By the time he made it back to the living room, Leif had completed his work on the doorbell system.
“No more Grinch,” Leif said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Uriel replied.
Leif grinned. “I know that tone. Someone is planning something epic. Let me know if I can help.”
“I will.”
“I’m going to head out to West’s to check on a couple trees. I’ll be around if you need me though.”
“Thanks, cousin. And I appreciate you running to my rescue earlier.”
Uriel and Leif went their separate ways as Uriel made his way back to the Snowda Shoppe. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Tate sitting in one of the colorful booths with one of Joe’s gourmet coffees in front of him.
“That was fast,” Joe said.
His nervous smile sparked more magic deep inside Uriel. “I need coffee.”
Joe laughed. “Extra espresso, light on the gingerbread, as requested. Now get the bookstore open. You’re losing customers by the second.”
Uriel huffed but did as Joe said. On the way, he paused at a few of the craft fair booths. He even managed to pick up a small gift for Joe from one of the vendors who used old books to make their wares. After receiving reassurance that the books they’d used had been too damaged to read, Uriel took the gift and one of their business cards. Then he made his way around the corner to the bookstore.
Luckily, the morning passed quickly. Uriel sold several of the children’s books from the window display—he absolutely would not tell Joe he’d been right about the informal look being more inviting to customers—and even managed to find a customer worthy of one of the antique volumes he kept under lock and key.
All in all, a pleasant day.
As for his thoughts, well, those were an entirely different matter. He made a pot of tea and sat down with one of his oldest tomes on Yule traditions. Much of the lore concerning sprites and lads was hidden within its pages. He found nothing that would explain what happened to him that morning, though.
When York entered the shop, Uriel had to take a moment to clear his thoughts. One look at York, however, cleared away the rest of the fog.
“Cousin?” Uriel said, setting his book aside. “You seem troubled.”
“I am,” York confessed.
“Let me pour you—” Uriel lifted the teapot and froze. “I’m afraid the tea has gone cold. I’ll brew some fresh.”
Uriel didn’t miss the shock on York’s face. Yes, it was highly unusual for Uriel to allow his tea to grow cold. He tended to be meticulous about such things. Too meticulous, one might say.
After making a fresh pot, Uriel returned to find York staring wide-eyed at the bright pastel decor in his front window. Although he didn’t resist decorating completely like his cousin, Uriel preferred a less is more approach.
“Not one word,” Uriel threatened.
Of course, that didn’t deter York for a second. With several minutes of inane banter passing between them, York finally got to the heart of the matter and confessed his feelings for Gabriel. It didn’t surprise Uriel as much as it should have.
York’s confusion, though, echoed the turmoil in his own thoughts. His research had given him some idea of where he needed to direct his energy. After reminding his cousin of the significance of Winter Solstice, York’s magic proceeded to react by transforming one of Uriel’s precious china teacups into a chunky Santa head mug, similar to the ones that were so beloved this time of year.
He much preferred drinking from a slim rimmed cup. It wasn’t that he was snobbish about his choice of vessel, he simply had a preference.
York wiggled his fingers and sparks of red magic shot out. Then a look of absolute horror crossed his face. Seconds later, he bolted from the bookstore. Uriel stared after him for a moment, then glanced down to see what damage York’s magic had done to his mug.
It remained unchanged. His sweater, however, did not survive the encounter unscathed.
“York!”
Uriel growled at the glittering, ornament covered monstrosity on his body and swore to get revenge on another of his cousins before the season ended.
4
