Miss Frost Chills the Cheater

by Painter, Kristen

  I was a little mad at him. His attitude was great, but if he really wanted to help, why hadn’t he told us about the box and the feathers sooner? “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything else about this whole chicken business that you think we should know? Even something you don’t think is that important?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No. I should have mentioned the gift of the feathers sooner. I just didn’t think it meant anything. I’m sorry about that.” He hesitated. “There is one other thing.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “Yes?”

  “I want you to know that my wife and I don’t think any of this was caused by Mr. Crowe’s presence here. We don’t think he’s bad magic. At all.”

  Sin bowed his head slightly. “Thank you.”

  I stopped being mad at Stanley. Yeah, my bias was showing again. Frankly, my emotions were currently about as organized as Stanley’s office. This was hard.

  I stood, ready for a break. “Thank you for your time, Stanley.”

  He got to his feet, nodding. “Of course, Princess.”

  “We’ll be in touch soon. I’m sure we’ll have more questions.”

  “I’m always available. And I want this sorted out as much as you do, I promise.”

  “Glad to hear that.” I glanced toward the one-way mirror and my uncle, who was somewhere behind it in the other room. Then Sin and I headed for the door.

  Uncle Kris was waiting on us in the hall. For a large man, he could move with lightning speed. He wrung his hands together. “We have nothing. I have to release them both. They’ve been here for long enough already.”

  I nodded. “I agree. There’s nothing to hold them on.” I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. It felt like both. “This has been a very frustrating day. One question. How long are our badges good for?”

  “For the length of your stay here in the NP. For both of you.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and blew out a breath. “I wish I knew what to do next.”

  “Let’s go eat,” Sin said. “Maybe the distraction will help us think of something.”

  My uncle patted his stomach. “Hmm. I could eat. Let’s go to the cafeteria. Mamie, what’s on the menu today?”

  Mamie answered without hesitation. “The specials today are chicken pot pie, tater tot casserole, and enchiladas. The desserts of the day are banana pudding and French silk pie.”

  My stomach growled again. That all sounded so good to me.

  Sin didn’t look swayed by that list of deliciousness. “That’s quite the menu, but I don’t know if I’m up for the cafeteria and all those people.”

  Uncle Kris put his hand on Sin’s shoulder. “Son, I understand how you must feel. But I think it would be good to show your face. The elves that work here are good people. They’re not the ones who think you’re to blame for all this. And you’ll be with Jayne and me and Mamie. You’ll have our support.”

  Mamie nodded, her steno pad clutched to her chest.

  Sin’s gaze remained impassive. “If it’s not the elves here, who is it?”

  “Most likely a small group of mostly snow elves. They’ve always been a stubborn, cantankerous lot.” Uncle Kris shook his head as he took his hand away. “But they’re a minority, I promise.”

  Sin turned a curious expression toward me. “Snow elves?”

  “I’ll explain later.” I slipped my hand in his. “I’m so sorry you feel this way, but maybe being around some more of the elves here would help you see just how great the people are. Look at the guard at the gate. Look at Stanley. Most of them are like that.”

  “Was that Jim Bunting at the gate today?” my uncle asked. “He’s a good man. Jayne is right. Those are the kind of people that work here. You’ll see.”

  “Okay, I’m game,” Sin said. “Let’s eat.”

  After my uncle dismissed Stanley and Terrance with the rest of the day off, the four of us walked to the elevator and went down to the cafeteria. Despite Sin agreeing to go, I could see by the tension in his stance that he was prepared for the worst.

  I squeezed his hand, which I was still holding, and gave him a smile. But inside I continued to hurt for him. This was not the North Pole experience I’d wanted for him, and no matter how much he insisted everything was fine, I had my doubts.

  To make matters worse, we had nowhere to go with the chicken incident. I was really afraid that leaving it unsolved and continuing to call it a giant coincidence would mean terrible things in the future.

