39. Lost and Found
THIRTY-NINE
LOST AND FOUND
Tales of mythical creatures like the Loch Ness Monster, the Leviathan, and dragons persist precisely because we know nature holds countless secrets.
Just as species once thought extinct reappear, the idea that legendary beings exist in remote, hidden realms is not beyond possibility.
Ancient stories and sightings may be whispers of creatures that dwell beyond the edges of our understanding, waiting to be rediscovered.
In nature’s vast and mysterious tapestry, there is always room.
–EXCERPT FROM THE MUDPUDDLE MANUAL OF NATURAL MAGIC
“Storm’s fury.” Maida cursed softly under her breath as the door slammed behind Arthur. She, too, was worried. Arthur was right. Rosie had been gone too long.
Maida hastily wrapped Hildegarde’s book in orange-colored tissue and tossed a handful of tissue paper hearts into the bag, before tying it with a turquoise silk ribbon. Wrapping the package did nothing to calm her nerves.
She was upset with Arthur for storming off, but she was even more upset with herself. She’d let her guard down and allowed herself to get swept up in other people’s business. Coming between Arthur and his daughter was the last thing she’d intended.
Gemini twined between her legs, looking up at her anxiously.
“I know,” Maida sympathized.
Gemini butted her head against Maida and she scratched the cat behind the ears. “I’m sure she’s just fine.” Maida wanted to believe the words she was saying.
While Granny made a fuss, delivering tea and snacks to Hildegarde, Maida straightened the checkout counter. She searched for any clues where Rosie might have gone. But other than the note, a half-finished cookie, a chewed up pencil and a half completed crossword puzzle, there was nothing.
Gemini seemed impatient as well. She couldn’t seem to settle on any one spot to sit. Her tail flicked back and forth like a whip, and she kept glancing at the door.
Finally, Granny came back to the counter to join her. She was holding a pair of quilted oven mitts shaped like trout.
“I have some good news!” Granny boasted. “That went swimmingly. I don’t think Hildegarde Fish will be giving us a hard time anymore. She even gave me a gift. I’m very good with the disgruntled customers.”
Maida leaned forward to observe Hildegarde. She was curled up in a corduroy armchair, happily sipping her tea and sampling items from the three tiered tower of treats that Granny had delivered to the side table beside her. A stack of books sat beside the tower, awaiting her perusal.
“I also have some bad news,” Granny continued. “These oven mitts are awful. Apparently, every spell Hildegarde casts turns into fish. We’re stuck with her for a bit. She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Granny used her sleeve to polish a bit of dust off the counter and rearranged the velvet pouches of runes that were on display in a large brass bowl.
“What exactly did Rosie say to you when she left?” Maida asked. Rosie wouldn’t have simply up and left with no explanation.
“She said she was going out for a few minutes to meet up with that Chan boy. He came back to borrow that dragon book he wanted yesterday.”
“Did she bring it to him?” Maida asked.
“Well, how am I to know?” Granny shrugged. “She had her backpack on. But I don’t make a habit of going through other people’s things.”
Maida raised her brows. “You most certainly make a habit of going through other people’s things. I think that’s my headband you’re wearing right now.” Maida pointed at the simple elastic band that Granny had embellished with a large crystal brooch.
“Well, you don’t count. You’re not other people. You’re my people.” Granny waved a hand and gave a little shrug, as if this was the most obvious point in the world. “Doesn’t it look nicer this way?” She ran her fingers over the sparkly flower. “I fixed it up!”
“I didn’t need you to bedazzle my headband. I needed you to watch the bookshop and look out for Rosie!” Maida snapped, regretting it instantly.
Granny winced.
“I’m sorry, Granny,” she amended. “I don’t mean to give you the impression that I don’t appreciate all the things you do for me.”
“Once a nan, always a nan. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” Moving so fast that her image almost blurred, Granny Luna flitted back to the cafe and ducked behind the cafe counter.
“We just need to set better boundaries,” Maida added. “You don’t have to assist with my wardrobe.”
“So you only want help with the tedious bits, then?” Granny stooped to retrieve an oversized feather duster.
The colorful cleaning tool was at least as tall as she was and almost as wide.
“It’s you who’s doing me a favor. Such a pleasure to flex my wings again and do things properly. ’Tis a burden keeping secrets.”
Maida leaned across the counter and scrutinized Granny. “I don’t see any wings?”
“Well, of course not, Maida. I don’t go about in public with my wings showing!” Granny scoffed. “I’m a lady.”
