25. The Season of Giving （Up）
The Season of Giving (Up)
Jasper had been missing from his own life for nearly a week. The perplexing bit was that he couldn’t bring himself to care very much.
Somewhere in the real world, Jasper’s apartment was gathering dust. His mail was piling up.
His plants were dying. Did anyone even notice he was gone?
Toby, perhaps... but if he did notice, did he mind?
Most of his coworkers viewed Jasper as a rather uptight irritant.
Jasper could picture his boss, Nancy, sighing with relief at the sudden absence of demands for better lighting in the archives.
The others were probably delighted that the basement was empty; they could toss all their paperwork on his desk and flee back upstairs before he had a chance to correct their spelling.
Instead of showing up for work, Jasper was sitting in the dimly lit basement of the Stargazer Inn, watching as the eldest Earl brothers prepared for their mission to retrieve the portal spell.
Ten and Nine—Nate’s great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, respectively—were strapping on what appeared to be vintage pirate gear: eye patches, leather vests, and an assortment of antique weapons that belonged in a museum rather than on an octogenarian’s hip.
“You sure this is necessary?” Jasper asked. “It’s a county clerk’s office, not a Spanish galleon.”
“Never hurts to be prepared.” Nine tested the edge of a dagger against his thumb. “You’ve never seen that scalawag Toby in a bad mood.”
Jasper couldn’t help but chuckle. Nine had never even met his colleague Toby. But Jasper had, in fact, seen Toby in many different moods, none of which demanded the presence of medieval weaponry. But he kept this observation to himself. Nine and Ten were nervous enough already.
After a flurry of final instructions—“ask Toby about the Patriots, they’re his favorite team and he’s easily distracted by sports talk”—Jasper watched them depart through the coal chute, climbing with surprising agility for men their age.
“Do you think they’ll find it?” Delilah asked, settling beside him on an overturned crate.
Jasper studied her face in the dim light, considering how to answer. Hope and dread battled in his chest. “I’m sure they’ll try their best,” he replied, which wasn’t really an answer.
“So,” she said after a moment, “I’ve been wondering something. It’s two days before Christmas. What are you missing out on right now? Any family gatherings? Office parties with bad eggnog?”
The question caught Jasper off guard. “Missing?” He laughed softly. “Believe me, I’m not missing a thing.”
“Come on,” she pressed. “There must be something. Some Hopkins family tradition? Matching pajamas, maybe?”
Jasper shook his head. “My parents always treated Christmas like a military operation. Precise schedule, specific gifts from a pre-approved list, dinner at exactly 3 p.m. The whole thing was about as spontaneous as tax season. My grandmother was the only one who made it bearable. She’d sneak me out for impromptu sledding or slip me a mug of hot chocolate when no one was looking.
Called it our ‘Christmas jailbreak.’ But once she passed, the magic was gone. ”
“Yeah.” Delilah nodded. “I hear that, trust me. So nobody’s expecting you to show up with a fruitcake this year?”
“My parents are on a cruise. We exchange gift cards via email.”
“I see, well that’s horrible. I suppose I’ve accidentally rescued you from a depressing solo microwave dinner and a night of PBS documentaries.”
“You’ve done me a huge favor.” Jasper smiled despite the situation. “A magical town under siege by power-hungry magicians is a significant upgrade from my usual holiday plans. Don’t worry, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Their eyes met, and Jasper felt that now-familiar spark between them.
It was a bit terrifying, how quickly she’d become essential, how the thought of forgetting her felt like losing a limb.
But before he could say anything more, the coal chute rattled, announcing the Earls’ return. Far, far too soon.
They tumbled in, looking disheveled and defeated.
“That Toby’s a crafty one,” Nine grumbled, removing his eye patch.
“We started off okay,” said Ten. “I asked about the Patriots, just like you suggested, Jasper. But then Toby asked what we thought about Brady’s chances against the Buffalo Bills next week. And this old codger—” he nodded toward Nine “—went completely sideways.”
“He’s the one brought up Buffalo Bill!” Nine cried indignantly. “I told him that no-good son-of-a-bitch swindler still owes me twenty dollars from a poker game in ’03!”
“2003?” Jasper asked, confused.
“ 1903 .”
Nate groaned, sinking his head into his hands. “Double-great grandpa, the Buffalo Bills are a football team. From this century.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Nine threw his hands up. “In my day, we named things after what they were, not Wild West showmen who cheat at cards!”
