"Jefferson!" a female voice shouted. The Hatter stopped in his tracks, letting his daughter run forward with her friends. He turned to see a girl in her mid-twenties jogging up to him. She had long brown hair and dark eyes, was wearing black skinny jeans, a black tank top with a green jacket over it, black combat boots, and a thick brown leather cuff on her right wrist. She looked oddly familiar to Jefferson—but he couldn't quite place why. "May I speak with you for a moment?"
He hesitated. "You may?" he edged cautiously. "What do you want with me?"
"I don't want anything from you. I want something from Grace."
Instantly Jefferson was on the defensive. "What do you want from Grace?" he demanded.
"Relax. I want to be her friend. I think I deserve to know my niece."
"What?"
"Her mother—my older sister—was taken from her when she was very young. At some point in her future before you even know it she's going to need a woman in her life. To talk about boys and nail polish. I want to be there for her."
Jefferson's jaw opened slightly as he realized why she looked familiar. She looked very similar to his late wife. Almost just like his Rosemary. He hadn't seen his young sister-in-law since his wedding to her older sister so long ago. She had grown up quite a lot. Into a beautiful young woman. She looked so like his wife that it almost knocked him over. She even wore her hair the same way—in a high ponytail. "Heather?" he breathed, in awe.
"In the flesh," she replied. "Just let me be there for her. I'll help you take care of the house. I'll help you take care of her. I just want to be there for her. My parents—her grandparents—died right before the curse hit. She's the only family I have left." She shrugged. "Please? She can come to my apartment on Fridays and we'll paint our nails with hot chocolate and popcorn and we can go shopping and I'll take her to Granny's for breakfast. I just want to be her aunt and spoil her. Please."
Jefferson's face softened. "Why live on your own? The house has plenty of room for you to come live with us. I'd be grateful for some help with the cleaning. It's a… big house." He scratched the back of his head and tugged a bit on his scarf so Heather caught a brief glimpse of the scar that circled his entire neck.
Heather smiled. "I'd be happy to."
"Grace!" Jefferson called. The eleven-year-old girl jumped up and rushed over.
"Yes Papa?"
"This is Heather—your mother's younger sister. She's going to come live with us," he said carefully.
"Hello," Heather greeted.
"Hi!" Grace exclaimed, giving Heather a hug. "It's nice to meet you!"
"It's nice to meet you too."
With that, Grace went off to play with her friends. Jefferson stared after her for a moment, making sure she was okay.
"Go ahead. Go play with her. If I'm moving out I guess I better pack up." She patted her brother-in-law on the back and trotted off. The Hatter watched the young woman go, her high ponytail swinging back and forth, wondering. Still gazing at the back of her green jacket, he took a few backwards steps towards the playground before turning around to go play with his daughter in earnest. Grace giggled when he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into the sky. When he set her down, she turned around excitedly, her curly hair bouncing.
"So Aunt Heather is going to live with us in the big house?"
"Yup."
"Is she gonna be like Mama?"
"She's going to look after you when I can't, and she's gonna help me take care of the house. But she won't replace your mother."
"But what if you fall in love with her and get married?"
"Oh my dear Grace. That won't happen. She can't replace your mother."
"She doesn't have to replace Mama. You should have a happy ending too."
"You're my happy ending, sweetie."
"But what about when I grow up and find my happy ending?"
"Then I'll be happy knowing you were happy." He chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Now let's go see what mayhem we can make." He scooped his daughter up into both his arms and glanced down to the last place he'd seen Heather while Grace squealed. She was gone—of course—but for a moment he thought he saw that green jacket of hers in a window just above where he'd last seen her.
He shook his head to clear it and marched off, Grace calling for her friends to follow them. The other girls laughed and ran after the Hatter and his daughter, chattering like a flock of brightly-colored, excited birds. Jefferson smiled as he set his little girl down on the ground. Grace had never had many friends in the Enchanted Forest. It was a change. Even though there still weren't many, they were there. And that was all he could ask for—for her to be happy.
