s only a few apiece.”
Olivia shifted on the bed. “That’s their next attack,” she said. “Enchanted scarves for foster kids. Who are these people?”
“Elves,” I said. “Who obviously belong at the North Pole. I have no idea what they’re doing here but they are way too nice for the normal world.”
“Define normal,” Olivia said, as any self-respecting Humdrum-lover would.
“We should make some more of these to sell if we end up getting into the bazaar,” Elliot said. He pinned a bright orange piece of fabric onto his scarf, followed by a long strip of green.
“No!” Anastasia said. “No more scarves.”
“We’ll have to,” Violet said. “Everyone loves these things.”
Anastasia dropped her head to the table in mock defeat. It thudded dully against the piles of fabric scraps she’d been pulling from.
Irene looked up. “Yeah, what’s this about a bazaar?” she said. “Ana said something, but I didn’t catch the whole story.”
“It’s the big one being held at the Waterfall Palace Ballroom,” Violet said.
“We can’t afford it. We can’t even afford next month’s rent.”
“I entered us in a drawing,” Anastasia said. “A girl came by handing out flyers, and she said they’re giving away a couple of spots. I know we can’t pay to go, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Irene sighed. I got the impression it was supposed to be a big sigh, but she’d decided at the last minute to keep it to herself.
“It’d be nice,” she said.
“We know it’s not going to happen,” Violet said. “But it’s nice to daydream. Maybe if we can keep up decent sales over the winter, we could get a booth at a few markets. There’s the Saturday Market, and there are a couple of flea markets that aren’t too impossible.”
“It might happen,” Elliot said. He was the most darling sweetheart in the world, and it was clear he knew he was lying to himself and all the rest of them.
“Yeah, maybe,” Irene said, and she was lying, too.
It seemed exhausting, being them.
I couldn’t wait to tell them they’d won.
“But hey, at least our Kindness Campaign is taking off!” Anastasia said.
They all perked up a little at that. Irene smiled, and Elliot bit his bottom lip like an excited kid.
“I can’t believe the Heir endorsed us,” Violet said. “Of course, I kind of wish she’d told everyone it was us so maybe the shop could get a little more business.” She laughed and shook her head quickly, like the idea was too silly to sit with for more than a second. “No, I don’t,” she said. “It would take all the fun out of it.”
“But she must know who we are,” Anastasia said. “That’s kind of cool.”
“Maybe she’s watching us right now,” Elliot said. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Irene threw a scrap of purple fabric at him. It was too lightweight to make it very far, and fluttered clumsily back down to the table.
Violet glanced up. “No one’s watching us, guys,” she said. “We’re on our own.”
Irene smiled sadly, and Elliot put the purple scrap gently back on the pile. Anastasia reached out and squeezed Irene’s hand before going back to her work.
I looked at Olivia. Her gaze had already shifted toward me.
“We should probably turn this off,” she said.
I already had my wand halfway to the mirror. I tapped the surface, and the image of Elvira sitting at the table rippled and melted away. The vibrant colors of their fabric scraps faded back to the pale pink of my bedroom walls and the forest green of Olivia’s sweater.
I put the mirror back on my desk. It seemed to be staring at us, accusing us of spying on perfectly nice people who were just trying to go about their business in peace.
The vast ballroom, set deep into the hill behind Multnomah Falls, gleamed with the light of a dozen crystal chandeliers. Across the white marble floor, over a hundred white tents clustered like snowdrifts. Between them, pine trees sparkled with colorful baubles and glittering lights. From one tent, Frank Sinatra’s voice sang Christmas carols as the booth’s inhabitants tested their seashell speaker systems. From another, meadow sirens tuned violins made of exotic woods. A group of dryads came up behind me, carrying boxes of enchanted potpourri. I caught a whiff of rose and sandalwood as they passed.
This was more like it.
The bazaar opened in two hours. I kept one eye on the door, keeping tabs on the late arrivals. The rest of me was busy running from booth to booth, making sure everyone had everything they needed and double-checking the enchantments that would keep the Salamander Firecrackers folks from burning down their tent and the Midas Touch Gilding Station from turning the marble floor it sat on into gold.
“Imogen Dann!” someone shouted. I looked up at the far end of the hall to where someone was waving at me from the entrance to the elaborate Mermaids’ Grotto. I ran over, and the person ducked back inside.
The Grotto was a small cave made from foam, paint, and charms; inside, a pool illuminated by flickering blue and green lights held some mermaid models who’d come up via the Fountain Network to promote the Glimmering Seas SCUBA program. I ducked around a sign on an easel that read Have Your Photo Taken with a Mermaid!
“What’s wrong?”
The faerie who’d waved me over was crouched at the edge of the tall pool. Behind the faux-stone barrier that held the water in, a couple of mermaids looked over to where the faerie was staring. Their tails twitched behind them in concern.
