Chapter Two

In the comfortable warmth of Jangles and Things, Gustafson captivated a crowd of inquisitive customers with his peculiar prototype of a winged wooden toy.

Despite his snug and shabby waistcoat, oversized striped shirt, and soiled newsboy hat, the young fellow was a true showman—or at least possessed the early markings of one. “Prepare yourself for Gustafson’s magnificent—!” He flashed an enthusiastic grin. “Marvelous—!” he continued, unable to contain his excitement. “Bout of brilliance!” He waggled his finger for effect. “The Twirling . . .” He spun in a circle, much to the enjoyment of the engrossed onlookers. “Whirly!”

The little crowd watched in awe and anticipation as Gustafson set his invention down on a table, and although he gestured for them to give him space, they hemmed in around him all the same, trying to get a better look. Gustafson wound a key sticking out the top of the prototype, twisting it and twisting it with a clicking and a clattering of tiny gears.

The toy’s wooden fins turned up and began to spin like an airplane propeller.

The onlookers erupted in cheers as it hovered in the air, and Gustafson’s face broke into a satisfied grin. The twirling invention pulled the attention of all in the shop, including that of the owner’s wife, Joanne Jangle, who looked lovely with her corkscrew curls spiraling alongside an elegant braid, and wore lemon-yellow skirts and a cherry-red jumper. She stopped ringing up a customer at the wooden cash register to point out the miraculous toy to them.

Just then, the Twirling Whirly came crashing down.

It shattered into bits of cogs and coils!

Startled and shocked reactions quickly morphed into mocking ones as customers laughed and pointed at Gustafson, who removed his hat and nervously wrung it.

“Come on! It works! It— It really does! Just a few tweaks, that’s all!” he stammered.

Gustafson fancied himself a great inventor. But that distinction had already been taken by the famous shop owner, whose whimsical working toys drew away Gustafson’s deserters.

There, above, on the upper-level landing festooned with ribbons and wreaths, the doors flew open, and out stepped Jeronicus Jangle, the most wondrous man in all the land. He was handsome with twinkling brown eyes and black hair cut in a short wave with a side part, and he was dressed in a mustard-yellow tartan suit, bow tie, and blue waistcoat. Children flew up the staircase and greeted him, singing his praises as he doled out toys. Once they’d scurried back downstairs, he clasped his hands together, sighed contentedly, then smiled as he contemplated the possibilities that the day ahead had to offer. From the moment he woke up, his mind never stopped spinning.

“Package for Jeronicus Jangle!” a mail courier called from the doorway.

The smile vanished from Jeronicus’s face. In the next instant, he was flying down the steps, gliding across the checkerboard floor, and closing his fingers around the cylindrical parcel in the courier’s outstretched hands. As the courier turned to leave, Jeronicus’s heart began to race.

“Is this . . . ?” He inspected the package addressed to him, then beamed. “It is!” He whirled around and showed the package to Joanne. From behind the register, her eyes went wide.

In that instant, they knew nothing was going to be the same ever again.

Joanne and Jeronicus climbed the stairs to the upper-level landing, where Joanne held the parcel as he slid its casing away to reveal a thick cannister with ornate flourishes carved at either end. Embossed in the middle were the words FINAL INGREDIENT OF THE INVENTION. He set it down with great care on a rickety table.

All their lives they’d waited for this day.

Returning to the floor below, Jeronicus hopped onto the countertop to address his customers, overcome by the Christmas spirit deep in his soul. “I am giving it all away. It’s your lucky day!”

The crowd went wild. It was a wondrous sound Gustafson wished had been for his behalf, and he momentarily forgot about trying to get Jeronicus’s attention to help him troubleshoot his busted prototype. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Gustafson was Jeronicus’s apprentice and aspiring inventor, he also lived in and tended to the shop as his assistant.

Gustafson’s jaw dropped—not only was Jeronicus the greatest inventor, but also the most generous. It was a concept he found difficult to fathom, and a reminder of his own shortcomings.

