Shadows of the Redwood - By Gillian Summers Page 0,29
his hard chest pressing against her. She sighed, and felt the tree stir to wakefulness, eavesdropping on her thoughts.
Keelie didn’t care. To her dreamy scenario she added Risa, who would come upon them and growl and gnash her teeth. (What was gnashing, anyway?) Behind her, the tanoak grew warm and gave off a spicy scent. She smiled and stroked its bark. “Back to sleep, old guy. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
A green girl with pointed ears trotted past her. Keelie stared, mystified, before realizing that it was a human girl with green makeup and glued-on ears. She stroked her pointed ear tip and hopped back onto the path, hurrying toward the shops. Funny how she’d gone from touching her rounded ear, to reassure herself that she was like everyone else, to touching the pointed one.
The Heartwood shop was empty. Irritated at her grandmother, Keelie yanked on the green cloth curtains, sliding the rings back on the rods, and tied the fabric to the corner posts with a tasseled cord the golden hue of a hawk’s eyes.
The furniture was dust-free and in place. She touched a small dresser (cedar from the Northwoods), then looked up, startled, as she saw a pale figure watching her from the back of the shop. Was it a tree spirit or was the place haunted? Keelie walked quickly toward the back, hiding her apprehension although no one was around to see.
She’d never seen a ghost. Although she’d met enough strange creatures in the world that she shouldn’t be surprised to meet the spirit remains of a person, it still was scary. But nothing moved in the back of the shop. She was alone.
Unlocking the safe in the back room, Keelie pulled out the change box and placed it under the carved counter, a close cousin to the one at her father’s shop at the High Mountain Renaissance Faire. Their shop, she corrected herself, rubbing her palms across the smooth, honey-colored surface of the counter. Carved from a single great oak log, its base looked as if it had roots that went deep into the Earth. Carved creatures raced across its sides, while crystals glimmered here and there within the deeper carvings.
Every stroke of her hand brought her close to the great tree the counter had once been a part of. From its highest branches, eagles had watched the sea, and among its roots, humans had sheltered, so long ago that they didn’t quite look like people. Her eyes closed, Keelie wished she could get closer to them. Maybe they weren’t human after all.
“Are you ready?”
She jumped and her eyes shot open. Master Oswald stood before her, floppy Elizabethan hat cocked jauntily over one eye. He smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He looked around appreciatively. “Zeke has outdone himself. I’ve wanted him to participate for years, and I’m so happy that Heartwood is finally here. Very fine work.” He tapped a nearby chair with his pen. “Very fine indeed. Call if you need anything,” he said, trotting off. His tone said, “You’d better not need me.” He was a little cold, but still so much better than Finch, the flame-haired administrator who had screamed and cursed her way through each day at the Wildewood Faire.
The bagpipes skirled again and Keelie flinched. She liked a bagpipe tune, but not nonstop. She added aspirin to the list of things to buy when she had a chance to escape. Maybe if the day was slow she could leave Grandmother in charge and drive into Juliet alone. Who would notice? Certainly not the big sleepy trees. At home in the Dread Forest (it still tickled her to think “home” and “Dread Forest” together), the gossipy trees would have alerted Dad before she’d even turned the key. They were awful, now that he was head of the forest.
A creak of wheels and shouted instructions caused Keelie to look up. Risa had set up her Green Goddess cart outside.
Was she cursed? Keelie ran out to confront the elf girl. “What are you doing here?”
Risa adjusted her snug bodice, pulling it lower as she smiled coyly at Keelie. “Master Oswald told me to set up here. Take it up with him.”
A group of visitors had already come down the road. The men veered off to talk to Risa. The women stood by, disconcerted, but then one noticed Heartwood.
“Look at the beautiful furniture, Sylvia. Let’s go inside.”
The other woman glanced back at the man who was probably her husband.