Page 46 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

“Is that a new television?” Joe ventured.

Boniface pivoted. “ Oui . It’s the most recent addition. You’ve been seeing steady upgrades throughout the enclave, whenever Sinder was able to drop by. Hadn’t you noticed?”

“Umm … not really.”

“I suppose it’s a mercy that all his boosting and extending hasn’t messed with your balance or resonance or … whatever it is your impish legacy is about.” Boniface gave him a quick up-and-down survey, then ventured, “May I?’

Joe eased into a receptive posture.

The man took his hand, inspecting his ring, and gave a small squeeze before releasing him. “Many felicitations. It must be nice … having someone.”

It hadn’t always been, so Joe framed his answer carefully. “It … can be.”

Boniface eased into a similarly receptive posture. “It certainly seems a perilous prospect from this side of things.”

“Do you not … have someone?” Was the question too personal? He brushed at his shoulder.

“Not as such.” Boniface grumbled, “I probably haven’t the temperament for … well, for anything felicitous. Nor the time, let alone prospects. More importantly, we’re minutes away from Jackie’s big gesture. Do me a favor and make certain Jarrah is front and center.”

Joe wondered at the wistful undercurrent to Boniface’s remarks. It almost made him wish he was a real landbound deity, because Joe would have liked to bless that brief glimpse of greed that Boniface had shied away from.

Once everyone was assembled in front of the array of screen, cameras, microphones, and softly-glowing crystals, Boniface began pushing buttons and comparing remotes. “Lord, is there an order to this?”

At which point a guy with green hair—Joe hadn’t even realized Sinder was present—smoothly took over. Then the big screen lit, becoming a window into a room on the other side of the world.

“That’s done it!” Jacques Smythe sang out. “I knew I could count on you, Bon-Bon!”

“Lord, look at you,” he grumbled in response.

“Ah! Lookit!” yelped Jarrah, close on his heels. “All of you!”

Radiating a sultry sort of satisfaction, Jacques asked, “Have we surprised you, little hellion?”

And then it was like every person on either side of the call was exclaiming and laughing and pointing and waving.

Joe studied Stately House’s assembly, which included nearly a hundred people.

The majority of the crossers had Kyrie’s same purple hair and red eyes, but there were children with other marks of Amaranthine heritage, too.

He hadn’t been expecting there to be quite so many human children.

Joe realized he knew a few of the adults, like Ginkgo Mettlebright and Hisoka Twineshaft and Lapis Mossberne.

Lady Mettlebright was probably in there somewhere.

Joe couldn’t have recognized her, but he definitely recognized everyone’s clothes.

Because everyone—from the biggest wolf clansman to the tiniest toddler—was decked out in plaid flannel.

They didn’t bother with introductions, since that wasn’t really the point. But Jacques encouraged Jarrah to speak up and show off his new family.

“I got placed, and it’s good here. I’m gonna be a farmer.” Looking up at Joe, he said, “This is my dad. Oh, and him, too. He’s Kip.”

Kip waved.

Then Boniface brought forward a box for Jarrah. One with a big, floppy bow in spring green.

And Jacques declared, “From all of us. Go on. Have a look.”

Jarrah slowly tugged the ribbon loose and lifted the lid, then lapsed into happy squirrel noises over the matching flannel shirt that waited for him. Then he gasped and looked up at Joe, his eyes shining. “Is this real. It’s not a trick?”

“It’s honest and true,” Joe quietly assured.

The boy rubbed his thumb over the copper acorn already affixed to the plaid shirt’s lapel. It was the same as the one Joe wore. And if Jarrah checked, he’d see that Kip had added one to his own ensemble.

Jarrah craned his neck, seeking Kip’s gaze. “Does this mean I’m a Woodacre now?”

Kip cheerfully announced it before all their gathered witnesses. “It’s official, kiddo. You’re ours. Jarrah Reaverson-Woodacre of Red Gate Farm.”

The Smythe brothers had a whole agenda for the video call, but they didn’t overstay. Wrapping up, Jacques pointed at each of the crossers who were on the American side. “Cameras ready, understood? I expect detailed reports and abundant pictures of reactions to my gift for Harrison-sensei!”

The man ventured, “Something for me?”

“Lord, yes. I know what this move has meant for you, what you’re giving up.

I refuse to be sorry to have won you to our side, but …

I did want you to be able to leave in style.

” Jacques took a shaky breath, smiled a little tremulously, and made a shooing motion.

“Off you go. Hurry home. I find I want you near.”

All of them were flabbergasted. Well, except Kip. Joe was sure he’d had a hand in this final scheme. Impressions of pride and satisfaction seeped through their bond … but also sadness. This goodbye was hard for Kip. Harrison had been a good friend for a lot of years.

“Gosh!” the man exclaimed, hands clasped over his heart. “Oh … wow . Is that you, Lord Beckonthrall? I’m honored.”

A massive brown dragon waited in their driveway. He offered a genial wave, then indicated what was obviously Jacques’ gift to Harrison. A Landmark Elemenary school bus had been fitted with crosspieces that would act as handles, turning it into a dragon barge.

“Let’s get our luggage stowed!” called Boniface. “We have a fly-over schedule to keep!”

Nonny was goggling at his phone, which he brought to show Joe. “He’s not kidding. It’s a whole parade. This lot, they’re from the school, yeah?”

Cardinal. That was Torrey Highbranch.

Pronghorn. That was Fossa Craghart.

Peacock. So Faisel would be putting in an appearance.

Kip leaned in. “Viv Bellsweet can’t participate, but her sister came in special and will fly on her behalf.

Cyril would have loved to be here, but Tyrone will take his part in our little send-off parade.

And the real kicker? Uncle Denny and Kaga Glosswing will make a showing, standing in for me and Ash. ”

“Nice,” said Nonny. “That’s a real personal touch.”

Just then, Harrison leaned out of the bus, eyes wide. “It’s been remade! Completely refurbished!”

“The bus is yours to keep. A little piece of your American home that can double as a home away from home.” Boniface added, “I think Jackie meant for you to use it as your office.”

“Gosh.”

“Wait. A parade?” Jarrah asked, pausing halfway through buttoning up his flannel shirt. “They’re going to go be in a parade for Harrison-sensei?”

“Yep.” Crouching down so they were eye-to-eye, Kip asked, “Want to crash the party bus?”

“But I’m gonna stay and be a farmer. They’re leaving.” Jarrah looked torn. “How would I get back home?”

“You do realize I can fly, don’t you?”

Jarrah blinked, and he looked up at Joe for verification.

A nod and three twitches of a gray tail later, and Jarrah was aboard.

Kip angled his head Joe’s way. “Room for one more …?”

“No thanks. But ….” He shyly added, “I guess I also find I want you near. So … hurry home.”

“Gotchu,” Kip promised.