“It got worse,” Ten continued. “When Toby tried to explain that Tom Brady was a quarterback, Nine said, ‘Quarterback? I’ll tell you what, I want a whole lot more than a quarterback from Buffalo Bill. Damn him and damn his nancy-boy pal Tom Brady, too!’”
“Oh no, Nine!” Scarlett said, barely holding back a laugh. “You called Tom Brady a ‘nancy boy’? And then what happened?”
“We uh, we made a tactical retreat,” he replied with as much dignity as he could muster. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
“You’re lucky you made it out alive, frankly.” Jasper sighed, trying not to let his disappointment show. “It’s okay. We’ve got other options.”
Earls Eleven and Twelve were already gearing up for their attempt. This time, they’d sneak in through a back door, avoiding Toby entirely. Jasper spent the next fifteen minutes explaining the layout of the building, drawing diagrams, and emphasizing all the places they should avoid.
“Remember, my office is in the basement, across from the boiler room. The portrait of Agnes Bartlett hangs on the north wall. Seems like the best place to start the search.”
“Basement, boiler room, portrait, north wall,” Eleven repeated. “Got it.”
An hour later, Nate’s phone buzzed. His father was calling from the archives of the Schoharie County Historical Society. “The directions were very specific about the building,” Twelve complained, “but less so about which county it was in.”
Jasper winced, realizing he’d assumed too much. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think?—”
“Well,” Scarlett said, “we shouldn’t wait for them to get back. Who’s going next?”
The third pair of volunteers were Jerusha and Belinda’s husband Sam Chatterjee.
This seemed to have more potential. Sam was highly motivated, given the fact that Belinda was among the disappeared, and he’d had a lot more experience with the real world than the Earls.
This time Jasper provided them with explicit directions, both to the clerk’s office and where to go once inside.
“Remember, be casual. Don’t mention anything magical.
Just say you’re looking for historical records of property deeds or something. ”
“I understand,” Jerusha said sternly. “I was navigating the world while you were nothing but a dirty thought in your father’s mind.”
“Uh, right... Yeah, I wasn’t suggesting otherwise,” Jasper said quickly. “Just, you know, as a reminder.”
Less than an hour later, Priti Chatterjee received a phone call from the Pleasant Valley Senior Center. She listened intently, saying little beyond: “Uh-huh... uh-huh... yes, I understand.” And finally: “I’ll be right over.”
“What happened?” Delilah asked when Priti got off the call.
“According to the nurse I just spoke to, Jerusha marched up to Toby and announced, ‘Hark, mortal! I am a witch of great power, temporarily bereft of my magical abilities due to seasonal obligations. We have arrived to retrieve an ancient spell hidden by Agnes Bartlett, she of the stern countenance and impeccable record-keeping.’”
“Great...” Jasper dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sure Toby wasn’t freaked out by that at all. What about Sam?”
“Apparently my dad was nodding along, adding helpful details like, ‘I’m here to touch the document, since witches can’t.
’ Toby decided the two of them must have wandered away from the old folks’ home and he had them picked up.
” Sighing, Priti grabbed her medical bag and headed out to retrieve them.
“They’re likely enjoying Jell-O and Murder, She Wrote right now. ”
Jasper’s hope flickered anew when Zahir and Aphra volunteered to make the next attempt.
They seemed the most level-headed of the group, not to mention the most familiar with the world outside Oak Haven.
“You’ve got this,” he told them. “Just be casual. If anyone asks, you’re researchers interested in county history. ”
“Researchers. History. Got it,” Zahir agreed. “But, um, can we borrow Nate’s car? The old folks keep taking our cars and not coming back.”
Aphra nudged Zahir. “You mean Jasper. It’s Jasper’s car.”
“Right, sorry! I’m a little tired. Jasper, can we borrow your car?”
The wait for Zahir and Aphra’s return stretched Jasper’s nerves to the breaking point, and not because of the borrowed car. He paced the basement, acutely aware of Delilah watching him, her own anxiety evident in the way she kept rearranging the emergency supplies.
When Zahir and Aphra finally returned, they looked like they’d narrowly escaped a disaster.
“We were so close...” Zahir collapsed onto a crate, exhausted. “Made it all the way to the basement!”
“Went brilliantly at first,” Aphra said. “Got past Toby without a hitch. I explained how we were doing research on New England architectural preservation... He got so bored halfway through my explanation, he just waved us through.”
Jasper nodded. “That’s my Toby.”