Judging by the fact that all the Chinese children held one or two in their hands as they lined up at the check-out counter, maybe it was.
“Are you sure?” Louise had hoped that finding the right-sized object didn’t fall to her.
“Yes. And I saw some snow globes you might like.”
Louise followed Jillian, cringing inside. People were going to start thinking she loved snow globes if she picked out a second one for her birthday. The Pittsburgh on Earth/Elfhome one had a coolness factor that she doubted could be topped. A snow globe, though, would require a box.
She bit down on a sigh when she saw the selection. There was a small but adorable red panda globe that Aunt Kitty pointed to. There were also a handful with various dinosaurs encased in indestructible plastic. Snow flurried around the poor creatures as if their doom were quickly approaching.
With face carefully set to “excitement,” Jillian pointed to the largest, a replica of the Tianlong Hao suspended over Earth. Instead of snow, stardust littered the face of the planet, waiting for movement to send it whirling on a solar wind. In a band around the bottom were the words: Spread your wings, fly free. There was Chinese lettering, apparently repeating the sentiment, just showing on the curve of the band.
Two of the Chinese girls were intently inspecting it with surprisingly blue eyes. There was only one globe left, so if Louise wanted it, she was going to have to buy it out from under their noses, which were unfortunately large for their faces.
The yamabushi appeared between Louise and the girls. The tall boy was like a ninja or something; Louise hadn’t noticed him until he was right in front of her. “No, Arisu,” he told the Chinese girls clearly in English and then dropped to Mandarin. “It’s too big. No.”
“Mail?” Arisu apparently was the younger girl. She fumbled with the Mandarin word and then dropped to English. “Couldn’t we have it mailed. .?”
The yamabushi sighed and shook his head. He spoke slowly and clearly in Mandarin. “No. I’m sorry. We can’t mail anything to Pittsburgh.” The boy tapped his wrist, indicating a watch that wasn’t present. “We need to go. Hurry.”
Shutdown was on Saturday night at midnight, giving them less than three full days to get to the border.
The three Chinese children turned with easy grace considering the close confines of the gift shop and circled around, gathering up the rest of the flock. With speed unheard of in a group of American kids, the Chinese were gone without a trace.
It left Louise no reason not to buy the snow globe. Jillian sharpened her look. At least it wasn’t expensive.
“Oh, it’s wonderful. I just love snow globes, and this one is so cool.” She did love that it took them one step closer to stealing the nactka.
They had Tesla’s recording of the museum’s security camera placements, the number of security guards and their positions, floor plans, verification that the floor where Dufae’s box was going to be displayed was marble, train schedules from their house and school to the museum, and the gift-shop box (and the decoy snow globe). Louise wanted to get started on figuring out how to put them together into a logical plan.
Impatient as she was to get started on a plan, the twins had to entertain Aunt Kitty for the rest of the day. After the museum, they walked to Celeste on Amsterdam Avenue between 84th and 85th streets. The tiny Italian restaurant was packed with lunch rush. Louise would have been happier going home and ordering something delivered, or even a frozen pizza. Eating at the restaurant, though, maintained the image that the twins were perfectly fine.
The twins knew that they wanted margherita pizza, so they ignored the menu. They ordered Sprite. Aunt Kitty considered a glass of wine before telling the waiter that she’d have a San Pellegrino. She added in an order of the carciofi fritti.
While they waited for their drinks and food, Aunt Kitty checked her phone and answered a text. Whatever she read on the screen made her wince and sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Louise asked.
Aunt Kitty sighed again. It was probably more bad news; she’d already warned them that if their performance of Peter Pan was changed because of the bombing, she wouldn’t be in town for it. She had set up several business meetings the week after the original date. “Do you remember a little while ago — well, you probably think it was a long time ago, it was like the beginning of last year, I think — we talked about production companies?”
It had actually been three years ago, shortly before they posted their first video.
“Maybe,” Louise said cautiously. Perhaps Aunt Kitty had talked to Jillian about it last year.
Jillian caught Louise’s glance and gave Louise a surprised look to say she had no idea what Aunt Kitty was talking about. “No.”
“I’d told you that when people did videos, they had a production company and a logo? Like Spike Lee’s production company is 40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks, and the logo is the number forty over the letter A?”
That was the conversation from three years ago. Adults had a weird, loose concept of time. It was a full third of the twins’ life and they still remembered it completely.
“We remember that,” the twins said. Jillian added an impatient, “And?”
“Well, you picked out the name Lemon-Lime Jello.”
Louise’s stomach turned to stone and dropped to the floor. “And?”
“You can’t use it,” Aunt Kitty stated.
“What?” both girls cried.
“I just found out that someone else is using it,” Aunt Kitty said.
“They are?” They glanced at each other. Was a musical group taking advantage of their popularity?
“I was approached to do a TV show soundtrack with an elf fusion music element to it. The network people brought with them a sample of what they’re looking for, and it was from a company called Lemon-Lime Jello. I’m not sure if they’re spelling it the same way you two were, but it’s close enough that you’ll probably have to find another production company name.”
“We had it first,” Jillian pointed out.
“Oh, Jilly, I know you thought of it first, but they got to market first. Apparently they’ve gotten quite famous even though they’re based on Elfhome.”
“Wait!” Louise realized that it wasn’t another company; it was her and Jillian. “This was an elf fusion soundtrack from a film production company called Lemon-Lime Jello?”
“Yes, the network copied the music from one of their videos and played it for me.”
“Did you see the video?” they both demanded to know.
“No.” Aunt Kitty waved them down, mistaking their alarm for being upset with the supposedly stolen name. “It was a short meeting. They’re after a very specific sound, something very authentic. People are starting to be elf fusion snobs and they want the sound of traditional Elfhome instruments.”
Jillian started to sulk. Obviously she was thinking of all the money they could be making if the networks hired them. Louise had to agree that it sucked that so much of their problems could be fixed if their parents wouldn’t be so focused on “letting them be children.” What was so wonderful about being a kid? They had to lie to go anyplace that they wanted to go to, and they wasted hours sitting in a classroom, supposedly learning how to fit in with the rest of humanity when quite frankly it seemed fairly pointless to try. They weren’t really humans; they were elves.
“So what are you going to do?” Louise asked as casually as she could.
Aunt Kitty looked at her in confusion.