Page 39 of Woods of the Raven

Toby and I took the long way around, circling the entire park and not directly through the crowd, because sometimes that was too much for him. He was an introvert and had a certain amount of time he could be expected to be social. Once the meter was full, he was done. I could tell when that happened, just as his mother could. He had probably asked her to come to my stall because even though it was busy in the morning, and then all day in waves, he didn’t have to interact with anyone. He could sit and read or tidy up without having to chat.

Now, walking through an area where lots of eating tables were set up, he kept his head down, not making eye contact. I, on the other hand, waved to those who lifted their hands to get my attention. It was a quieter area of the fair, where people were sitting to listen to the folk bands and the trios and quartets playing classical selections.

From there, we walked down the grass hill to a grove of maple trees, all in a glorious fall array, where a man, a woman, and their beagle were having a picnic.

“That’s her, come on,” Toby said, yanking on my hand.

As we approached, the beagle got up to see us, and we both knelt and petted him.

“Sig,” Mr. Latham, I was assuming, called out to him, chuckling. “Stop hogging the students.”

“He comes to school with her sometimes,” Toby told me. “And that’s her husband, Mr. Latham.”

My deduction skills were fantastic.

“Man, if dogs got to come to school when I was going, I might have done better.”

“Me too,” Mrs. Latham called over, her voice kind. “And how are you today, Mr. Sterling?”

“Fine,” Toby replied. “This is my Uncle Xan.”

“I know your Uncle Xan,” she told him. “Or of him.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” I said as we stopped next to the spread blanket she and her husband were sharing.

“Oh no, it’s good,” she assured me, smiling.

“I got you something,” Toby chimed in, holding out the box.

“Oh, Toby, you shouldn’t have spent—”

“It’s for you so you won’t be sad anymore.”

She grimaced. “You noticed I’ve been sad?”

He nodded.

“Well, that’s not good.” She sighed, glancing up at me. “I’ll have to change that.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” I soothed her. “As you probably know, Toby’s a bit more observant than a lot of other kids.”

“I definitely agree.” She smiled at him before turning her attention to the box, opening it quickly.

“It goes on your nightstand at home,” Toby told her once she’d removed the brown craft paper and found the bottle nestled there in sweetgrass from the edge of my garden.

“This is beautiful,” she murmured, and her face lit up as she held the bottle. “And so very thoughtful of you, Mr. Sterling.”

“Make sure you put it by your bed,” Toby reiterated. “That’s where my mom has hers that my Uncle Xan made her.”

She returned her focus to me as she carefully rewrapped the bottle. “I was actually coming to your stall. I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of speaking to my class about Yule before winter break.”

“I would be happy to. And like Toby said, the bottle goes by the bed.”

She nodded quickly.

“And if possible, you should be the only one who handles it.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, before glancing at her husband. “No touching.”