“Are there any other secrets you might be keeping from me?”
“House fairies are full of secrets, Maida dear. It’s part of our charm!
That and our impeccable sense of style.” As Granny waved the duster over the countertop, empty plates, and containers stacked themselves by size, largest to smallest. Then they floated off toward the kitchen.
Stray crumbs assembled into neat piles that marched off like deployed troops, heading towards the trash.
Even the unsold goods in the bakery case scrambled to sort themselves out. They scrambled over one another, piling into picturesque towers as if styled by a photographer.
“There now, that’s much better.” Granny smiled and put down the duster.
“Did you read Rosie’s book, Granny?” Maida asked. “Tell the truth.”
“Haven’t had the chance yet.” Granny wrinkled her nose. “She hardly lets it out of her sight.”
“Then how did you know it was a dragon grimoire?” Maida folded her arms across her chest.
“Because she and Bardo were talking about it.” Granny rolled her eyes at Maida. “Obviously.”
“So you listened to their conversation?”
“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? If folks don’t want to be eavesdropped upon, they’d best be clearing the house of fairies. We can’t help having such acute hearing.”
“Just tell me everything they said? It’s important,” she implored.
“Fine, child.” Granny relented. “But maybe you can help me wind the clock in the foyer first?” She jerked her head towards the fireplace in the front room, where the antique clock held pride of place.
“Does it need winding?” Maida frowned. The clock always kept perfect time, and she hadn’t wound it once since arriving.
“It couldn’t hurt.” Granny cast a meaningful glance back at Hildegarde, who was now leaning back in the recliner, snoring gently. An empty cup of tea sat beside a half finished scone. “We wouldn’t want to disturb our patron while she’s resting.”
“Granny! What did you give her?” Maida’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Just a little lavender and chamomile tea, dear. With a touch of lemongrass, some cornflower, and a few grains of valerian. Same as I gave you when you were a little girl and couldn’t sleep.”
“You drugged me too?” Maida clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Hardly! It’s a fine herbal tisane,” Granny whispered defensively.
“Do you know how many times Lucretia’s tried to pry that recipe out of me?
That brew’s been in my family for ages. Hildegarde will be just fine.
Better than fine. She’ll be out till morning, then she’ll wake up refreshed and right as springtime rain.
” Granny’s eyes were a pale glacial blue beneath her finely arched brows.
She reached in her tote bag and pulled out a half finished afghan.
It continued to finish crocheting itself as she draped it across Hildegarde’s lap.
“It can’t hurt to make her comfy.” Granny shrugged. Then, with a final flick of her feather duster, she dimmed the lights and turned up the soft classical music playing on the shop’s speakers. “There now. I think it’s safe for us to chat some more.”
Maida followed the fairy to the foyer and picked up where she left off.
“Bardo Chan was in quite a state. But then when isn’t he? I can see why poor Pearl was always so disappointed in him.”
“That’s not relevant right now, is it, Granny?” Maida was inclined to agree that Bardo was bad news. But listening to the ticking of the clock on the mantel, she felt acutely aware of time passing. “I think the sooner we can help Arthur find his daughter, the better.”
“They could be anywhere.” Granny wrung her hands. “Would that I’d dropped a tracking stone in her bag like I used to do with you.”
“Tracking stone?” Maida rubbed her forehead.
Granny waved a dismissive hand, declining to comment, and continued. “Bardo kept repeating that he was ‘just gonna do it, already’ and that he was ‘getting out, once and for all,’ whatever that means. But he needed to borrow the book his Ah Ma gave to her.”
Although Maida was new to the magical community, she knew that the sharing of family grimoires was not something done lightly, if at all. She thought of what Rosie had said about the book and the secrets it contained.
“She agreed to this?” Maida asked.
“She argued with him, but Bardo insisted it was his legacy as well. And he sounded desperate.”
“What did Rosie say?”
“She said wherever the book went, she went, so she was coming with him.”
“And he agreed to that?”
“He didn’t fight very hard. Told her to meet him at the passage, said he’d already packed everything up.”
“And by everything, what do you think he meant?” Maida asked.
Granny hesitated, wringing her hands. When she looked up, the conflict was evident on Granny’s face.
“Nocturnaturals stuff. He wasn’t selling the stuff here in Primrose Court, though. He was repping them in Boston,” Granny said, confirming what Rosie had told her.
“You knew about this? Why wouldn’t you have told anyone?” Maida bit her cheek.