“I do,” Serendipity nodded, looking into Corey’s eyes. “I’m not exactly sure what it was that happened to me when I was up there on the mountain, whether I truly had the opportunity to speak to my father through some sort of magic, or if it was just some sort of an hallucination brought on by my extremely cold state, but through that experience and talking to Mrs. Claus just now, I’ve come to realize that what happened to my mother and sisters was an accident. It truly wasn’t my fault, and I can’t spend the rest of my life feeling guilty or punishing myself.”
A look of relief and a broad smile spread across Corey’s face. “Oh, Serendipity, it’s so wonderful to hear you say those words,” he assured her. “If coming here has allowed you to make that realization, and you should still choose to leave this place, never to return, then I should think this journey a success.”
Serendipity s
Maevis had spent much of her time in Serendipity’s cottage awaiting word from her ward; would she choose to stay in the North Pole, or would she quickly return via some magic portal or reindeer transport?She had received a bit of an indication that Serendipity may have decided to stay when all of her doll parts suddenly disappeared out of the cottage and Marwolaeth Hall simultaneously. However, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it without some direct word from Serendipity herself. It was early on the third day when, as she continued to straighten and clean Serendipity’s workspace, the only task she could find to keep herself busy, she heard a bustling at the fireplace at her back. She turned quickly to see a magical envelope dancing atop the blazing fire, and careful not to burn herself, she used the poker to draw out the letter.Upon tearing it open, she read the following, written in the familiar hand of one Cornelius Cane:Dearest Mae
Marwolaeth Hall was an imposing structure with its steep roofline, ominous gables that numbered three, and the seemingly daunting sharpness of even its rounded turret that capped the bay window on the eastern side.It wasn’t necessarily the largest dwelling one might chance to come across in the moorland near the village of Dunsford, England, but it was certainly commanding enough to make one stop and consider the nature of those who would make such a place their home. Even in the daylight it seemed to whisper of treachery and consternation, and it was no wonder the original owners had given it such a fortuitous name.Serendipity Fizzlestitch had not called Marwolaeth her home for nearly eight years, choosing instead to occupy a much smaller, much less daunting cottage nearly twenty furlongs to the south of her original home, off in the woods where the trees blocked most of the view of the gothic structure. Not that she ever went out where she could potentially cat
Several moments, perhaps half an hour, passed before Serendipity was satisfied with the smiling face, and she eventually sat the doll head down carefully on the roughly hewn wooden table that held her paints and turned her attention back toward the fireplace, certain that whatever wayward piece of postage had haphazardly found its way into her chimney would be long gone. But it wasn’t. It still sat there un-charred and unblemished atop the dancing flames, staring at her almost as intensely as the blank canvas she had just personified.Serendipity stood and stretched her back, noting that it no longer seemed quite as erect as it once was from so many hours of carefully examining her work, and crossed the few feet to the fireplace. Before she made a move to retrieve the stalwart article, she contemplated its existence a moment longer.Finally, taking the poker in her long, spindly, paint-stained fingers, she drew the envelope out of the flames, and it came to rest on
“A merchant, who had three daughters, was once setting out upon a journey; but before he went he asked each daughter what gift he should bring back for her. The eldest wished for pearls; the second for jewels; but the third, who was called Lily, said, 'Dear Father, bring me a rose.' Now it was no easy task to find a rose, for it was the middle of winter; yet as she was his prettiest daughter, and was very fond of flowers, her father said he would try what he could do. So he kissed all three, and bid them goodbye.”“Papa! That merchant had three daughters, just as you have three daughters,” Serendipity laughed as sat upon her father’s knee, listening to his deep voice portray the tales of the Brothers Grimm in full spectrum. “So he does,” Rudolph Fizzlestitch confirmed, absently rubbing his nose. “But I’m sure that his three daughters are not near
At first, Serendipity went about her business as she would any other time. After a short nap, she was always ready to dive right back into her work, picking up precisely wherever she had left off. Today should be no different: she picked up the dress, realized her needle was missing, and chose another one from a wide selection stuffed inconspicuously into a well-used pin cushion. She threaded the needle without looking on the first try, and settled down into her chair, training her mind on other things, anything, other than that letter that sat across the room from her. She decided to concentrate on the doll she was working on, number 1,452, or as she had nicknamed her, Lizzette Sassafras, thinking how smart she would look attending a cotillion in the pink lacy dress she was currently creating for her.Lizzette sat on the table near the head of number 1,468, the one she had been working on earlier, which she had chosen to name Hester Pineyfrock (her dress would be green, of cou
The snow was coming down hard, the flakes small and sharp, more like ice droplets than the fluffy white puffs one usually thought of when considering this particular type of precipitation. But after a century or so of living in the Village, Cornelius Cane had grown immune to the cold and the various forms of solid water the clouds heaved down upon them.As he crunched along the well-decorated cobblestone street that led to his home, his mind only vaguely noticed the impeccably hung twinkling white lights that decorated each of the cottages, shop fronts, and various other buildings, their iridescence broken up only by the velvet bows and greenery interspersed every few feet. Here, Christmas decorations were not seasonal; they were part of everyday life, and while he did occasionally stop to marvel at their splendor, particularly when they had recently been changed out, after a while, like the snow, the decor became part of the background, an inconsequential part of his e
Lizzette Sassafras was dressed in her finest holiday gown, complete with white bloomers and black boots, a stylish matching hat atop her blonde curly hair, ready to be wrapped up and shipped out to whichever sweet little girl had petitioned for her creation when Serendipity heard a slight knock at the door, followed by a rattling of the knob and the stomping of heavy boots against the mat that somewhat protected the rough wooden floor. She did not turn, not yet, as she was still admiring her work. Instead, she called over her shoulder, “Good morning, Maevis.”Maevis was satisfied with the dryness of her boots and she crossed the few steps to the table, dropping the heavy basket she carried in the only cleared off place as she replied, “Morning? Serendipity, it’s practically evening. It’s past five in the afternoon. Why don’t you open the curtains and let some light in here?”At the suggestion, Serendipity turned her head sharpl
Maevis’s eyebrows grew together. “What of it?” she inquired, not sure what her charge was getting at.“Why can we not sell it? Keep this cottage and one of the others for you, let Ms. Crotlybloom go. Why must we keep that dreadful place? I shall never step foot in there again.”“Serendipity,” Maevis began, leaning forward, her hands on the table, “we can’t. That’s where all of the doll parts are kept. There’d be no way we could store them all here.”Nodding, Serendipity suddenly remembered it had not been that long ago that Maevis had asked to sell the last remaining warehouse. It had required making space in the hall for all of the fabric, hair, eyes, bisque heads, what remained of her father’s initial supply of paint--everything Serendipity used to assembly her art. “All of the money from the warehouses is gone then?” she confirmed.Maevis’s curls bounded up