his brother but came out alone. ‘I’m sorry, but Stone isn’t at home,’ he said to Butter. ‘Perhaps you can try tomorrow.’
“Frustrated, Butter left. She went back the next day, but he still wasn’t there. She went the next day and the day after that—every day for a week. She finally asked if he even lived there.
“‘Of course he lives here,’ Sparrow said. ‘He’s my brother.’
“‘I’m beginning to think your brother is as fictional as the fairy trapped in a toadstool.’
“Sparrow shook his head. ‘It’s not fiction. Go and look closely at the toadstool with the gray spots on the stem.’
“‘That is where I’ll find the fairy trapped in the toadstool?’ Butter asked.
“Sparrow nodded. ‘Then you’ll have to figure out how to set him free.’
“‘The fairy is a he?’ Butter asked. For some reason, she’d assumed it was a lady. A princess, perhaps.
“So my brother says,’ Sparrow said. ‘He also said that if the fairy isn’t set free before the full moon, he will be trapped forever.’
“Since the full moon was that night, Butter decided she’d better go—just so she could prove to Sparrow and his brother that there was no fairy.
“Armed with an axe so that she could cut into the toadstool if necessary, she went after dinner, arriving at the gray-spotted toadstool at twilight. She circled the toadstool, trying to determine how someone could be inside.
“‘It just looks like a toadstool,’ Butter grumbled. ‘Sparrow lied, and I fell for it.’
“She turned to go, but from the corner of her eye, she saw a faint glow. It came from the toadstool—the center of the stem, actually. Pivoting slowly toward the toadstool, she noticed the light grew brighter.
“Butter went to the toadstool and put her hand on the smooth stem. ‘Is someone in there?’
“A door opened at the base and out stepped the most handsome fairy she’d ever seen.”
West’s gaze connected with his wife’s and Emmaline couldn’t help but note the silent communication between them. It was flirtatious and loving and full of promise.
Emmaline looked over at Lionel and saw that he was watching her, his expression adoring. She reached over and took his hand.
West continued, “‘Good evening, Butter. I am Stone.’
“‘Sparrow’s brother?’ Butter wasn’t sure she believed him. ‘He said you were trapped, but clearly, you are not.’
“‘Yes, that part was a fabrication. I needed to make sure you would come. I’ve spent this week inside the toadstool doing...things. Would you like to see?’”
The children had all leaned slightly forward, their attention fully on West’s fantastical tale.
“Doubt made Butter hesitate,” West said. “But curiosity won out, and she followed him inside. What she saw next made her jaw drop. It was a house. With furniture and even a hearth.
“‘I was just about to light the fire—the first one,’ Stone said. ‘Would you like to sit in front of it with me?’
“Butter nodded, enchanted as she took in the coziness of the interior. There was a settee and an overstuffed chair perfect for reading. She could happily live there. But of course, it wasn’t hers. It belonged to Stone. Or so she thought.
“‘Is this your house then?’ she asked.
“Stone turned from the fire and took her hand. ‘No, I was hoping it would be yours. I know you don’t have one.’
“Butter couldn’t speak. She hadn’t had a home of her own since she’d been very small, before her parents had died. ‘You spent this week making a house...for me?’
“Stone nodded. ‘Sparrow said you didn’t have one. And now you do. There’s a bedroom upstairs and another fireplace so you won’t be cold.’
“Butter was sure she’d never feel cold again, especially when she looked into his warm, kind eyes. ‘Thank you, Stone. Will you promise to visit?’
“He smiled at her. ‘It would be my honor. Now, shall we have tea?’
“And they did.”
The room fell silent. At last, Leah spoke. “What happened next?”
West hesitated. “Er, they drank their tea.”
Leah frowned. “You said that. What about after the tea?”
“Ah, Stone left, and Butter went to bed.”
“There has to be more,” Leah said, squinting. ““Is that a real story, or did you just make it up?”
West chuckled. “All stories are made up by someone, my dear.”
“And it was a very good one,” Emmaline said. “You should write it down.”
West appeared flattered. “Maybe I will.”
“But it needs a proper ending, Papa,” Leah insisted.
“And what kind of ending is that?” West asked.
“One with a happy ever after.”
Emmaline looked to her husband once more and saw the laughter and love in his gaze. Her heart swelled in