Wintersmith

things. Tiffany enjoyed reading about them.
    The second letter seemed to be much the same as the first one—until the bit about the ball. He’d gone to a ball! It was at the house of Lord Diver, who was a neighbor! He’d danced with his daughter, who was called Iodine because Lord Diver thought that was a nice name for a girl! They’d had three dances!! And ice cream!! Iodine had shown him her watercolors!!!
    How could he sit there and write such things?!!!
    Tiffany’s eyes moved on, over the everyday news like the bad weather and what had happened to old Aggie’s leg, but the words didn’t enter her head because it was on fire.
    Who did he think he was, dancing with another girl?
    You danced with the Wintersmith, her Third Thoughts said.
    All right, but what about the watercolors?
    The Wintersmith showed you the snowflakes, said her Third Thoughts.
    But I was just being polite!
    Perhaps he was just being polite, too.
    All right, but I know those aunts, Tiffany thought furiously. They’ve never liked me, because I’m only a farm girl! And Lord Diver’s very rich and his daughter is his only child! They’re scheming!
    How could he sit there and write as if eating ice cream with another girl was a perfectly normal thing to do! That was as bad as—well, something pretty bad, at least!
    As for looking at her watercolors…
    He’s just a boy you happen to write to, said her Third Thoughts.
    Yes, well…
    Yes, well…what? her Third Thoughts persisted. They were getting on Tiffany’s nerves. Your own brains ought to have the decency to be on your side!
    Just “Yes, well…” okay? she thought angrily.
    You’re not being very sensible about this.
    Oh, really? Well, I’ve been sensible all day! I’ve been sensible for years! I think I’m owed five minutes of being really unreasonably angry, don’t you?
    There’s some casserole downstairs, and you haven’t eaten since breakfast, said her Third Thoughts. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten something.
    How can I eat stew when people are looking at watercolors? How dare he look at watercolors!
    But her Third Thoughts were right—not that this made things any better. If you’re going to be angry and miserable, you might as well be so on a full stomach. She went downstairs and found the casserole in the oven. It smelled good. Nothing but the best for dear ol’ Mum.
    She opened the cutlery drawer for a spoon. The drawer stuck. She rattled it, pulled at it, and swore a few times, but it stayed stuck.
    “Oh, yes, go ahead,” said a voice behind her. “See how much help that is. Don’t be sensible and stick your hand under the top and carefully free up the stuck item. Oh no. Rattle and curse, that’s the way!”
    Tiffany turned.
    There was a skinny, tired-looking woman standing by the kitchen table. She seemed to be wearing a sheet draped around her and was smoking a cigarette. Tiffany had never seen a woman smoke a cigarette before, but especially never a cigarette that burned with a fat red flame and gave off sparks.
    “Who are you, and what are you doing in Mrs. Ogg’s kitchen?” Tiffany said sharply.
    This time it was the woman who looked surprised.
    “You can hear me?” she said. “And see me?”
    “Yes!” Tiffany snarled. “And this is a food preparation area, you know!”
    “You’re not supposed to be able to see me!”
    “Well, I’m looking at you!”
    “Hold on a minute,” said the woman, frowning at Tiffany. “You’re not just a human, are you…?” She squinted oddly for a moment and then said, “Oh, you’re her . Am I right? The new Summer?”
    “Never mind me, who are you?” said Tiffany. “And it was only one dance!”
    “Anoia, Goddess of Things That Get Stuck in Drawers,” said the woman. “Pleased to meet you.” She took another puff at the flaming cigarette, and there were more sparks. Some of them dropped on the floor but didn’t seem to do any damage.
    “There’s a goddess just for that?” said Tiffany.
    “Well, I find lost corkscrews and things that roll under furniture,” said Anoia offhandedly. “Sometimes things that get lost under sofa cushions, too. They want me to do stuck zippers, and I’m thinking about that. But mostly I manifest whensoever people rattle stuck drawers and call upon the gods.” She puffed on her cigarette. “Got any tea?”
    “But I didn’t call on anyone!”
    “You did,” said Anoia, blowing more sparks. “You cussed. Sooner or later, every curse is a