Chapter Five

“Gustafson! You didn’t think we’d have a family celebration without you, did you?”

Jeronicus came barreling up the spiral staircase, balancing a tray of honey-dipped ham, mashed potatoes, and for dessert, sugar biscuits and cranberry juice—Gustafson’s favorites.

There was also a tiny wrapped box resting on the tray with an early Christmas gift inside: the gyroscopic stabilizer needed to doctor the Twirling Whirly.

“Answer soon, or this food will find a happy home in my belly!” Jeronicus gave a hearty laugh. “Gustafson!” When he stepped foot in his workshop, his apprentice was no longer there.

Jeronicus scanned the room once more, his smile flagging.

There was Don Juan’s pedestal—minus Don Juan.

There was his wooden book stand—minus his book.

The abstraction of the subtraction meant he could only deduce one common denominator.

Jeronicus’s smile fell, and he staggered dizzily. His tray crashed to the floor, its contents clattering. How could this be? Had someone he deeply trusted and cared for, someone he’d housed and fed and taught, someone whom he considered family, truly just betrayed his trust?

Jeronicus raced back downstairs, calling out for Gustafson. He burst into the cold street. It was dark, save for coal fires and slanted shapes of light streaming softly from shop windows.

“Gustafson!” he cried again and again.

But his voice was only lost to howling winds and distant carolers. He peered through the window of Sisson Arms, the pub next door, thinking maybe Gustafson had gone there for a cup of hot cocoa. But he was not there. Horror gripped Jeronicus, closing around his heart, tightening his throat. He dashed down the lane, where a horse pulled a Gustafson-less carriage around the bend.

“Gustafson!” Jeronicus ran frantically back to the front of his shop, where he let out a strangled sob. His plans to replicate Don Juan had been stolen from him, along with his sacred book of designs that not only secured his family’s future, but also the joy born from his toys and trinkets for tots, tweens, teens, and all who needed it. For years, he and his family had worked hard to get to where they were, from their days peddling their wares at a makeshift trolley in the square to the day they earned a store to call their own. He and Joanne had talked at length about paying off the debt on the shop, with enough profits to afford their dream home, and even a good school for Jessica where she could prosper. But now, all those plans had been snuffed out.

How could Gustafson have deceived them?

Joanne and Jessica appeared in the doorway, holding each other.

With heaving breaths, Jeronicus stared into the night as it began to snow—the first flakes before everything would snowball.