The Paper Girl and the Stilt-Walker

The Old Richelieu Mansion

October was dying. Its final dregs of pallid sunlight and cascades of red leaves left a crisp chill in the air that seemed to stir even the omnipresent haze. And over the course of two weeks, Mina had spent her days mulling over the mysterious Annabelle.

Of course, she didn't have to time to mull over her as much as she would have liked. The shop was busier than ever, though not nearly as chaotic as the first day. Instead of droves of rapacious shadow people, the shop saw a steady stream of more solid others. There were women in frilly dresses who looked curiously like porcelain figures, men in top hats with crooked half-concealed wings beneath their waistcoats, young girls in smoking jackets with multiple legs, young boys with gills in their necks. None of them said much, but were courteous at the very least and spent a good chunk of money every time they came in. Many of them startled Mina by their appearance at first glance, but Pip seemed to recognize the majority of them, or at least, their presence didn't alarm him.

It was difficult to keep up with such an influx of customers. Chocolate-making became Mina's life: It overshadowed even her duties to the clock. Every evening, she would make trays and trays of chocolates, toffees, caramels, pralines, truffles, and candied nuts. The very next morning, she would do it again. Everything the solid-as-people others didn't buy was cleaned up by the shadow people, who lingered among the entrance and were still Mina's greatest customers. Pip had volunteered to help her make chocolates, which he was very bad at in the beginning. As the days went on, he grew better and better at not burning the sugar when making toffees and caramels, and not blackening the chocolate to a bubbling mess. He still wasn't very good at delicately putting together the pralines, and the truffles were still beyond his ability, so he and Mina split the sweets down the middle until he was able to increase his candy-making skills. He was still a great help, though.

But despite the fantastic business and the growing pile of money in her stash, Mina couldn't shake that curious feeling she got at the thought of Mr. Richelieu and his mysterious wife. She wondered about her constantly, though she couldn't say exactly why. Perhaps it was because, so far, she had not met with any "not so nice" others, as Monk had called them. Annabelle herself couldn't have been a bad other. Even still...

"Hey, wake up," said Pip, jabbing her with the end of a broom pole. Mina was shaken out of her reverie, having been leaning idly on her hand. This morning, business had slowed down after the shop opened, so Mina had been lulled into a contemplative daze by the uncommon silence. But the moment she snapped out of it, she saw that someone had entered the shop.

It was a maid. It was also a marionette. Her eyes were blank, her expression stony, and her joints clearly made of hinges. She walked in primly, holding a basket and wearing a modest poke bonnet over a head of silky chestnut hair. "I'm here to purchase truffles for Master Richelieu," she said simply.

At the mention of Mr. Richelieu, Mina's elbow slid off the counter and her face rammed into the hard surface. Recovering herself quickly, she stood up, blushing, and brushed herself off. "Mr. Richelieu wants to buy chocolate?" she asked, sputtering a little in confusion.

The stony-faced marionette gave her an unimpressed look and cleared her throat. She looked at Pip. "I see you are working here as well, young Philip," she said primly.

Pip nodded and set the broom down against the wall quickly. "How are you today, Miss Coppelia?" he asked politely.

The maid bowed her head genteelly. Then she turned her blank gaze back to Mina. "Truffles," she said again.

Mina nodded and hurried to take a few from their tray and put them into a box. She took down a black and white striped one and unfolded it, then began lining it with every truffle in the display. Pip, meanwhile, was talking to the maid.