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contacted a few of her more refined former classmates, some of whom had even known Elisabeta. Whether they made the connection between Esther’s paper hearts and the dark beauty, Esther neither knew nor cared.
    What Esther did do was learn each girl’s strength, and put her to work doing the tasks most suited to her. For instance, Lillian could cut out a heart that was neither too plump nor too lean, and her edges were never ragged. However, the girl couldn’t paint to save her life, and was a terror with a pot of glue. So Lillian would cut out the basic form, Victoria would paint a pre-approved design in the center of the card, and Josephine added the lace and ribbons. If the finished product met with Esther’s approval, she would script a loving quote in her own hand, sometimes with charmed ink, sometimes not, and carefully stow the valentine in a sturdy crate. Soon, Esther and her all-woman assembly line were sending love tokens all across the country.
    â€œI always had faith in you,” Father declared, his eyes moving quickly across the ledger as he calculated and recalculated profits. “You have certainly inherited my entrepreneurial spirit!”
    â€œOnly because of your teachings, Father,” Esther demurred. Little did he know that her entrepreneurial spirit owed more than a bit to her gypsy roommate. Every night, Esther lit a candle for Elisabeta and wished her well, wherever she might be.

    It had been the banging that woke Esther. She had retired early with a cup of chocolate and a good book, and wondered what fool’s errand was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning. Shouting, and Jessamine’s shrill voice calling her name, drew her from her bed.
    â€œJessamine!” Esther exclaimed from her vantage point at the top of the stairs. “Whatever has gotten into you?”
    â€œMe? Me!” Jessamine shrieked, now waving her arms in a very unladylike manner. “This is all your doing!”
    â€œ My doing?” Esther gathered her shawl a bit tighter around her shoulders and descended the stairs. “Jess, I haven’t even seen you in weeks. Not since—”
    â€œNot since this!” With that, Jessamine shoved a wadded-up handkerchief at Esther. It contained a now-crumpled valentine, the very one she’d crafted for Edward. “Not since you gave me this horrible, wicked monstrosity!”
    â€œOh, dear.” Esther’s heart softened toward her wild-eyed friend. “Did he give it back to you? Had Edward fallen in love with another before he received it?”
    â€œHe gave it to me, yes, and he loves me quite completely, no thanks to you,” Jessamine snapped. “As do his landlady, and his coworkers, and even the postman.” Jessamine unceremoniously dropped into the hall chair, worn out by her antics. “The postman!”
    â€œMr. Fullerton’s in love with you?” the maid inquired, bewildered. “But, he’s been married for nigh on thirty years!”
    â€œI know,” wailed Jessamine, “but he touched it. Everyone who’s touched it loves me. They won’t rest until they have me.”
    â€œTouched what?” the maid demanded, but Esther hardly heard her. Instead, she stared, white-faced, at the ball of crepe paper in her hand.
    Everyone who touches the valentine falls in love with Jessamine . It had been intended for Edward, yes, but the charm was open. It welcomed all. Not that Esther would have admitted this, not to her prospective clients, certainly not to the wailing Jessamine, but she hadn’t kept up on her magical studies after graduating. Indeed, she hadn’t learned much since Elisabeta’s expulsion. She knew how to create the carrier and bind it to the spellcaster, but had never managed to make a spell intended for a specific recipient. It had never been a problem in the past, since the charms had always been personally delivered to their recipients,