A tempest of wheat flour and gingham stormed into the Milliner's sweltering workshop.

The Milliner had their back to the door as they worked, the over-large brim of their hat ducked low over the bench.  

The seething badger-spirit cleared her throat. 

The Milliner did not startle, but perked up, swiveling smoothly on the wooden stool to face Mrs. Seaver. 

"You."

"Mrs. Seaver," returned the spirit flatly, setting their knife down on the bench. "Typically my guests wait in the front shoppe."

"I am not one of your customers," Mrs. Seaver growled. She jabbed a finger at the Milliner, coils of grey and black hair coming loose from her chignon. "You stay away from my family."

The Milliner's eyes dimmed, receding into the shadow. "I have offended them?"

"My family has been through enough. Dau is a child! My brother has hardly recovered from the last swindler we welcomed into this town."

"What is your objection?" queried the Milliner and folded their hands in their lap.

"I will have neither of them indebted to a stranger that may call in their debt as they please." 

She produced a simple purse from her pocket, tightening with her anger as she did so. She did not know the cost of the hats made for her son and brother and her ignorance compounded her fury. But she would empty her savings into this spirit's lap if is meant cutting her family away from them. 

"They were gifts, both of them."

"Name your price," she demanded.

The Milliner slipped away from their stool and swept up a bolt of leather from the table. They circuited the room, placing each in their place, passing a stove topped with a dozen small irons of varying shapes, and retrieving another box from a shelf in the back. The Milliner brushed dust from the lid and returned to Mrs. Seaver.

"There is no price I can give, for they were given freely."

Mrs. Seaver tightened the purse strings and shoved the leather bag in her pocket "Then take them back."

The Milliner's nails drummed grently on the paper box. "That is not your choice to make."

"I will not see them hurt!" the badger-spirit barked. 

"Your love for your family does you credit, Mrs. Seaver." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The Milliner paused a moment before chuckling dryly to themself. They held the box up for Mrs. Seaver to see. "This was my first project when I arrived. I did despair of ever delivering it."

Mrs. Seaver looked horrified when the Milliner held it out to her. 

"For you."

"What, no!"

 "You don't even want to see what it is?"

Mrs. Seaver squared her shoulders. "I don't need anything from you."

"This is true," the Milliner conceded, turning to place the box on the workbench. They patted the lid gently. "But it will be here if you change your mind."

Mrs. Seaver retreated, glaring as she went. "Stay away from us. Do you hear me? Stay away."

The shoppe bell rung cheerily through the empty workroom, and the Milliner sat again at their table. They picked up the half finished hat and toyed the edge of its lining.

"She's always been like that," said Luna, jumping up from her hiding spot to sit cross-legged on the oak table. She rested her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees. "Grandma says some spirits are born stuck in their ways."

Luna picked up a scrap of fabric and twisted it around her fingers. "Sometimes I think Derpham is like that -- stuck."

The Milliner considered the statement, and asked, "Do you feel stuck?"

Luna looked at the Milliner like they were daft. "Don't you?"

"I do not."

"Then why are you here?"

The Milliner laughed, spinning the half-finished pillbox around. "I am making hats."

Luna slumped pulling a hat block to herself, rolling it languidly between her hands. "That's it?"

"And," the Milliner continued, "when I am done, I will go on to the next town, and make hats for them."

Luna perked up at this. "Will you take me with you?"

The Milliner lowered the hat to the table and took up the curved knife to  trim excess from the lining. "What will you do?"

"Make hats of course!"

"Making hats is no trifle."

Luna brushed aside the hat block and the Milliner's comment, scooting forward until her legs hung over the opposite end of the table. "I've already learned how to make the batts and boil them to make your felt. I'll be your apprentice."

The Milliner nodded. "Alright, you speak to your grandmother, and we'll see about setting you up a fair wage."

Luna yipped with excitement, throwing her arms around the Milliner's shoulders in an embrace. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The Milliner laughed, setting her back on the floor. "Shall we begin your first official lesson, then?"

Luna jumped to attention. "I'm ready."

***

My Dearest Readers,

A short one, alas. But sometimes when an invitation is declined, the story is cut short. 

Your succinct author,

Moe Lyn