They spent the day running around the town, not making actual mayhem but joking around and being silly.
When they dropped off all of Grace's friends and got back to the mansion after dark, there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Jefferson took a quick glance at the interior through the windows, decided it was Heather's, and didn't bother to question it.
His sister-in-law was sitting in the entrance hall with a few boxes milled about her feet. "I didn't know where you'd want me to be so I thought I'd wait for you to get back," she said apologetically.
Jefferson knelt down and looked Grace in the eye. "Take your aunt and go pick out a room," he whispered with a smile. Grace grinned, rushed over to Heather, took her hand, and trotted off to go look at all the rooms in the house. The Hatter watched the girls leave and spent a moment organizing the boxes a bit. He pulled off his overcoat, hung it on the rack, and scratched the back of his head. He'd seen some of the things in the boxes—clothes, books, and a few mementos. Heather was a pretty light packer. One of the mementos was somehow a picture of her with Rosemary in this world's clothing, smiling in dresses like it had been a professional portrait.
Before he knew it, they were back. Grace picked up one of the lighter boxes and Heather one of the heavier ones. They disappeared back into the halls of the house. Jefferson snagged a box himself and followed them.
He chuckled and barely kept himself from rolling his eyes when he saw which room Grace had probably insisted Heather take.
The one right next to his on the other side from Grace's own.
"I should have known," he muttered.
As he set the box of books down next to the bed, he heard Grace gasp. She pulled a beautiful midnight-blue ball gown out of the box she'd been carrying. "Where did you get this?! It's beautiful!" the eleven-year-old exclaimed. Heather glanced up from the bundle of jackets she'd been pulling out and grinned amusedly.
"That's mine from back home. I wore it to a ball when my best friend became betrothed to a nobleman," the young woman explained. "When you're old enough, you can wear it to your prom."
Grace's face lit up. "Really?" She looked to her father—who chuckled.
"If your aunt says it's okay for you to wear her dress, then you can," he told her.
The little girl rushed across the room and gave her aunt a big hug. "Thank you!"
Heather took the dress gently from her niece's hands and hung it from a hanger in the closet. She knelt down and pulled something else out of the same box. "My mother made this for me for if I ever got married. It's not quite as elegant as my sister's, but it's beautiful nonetheless." The pure white gown and pearl circlet with a tulle veil shimmered in the light like it was embedded with shredded diamonds. Jefferson felt his eyebrows twitch a little higher. "I'm grateful that they came over with me," she finished quietly, almost like she didn't want the others to hear. She hung the thing in the closet behind the other dress in a garment bag. "Even though I'll probably never wear them again."
"Sure you will," Grace dismissed. "You'll wear them sometime!"
Before she could say what Jefferson thought she was going to say, he interrupted. "Grace, my dear, you have school tomorrow. Go get ready for bed. Heather and I will finish with the boxes." He kissed her forehead and shooed her out of the room.
The adults spent the next twenty minutes moving the boxes into the room.
"Jefferson?" Heather asked as Grace brushed her teeth. "I want you to have this." She reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a framed photograph.
It was Rosemary, her golden-brown hair flying about her face in a sea-wind. She was standing on a beach with the ocean behind her, brown eyes glittering with mirth, wearing a sea-foam green shirt and a flowing gray skirt.
She looked very much like her little sister. "I have a false memory of taking that picture," Heather commented. "I think it would do you better to have it."
Jefferson took it in his hands for a moment and gazed at it almost longingly before giving it back. "No. It's yours," he said. Heather shrugged and set the photo on the dresser in the room. If she was anything like Rosemary she definitely had it in her to argue, but he was grateful she didn't because he wasn't in the mood for it. He pulled a few more clothes out of a box and left them to Heather to sort through. "I'm going to go tuck Grace in. Once she's asleep we can talk more."
Heather shrugged again. "Okay. See you in a bit."
