1⁄2dz Mince pie1s5c
Solstice log2s
Fruit cake w/o brandy2s
w/brandy3s
The bakery was her favorite shop in Herot’s Hollow, but she wasn’t the only one who loved it. Next door, above a venture that had changed several times over the years (Mr. Blair’s Antiques and Collectibles, Mr. Blair’s Flowers, Mr. Blair’s Fine Furnishings), candlelight flickered in the leftmost window of the upper story.
Julian was awake.
His family’s Solstice dinner must have finished before she got there. Shadows moved at the back of the shop—Julian’s father coming up with another wild scheme to make some coin, perhaps. Charlotte crept carefully along the front of the house, worried her hair (once brown, now korrigan silver) would catchthe light from the streetlamps, alerting Julian’s father to her presence.
Charlotte and Julian had been playing together since before Charlotte could remember. They’d run up and down the streets of Herot’s Hollow, climbing the walls and the trees and generally causing mayhem.
The only thing that would get them to sit still for a minute was Mrs. Knox’s chocolate biscuits. They were crumbly and rich, covered in a thin layer of dark chocolate which Mrs. Knox pressed into a swirly pattern that made you dizzy if you stared at it too long.
Not that you would have been able to. The biscuits were so delicious, especially with a big glass of cold milk from her icebox, that they seldom lasted more than a few seconds in the presence of any of the children in town. Or any of the adults, for that matter.
Charlotte hadn’t had one of those biscuits in years. She wondered if Julian still stopped by the bakery on the way home from school. She wondered if he ate a biscuit (or two, or three) at one of the little wooden tables on his own now, or maybe if he’d made another friend to share them with.
Charlotte wondered if he thought of her sometimes. He must have heard what happened to her. She wondered if he believed she was dead like everyone else did, or maybe if he thought she’d run away like she often spoke of doing. Maybe he thought she’d gone to join the pirates in the Sallin Sea. Maybe he pictured her with a wooden leg and golden tooth, wielding a saber with a flourish as the stormy waters raged around her.
Or maybe he never thought of her at all.
Charlotte knelt to the ground in front of the shop. She felt around the cobblestones of the street until she found it: a perfect little pebble.
She turned it over in her hand, considering.
Should she see him again? Could she walk away, now that she was here?
No, she decided. She could not.
She launched the pebble upwards, striking Julian’s window with atap.
She held her breath as she waited. His shadow stirred within the room, rising from the bed and heading to the window, the silhouette of the boy growing smaller and more distinct as he approached the paned glass.
It was him. He was taller than she had expected, and his hair had been cut closer than she knew he liked it, but it was the same boy she had known.
The same boy she had grown up with. Her best friend in the world.
At least, she hoped he was. She hoped that whatever he thought of her—if he thought of her—that it didn’t make him too sad.
She hated to imagine him sad.
Charlotte hesitated for a moment more. He was looking around—any moment now, he would spot her.
Then she took off and ran before he could.
Whoever he was now, he was better off without her. She was sure of it.
Chapter One
RÉPONDEZ S'IL VOUS PLAÎT
Alison
The stack of envelopes on the desk loomed before Alison.
