Page 5 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
Elbows propped on the desk, Mr. Cunningham leaned his chin on his folded hands, his eyes downcast. Peat was tempted to make this easier for him but couldn’t bring himself to do it. After all, maybe he was wrong. Maybe Peat wasn’t about to get axed.
Yeah, and maybe trolls would suddenly develop good dental hygiene.
Peat’s wings twittered, scattering magenta dust. Peat’s chair was far enough away from the desk that the dust didn’t reach the human’s sensitive nose.
With a deep sigh, Mr. Cunningham lifted his head, justenough for Peat to glimpse his sad, pale brown eyes. “The estate is nearly finished,” he safely started. “We’ve even got a couple of bookings lined up. The first is a wedding. Big fancy to-do from what I’ve heard.” Mr. Cunningham’s grin lacked any true mirth. “The Dunleavy Estate and Botanical Gardens will be open for business soon. You’ve been a big part of making that happen, Peat. You and Petal. I can’t stress that enough. There’s no way the castle would be in the gorgeous state it’s currently in had it not been for you.”
Any home-and-hearth pixie worth their salt could have done the same. Still, Peat appreciated the gratitude. He’d put a lot of effort into the estate. In truth, it was a labor of love. And that, more than anything, would be the absolute worst part about losing this job. He’d hoped… Well, it was beyond foolish. Peat learned that lesson a long time ago. Pixies weren’t supposed to look like him. They weren’t supposed to be so…damaged. Peat couldn’t even fly properly.
“I want you to know, that if it were up to me…” Mr. Cunningham’s words trickled into another deep sigh. “The higher ups areconcerned.” He cringed at the word. “Stupidity, that’s what I call it. But at the end of the day, I’m just an employee too. I don’t get the final say.” Peat could tell just how much that irked the human.
“It’s okay,” Peat said, and wondered if he truly meant it. Upon quick emotional inspection, Peat realized he didnotmean it. Being firedwasn’tokay. It never was. But it wasn’t Mr. Cunningham’s fault, and he believed the human when he said this wasn’t his choice or decision.
“It’s not.” Mr. Cunningham adamantly shook his head. The sparse bits of salt and pepper still clinging around the edges of his scalp barely moved. “But it is what it is.” Waving his hand at the room, Mr. Cunningham said, “This place is built on beauty and delivering on fantasy. The boss doesn’tthink you fit that profile. He’s afraid the customers will be… Yeah, I’m not even going to repeat what he said.”
Peat’s shoulders drooped as he rounded in on himself. His wings worked overtime, bent and deformed as they were. Deformed wings weren’t common. Most damaged pixie wings could be repaired, but not his. Peat had been born this way.
Peat’s birth had been difficult. At least, that’s what he’d been told. His wings had gotten caught in the birth canal. Folded and bent, he hadn’t been able to expand either one. While he could still move them and produce dust, he couldn’t fly. Disfigured and small, his wings were little more than shriveled reminders of what could have been.
Magenta. That was Peat’s color. Beautiful, stunning magenta. The white-blond hair at the crown of his head deepened as it lengthened, the tips brilliantly bright. His wings should have been no different. Instead, his wings were a hodgepodge of mismatched colors folded and crinkled in on themselves.
Peat wasn’t what others wanted to see when they looked at a pixie. He was damaged goods. That damage didn’t affect his pixie-born affinity, but it did affect his ability to get work. Peat bounced around from job to job. Often forced to work night shifts so he wasn’t seen as much. That was frequently the condition of his hiring.
This job had been different. What he looked like hadn’t been important while the estate was going through renovations. Now that it was going to be open to the public, the situation had changed.
“I’m so sorry, Peat. I tried to get them to see reason. I even suggested you work nights, so the guests wouldn’t be as likely to see you, but that didn’t work either. Like I said, the boss is selling the fantasy and part of that is a home-and-hearth pixie on the property that can be seen by the guests.” Mr.Cunningham gave a disgusted huff. “They’re even willing to pay more now.”
Peat had been hired at a significantly lower cost than most home-and-hearth pixies charged. He had no illusions that that was why he’d been hired in the first place. Petal once commented on their salary and Peat wasn’t surprised to hear how little he made compared to a pixie who looked the part.
“You’ve done all the heavy lifting and now…now some other pixie is going to come in and take all the glory.”
Peat shifted his head to the side, his long hair sliding over one shoulder. “Most home-and-hearth pixies aren’t like that. Whoever replaces me will be kind and gracious. They’ll probably feel bad about taking the job.” They’d feel bad, but there were enough pixies out there that needed the work, that secretly hoped their next job would be the home they could bond to, the place they would never need to leave again. Peat wasn’t so cynical that he’d begrudge another pixie that opportunity.
Mr. Cunningham didn’t appear convinced. “It’ll be difficult…for me. I like you, Peat. I don’t want you to leave.”
The pressure in Peat’s chest eased a little. “I like you too, and while I appreciate your loyalty, please don’t be unkind to the pixie that takes my place. They will need your support, and I won’t see it as a betrayal.” Humans were odd like that. Peat had learned that lesson long ago.
Scratching a spot on his balding head, Mr. Cunningham gave a firm nod and answered, “I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you.” Peat inhaled deeply before asking, “When is my last day?”
Mr. Cunningham cringed. “Today.”
Peat’s wings fluttered, scattering more dust. “Today? I…” That was barely enough time to say a proper goodbye to the house he’d begun foolishly considering home. Not to mention that didn’t give him enough time to look for another job. Finances were going to be tight.
“I just got the final word a few minutes ago. I was so mad I almost put in my resignation right then and there.” Mr. Cunningham’s cheeks reddened with his simmering ire. “I threatened to do it if they didn’t give you some kind of financial compensation. I’m sorry, Peat, but all I got them to agree to was two weeks’ pay. I wanted more, but I’ve dealt with these types before, and I know when to accept they’re at the end of their financial rope. Arguing wasn’t going to get you a penny more and maybe even less.”
Some of Peat’s panic eased. Like Mr. Cunningham said, it could be a lot better. It could have also been worse. “Thank you, Mr. Cunningham.”
“Jerry. I think we’re past all the mister business. After today, I’m not your boss any longer. If we’re lucky enough to meet up again, I want you to call me, Jerry.”
Peat’s grin was genuine. “Okay. But until then, you’re still Mr. Cunningham.” Gaze drifting to a large window, Peat’s grin slipped and any ounce of good humor he had fled with it. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to say my goodbyes to the house.”
“Go on. Take your time. And for the record, I’m sorry, Peat. I… Well, I suppose there just isn’t much more to say.”
There really wasn’t. Turning, Peat left the office behind. It might have been his imagination, but the castle already felt colder and dimmer, as if it knew what was about to happen and already mourned Peat’s loss.
Peat’s bare toes dug into the soft carpet runner covering the stairs. His deep magenta toenails would need washing tonight, not that they didn’t every night. Peat knew he’d be less dirty if he could properly fly. It was a fleeting thought, there and gone within the space of a single heartbeat. Dwelling on what he couldn’t do wouldn’t get him far, and it certainly wouldn’t pay the rent.
