What got to Oksana first was the smell: candy and tea, chocolate and cream, warmth and sweetness. It made her think simultaneously of: the last time she'd eaten frosted lebkuchen in Berlin, the traces of anise on her hand after handling pan de muerto in Mexico, and, most surprisingly of all, scorched marshmallows.
It was the last of the three that made her almost hesitate in the doorway. She hadn't thought of that particular sticky-smoky scent in years. She didn't even like marshmallows that much, but they always brought some on picnics because Dad was –
Well, never mind all that.
She looked around the shop, summarizing: pretty and almost aggressively cozy. The Lucy bit was a nice touch, too. Dressed in checked wool, Oksana felt like an accountant in Candyland.
"Hello? I'm looking for a Miss – Shara, I think?"
The girl at the counter, who was impossibly tiny and vaguely out of proportion in a way most people found just a bit disquieting and hovered erratically a few inches off the floor seemed unphased by Oksana’s request. She turned her head over her shoulder, shimmering hair jostling like a My Little Pony figure come to life as she shouted, “Yo, Aunty!” Back towards the swinging door that lead towards the kitchen, glancing back at Oksana before she resumed making overly fancy coffee drinks in her queue, “You’ll get it.”
Sure enough, within two minutes Shara was pushing through the swinging door in a bright yellow sundress despite the winter, along with colorful converse laced up to her knees and a complicated braid around her head. In her head was a water bottle filled with a red smoothing that seemed to be moving in its cup, “Hello, yes, good afternoon!” In a wave of lively energy, a hum in her voice with every word as she touched her employee’s shoulders, giving them encouraging smiles before stopping in front of Oksana with a curious — but warm expression. Like they were old friends and she was welcoming them home after a long distance between them instead of strangers, “I’m Shara, how are you, lovely? Can I get you anything?” Patient, bright eyes peered at her with interest over her smoothie cup as she took a sip with a contented hum.
It was looking into the eye of a beautiful confetti tornado – or standing in front of an open oven of friendliness. Oksana could imagine getting an emotional contact high from the woman.
"Feeling fine, thank you." She offered her smile, substituting social experience in place of sincere wattage. "I'm Oksana. I emailed you early in the week about borrowing your assistance with a domestic matter…"
Oksana looked around the pretty little shop. It wasn't swamped but it wasn't deserted either. "Is this a bad time to talk?"
Oh yes, email. Shara was still getting a hang of that. Poor Mircea, who had become her focus for technology related questions after he proved to have more of a passion for it than Julius. Patience, maybe not so much, but they dealt with her. “Oh yes, a domestic matter, my specialty.” She paused, wiping her hands on her apron.
“No no, now is fine, they have everything under control, do you want anything to munch on while we talk? My treat. Tea? Cheesecake?” Now that she thought about it, cheesecake sounded lovely, and she was already grabbing a slice from the glass display along with two forks, tucking her smoothie under her arm, “Coffee? You seem like you might be the type for a strong cup of coffee.”
The shop wasn’t too busy, and if they were short handed then she certainly wouldn’t have paused even still, but she was already building up a lovely staff who could handle this sort of crowd. Mostly. But at least she would be nearby if they needed her. The woman on the other side of the counter was intriguing, if only because she was as elegant as Shara’s Lady she had served for so long, and so formal too! Such an odd clash in the bakery. Shara found it delightful. She tried to remember the exact contents of the email, but could only recall that it was a ‘domestic matter’ that she thought Shara was ‘uniquely qualified’ for, and she could only hope the girl didn’t want to make some sort of Deal.
"Coffee would be lovely, thank you," Oksana said, somewhat besieged by the sheer cheeriness.
She more or less had her bearing reassembled by the time they sat down. "I'm afraid I was intentionally vague in the email, but, well. The problem is rather personal in nature. That sort of thing is always hard to bring to a stranger, don't you find?" Oksana smiled charmingly. "Even if the stranger in question has the sweetest of reputations."
"Are you possibly familiar with the issue on Mockingbird Lane about, oh, two weeks back?"
Ah, so she was right! That was always nice to hear. Her intuition was still being refined when it came to humans and their tastes, but she was getting better by the day. Or so she liked to think, at least. She whipped up a coffee with just a hint of sweetness to his, a bit of spiced vanilla as it brewed, before making a beeline to the table Oksana had chosen, their drinks and the cheesecake in hand.
