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first stop was the bank building, headquarters for this year’s World’s Fair. Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly when she saw the queue of people stretching down out of the front door and right to where she stood, half a block away.
    The young man at the end of the queue doffed his hat when she tapped him on the shoulder.
    â€œExcuse me, is this the queue for World’s Fair paperwork?”
    He nodded. “Yes, miss.”
    She peered past him. “It’s a very long queue.”
    â€œYes, miss.”
    Astrid settled in behind him to wait. He didn’t seem interested in talking further, and she didn’t press the conversation.
    When at last she reached the front, the older gentleman sitting behind the desk extended a sheaf of papers and gestured to the pad of names in front of him. “Sign your name.”
    â€œI have some questions.”
    He looked up, surprised, and scratched the healthy growth of white whiskers on his cheek. “All right, miss. Ask away.”
    â€œDo I need to rent a booth to enter the contest?”
    He shook his head. “No, miss. The contest entries will be handled separately.”
    â€œAnd is the contest open to any kind of invention?”
    â€œYes, miss. The winner of each category will receive a cash prize, and the winner of the entire Fair will receive the prize of ten thousand pounds.” His mutton chop sideburns twitched as he spoke, as if he were chewing his words, and she found herself momentarily fascinated by them. “The Fair date is coming up awfully soon, you know.”
    â€œI know. Thank you.” And she was off, winding her way back toward the door and out into the bright, clear air, reading as she walked.
    Fees were listed on the first page of the packet. Booth rental cost fifty pounds per day or 500 pounds for the entire duration of the fair, which was the equivalent of five months’ rent. She certainly wouldn’t be renting a booth. But the contest entry fee was only ten pounds, an affordable price. She skimmed the rest of the paperwork, aimlessly wandering through town. Finally, she stopped and tucked the sheaf of papers into her purse, then looked up to see that she was standing in front of the tall glass windows of Rutledge Fine Crafts and Handiworks.
    As soon as she realized where she was, she felt a wave of annoyance mingled with curiosity. She’d never actually been inside Eli’s shop. All she knew of him was his reputation, and their tense meeting the previous night had been less than illuminating. It was hard not to feel jealous in front of those broad glass windows with their finely painted golden letters; this was the manifestation of all her goals and dreams. He had even hung a sign in the window: Rutledge Fine Crafts and Handiworks: As Appearing In This Year’s World’s Fair!
    She should probably keep going, but even as the thought passed through her mind, she was turning the handle and walking inside.

Chapter Seven
    When the bell rang above the door, at first Eli didn’t look up. He loved helping customers, but it was always difficult to set aside whatever task he was working on, in this case replacing two tiny gears in a malfunctioning pocket watch. Not until he had clicked the last piece into place did he look up, and by that point, his customer had turned her back to him to examine a display table.
    It took almost a minute to recognize her. For one, she’d dressed more conservatively, her plain brown skirt brushing her ankles, but her short, tousled brown hair was so distinctive that he looked closer. And when she turned, her profile came into view. Eli’s fingers fumbled on the pocket watch he was still holding, and both small gears popped out of place, rolling across the countertop and disappearing into a crack in the floorboard. For some reason, Astrid Bailey was in his shop.
    Was she avoiding eye contact deliberately, or was she so interested in his watches that she really