Joanne hoisted a large patchwork sack onto the countertop, and Jeronicus immediately reached in and tossed toys around the room—everything from nutcrackers and number puzzles to firecrackers and flutes. Customers rejoiced and thanked him for his grand show of kindness.

“It’s going to be a merry, merry Christmas indeed!” Jeronicus exclaimed.

Basket in hand, Joanne burst out on the snowy cobblestone street and gave away gadgets and gizmos to the townspeople. Jeronicus joined her and procured even more toys from their patchwork bag to distribute. It was a display of goodwill that had never before graced the cobblestones of Chancer Street.

A little girl rounded the corner and emerged onto the busy lane. She was bright-eyed and smiling, looking cute as a cog in a cranberry dress, with the teeth of decorative gears pinning up her cloudlike hair, and a sleek leather-bound book of designs tucked under her arm. Jessica was a Jangle through and through. When she saw her parents dishing out gifts, her excitement intensified. She bolted to Jeronicus, who now stood in the flatbed of a horse-drawn carriage.

“Daddy! Daddy! What’s going on?” Jessica called out, her eyes sparkling.

Jeronicus bent to rest his big hands on her little shoulders. “Oh, sweetie! It is the most wonderful day! Hey, remember that thing Daddy told you he was gonna get you?”

“Which thing?” Jessica asked. Could it have been her own pair of inventor goggles she’d been asking for, purple band and all? Or perhaps it was a brand-new instrument for her tool belt!

Jeronicus laughed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna get you ten of them!” He undid the necklace he always wore and looped it over his daughter’s head before jumping off the carriage and joining Joanne by the shop.

Jessica studied the tiny invention dangling from the necklace in her palm. It looked like a silver-and-gold whistle, and made curious clicking noises. And was it glowing?

Inspired, she hurried through the upbeat and celebratory crowd to reach her parents, whose basket and bag were now empty. Jeronicus lifted Jessica and spun her while Joanne lovingly looked on. In the next moment, Jessica was leading them back into the shop, which was now quiet, since the customers had left to follow Jeronicus and Joanne into the street. She sprinted up the staircase, eager to explore her own racing imagination.

“Jessica, wait for your father,” Joanne called out, hot on her daughter’s heels.

“Mom, I have to get my smock!” Jessica replied. “We’re inventing!”

Before Jeronicus could reach the steps, Gustafson appeared behind him.

“Hey, hey, uh, professor, you said you’d— You promised you’d look at my invention,” he said nervously, handing him the Twirling Whirly. He’d figured now was as good a time as any.

“Ooh.” Jeronicus returned it to him before ascending the stairs.

Stuttering and stammering, Gustafson squeezed past him and stopped on the step above. “N-no, no, no! Professor, wait! Just a couple minutes—”

“Did you calibrate the gyroscopic stabilization system like we discussed?” Jeronicus asked jovially as he continued upward and reached the landing. If Gustafson had done that, all the Twirling Whirly needed was a gyroscopic stabilizer to get it up and running properly!

Gustafson flushed. “No, no, n-not yet, but—”

“Realign the gimbals?” Jeronicus picked up the cannister containing the final ingredient for his latest life-changing invention.

Gustafson followed him onto the landing. “No, but professor—”

“You do that, and I’ll take a look at it tomorrow,” Jeronicus said from the doorway.

Gustafson held up the pieces of his invention. “Hey! But professor—!”

“Brilliance beckons! Genius awaits!” And with that, Jeronicus sprinted away, toward his secret workshop and out of sight.

Gustafson dropped his arms at his sides and sagged in defeat. Then he gazed down at the empty shop and his semblance of an invention—shattered in hand like all his dreams. What he’d give for one fraction of Jeronicus’s notoriety, or for a shop to call his own one day. He was tired of waiting for tomorrows. He was tired of living in Jeronicus’s giant warm-and-fuzzy shadow.

But what was a sad and lowly apprentice boy to do?