  Sure, my uncle was right that the snow elves, who were most likely to be upset by this, were a small group, but they were very vocal. If they continued to think that Sin was somehow responsible for this chicken incident, their dislike of him would color everything. Including our marriage and my eventual rule. The unrest would fester over time and create a rift.

  Oh, those prickly snow elves.

  Our ancient history, which was built on a blend of truth and myth, said that once upon a time, the North Pole was all there had been of the world, and the elves that lived here had been divided into two groups: the snow elves and the ice elves.

  Each side thought the other should join them and all become one, but which side? No decision could be reached, and a civil war had broken out. The magic used by both was so strong and so devastating that the North Pole cracked in two, and the Meltwater River was formed.

  Shocked by what they’d done, the elves decided they would all be known as winter elves from that day on, and a monarch was chosen to keep peace over the new kingdom. And that’s how the first Winter King came to be crowned.

  Or so the story goes.

  A few who were descendants of the snow elves liked to cling to their heritage. I understood that, I really did. Being proud of who you were was a good thing. But not at the expense of someone else’s happiness and peace. There had to be a balance.

  But occasionally, things tipped heavier in one direction. Then balance had to be restored.

  Uncle Kris and Aunt Martha’s marriage was supposed to have done that. Aunt Martha was a snow elf, although I think most people tended to forget that. It certainly wasn’t something I thought a lot about. If ever. At least until now.

  The delicious smells from the cafeteria floated over to us as we stepped off the elevator. I was starving, but for once my stomach could wait. I grabbed Uncle Kris’s hand and stopped him. “Listen, if you really think it’s a group of snow elves stirring up trouble against Sinclair, then maybe Aunt Martha should say something. Put a statement in the paper. Something.”

  He nodded very thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. You know, I sometimes forget Martha’s a snow elf.”

  “We all do.”

  He kissed my cheek. “We’ll get this sorted out, Jaynie. You’ll see.”

  “Good.”

  Sin slipped his arm around my waist. “Come on. I know you’re hungry. You can go back to fighting my battles once you’re full.”

  I smiled at him without effort. “You are absolutely the right man for me.”

  He grinned back, winking. “I know.”

  I laughed. “Do you also know I’m getting both of today’s featured desserts?”

  “If you didn’t, I’d be concerned.”

  We strolled in, hand in hand, and the buzz in the cafeteria gave way to an ear-piercing silence that almost pushed me right back out the door.

  Heads turned, and all eyes were upon us. Then the elves did something that brought tears to my eyes.

  They stood up and applauded.

  I blinked back the tears and laughed, waving to the workers. “Thank you all.”

  I wasn’t sure if they were applauding for Sin or for me or for us as a couple, but whatever the reason, it was incredibly sweet and touching and wonderful.

  My uncle raised his hand, and the room went quiet again. “Ladies and gentlemen, your support is much appreciated. Let me be the first to officially introduce you to Princess Jayne’s intended, Mr. Sinclair Crowe.”

/>   The cheering started up again.

  But I was still stuck on the word intended. Obviously, I hadn’t agreed to marry Sin yet, but Uncle Kris made it sound like a done deal.

  Sin nudged me and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to that.”

  I struggled for a response. “He probably thought boyfriend sounded too informal for an official introduction.”

  Sin nodded as he waved to the workers. “It’s okay. Whatever his reason, I know what’s what.”

  I really couldn’t love him more. And I wanted to say yes with every fiber of my being. So long as he was sure he could handle this life. Which clearly wasn’t without its ups and downs.

  A cafeteria employee came to us, bowed, then ushered us to my uncle’s booth. It was in a corner that looked out over the factory floor, but was also very visible to everyone eating.

  That visibility was purposeful, but I was starting to question if coming here had been such a good idea. Fish in a fishbowl? That was us right now. But while I was a little uncomfortable and worried about how Sin was feeling, the workers were all smiling at us and seemed happy about our presence.

  I guess my uncle had been right. Sin showing his face here was a good thing. Unless this level of attention freaked him out, and then not so much. I glanced at him, and he seemed…okay. A little strained maybe. This kind of attention could do that to a person.

