Maevis watched for a few moments as Serendipity worked at her craft table, laying out the hair for her next project and readying her tools. Clearly, she was not in the mood to talk today. Occasionally, when Maevis came to the cottage to visit, Serendipity would want to converse, but Maevis could never predict what circumstances would cause her to be chatty and what would prevent her from voicing whatever was on her mind. Maevis glanced around the room one last time, looking to see if there was anything else she could do to straighten the space. The lanterns were still full, since Serendipity rarely turned them on. Everything seemed to be in its place, and she was just about to turn to leave when something white caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, Maevis noticed an object that shouldn’t be in the cottage and turned to look at the suspect item. “What’s that?” she asked, staring in the direction of Serendipity’s rocking chair.

Serendipity was lost in thought, her back to Maevis, and she had no idea that the other woman had even spoken until she realized she had crossed the room and was standing next to her chair. By the time she opened her mouth to protest, Maevis had the envelope in her hand and was removing the paper from within. “It’s nothing…” she began.

“Who would deliver a letter here?” Maevis asked, knowing full well the mail carrier, Mr. Barkingstop, would never make his way out to the cottage.

“No one,” Serendipity assured her, stepping over to her side, her hand reaching for the letter before she hesitated and dropped her arm to her side. “No one delivered it.”

“Then how did it get here?” Maevis asked, stepping away, as if she were attempting to protect the letter from Serendipity’s grasp should she reach for it again.

Serendipity sighed, folding her arms across her chest and narrowing her sharp eyes. “It came down the chimney,” she explained as nonchalantly as possible.

“Down the chimney?” Maevis repeated, her eyes wide. “Whatever do you mean? Was your fire out?”

“No.”

“Well, then, how did it make it down the chimney without bursting into flames?” She turned the letter over in her hands. “There’s no mark of ash or soot…”

“I’m not sure,” Serendipity admitted, “but it came down the chimney, and it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Whoever sent it?” Maevis asked as she began to unfold it.

Serendipity snatched at the letter again, this time the hesitation out of her system. “It’s nothing,” she repeated. But Maevis was too quick for her, and Serendipity was not able to get it before the older woman spun around on her heels, her back to her charge now.

“If it’s nothing, then you won’t mind if I read it.” Maevis was beginning to wonder if a gentleman suitor hadn’t found this long-lost princess in the woods--though one glance at Serendipity’s current state of unkemptness negated that thought quite quickly--and she unfolded the paper and began to read. Her eyes skimmed the words quickly, her mouth open in awe and disbelief, but the words retaining their situation in her mind. “Serendipity!” she proclaimed upon finishing, her hands shooting down by her sides. “Do you know what this says?”

Thin shoulders shrugged. “Of course I know what it says,” Serendipity assured her. “I did read it after all.”

Maevis knew better than to argue with her about her ability to decode literature, so instead she assumed Serendipity had somehow managed to decipher the message. “If what this says is true--and if it truly arrived the way that you said it did--Serendipity, you’ve been summoned to join the finest group of toymakers ever assembled.” She drew the paper up before her eyes again, rereading, contemplating the words carefully. Then, more to herself than the other woman in the room, she mumbled, “I have heard of things like this, old folk tales mostly, but I didn’t know it was true. Never would I have imagined it was possible that this could be real. And yet, here it is, in my hand, nevertheless.”

Serendipity’s confusion was well hidden by her look of nonchalance. “It doesn’t matter,” she assured Maevis, finally giving up on the possibility of retrieving the letter from her friend’s hands now that it had been read. “I’m not going anywhere anyway.”

“Not going?” Maevis repeated. Serendipity turned her back and crossed over to her table, and Maevis followed. “What do you mean you’re not going? Of course you’re going. You have to go.”

“I don’t have to go anywhere,” Serendipity reminded her, picking up the bald-headed doll she had been going to work on before Maevis noticed the letter and threw her out of her routine. “There is no one in the world who can make me leave my cottage and the work I have to do.”

“Serendipity!” Maevis implored. “Don’t you realize this would solve all of your problems? If you could go… join this team of toymakers, you could finish all of your dolls and thousands more. You wouldn’t have to worry about paying for Marwolaeth, storage, food, or anything else. Serendipity, this is the chance of a lifetime.”

For a moment, pale blonde eyebrows rose as if in consideration, but just as quickly as the hopeful expression flickered into existence, it extinguished. “My lifetime is of little consequence,” Serendipity reminded her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much work to do.”

Maevis opened her mouth in protest, but closed it sharply. Setting the letter down on the corner of the table, she pulled her woolen shawl around her shoulders, gathered her basket, and began to walk toward the door. “Fine,” she said, one hand on the doorknob. “Don’t forget to eat your soup before it gets cold.” Then, as she pulled open the door, she mumbled, “How anyone could say no to Santa Claus is beyond me,” and stepped outside into the damp, misty air.