Chapter Seventeen

Gustafson admired his reflection in the mirror and adjusted his purple sash.

“The buyers are here? Again?!” Don Juan spoke to Gustafson from where he stood on his raised pedestal. “Did you not learn your lesson the last time?”

Gustafson straightened his neckerchief. “We saw it with our very own eyes.” He referred to when he and Don Juan had used their spyglass viewers (one human-sized and one doll-sized) at the office window to watch on the two children flying in Jeronicus’s workshop with the Buddy 3000. There was always something left indeed. And Gustafson had found it. It was why he’d gone out sniffing for information, though Journey had been reticent to divulge any. The fearful boy, however, had been more willing, or perhaps merely easier to trick. As soon as Gustafson had set his tall green music box down in the shop while the boy was packing, Edison was practically hypnotized by it. Stealing the robot after coercing the boy into telling him where it was had been simple. Tying the boy up, less so. But he had what he needed, and then some. Just like old times. A Jeronicus Original . . .

He strode to Don Juan and chuckled. “It’s foolproof!”

Don Juan slapped Gustafson across the cheek.

Gustafson recoiled, warily touched his own face, and winced.

“You are proof that there are fools! Fools, fools, fools, fools, fools!” Don Juan chided.

Steeling himself, Gustafson left to go meet his buyers. While every person had wanted the perfect gift for Christmas Day, Gustafson had been desperate and determined to deliver it.

They were going to love their shiny new toy.

And this time, it would work.