  We laid our jackets on the booth seats, then got in line for food, letting Mamie and Uncle Kris go ahead of us. There was no special treatment in the cafeteria for anyone, outside of my uncle having a reserved booth. I liked that.

  We picked up our trays, utensils, and drinks (Dr Pepper for me, because of course) and shuffled by the food.

  “What are you getting to eat?” Sin asked.

  “Tater tot casserole. You?”

  “Chicken pot pie.”

  “Don’t you think eating chicken right now is a little too much?” I teased.

  He laughed. “Proves I’m not afraid.”

  “Good attitude.”

  We got our food and headed back to the table. I slid in toward the center with Mamie (who’d gotten clam chowder in a bread bowl, a cafeteria standard), while Uncle Kris (chicken pot pie) and Sin took the outside spots.

  We dug in, and I watched the crowd for a bit, wondering if anyone would approach us. Didn’t take long.

  A man in a tinker’s apron came up and made a short bow. “My apologies for bothering all of you, but I was asked to deliver this to Princess Frost. It came to my work space this morning in a memo box. There was another note with it, telling me to be sure it got to you, but that was all.” He placed a small cream-colored envelope on the table.

  Sin let out a soft snort. “Let me guess. You have no idea who the sender is.”

  The tinker looked mortified. “No, sir, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Thank you for delivering it.”

  “You’re welcome, Your Highness.” He bowed again and backed away, returning to his table.

  I picked up the envelope by its edges and turned it over. There was no writing on it other than a J on the front. The ink was black and otherwise unremarkable. I opened it and took out a folded sheet of paper in the same color.

  One sentence was scrawled across the middle. There’s no such thing as coincidence.

  I showed it to Sin, then to Mamie and my uncle. “The plot thickens.”

  My uncle frowned. “It had to come from another tinker. No one else has access to that floor. As you know.”

  Sin put his napkin on the table. “But we had access. So there are other people allowed up there.”

  Uncle Kris looked at Mamie.

  She flipped open her steno pad and scanned the page. “Not today. Only you two, King Jack, and Santa.” She looked up at us. “You two were up there. Did you pass anyone in the hall? See anyone in the elevator?”

  Sin and I both shook our heads.

  Mamie shut her steno pad. “Then it had to be another tinker.”

  I glanced at the note. “I’m keeping this. It’s evidence.”

  “True,” Sin said. “And proof that someone wants us to keep digging. Doesn’t mean they’re on our side, though, so we need to keep that in mind.” Then he made a face. “Or they’re rubbing our faces in it. Sending a note to show that they can.”

  Uncle Kris grimaced. “Sounds like whoever sent that note thinks they’re smarter than the rest of us.”

  Sin nodded. “That it does.”

  I stabbed a cheese-laden tater tot and let my mind wander into the possibilities. I ate the tot and thought while I chewed, repeating the procedure over and over. Tater tot casserole was pretty powerful stuff. I hoped it could help shake my thinking process loose. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before Sin’s voice brought me out of my reverie.

  “Hey, you’ve gone awfully quiet. You okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. Just thinking.”

  “Come up with anything?”

  “Maybe.” I let the mind-wandering continue a few seconds longer. “Regardless if this person who sent the note wants us to keep digging or is trying to show off how smart they are, we should still keep looking for answers. But where, right? I mean, there are a lot of directions we could go in. Maybe the best place to start is at the beginning.”

  Sin leaned in a little. “Meaning?”

  “We can’t prove or disprove Terrance’s dream. But Stanley’s change from the rabbit to the chicken has a trail.” I turned to Mamie, the source of all things NP. “I think I already know the answer to this, but which farm would the children have visited?”

  An hour later, full of delicious food and tasty desserts, Sin and I were back in the crawler headed to the eastern zone of the NP. Farmland. Granted, it wasn’t the kind of farmland most would picture. Because of our climate, most of our farming was done in giant greenhouses and enormous, acreage-covering bio domes. Everything from plants to livestock used them.

