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called.
    “Keith Doyle!” Most of the Folk left their tasks to greet him. Tay, his ice-white hair and beard startling on a face that looked ten years old, came over, wiping his floury hands onto the breast of his apron. His small fingers grasped Keith’s with a surprisingly powerful grip.
    “Well, well, we’ve not seen you in a while.”
    “No,” Keith said, with regret. “I’ve been really busy. Mmm, something smells delicious!” He went over to examine the pots bubbling on the low stove, and took a taste from a big saucepan with the wooden spoon propped up inside it.
    “There, now, stop that,” scolded a little silver-haired female, who hustled over to rap him on the knuckles. Keva was one of the finest bakers in the world and Holl’s elder sister. Keith didn’t know her exact age, but she was over a hundred years older than her brother. “One of these days, you’re going to have a sup of boiling laundry.”
    “That’d be okay. Fiber’s good for you,” he said, irrepressibly.
    “Welcome,” said Maura, Holl’s wife, coming up to squeeze his hand. Her chestnut-haired beauty had matured with marriage and motherhood into a warmth like a fine patina. “Asrai has been asking when her Big uncle would come to call. She is talking more now than ever.”
    “Can’t wait to see her,” Keith said. He calculated in his head. Asrai must be a little over two years old already. He couldn’t keep up with time.
    “Keith Doyle!” Dola abandoned the strawberries she had been hulling and came running up to spring into his arms for a hug. The little elf girl, now nearly thirteen years old, had always been a pet of his. Another one who was breaking out of childhood, but slowly, in the way of her kind. She had always worn her long blond hair loose, but now it was braided in a complicated bun at the back of her head, probably to keep it out of the fruit salad she was making.
    “Hi, Dola. You’re looking beautiful.” Keith swung her in a circle and set her down gently. “Where are Marcy and Diane? In there?”
    He heard a noise in the main room beyond and started toward it. Dola trotted alongside him and tucked her hand into his.
    The very next blink, Keith’s eyes sealed shut. He tried to pry the lids open with a thumb and forefinger, but they wouldn’t budge. It was as if they were made of single pieces of flesh. “Hey, no fair!”
    “Come along,” Dola said, guiding him forward. Keith put out his free hand, feeling for the wall. “You will spoil the surprise.”
    “What surprise?” Keith demanded. “What’s going on?”
    Though his sight was blocked, his other senses were in perfect working order. Around him many voices that he knew were speaking in whispers and giggling. He could feel bodies passing close enough to him to set his invisible whiskers on alert. And, best of all, he could smell lots of luscious food including, to his delight, some of Keva’s bread.
    The rush of light when his lids finally parted was as shocking as a skyrocket. Packed into the bright room around him was the entire population of Little Folk with a sprinkling of Big Folk faces Keith knew as well. The long, thin face with the stringy black hair belonged to Pat Morgan. The light-skinned African-American wearing a cashmere sweater-vest was Dunn Jackson, a fellow former student in the Elf Master’s special extended educational courses under Gillington Library. The ancient woman with eyes as blue as cornflowers was Ludmilla Hempert, and supporting her, the tall, taciturn man with mahogany-dark skin and eyes was Lee Eisley.
    “Surprise!” From the midst of the crowd, a lovely girl with blue-green eyes in a heart-shaped face wriggled her way out of the crowd to give Keith a kiss. He returned it with enthusiasm.
    “What is this?” he asked.
    “It’s a party,” Diane Londen said, her blue-green eyes gleaming with mischief. Diane led Keith forward into the center of the room, and everyone clustered about, patting him on the back