Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(5)

Sensing Maggie’s helpless interest, he glanced in her direction. He had strong-boned, rough-edged good looks, and eyes so blue you could see them from across the shop. Although he was tall and striking, there was no swagger in him…just quiet, potent confidence. With the beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow, and jeans worn to the point of raggedness, he was a little bit scruffy and a whole lot sexy.

And he was taken.

Tearing her gaze away from him, Maggie hastily picked up a wooden weaving loom. With great care, she restrung a few stretchy fabric loops.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the guy wandered to his daughter. He took an interest in the train that went around the entire store, the tracks positioned on a shelf built close to the ceiling.

Since the Magic Mirror had opened three months earlier, business had been brisk. Tables were piled with old-fashioned toys: binoculars, handmade yo-yos, wooden vehicles, lifelike stuffed animals, sturdy kites.

“That’s Mark Nolan and his niece Holly,” Elizabeth, one of the store clerks, murmured to Maggie. Elizabeth was a retiree who had taken a part-time job at the shop. She was a vivacious older woman who seemed to know everyone on San Juan Island. Maggie, having just moved from Bellingham at the beginning of the summer, had found Elizabeth to be an invaluable resource.

Elizabeth knew the customers, their family histories and personal tastes, and she remembered the names of everyone’s grandchildren. “Isn’t it getting close to Zachary’s birthday?” she might ask a friend who was browsing through the shop. Or, “Heard poor little Madison’s under the weather…we’ve got some new books, perfect for reading in bed.” Whenever Elizabeth was there, no one left the Magic Mirror without buying something. Occasionally Elizabeth called customers when the store had something new in that she thought they’d like. When you lived on an island, word of mouth was still the most effective selling tool.

Maggie’s eyes widened slightly. “His niece?”

“Yes, Mark’s raising her. Her mother died in a car wreck about six months ago, poor little thing. So Mark brought her over from Seattle, and they’ve been living at Rainshadow Vineyard, at his brother Sam’s house. I couldn’t imagine those two trying to take care of a little girl by themselves, but they’ve managed so far.”

“They’re both single?” A question that Maggie had no business asking, but it slipped out before she could stop it.

Elizabeth nodded. “There’s another brother, Alex, who is married, but I heard they’re having trouble.” She cast a regretful look at Holly. “She ought to have a woman in her life. I think it’s one of the reasons she won’t talk.”

Maggie’s brow furrowed. “To strangers, you mean?”

“To anyone. Not since the accident.”

“Oh,” Maggie whispered. “One of my nephews wouldn’t talk to anyone at school when he started elementary school. But he would talk to his parents at home.”

Elizabeth gave a regretful shake of her head. “As far as I know, Holly’s quiet all the time.” She set a pink cone hat with a veil over her white curls that danced like butterfly antennae, and adjusted an elastic band beneath her chin. “They’re hoping she’ll come out of it soon. The doctor told them not to push her.”

Picking up a scepter topped with a sparkling star, Elizabeth went back to the party room, where a birthday celebration was in progress. “Time for cake, Your Majesties!” she announced, and was greeted with high-pitched squeals before the door closed behind her.

After ringing up a customer who had bought a stuffed rabbit and a picture book, Maggie glanced around the shop until she found Holly Nolan again.

The child was staring at a fairy house that had been fastened to the wall. Maggie had made it herself, decorating the roof with dried moss and gold-painted bottle caps. The circular door had been made from the casing of a broken pocket watch. Standing on her toes, Holly squinted through a tiny window.

Emerging from behind the counter, Maggie approached her, not missing the subtle stiffening of the child’s back.

“Do you know what that is?” Maggie asked gently.

Holly shook her head, not sparing her a glance.

“Most people think it’s a doll house, but it’s not. It’s a fairy house.”

Holly looked at her then, her gaze traveling from Maggie’s lo-top Converse sneakers all the way to her curly red hair.

Maggie felt an unexpected rush of tenderness as they studied each other. She saw the frail solemnity of a child who no longer trusted in the permanence of anything. And yet she sensed Holly still inhabited the corners of her childhood, ready to be tempted by something that hinted of magic.

“The fairy who lives here is always gone in the daytime,” Maggie said. “But she comes back at night. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I gave you a peek into her house. Would you like to see it?”

Holly nodded.

Carefully, Maggie reached for the clasp at the side of the house and unfastened it. The entire front swung open to reveal three small furnished rooms containing a bed made of twigs…a gilded espresso cup for a bathtub…a table shaped like a mushroom, with a wine cork for a chair.

Maggie was gratified to see a hesitant smile spread across Holly’s face, revealing the endearing gap of a missing tooth on the bottom row. “She doesn’t have a name, this fairy,” Maggie said confidentially, closing the front of the house. “Not a human name, that is. Only a fairy name, which of course humans could never pronounce. So I’ve been trying to think of what to call her. When I decide, I’ll paint it over the front door. Lavender, maybe. Or Rose. Do you like either of those?”