“I don’t need special treatment!” He started to take off his coat, thought again, and buttoned it back up.

“And I’m not giving you any. That’s where Wink sits when she’s sorting the small items back into their proper tubs. Like, the mermaids go here, and the mood rings go here—”

“For Pete’s sake, I can figure it out, woman!”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Christina hid a smile as she turned away. Oscar clearly was angry that he’d come here, and he was going to be angrier once he tried to pick up those tiny whales and shells with his big fat fingers.

A moment later, the after-lunch rush began. Parents and children swarmed through the front door, sometimes making a beeline for the toy they knew they wanted, sometimes asking Christina for suggestions.

“I’ve got my entire family coming for Christmas,” Maggie Merriweather told Christina. “So I’ve got gifts for my grandchildren, but there’ll be about five or six cousins of various ages and I’d like to get a little something for them…I don’t even know if they’re boys or girls, and I don’t want to spend a fortune, and I certainly don’t want to have to return anything.”

Christina smiled. Maggie’s curly red hair had been shaped by the wind into an elfish swirl. “Why not get five of these,” Christina said, showing Maggie the Surprise Bags. “They each cost five dollars, and there’s a variety of cool things inside. Squishy squeezy animals and scented Silly Putty and wind-up penguins—they’re always a hit. Other customers have been more than satisfied with them.”

“You’re the answer to my prayers,” Maggie said. “I’ll take six.”

“Put that back now, young man!” Oscar roared.

Christina whirled around. Oscar was standing over a little boy who gazed up at Oscar in terror.

“Is there a problem, Oscar?” Christina asked in her sweetest voice.

“This kid just stole a bag of marbles!” Oscar said.

“My son would never steal!”

It was Joyce Robinson, an obese and scrappy island woman known for getting drunk and fighting in bars. Oscar had met his match in her, but Christina didn’t want an unpleasant scene in her shop.

“Your son put a bag of marbles in his pocket. Check it out. He’s a little thief!” Oscar contended.

The little boy had tears in his eyes. Any moment now, he’d break into a full-on wail.

Christina hurried around the counter. “Oscar, I know Joyce and Billy. Billy would never steal. I’m sure he put them in his pocket so his hands were free for other things.”

“Yeah, other things to put in his pockets,” Oscar growled.

“Don’t you dare talk about my son that way!” Joyce snapped. She grabbed her son’s hand. “Come on. We’re leaving!”

“Take the marbles out of his pocket first,” Oscar demanded.