  The farm we were going to was Sweet Acres, a small exhibition farm that raised chickens and tundra goats, and grew two of the most important products in the NP: sugar cane and sugar beets.

  As you could imagine, the greenhouses were especially important for those crops.

  The greenhouses sparkled in the afternoon sun as we approached. The bio dome here was smaller than most, having only to house chickens. Tundra goats didn’t need a bio dome, or anything else, to protect them from the weather. Although I was sure they got put into the barn at night to guard them from yetis.

  “Okay, this is not something I expected to see,” Sin said.

  “How did you think we produced our food?”

  “I honestly didn’t think about it. But this is amazing. I imagine there’s a good bit of winter elf magic at work here too. Am I right?”

  “You are.” I parked the crawler. “Let’s go see Farmer Brown.”

  “I also can’t believe that’s actually the name of the man and family that runs this place.” He laughed as he got out.

  Farmer Melton Brown met us as we approached the barn. He wore olive-green twill overalls with a red flannel shirt and navy ball cap that bore the name Sweet Acres in white stitching. He pulled the hat off as he walked toward us. “Princess Jayne. It’s a pleasure to welcome you to Sweet Acres.”

  “Thank you. I was here years ago when I was in school. Came for the tour like all the other kids.”

  “Well, in that case, welcome back.”

  I gestured to Sin. “This is Sinclair Crowe. My guest.”

  Farmer Brown nodded and shook Sin’s hand when he extended it. “Pleasure to meet you too, sir.”

  “Thank you. I’ve never been to a farm like this. Really fascinating. It’s all so neat and clean too. You must love your work.”

  Farmer Brown preened. “I do. It’s my family’s business and has been for many years. Did you want to take a tour?”

  I realized Farmer Brown didn’t know what we’d come for. “Not today. We just don’t h
ave the time unfortunately. But I would like to ask you a few questions.”

  “I’d be happy to answer them. What would you like to know?”

  I glanced behind him at the barn. “I don’t suppose you have an office?”

  “Of course! I’m sorry I didn’t offer. Please, follow me.”

  We did, and he led us into the barn. The interior was as neat and tidy as the rest of the farm. Which wasn’t to say it was pristine. It was a farm after all. But it wasn’t covered in muck and grime and gross stuff. Mostly pine shavings and chaff from the sugar cane.

  The barn was an enormous structure with a loft over the half that was divided into goat stalls. The other half held some large equipment and an office that was walled off into its own little room. That’s where we were headed.

  Inside was a desk and an old floral sofa covered with a fleece blanket. There were a few hairs on the quilt. Dog or goat, I couldn’t tell. Farmer Brown took the desk chair. Sin and I took the sofa.

  He swiveled toward us. “What can I help you with?”

  “Sometime back in March or April, you had a class come through. Fourth-graders.” That’s the grade Mamie had told me Stanley’s granddaughter was in.

  Farmer Brown nodded. “March and April are when we do all our school tours. That’s when we have the most peeps and kids.” He smiled. “Baby chickens and baby goats.”

  I nodded. “Right, makes sense the kids, er, I mean, children would visit then. I’m wondering if you remember one specific child. Lyla Kinder. She would have been in Mrs. Mint’s class.”

  Farmer Brown’s gaze narrowed as he thought. “I remember Mrs. Mint, of course. But that’s a lot of kids. I might not have even given that tour. My whole family pitches in on tour days. Could have been my wife or my son or one of my daughters.”

  “Well, Lyla won a contest while she was here. Ended up getting a stuffed chicken as a prize? You must have a record of that, at least, since it was mailed to her.”

  He scrunched up his face. “A contest? Must have been something the school was doing. Or maybe Mrs. Mint herself. We don’t do anything like that. We do have a gift shop. My oldest daughter runs that. I can ask her if we have any stuffed chickens. I think we sell something like that.” He grinned suddenly. “If we don’t, we ought to. Stuffed goats too. They’re a might cuter, I must say.”