Page 19 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
Brushing at her cheeks, she clung to a different fragment of memory. One of Soren’s grandchildren—her grandson—had been an artist. If she could find it, there was a portfolio. Full of lovely drawings of Ephemera. Maybe Zuzu would remember where it was? Fumiko wanted to show it to Akira.
Colt drew her across the room to the green door. “Sinder’s setting up his equipment in here. We’ll ward his generator so the noise doesn’t bother anyone.”
Fumiko was familiar with computers. Ever since the Emergence, she’d been borrowing those at the library. Mostly for shopping. Sinder’s equipment was on a much larger scale. Absorbed in assembling the various boxes and cords spilling from foam-lined cases, he didn’t notice them at first. When he did, he pulled off headphones and asked, “Problem?”
“Dinner.” She’d almost forgot her reason for coming. “In an hour, more or less.”
“Great! I’m starved.” He snapped his fingers and added, “If you guys like fish, I can bring in as many as you need.”
Promising to pass that along to Antigone, they left him to his work.
Colt continued his tour. “And this last room is reserved for our missing member. He’ll be coming in tired, so he’ll be needing a den.”
Fumiko hoped he didn’t mean another bear. Diva wouldn’t like that.
Perhaps he read the worry on her face. “Wolf clan. And in desperate need of a long rest. He’ll probably sleep a week, if not two.”
“I’ve met wolves before. Many times. They’ve been kind to us.” Fumiko wondered if an old friend might be returning. “Which pack?”
“He’s an Ambervelte.”
She shook her head and nodded. “The last wolves were Elderboughs.”
“Yes, they’ve been everywhere lately.”
They paused to watch Hallow and Sinder maneuver a ping-pong table into the center of the emptied room. Rapping its surface with his knuckle, Sinder said, “Welcome to mission headquarters!”
Hallow surveyed the space. “Juuyu will want a clock. Anyone remember seeing one?”
“I do!” Sinder darted into the room they’d packed tight. He returned moments later with a flat box. “Check it out!”
Lifting the lid, he revealed a whimsical wall clock, all bevels and prisms and mirrors.
“Fancy,” murmured Hallow. “No wonder it caught your eye.”
Colt chuckled. “Dragons like a bit of shine.”
“I’ve seen clocks like these before. It’s like a music box, right Fumiko?”
“Yes.” One of Soren’s precious souvenirs. “I think the craftsman was a dragon.”
“I think so, too.” Sinder tinkered with its innerworkings and soon had the clockworks spinning. Nudging the hands to the top of the hour, he grinned widely when the decorations on the clock face unfurled like flowers and danced in time to a chiming tune.
Fumiko had forgotten how charming it was. They’d made a game of guessing which of its many melodies would play.
Soren had considered it an object lesson. Proof that the passage of time could bring pleasant surprises. She’d believed it for as long as he was with her, but after his passing, she’d packed the clock away. It’s gentle music only reminded her that he was no longer there, humming along.
But the pain had been fresher then.
The memories were welcome, now.
The clock could be something she treasured, even as she’d been treasured.
“Fumiko?” It was Hallow this time, proffering a handkerchief. “Should we put it back where we found it?”
Drawing herself up and trying for a smile, she said, “I like reminders when they’re nice. Leave it out. Let it play. Maybe remembering one good choice will lead to another.”
SEVEN
