Page 4 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

Peat’s birth had been difficult. At least, that’s what he’d been told.

His wings had gotten caught in the birth canal.

Folded and bent, he hadn’t been able to expand either one.

While he could still move them and produce dust, he couldn’t fly.

Disfigured and small, his wings were little more than shriveled reminders of what could have been.

Magenta. That was Peat’s color. Beautiful, stunning magenta. The white-blond hair at the crown of his head deepened as it lengthened, the tips brilliantly bright. His wings should have been no different. Instead, his wings were a hodgepodge of mismatched colors folded and crinkled in on themselves.

Peat wasn’t what others wanted to see when they looked at a pixie.

He was damaged goods. That damage didn’t affect his pixie-born affinity, but it did affect his ability to get work.

Peat bounced around from job to job. Often forced to work night shifts so he wasn’t seen as much.

That was frequently the condition of his hiring.

This job had been different. What he looked like hadn’t been important while the estate was going through renovations. Now that it was going to be open to the public, the situation had changed.

“I’m so sorry, Peat. I tried to get them to see reason.

I even suggested you work nights, so the guests wouldn’t be as likely to see you, but that didn’t work either.

Like I said, the boss is selling the fantasy and part of that is a home-and-hearth pixie on the property that can be seen by the guests.

” Mr. Cunningham gave a disgusted huff. “They’re even willing to pay more now. ”

Peat had been hired at a significantly lower cost than most home-and-hearth pixies charged. He had no illusions that that was why he’d been hired in the first place. Petal once commented on their salary and Peat wasn’t surprised to hear how little he made compared to a pixie who looked the part.

“You’ve done all the heavy lifting and now…now some other pixie is going to come in and take all the glory.”

Peat shifted his head to the side, his long hair sliding over one shoulder.

“Most home-and-hearth pixies aren’t like that.

Whoever replaces me will be kind and gracious.

They’ll probably feel bad about taking the job.

” They’d feel bad, but there were enough pixies out there that needed the work, that secretly hoped their next job would be the home they could bond to, the place they would never need to leave again.

Peat wasn’t so cynical that he’d begrudge another pixie that opportunity.

Mr. Cunningham didn’t appear convinced. “It’ll be difficult…for me. I like you, Peat. I don’t want you to leave.”

The pressure in Peat’s chest eased a little. “I like you too, and while I appreciate your loyalty, please don’t be unkind to the pixie that takes my place. They will need your support, and I won’t see it as a betrayal.” Humans were odd like that. Peat had learned that lesson long ago.

Scratching a spot on his balding head, Mr. Cunningham gave a firm nod and answered, “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.” Peat inhaled deeply before asking, “When is my last day?”

Mr. Cunningham cringed. “Today.”

Peat’s wings fluttered, scattering more dust. “ Today ? I…” That was barely enough time to say a proper goodbye to the house he’d begun foolishly considering home. Not to mention th at didn’t give him enough time to look for another job. Finances were going to be tight.

“I just got the final word a few minutes ago. I was so mad I almost put in my resignation right then and there.” Mr. Cunningham’s cheeks reddened with his simmering ire.

“I threatened to do it if they didn’t give you some kind of financial compensation.

I’m sorry, Peat, but all I got them to agree to was two weeks’ pay.

I wanted more, but I’ve dealt with these types before, and I know when to accept they’re at the end of their financial rope.

Arguing wasn’t going to get you a penny more and maybe even less. ”

Some of Peat’s panic eased. Like Mr. Cunningham said, it could be a lot better. It could have also been worse. “Thank you, Mr. Cunningham.”

“Jerry. I think we’re past all the mister business. After today, I’m not your boss any longer. If we’re lucky enough to meet up again, I want you to call me, Jerry.”

Peat’s grin was genuine. “Okay. But until then, you’re still Mr. Cunningham.” Gaze drifting to a large window, Peat’s grin slipped and any ounce of good humor he had fled with it. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to say my goodbyes to the house.”

“Go on. Take your time. And for the record, I’m sorry, Peat. I… Well, I suppose there just isn’t much more to say.”

There really wasn’t. Turning, Peat left the office behind. It might have been his imagination, but the castle already felt colder and dimmer, as if it knew what was about to happen and already mourned Peat’s loss.

Peat’s bare toes dug into the soft carpet runner covering the stairs.

