The Fairy-Tale Matchmaker (10 page)

Cory shrugged. “Someone threw it through the front window. That's all I know.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, writing it down. “And do you have any idea who might have thrown it?”

“I
know
who threw it. Look on the back.”

“ ‘Once a Tooth Fairy, always a Tooth Fairy,' ” read Officer Deeds. “And that means …”

“The Tooth Fairy Guild sent it, of course!” said Cory.
“I was a member and I just quit. This is a warning that I should rejoin the guild or this kind of thing will happen to me.”

“What makes you think that? It could just mean what it says—that you are a tooth fairy even after you quit.”

“That doesn't make sense!” said Cory. “If they thought I was still a member of the guild, why would they hurl this through my window?”

“You tell me,” said the officer.

“I just … I can't … What?”

“Uh-huh,” said the officer, tucking the ink stick and leaf into his pocket. “I'm afraid I can't help you, miss. I need a lot more to go on than this. Contact us if you have any real problems.”

Cory watched, openmouthed, as the goblin officer left. Contacting him had been a waste of time. Even if he'd wanted to be helpful, Cory had no idea what he could have done, but he could have been more understanding.

After sending a message to a repairman, Cory cleaned up the broken glass. She had just carried the shards to the trash when a message appeared. The repairman would be at the house as soon as he finished the job he was already working on and had taken his juice and
muffin break. While she was waiting for him, a message from Miss Muffet arrived.

Cory doubted the repairman would be arriving soon, so she closed her eyes and did something she hadn't done in a very long time; she tried to
see
who would be right for Marjorie. She'd tried it a few times before, but it had never worked very well. Once in a while she'd get an image that she was
almost
able to make out, if only it was a little less fuzzy. But most of the time, trying to call up a vision didn't do anything except give her a headache.

The best visions usually came with no warning. Her eyesight would go funny, then suddenly she'd see two faces. The few times she'd been able to see one of the
faces clearly enough to tell who it was, the other face was too indistinct to be sure, and the most she could do was guess the person's identity from the hair color or the shape of the head. So far, all her guesses had been wrong.

Cory had learned not to trust her guesses or describe her visions to her friends, but the nagging feeling was still there. What if they did mean something? Why would she have them otherwise? Now a friend was asking her for help. Maybe the visions could be useful. Maybe she just had to learn how to interpret them.

Cory made herself relax, but nothing came to her. Without any new knowledge, she sent a message to Miss Muffet saying that she would think about finding her another date.

The repairman came a few minutes later. After showing him the window, she went to the kitchen to clean up. Noodles kept her company as she tidied the room, and followed her to the big, comfy chair where she curled up to watch the repairman replace the glass.

“What broke the window?” the repairman asked as he handed her his bill.

“Someone threw a tooth through it,” said Cory, not wanting to tell him the whole story.

Shortly after the repairman left, Cory headed to Suzy's shop, by the seashore. Although she had to fly into the wind most of the way, she didn't mind because she loved the smell of the salt air and was looking forward to seeing the ocean. When she was young, her mother had taken her to the beach for a vacation one summer. Delphinium hadn't liked the way the sand got into everything, so it was the only time they went, but Cory still remembered it fondly.

Spotting a lighthouse, Cory turned right. She flew above the shoreline, looking for the little cove where Suzy's shop was located. When she finally saw it, she circled once before landing. Suzy had told her that there was more than one building, but she hadn't said how charming they were. The biggest building was a converted seashell with a wide wooden porch on the front. Whatever creature had lived inside the shell had been enormous; it was huge even after Cory returned to her human size and stood next to its milky-white curved wall. The other buildings were set farther back from the water in an uneven row. Made of driftwood with driftwood furniture on their small porches, they had colored, sea-smoothed bits of glass in their windows.

Hearing sounds from the bigger building, Cory walked around to the front and saw that the area under the porch roof was a shop filled with items made from
seashells. There were seashell necklaces, bracelets, earrings, anklets, rings, and brooches. There were seashell belt buckles, headbands, nose rings, tusk rings, and tentacle bands. Seashell-decorated halters hung on a wall, while a large table was covered with seashell-decorated book covers, hats, vases, and lamps.

A green-haired mermaid who had dried off enough to turn her tail into legs was examining the jewelry. Two human women were exclaiming over the more unusual items and had already set aside a pair of lamps to buy. Cory waited while a selkie carrying a bulging shopping bag over one arm and his sealskin over the other nodded to her and stepped off the porch, heading for the ocean.

It wasn't until Cory stepped onto the porch that she noticed the person behind the counter. She was an older woman with a slight build and long gray hair hanging loose down her back. The tunic she wore had been woven in the blues and greens of the sea, and around her neck strand after strand of seashell necklaces clinked when she moved.

“Are you Suzy?” Cory asked her.

“I sure am,” the woman replied. “I'll be with you in just a moment.”

While Suzy helped the two women decide between two vases, Cory wandered around the shop. She was holding a string of shells the same blue as her eyes
when the two women left and Suzy came over to help her.

“That's the last one of those I'm going to make,” Suzy told her. “I've quit making jewelry altogether, actually. I plan to close my shop and retire soon.”

“Is that why you're doing inventory?” asked Cory.

“You must have seen my help-wanted ad!” said Suzy. “Are you here to apply for the job?”

“Yes, I—”

“Good! You're hired! I'm going to take inventory so I know how much stock I have left. I have a buyer who wants most of it and I'll take the rest with me when I move to Greener Pastures. I'm going halfsies on a cottage there with my sister. Just a minute. I think Algina is almost finished.”

Cory waited while the mermaid made her final choice and bought all the jewelry she'd selected. When Algina left, Suzy began to pull down wall-size shutters, closing the shop off from the outside. Cory caught a glimpse of the mermaid stepping into the waves. A moment later, her legs grew together and she disappeared into the water with a swish of her long, scaled tail.

