by Lara Bergen
“Um, Vidia,” she said. Her hands nervously twisted the cloth that had covered her painting. “Would you, by any chance, like to have this painting?”
For a split second, Vidia actually looked pleased. But her pale face quickly hardened into a scowl. “Darling, are you giving me a present?” she said haughtily. “What in Never Land have I ever done for you?”
“You told me the truth,” Bess replied. “But more than that, my painting reached you. So I want you to have it.”
Vidia’s cold eyes moved from Bess to the enormous canvas. And Bess could see them faintly warming.
“I’ll take good care of it,” Vidia said finally. Then she took a pinch of fairy dust from the pouch hanging from her belt and sprinkled it onto the painting. Picking the painting up, she darted away.
Smiling, Bess watched her go. Then she took a deep breath and braced herself for the difficult task ahead.
BESS COULD SMELL the freshly baked honey buns and butter cookies even before she got to the tearoom. But that day, tea would have to wait until after her announcement.
She hated to think about how the other fairies would react. The best thing to do, she told herself, was not think too hard—just do it.
She flew to the front of the great room. She stood between the wide floor-to-ceiling windows and flapped her wings for attention.
“Everyone!” she called. “Everyone! I have an announcement.”
The clink of china and the hum of voices, however, did not grow any fainter.
“I said,” Bess shouted, “I have an important announcement to make!”
One of her wings accidentally knocked over a tea tray. At last, someone took notice.
“Oh, fairies!” Laidel called out. She clinked a spoon against a cup. “I think Bess has something to say.”
The noise died down. All eyes turned to Bess.
“Uh…” Bess was suddenly nervous. How was she going to do this? She wished that she had written her announcement down.
“I…I just wanted to tell you all that I realized something important this morning—something I somehow let myself forget.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “The joy of my talent comes not just from painting, you see. It comes from painting what inspires me, when it inspires me. I think that is something you all can understand. I must be true to my talent, and to myself. And so”— Bess drew a deep breath—“although it has been a great honor to be asked to paint so many of your portraits, I won’t be able to finish them for quite a while.”
Bess closed her eyes. She waited for the backlash.
Clink, clank, slurrrp.
Bess slowly opened one eye, and then the other. All around the room, the fairies had gone back to their tea.
“Wait!” Bess blurted out. “Did you all hear what I said?”
“Oh, yes,” several fairies replied.
“We sure did,” said a few more.
“You need to be inspired,” Laidel said. “We completely understand.”
“I know!” said Dulcie, flying by with a plate of fresh rolls. “Maybe you’d be inspired by Hem’s new dress! Stand up, Hem, and show her!”
A plump-cheeked, white-haired fairy modestly stood up. She modeled her frock made of soft pink peony petals. It was tight in the waist and full down to the knees. Hem wore open-toed pink slippers dyed to match. Although Bess liked clothes that were more flowy and colorful, she had to agree that it was very nice.
“Oh, isn’t it gorgeous!” cooed Rosetta from the table next to her.
“I’ve got to have one!” said another garden-talent fairy.
“Me too!” more fairies chimed in.
“Me first, though!” said Dulcie. “Hem promised to make one for me first. Didn’t you, Hem? First fairy to come, first fairy served!”
Soon a ring four fairies deep had formed around poor Hem. Teatime—and Bess—had been forgotten.
Bess sank into a nearby chair. She stared, bewildered, at the scene. Could it be that Bess and her portraits had lost all their importance? Had she awakened any real art appreciation in the fairies? Or had her art been just a…just a fad?
The idea made her wings limp. Bess’s spirits sank. Oh, the horror!
She buried her head in her arms, in case a tear should fall.
“Bess?”
She felt a cool hand on her shoulder.
“Why don’t you come to our table?”
Slowly, Bess looked up into Quill’s eyes. Her spirits sank even lower. As if making a complete fool of herself weren’t bad enough. Did she have to do it right in front of Quill again?
“I saved you two star-shaped butter cookies. But if you don’t eat them quickly, Linden will.”
Bess sniffled a little and shook her head. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be hungry again.”
“Oh, yes, you will,” Quill said.
Bess pushed back her bangs. She sniffled once more. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because—” Quill began.
But before she could finish, she was interrupted by Hem’s high-pitched voice from the far end of the room. “One at a time, fairies! Please! One at a time!”
Bess and Quill looked over at the ever-widening circle around the dressmaking fairy. They couldn’t help smiling at each other.
Quill leaned toward Bess. “Remind me to tell you about the time, a few years before you arrived, when all the fairies decided they just had to have their very own tiny hand-carved talent symbols to wear around their necks.”
“Really?” Bess was surprised. “That sounds lovely! But…I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”
Quill grinned and nodded. “Exactly.”
“Ah!” It took a moment, but Bess got it. “Fairies!”
Maybe I will have a cookie or two after all, Bess thought. And maybe she would paint Hem’s cute pink dress. Perhaps with a bright green background! Or should it be orange? Or maybe she’d paint something else that day. Or do something with clay? She could even carve with Quill.
There was one thing for sure, though. From then on, whatever Bess did, it would be her choice—and hers alone.
