"That hobgoblin is back."
"I've got the cream," Aunt Ruby said, bustling out with a pitcher in hand. "It's probably Robin again."
"Again?" I stared at them. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, we had a little hobgoblin problem while you were gone," Aunt Ruby began, but then she stopped, looking stricken. "While you were gone! Your honeymoon! We didn't even ask you how your trip was. Oh, honey, I'm sorry."
I hugged her. "It's been a busy day. We'll tell you all about it. We even brought you souvenirs. But first, let's go figure out what your hobgoblin did to the goats."
We all headed for the barn to look for Robin the hobgoblin. I spared a moment's thought to wonder what normal people in normal towns did at lunchtime, but then I dismissed it at the sight of the tiny man standing on the front wheel of my uncle's tractor.
Robin—almost certainly not his real name, since the Fae didn't share their real names with anybody—was a cranky, hairy little guy. He stood maybe two feet tall and wore a green and brown suit made of homespun wool. His tiny boots were worn brown leather, and he wore his red hair short but his beard long.
"Who are you?" he demanded, pointing one tiny finger at me accusingly. "Are you the reason I don't have any cream for Thistle?"
There'd been a day when I would have been intimidated by encountering an angry supernatural being.
That day was well behind me.
I'd stood up to a Fae queen, after all.
"Sir Robin," I began politely, since the Fae are big on manners, at least in other people. "I've just returned from a far voyage to Atlantis and had no knowledge of your esteemed presence. Please forgive us for our late offering."
Aunt Ruby's eyes widened at my formal words, but she bent down to offer the pitcher of cream and two tiny teacups. "Here you are. Please enjoy. I wondered if you might like some honey and fresh-baked bread for your meal?"
The thing about hobgoblins, in case you're wondering, is that they can be annoying pests. They're temperamental and mischievous, but they also often can be helpful—if they feel like it. Their moods turn on a dime, though.
I scanned the barn and realized I'd never seen it so clean and organized. Uncle Mike was an engineer and liked to keep his things tidy, but this was a step beyond. The hobgoblin at work, for sure.
"Um, the goats?"
Robin, in the process of pouring cream into the two cups, snickered. "Not my fault if they can't take a little fun."
"Goats aren't known for understanding your kind of fun," Uncle Mike said dryly. "Perhaps go easy on them next time?"
"I told you to be careful," said a tiny feminine voice from behind Robin, and I leaned over to see a female hobgoblin, as beautiful as the summer day. She wore a lilac dress that was made of actual lilacs, and it matched her purple eyes. Her hair was the bright yellow of a dandelion and fluttered around her face like silk.
When she ran lightly up to join us, her face lit up at the sight of the cream. "Thank you so much, Michael and Ruby of the Callahan. What a lovely gift! I'm Robin's sister, Thistle."
"It's not more than we deserve," Robin grumbled, but his eyes were soft as he gazed at her.
"You said Atlantis?" Robin said, unable to disguise his interest. "You really visited the lost continent?"
"Lost no more," Thistle said, settling gracefully down with her cup. "This is Tess, a friend of the queen, Robin."
His grass-green eyes widened. "Tess of the Callahan? We know of you. Is the tiger with you?"
"No, he's not here, but he's a friend to the Fae," I said carefully, seeing the little guy's alarm.
"Tell us about Atlantis," he demanded.
Knowing the Fae's love of Bargains (their use of the word was always capitalized), I tilted my head. "And you'll agree not to bother the goats anymore?"
He grumbled and stomped around for a few seconds but then nodded. "Done."
So then, in an entirely unexpected turn to my day, I spent the next half hour telling my aunt, uncle, and two hobgoblins about Atlantis while we ate cookies, bread, and honey.
I wondered if Jack and Shelley were having anywhere near as much fun out at the swamp with the boys.