His deep magenta toenails would need washing tonight, not that they didn’t every night.

Peat knew he’d be less dirty if he could properly fly.

It was a fleeting thought, there and gone within the space of a single heartbeat.

Dwelling on what he couldn’t do wouldn’t get him far, and it certainly wouldn’t pay the rent .

Peat’s loose-fitting silk, lavender pants slid around his legs, swishing with each step.

Peat tried to bury his melancholy. Such feelings wouldn’t do the castle any good.

It was pointless. The estate knew Peat better than he knew himself.

The very foundation mourned his leaving.

Those very same rocks would greet the next home-and-hearth pixie with joy and acceptance.

That was the forgiving way of the Goddess.

“ D o you have anything else? Anything at all?” Peat was getting desperate. Three weeks had passed and still, not a single call back to any of his job applications. If something didn’t become available soon, he’d have to move. Again.

Bavaria gave him that same, pitying look Peat had long ago grown to despise. It wasn’t her fault. If anything, as a dryad, Bavaria was truly sympathetic to his plight. She was one of the reasons Peat had chosen this boarding facility to begin with. Having a dryad nearby was soothing.

“I’m sorry, Peat, but…” Bavaria chewed on her bottom lip. Her humanoid form was lovely, her skin a soft, warm butternut squash color. Dryads shed their rough bark while in their humanoid forms and if Bavaria wasn’t careful, she’d chew a hole in her soft lips.

“But?” Peat slumped into his chair. It wasn’t backless like most pixies needed. “No one wants me.” Peat stared off to the side. He didn’t want to see that pitying look any longer.

“I’m sorry, Peat. I truly am. I’ve certainly tried.”

“I know you have.” Peat didn’t doubt Bavaria’s attempts.

With a heavy sigh, Peat stared down at his lavender fingernails.

They could have just as easily gone light pink.

Some magenta-colored pixies tended more toward pinker hues than purple.

Peat’s coloration had gone toward lavender.

“I think… I’m sorry, Bavaria, but I’ve only got enough to pay for another week, maybe two here at the boarding house.

If there isn’t any work in the area for me, then I’m afraid it's time for me to move on.” Peat hated the thought, but he’d done it before. Too many times to count.

“Oh!” Bavaria fluttered about. She was so upset that willow leaves sprouted from her fingertips. “Oh dear.” Bavaria stared at her leaves, shaking her hands as if that would shake the leaves loose. When they fell to the floor, Peat decided that she must know better than him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Peat said and wondered why he sounded so apologetic.

“It’s fine,” Bavaria assured him. “I apologize for losing control.”

Peat smiled sadly and shook his head. “Nonsense. Your true form is just as beautiful, if not more so, than this one.”

Pink flushed Bavaria’s cheeks. “That is terribly sweet.” Intertwining her slender fingers, Bavaria settled her elbows on her desk and leaned forward.

“I’m hesitant to bring this up, but you do seem unfortunately desperate.

I just… I never want to send anyone into a situation that might be… unsafe.” She cringed at the last.

“ Unsafe? ” Peat couldn’t for the life of him think of a scenario where a home-and-hearth pixie’s job would be considered unsafe.

“Not the home itself. I’m sure it’s just fine, but the client…” Bavaria licked her swollen lips and briefly stared off into the distance, as if she couldn’t make eye contact with Peat. “But I suppose you’re a grown pixie and can make your own decisions. It is not my place to do that for you.”

Peat was not considered a young pixie. Not that he was old either. Middle-aged might be the appropriate determination. Peat would even go so far to say he was in his prime. He was hardly a freshly weaned home-and-hearth pixie out on their first job hunt.

“What’s the position?” Peat asked as he too leaned forward. His wings fluttered, spreading dust behind him. As a dryad, Bavaria wasn’t as sensitive to his dust, but she was still affected while in her humanoid form and gave a polite sneeze.

“Sorry,” Peat apologized, sitting back and stilling his wings.

Bavaria waved a hand in front of her face.

“No, it’s fine. Beautiful even. When I’m in my tree form, I love pixie dust. My humanoid respiratory system is not as appreciative, I’m afraid.

” Clearing her throat, Bavaria pulled out a desk drawer and reached inside, pulling out an advertisement.

“This came through two weeks ago. I’m not sure if they’ve filled the position or not, but I would be surprised if that were so.

I know I haven’t sent any pixies out for an interview. ”