That evening, Elbert noticed the outside of the shop was looking worn. But the inside was as well kept as ever. He walked through the door and breathed in the familiar smell of polished wood, metal clock gears, and lavender-scented candles.
“In here,” came Santiago’s hoarse call.
Elbert met him in the back of the shop, where the clockmaker kept customers’ timepieces in need of repairs. The old man was in the middle of inspecting a broken wristwatch.
“How was the show?” asked Santiago.
“Very good, sir,” answered Elbert, dangling the glistening pendulum around his thumb with a wink, then slipping it back into his pocket. “I’ve been asked to perform in Philadelphia next month.”
“That is marvelous. I always saw great potential in you.” Santiago let out a long cough.
“Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes. Dreadful allergies.” The clockmaker sniffed. “Try not to catch hay fever like me.”
In the last few months, Elbert had grown increasingly worried about Santiago’s health. The old man’s back made him stoop so low, he was half the height of the grandfather clocks.
That night, Santiago had not one, but five more coughing spells. Each time, Elbert watched helplessly. He offered to get a glass of water, to get medicine from the drugstore. The old man refused again and again.
The two were storing away the pocket watches for the night when Elbert raised the question that tumbled uneasily in his head.
“Santiago,” he said. “What’s going to happen to the shop once you…retire?”
“My clocks are my life. I will not retire.”
“No, sir, I meant what’ll happen should you become ill and…” Elbert trailed off uncomfortably.
There was a long silence. “Why do you ask?”
“Who’s going to run the shop? Take on repairs for your customers? What will happen to all these wonderful clocks you’ve made? There are lots of valuables here, sir. You can’t let them go to just any random person. It’ll be a waste if they’re not appreciated.”
“Ah.” Santiago smiled. “I am fond of all my works, Elbert, but there are really only two valuables in this entire shop. Three, if you count the pendulum in your hand, but that belongs to you.”
The old man slowly moved across the room to the metal safe snuggled inside the back wall. Elbert had never seen what was inside the safe before. He watched with curiosity as Santiago rotated the combination lock, then reached inside and retrieved a small item draped in velvet cloth.
“I have not shown this to another living soul,” the clockmaker said in a hushed voice.
He removed the cloth to reveal a delicately carved box. It was the color of chestnut, with a golden crest in the front and four short legs at the base. Shiny gold bands embossed the edges.
“Is it a music box?” asked Elbert.
“It’s more than just a music box,” Santiago said with a knowing smile. He paused, and Elbert knew he was choosing his words carefully. “This special device is bewitched.”
“Bewitched?”
“See how it has no windup key? That’s because the music doesn’t play on command. It plays only on…certain occasions.”
“What occasions?” asked Elbert, intrigued.
But Santiago refused to answer. “Ownership of this music box is not for the fainthearted, for its music will bring them trouble and grief. It is not for those who seek reasons behind why things happen.”
Elbert touched the music box. A tingle shot up his fingertips, all the way to his shoulders.
“Careful,” murmured Santiago.
“Where’d you get it?”
“That’s a story of its own. The short version is I obtained it after long years of searching, and after gaining the trust of its previous owner. It has only played twice for me. Twice is enough.”
The clockmaker’s riddling way of speaking started to irritate Elbert, but his annoyance was quickly replaced by worry when Santiago let out another long cough.
“What’s the other valuable item?” asked Elbert.
Santiago slowly retrieved a battered journal from the safe. The soft blue cover had hundreds of wrinkles and creases. “My research,” Santiago said simply.
He put away the music box and the journal, and locked the safe door behind them.
“To your original question about me and my shop—do not worry about the future, my friend,” said the clockmaker. “Focus on the present first, and the rest will fall into place.”
Before Elbert left that night, however, Santiago added, “But if I do die tomorrow, please make sure my two valuables stay protected.”
“I will,” promised Elbert.
CHAPTER NINECANDLEWICK
By now, of course, Adam was fully aware the snow globe had some kind of special property. Twice, with the snow globe in hand, he had inexplicably traveled to a different location in New York City, and a different date altogether.
Even so, he hadn’t told his uncle about the snow globe or any of his adventures. For one thing, Uncle Henry had a no-nonsense approach when it came to magic. When Adam was younger and they read fairy tales together at bedtime, Uncle Henry would add his own commentary to the storylines.
For example, “‘The Three Little Pigs said—’ Hm, said must be a metaphor, since pigs don’t speak English…”
Or, “‘Rapunzel let down her long hair, and the prince used it to climb up the tower—’ which can never happen, by all means. Why, poor Rapunzel’s neck would snap in her effort to support the prince’s weight!”
Or, “‘Hansel and Gretel found a house made of cake and candy—’ although a house like that in real life would attract enough ants and animals to eat the whole thing in a day. Besides, it would be impossible to walk inside. Have these writers seen how easily cake crumbles?”
What would Uncle Henry say about time traveling, aside from sending Adam to the psychiatrist?
Besides, Adam was protective of the snow globe. It might have been the simple fact that it belonged to his late parents. He didn’t have many items—much
