The man walked to the community center wall and leaned his back against it as he fixed Gabriel with an appraising look. "Perhaps a small hint? It's allowed for the last gargoyle."
"No, thank you."
"We could bargain for it." The man grinned. "Tit for tat. That's fair."
"No, thank you."
"I hope you aren't bothering the boy, bocan," a voice said from behind Gabriel. Another voice he recognized. This one a woman's, strong and firm despite her advancing years. Ida walked around the community center, her husband Walter at her side. "You know better."
"Old people," the man whispered to Gabriel. "So annoying."
"I heard that," Ida said.
"I'd hardly bother if you cou
ldn't." The man strolled to Gabriel and said, "I'll leave you with the old folks. You'll be back for Solstice, I hope."
Gabriel nodded.
"Good," the man said. "Christmas is all well and good, but around here, it's all about the Winter Solstice. The beginning of winter. Longest night of the year." He met Gabriel's gaze. "A very important day . . . and an even more important night."
"Yes, yes," Ida said. "Get along and stop pestering the child. He's cold and in need of cocoa."
The man left, and Ida walked over. "You'll come have cocoa with us, Gabriel? We'd love to hear how your history project went. We know you worked so hard on it." She started back to Main Street as he fell in beside her. When Gabriel glanced down at his notebook, she said, "Ah, out hunting the last gargoyle. We could help with that, you know. It is permitted, with the last."
"No, thank you."
"Not even a hint?"
"I believe I have one already."
She smiled, her wrinkles deepening. "Good. Now, can we drag you away from the hunt?"
"Yes."
The cards were gone. They'd been there Tuesday, when Gabriel came to work for the shopkeeper. On Thursday, the old man had him running errands, so he hadn't been able to check the glass box, but, when work ended and he got his ten dollars, he'd walked to the cards and found an empty display case.
"Andrew?" the shopkeeper said as Gabriel stood there, staring down.
"The cards." Gabriel turned. "Have you moved them?"
"Someone bought them yesterday." The old man made a face as he walked over. "You didn't want those old things, I hope. They aren't real, you know."
"They weren't authentic?" A tickle of something like relief. "The label said they were."
"Well, yes, they were really Victorian. I don't sell fakes, son. I meant, they can't tell the future. Nothing can."
Not entirely true, as Gabriel well knew. He knew better than to say that, though. "I know. They were for my aunt. She's a collector."
"Oh." Genuine dismay crossed the old man's face. "I'm sorry, Andrew. If I'd had any idea you were saving up for them . . . Never mind those. They were too expensive. I'm sure your aunt doesn't want such an extravagant gift from you. Better to save your money for a video game. That's what kids play these days, isn't it? Video games?"
Yes, and Gabriel could not imagine a bigger waste of time or money.
The shopkeeper continued. "How about I find you another set? Genuine antiques, of course. I know where I can get a nineteenth-century Hungarian deck for about thirty dollars. Or an art deco pack for twenty. I'll ask around and make a list. Would you like that?"
Gabriel wanted to say no, but that would be rude, and, despite what others thought, he did understand the basics of civility. He merely applied them sparingly. He nodded, and the old man patted his arm, not noticing Gabriel's reflexive flinch.
"I'll do that then," the shopkeeper said. "And you use that extra money to buy yourself a video game."