It was never a bad time for cheesecake. Even if she had to eat it all by herself. “Oh, certainly. I’m flattered you came to me at all, really. Though I am rather curious about the nature of the request.” At the implication that it was more serious than she had assumed, Shara settled down a bit. Sure, her nature was exuberant but you didn’t get as old as she did without learning how to reign it in. Something about this woman was reminding her of home as well, which both put her at ease and made her more sharp eyed at once.
Her head tilted, searching her memory, “Vaguely? I heard some gossip about it but I try not to pay attention to that sort of thing.” Was it on that social media thing? Shara was still remembering to check it on a regular basis, she was just so busy and it was better to talk with people in person to her.
Oksana supposed that a measure of her dignity had been spared in this corner at least. "Rumors are the hungry locusts of any small town, but I'm afraid the matter is little more physical in this case. You see, the house that vanished was mine. Or supposed to be mine."
Oksana sighed and rubbed a non-existent (yet) wrinkle between her eyes.
"The house has been family property since, well, since any of the family's been on the island. When my father, Nick, died a few months back and I became the only one left to inherit. Unfortunately, there've been some transfer issues regarding ownership. The house itself..."
"We're Enchanters, you see," she added almost apologetically. "Generations and generations of the like, all of them living and working inside that house."
And quite a few of them buried underneath it, but no sense bringing that up.
"You can imagine the magical reserves built up at this point. The old pile is practically sentient enough to vote." Oksana wrapped her hands around the warm mug. "And now it's decided it doesn't like me."
Ah, now Shara understood why she had been invited to help solve this problem. The girl was smart, and had done her research. Most of the non-Fae she had met in this town (so, everyone but two) didn’t even know what Hobs were but this woman had heard what she was and had done enough research — or already knew what Hobs were, which she doubted. They weren’t exactly the most famous of Fae.
“Old Magic does have a way of developing its own personality.” It was delivered like it was an age old adage, because to her it was. Her thoughts were already on the house though, on this interesting puzzle. There weren’t enough spots of old magic like what she was describing here, ar at least, not ones she could poke.
Though, she definitely had questions, “Is there another of your line the home could possibly be waiting for?” Because Shara wasn’t going to take ‘just because’ as an entire explanation, especially if the house was as old as Oksana said. The cheesecake and smoothie (with gin) was a bit of an odd combination but it worked, then again, Shara had strange tastes.
"Not unless Dad hid a thirteen-year old lovechild somewhere on the island," Oksana said drily. "The thing is, my – the St. Pier family tree has always been more along the lines of a bush. One that's particularly reluctant to drop seeds. There were a few cousins who managed to make it off the island two or three generations back, but it's my understanding that they've married "out" and went the witch-way long since."
The coffee was very good. Very, very, very good even. She wondered if the shop offered d'Orzo options as well. Or, be still her heart, caffè corretto. After nearly two months in Summerview, Oksana missed her Florentine habits fiercely.
"By all sensible accounts I'm the last dose of St. Pier blood available," Oksana said. "But legacy issues aside, there are more pragmatic concerns. You said so yourself, Miss Shara; old magics develop personalities. But a personality without a conscious mind, a sentience without intelligence– how safe is it to have something like that running around Summerview? Right now, it's little more than a joke but wild magic only stays funny for so long."
"I want to resolve this before Summerview authorities decide to do it," Oksana said. "I don't want – however the house feels about my being the new owner, it is my childhood home. Please, help me."
Really, the shop was probably reaching too high for what it was supposed to be, the space they had, and the town they were in. Every Time someone stepped in and sighed longingly about some little dish from their homeland Shara was ordering or creating the equipment and ingredients to make it. All those constraints seemed like silly reasons not to give folk respite from their chaotic lives in the form of something warm or sweet to put in their bellies.
A Hob she may be, benign even compared to most Seelie, sure, but even she knew a carefully worded sales pitch when she heard one. The Hobs also had a fair respect for Homes, their spirits and personalities. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about being called in the subvert one, truthfully. Then again, human homes weren’t meant to come alive, and this land, as delightfully filled with it’s own natural magic as it seemed to be, just wasn’t meant to sustain it. One thing did stick out to her though, “Running around? Are you saying that your home is walking about, like Baba Yaga’s house?” Because she wasn’t completely ignorant, thank you.
Shara may be unsure of the girl’s motives, but she certainly didn’t want anyone destroying the girl’s house. “I would like to, but I’ll have to talk to it before I make any assurances.” A reassuring smile was shot over the table just before she ate another bite of cheesecake, that reliable Fae curiosity driving her as much as compassion to agree to at least try
Oksana spread her hands in affable capitulation. “That’s all I ask for.”