He waved his hand in an over-the-top flourish and pushed the button. The window went down again.
“Yes, yes, the button is fun, but I have real magic,” Tabitha told him.
“Very funny, human,” he scoffed.
“Abracadabra,” she said, surreptitiously slipping her left hand to the driver-side controls and sending his window back up.
His eyebrows shot up and for a moment he looked very impressed.
“There are controls on my side for the whole car,” she admitted.
He surprised her by throwing his head back and laughing. “Excellent jest, mortal,” he allowed.
She smiled back and concentrated on the road.
Why was he so distracting?
And why was she so anxious to please him?
His appreciation of her silly joke made her feel like she’d just won an Oscar.
“Want some cotton candy?” he offered, opening up his Tinkerbell backpack and pulling out a handful of the fluffy stuff.
“Uh, I’m good,” she said.
He was very fond of sweets. And his new backpack. They had passed it in the window of the Disney store, and he had insisted they go in to get it.
Tristan was convinced the proprietors of the store were paying tribute to his kind, and he was delighted to acknowledge them with his patronage.
Their customer service was so smooth that she was pretty sure his delight hadn’t been dampened even when they didn’t bow or curtsy.
“Don’t eat too much of that stuff,” she warned him. “You’re going to ruin your dinner.”
Truthfully, though, she wasn’t sure that was possible. His appetite seemed to be boundless. But there was no point worrying about it now - they had arrived.
Tabitha pulled into the small parking lot in front of Le Sucre. The little café was Sara’s favorite place in the world. It was also pretty much the only place to eat in Rosethorn Valley proper.
It was easy enough to drive or bike over to Tarker’s Hollow, but Tabitha and Sara had a fondness for their own little home town.
“This is your tavern?” Tristan asked, gazing dubiously at the café.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Tabitha said. “But they don’t serve alcohol, so don’t get too excited.”
They got out of the car and headed inside.
“Get back, Tabby-cat, livin’ in the city ain’t where it’s at,” the man behind the counter belted out in greeting.
“Hey Carl,” Tabitha laughed.
“Who’s your friend?” Carl asked.
“Oh, that’s Tristan,” she replied.
“Great to meet you, man, I’m Carl,” Carl said.
Tristan inclined his head slightly.
Carl grinned. “What can I get you guys?”
Tabitha ordered some sandwiches and drinks, enough for Sara and Dorian as well, and they went to sit down and wait for their meal.
The people in the café were very animated. A table full of moms began to giggle as Tristan pulled out his chair.
Tabitha glanced over. They didn’t seem to be laughing at anything in particular. They were just… happy.
Sara and Dorian came in and Carl sang them a greeting and then pointed them over to Tabitha and Tristan’s table.
“Hey guys,” Sara said, smiling.
Dorian pulled out a chair for her, and she patted his arm before sitting.
Tristan rolled his eyes.
“Good news, I take it?” Tabitha asked.
“Uh, actually, no,” Sara said. “Kind of the opposite. The listing agent got wind that the Historical Society was up in arms about the sale. He arranged to lock the place down. He says it’s to prevent vandalism or retaliation, but for sure it’s to prevent anyone collecting evidence that the house is historic.”
“That’s terrible,” Tabitha replied.
“Unfortunately for him, I already made a video tour of the place for some clients when it first went on the market,” Sara smiled. “We have about thirty minutes of footage of the interior and grounds. Hopefully, that will be enough to work with.”
“Wow, bested by his competitor’s marketing strategy,” Tabitha said, shaking her head.
“Honestly, I’m sure he doesn’t really want to see the place torn down,” Sara confided. “But he works for the trust that owns the place. He had to do what they ask.”
“Do we know who’s in charge of the trust?” Tabitha asked.
Sara shook her head.
“I tried,” she said. “It looks like it leads back to some corporation registered in the city. I can’t trace the trail from there, but I’ll keep looking.”
“So what’s the plan?” Tristan asked.
Before anyone could answer, Carl appeared with a tray of beverages.
“Here you go, guys,” he said with a big smile.
Sara waited while he laid out all the drinks on the table. When he headed back to the kitchen, she leaned in.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day and I think the best bet is to go to Helen Thayer again for more advice,” Sara said.
Helen Thayer was the head of the Tarker’s Hollow Historical Society, a bigger organization than the one in Rosethorn Valley. They often shared resources. Helen had helped them get started with the paperwork to get the old house protected by having it recognized as historically significant.
“Maybe she can help us figure out how to fast track our appeal to the borough,” Tabitha agreed.
“What are you talking about?” Tristan asked, looking puzzled.
Tabitha didn’t blame him. She was a native to this world, and the whole process was confusing to her at times.
“Someone is trying to buy the house for a big construction project,” Tabitha explained. “We’re trying to arrange things so that they’re not allowed to knock it down. We hope that if they can’t get rid of it to build something new, they won’t want it anymore.”
“Won’t someone else just buy it?” Tristan asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Sara said, looking frustrated.
“First we need to ask the government to designate the house as historic, so it will be protected,” Tabitha said.
“So this woman, Helen, is your queen?” Tristan asked.
“No, she’s someone who knows a person in our local government,” Tabitha said.
“So she is some sort of magister with access to the queen,” Tristan said. “Very clever to get on her good side. Go on.”
“We don’t have a queen,” Tabitha explained.
“Who is in charge of your realm?” Tristan asked, looking scandalized.
“We vote and several people make decisions on behalf of all of us,” Sara said.
“Who votes?” Tristan wanted to know.
“Everyone,” Sara said. “That’s how a democracy works.”
“That’s nonsense,” Tristan declared.
“He has a point,” Dorian said. “What if the average person isn’t educated enough to select the right leaders?”
Sara and Tabitha exchanged a knowing look.
“It’s worked, mostly, for several hundred years,” Tabitha told him.
“Wow, several hundred years,” Tristan said sarcastically, raising one eyebrow. “I have breeches older than that.”