Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

July

She needed gas; the tank wasn’t empty but the needle was edging below the halfway point and Nova Shelley was careful about things like that. Actually, she was careful about everything. She was also strategic: she had certain service stations designed as places to stop because they were on the right-hand side of the road, regardless of the direction she was taking. North, east, south, or west — Nova had her approved service stations.

As she pulled into the station, her attention was captured by a red Ford-250 diesel pickup hooked to a small travel trailer, parked at the side of the station. A small awning had been propped up to provide shade from the July sun and the door to the travel trailer was open, with two steps leading up to it. On the side of the trailer was a magnetic sign that said Christmas Ornaments — Come In And Browse.

Christmas ornaments? In July?

For some reason it was difficult to tear her gaze away from the Ford and trailer, but she took a deep breath and parked beside a pump, got out with her credit card in hand and began the process of filling the tank.

Christmas ornaments? In July?

The oddity of it buzzed strongly in her brain, as if the puzzle of it was something she was required to solve. She looked at the trailer, and this time — how had she not seen the woman before? — there was an older woman sitting to the left of the open door, under the awning, in the type of folding aluminum lawn chair you could buy at any bargain store in the country. The woman was dressed in white. Her hair was white, so white it almost glowed. Despite the hair she didn’t look elderly. Older, yes, but far from elderly.

She was watching Nova. She tilted her head a little, a movement with subtle attitude, as if she was saying, “Yeah? So what?”

Nova looked away. She didn’t have time to look at Christmas ornaments. She didn’t even want to look at ornaments. It was July, the weather was sweltering, and she wanted an Icee. Icees and ornaments weren’t on the same level of desirability when the temperature was ninety-seven Fahrenheit and the humidity was ninety-nine percent. Sweat was beading on the back of her neck.

Was the woman daring her?

Never in her life had Nova been the type to accept dares. “Hold my beer” wasn’t her style. She was responsible, organized, and dependable. Some people might find that boring but Nova liked dependability because that allowed her to organize without being stressed. She ran her own business and organization was paramount in her life, in keeping things running smoothly and profitably.

The pump clicked off; Nova returned the nozzle to the pump, pressed the button to print a receipt.

“It’s cooler over here,” the woman said.

Nova looked up in surprise. She shouldn’t have been able to hear the woman that clearly, not with traffic rumbling past the station, the heavy air, the distance from the pumps to where the Ford and travel trailer were parked. But she had, and the woman was watching her with calm expectancy.

What the hell; being responsible, organized, and dependable didn’t mean she never had impulses and gave in to them. She could spare a few minutes to look at the ornaments, which might be as unusual as the woman selling them. She might even score a gift for someone and get a small head start on holiday shopping.

With that excuse in mind, she started her car and pulled around the pumps to park in front of the Christmas-ornament travel trailer.

The white-haired woman remained seated as Nova opened the car door. To her surprise, cool air washed over her. It appeared to be pouring out of the trailer, a wave of freshness with some faintly sweet scent that reminded her of . . . honeysuckle? Jasmine?

“Welcome,” said the white-haired woman. She had the petal-pink lips of a child, and dark lashes framed her blue eyes. “I’m Ms. Tinsel. As soon as I saw you, I thought one of the ornaments might call to you.”

“Call?”

“They seem to appeal to certain people,” Ms. Tinsel said, her explanation somewhat obscure. “They’re made by the Wishing Well Ornament Company. I never know what they’ll send but somehow all of the ornaments will sell. What is your name, dear?”

“Nova Shelley.”

“Nova.” Ms. Tinsel seemed to taste the name. “Bright star. I’m interested to see which ornament goes home with you.” She lifted her hand to indicate the open door. “Browse as long as you like. I’ll sit out here and count Subarus. I used to count Volkswagen Beetles, but they’re too scarce to bother now.”

Bemused, amused, Nova said, “Thank you,” and climbed the two steps into the travel trailer.

Despite the open door she felt instantly secluded, wrapped by the cool sweetness she had sensed outside. The difference in temperature had to be at least thirty degrees cooler, a refreshing oasis that instantly cooled her sweat and rejuvenated her.

She was inside a jewel, the small interior transformed into perfect settings for the ornaments she saw. Ms. Tinsel obviously didn’t even sleep in the travel trailer because it was completely given over to the ornaments. There was glitter and sequins, wood and metal, frost and snow, sun and stars, the universe encompassed in the wares. Settings of various heights were transformed by silk, velvet, crystals, tableaus, to better display an ornament. A star was framed by black velvet that sparkled like the universe, a bell hung in a small cathedral, a ballet dancer slowly twirled to faint music. There were spinning balls, spindles, crowns and tassels and crucifixes, Santas with sweet smiles, Nativity scenes, bejeweled peacocks in unusual colors. She picked up a white peacock and studied the subtle pearl of the feathers, the exquisite detail even on the feet, then gently returned the bird to its place.

Next she picked up a cardinal that winked at her when she moved it, then a glittery blue bird that chirped. Neither “called” to her.

Perhaps the “calling” bit was just some subtle salesmanship, a way Ms. Tinsel made her wares seem special. Nova thought the ornaments didn’t really need any extra boost, they were all slightly unexpected and lovely. She spied a miniature black stallion with flowing mane and tail, diamonds sparkling on its feet and a sheen on the shiny coat; it would surely appeal to anyone who liked horses.

She liked horses well enough, but she didn’t want to decorate her Christmas tree with them.

Carefully she picked her way around the crowded interior, lightly touching some things, at other times standing for long moments studying details and workmanship, marveling at the form and colors but beginning to feel disappointed. She put her hands on her hips and turned in a circle, looking for that special ornament. Ms. Tinsel’s sales pitch was great at building anticipation, as long as the customer truly found something that —

Oh.

Oh.

Nova heard a soft sound of mingled awe and joy, didn’t register that it had come from her. The black iridescent dragon stared at her from its den of black velvet, one claw lifted and the other resting on a globe. Its wings were spread, the powerful creature poised to take flight with the world in its grasp. The piercing, bejeweled eyes seemed to be focused on her, daring her to . . . what? Take flight with it? Seize the world, as it had?

Like all the ornaments, the workmanship on the dragon was exquisite. The black overlapping scales shimmered and glittered, traced by silver. The colors were reversed on the globe it held, black tracing the iridescent silver continents.

She reached out a slightly trembling hand and stroked her forefinger over the lines of the creature, caressing the fierce and majestic head. The crystal eyes seemed to bore through her and she felt the call to take flight and risk all —

Call.

This, then, was what Ms. Tinsel had meant, to find the ornament that spoke to her so strongly she felt a bond, a sense of connection.

Gently she lifted the dragon and globe from the velvet den. “Hello,” she said softly. “You’re going home with me.”