Thistle Down by Irene Radford Read Free Book Online

victim of Pixie tricks , Alder had said.
    “Dusty needs to learn to trust people again. I know just the man she belongs with,” Thistle said instead, looking toward Joe Newberry’s office as the sound of childish giggles erupted in the background. “And you girls are going to help me teach her.” Maybe then Thistle Down could find a way home.
    “What? No way.”
    Thistle loosened her clenched fists, hoping she had a little Pixie dust left. With a sharp flash of her arms she flicked her fingers at the girls. A satisfying shaft of lavender, pink, blue, and gold sparkles shot forth from each fingertip.
    Meggie and M’Velle gasped in wonder. “What was that?” they asked in unison.
    “A diversion to get your attention. Now listen to me,” Thistle insisted.
    “Well why didn’t you just say you had, you know, like something important to say,” Meggie grumbled.
    “This is important. Dusty is your friend.”
    Both girls rolled their eyes in response.
    “Believe me, she is. How else did you get your jobs this summer? She spoke up for you. She helped you both get better grades in school, so you’d qualify for the jobs.” She silently thanked the network of Pixie gossip for that bit of information.
    “Yeah, she did,” M’Velle admitted. “And I appreciate it. She showed me the best way to get away from prejudice is to get an education.”
    “So now it’s time for you to be a friend to her. Go talk to Dusty. Nothing special, just be friendly, recount your day, laugh at the antics of the children in your tour groups. Let her know that you trust her with your secrets. Be as good a friend to her as she has been to you,” Thistle instructed. “I just wish I could go downstairs and help, but underground is death to a Pixie,” she mumbled to herself.

     
    “No, I’m afraid you can’t assemble your float on the museum grounds tomorrow. The rules say you have to bring it here complete for judging.” Dusty said anxiously into the phone in Joe’s office. The room was too quiet. She needed background music to keep her from listening to the old house creak as it settled. Or strain to hear how Thistle was getting on with Meggie and M’Velle.
    Her boss had taken his daughters to day care and then gone home to change to casual business clothes. She had the place to herself for a couple of minutes until Thistle or Meggie or someone else came looking for her with a problem only she could solve.
    “But we just can’t get everyone assembled at the garage and then transport them all to the museum by nine!” wailed the chairman of the Chamber of Commerce.
    “I’m sorry, sir. Those are the rules you agreed to when you sent in your application for a place in the parade. You signed the agreement. Besides, there will be another activity on the grounds that won’t be clear until nine. You cannot show up early just to assemble your hay bales and park benches on the back of a flatbed truck.”
    The man complained and grumbled with a threat to take the restrictions to the City Council. Dusty held firm, happy that she could conduct this conversation over the phone and not have to face the man. One scowl, and she knew she’d cave in to his demands and ruin the inspection for the grant.
    Eventually, he hung up on her.
    No sooner had she replaced the phone in its cradle when it rang again.
    “Ms. Carrick, I really must insist you open your parents’ home for the Historical Tour Wednesday night,” Janelle Meacham, chair of the Historical Preservation Committee, demanded without preamble. “It’s bad enough that Mabel Gardiner won’t open her home. We can’t bypass yours as well.”
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Meacham. I can’t do that. My parents are on sabbatical until September. No one will be home to decorate and show the public rooms.” Dusty bit her lip. She began to shake at the idea of playing hostess to hundreds of strangers wandering through the big Queen Anne style home and gardens.
    “Nonsense, what else have you and