Suzy pulled the last shutter down and turned to Cory. “We'll work in here today and tackle the storage room tomorrow. Here,” she said, taking leaves and ink-plant stems from a drawer under the table and handing one of
each to Cory. “You start at that side of the room with the lamps. I'll do the jewelry. List how many I have of each color lamp. Tell me when you're finished.”

Cory worked diligently throughout the morning, listing everything that wasn't jewelry. At noon, Suzy went through the back door, returning a few minutes later with cooked shrimp rolled up in seaweed. After they'd eaten, Cory started helping Suzy with her list. They finished by late afternoon and Cory left, promising to return the next day.

That night, Cory's band set up at Sprats'. Its owners, Jack Sprat and his wife, Jillian, were known for their fine food both for people who liked fattening treats as well as those on diets. The restaurant had a bar on one side and a dining room on the other. Cory's eyes swept the crowd as she tuned her drums and was surprised to see that every seat was filled. Zephyr had played there before, but never to such a large crowd. Humans and fairies took up most of the tables in the dining area. A group of ogres seated at a table near the stage was getting rowdy. When Cory turned to let Olot know, she saw that he was already watching them.

No one had brought a stool for Cheeble, so they had to wait until a busboy fetched one. While the brownie grumbled about how people always forgot him, Cory
studied the crowd. She saw Chancy sitting front and center, like usual. Skippy's three nymphs were with the ogre's wife, giggling and waving at the satyr. Cory had to look twice when she saw the elf whose picture had been in the newspaper for punching a reporter. Marjorie Muffet was seated at a table beside a window, and Johnny Blue was sitting near the group of ogres. Cory was looking at her friends when one of her visions started making everything blurry.

The stool arrived for Cheeble. Olot cleared his throat and said, “All right, everyone. Let's begin.”

The vision faded away as Cory reached for her drumsticks. One of the figures might have been Marjorie, but the other was too indistinct to tell.
Maybe it will be clearer next time
, she thought.

The first song they played was “Fairy Spring,” one of their most popular songs. It started out slow, but would pick up tempo halfway through. Apparently, the ogres couldn't wait that long.

“That tune's as lively as a dead skunk and stinks just as bad!” shouted one of the ogres.

The other ogres agreed, banging their flagons of watered-down fermented berry juice on the table. Cory shot a glance at the other members of the band. Olot's jaw was set in a grim line, Cheeble and Skippy looked nervous, while Daisy was beginning to look frightened.
They had been heckled before, but never by a group of ogres. At Olot's signal, the band picked up the pace.

“My granny's snoring sounds better than that,” shouted another ogre.

“The cats yowling outside my cave sound better than that,” a different one hollered.

The ogre who had first called out slammed his flagon on the table so that the juice sloshed over the rim. “Stick 'em in a sack and toss 'em in the river. Get us some musicians who can really play!”

The ogres were laughing and discussing who should go fetch the sack when Johnny Blue pushed back his chair, stood up, and bellowed, “QUIET!”

Cory and her friends stopped playing as everyone in the restaurant turned to look at Johnny. Even the ogres, who she'd always thought didn't respect anyone, seemed to respect Johnny Blue. He was half ogre, and as the best trumpet player around, he brought honor to them all. Instead of getting angry at him, as they would have if anyone else had told them to be quiet, they closed their mouths and settled back in their chairs, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“Play ‘Morning Mist'!” Johnny Blue said to Olot, and sat back down.

It was a song that the band members had come up with during a jam session on a quiet morning when they
couldn't get together that night. They'd been talking about how beautiful the mist was in the meadow below Olot's cave when, one by one, they began to play. Although it was one of the band's favorite songs, they'd played it in public only once. Evidently, Johnny Blue had been there to hear it.

Cory and her bandmates turned to look at each other. When Olot nodded, they started to play.

Cory's drums beat the pulse of the earth deep beneath the ogre's cave. Skippy's pan pipes were the sleepy birds waking up and greeting the rising sun. Daisy's castanets were insects in the underbrush telling of their night's adventures. Cheeble's ox horn and Olot's lute played the melody of the coming day, drawing everyone together.

As the band played, the ogres listened, their heads tilted to the side, their eyes closed. The nymphs giggled until Chancy shushed them, then they closed their eyes, too, and smiled, just like the ogres and everyone else in the room. There was magic in the song; everyone there could feel it. When it was over, they sighed as if something wonderful had happened.

“That was beautiful,” someone whispered, but because it was still so quiet, everyone heard it.

Then someone began to clap, as hard as she could. It was Marjorie, seated off to the side. Soon everyone was
clapping, including the ogres, who never, ever clapped for anyone. After that, the band played other songs that they had made up together. And the ogres loved each one. Cory and her friends played “June Bug Jamboree,” one of the first songs they'd written as a group. The ogres laughed and swatted at each other, as if the room really was full of june bugs. Then the band played “Storm-Chased Maid,” “The Last Flight of Silver Streak,” “Heat Lightning,” and “Shooting Stars.” When they played “Dusk in the Meadow,” some of the ogres actually began to cry.

By the time they finished playing, Cory and her band were tired but happy. They had played songs that they enjoyed and made other people happy, too. The people who had been eating dinner when the music started were still there, which meant that there hadn't been tables for anyone else. Late arrivals were standing in the back of the room.

“We'll have more tables next time,” the Sprats told Olot as the band put away their instruments.

“That song they played, the ‘Morning Mist' song,” Cory overheard one restaurant patron tell another, “when I closed my eyes, I felt as if I was in a meadow on a beautiful spring morning. I swear I felt the mist on my cheek and could smell the flowers!”

“I know! Me too!” said her friend as they walked away.