“It was good. FunFun, the redheaded clown sitting cross-legged next to her on the roof’s peak, was fully restored again. Of all the clowns in the park, including the beautiful seven-foot ironclad Fun at the Dreamland entrance, this wooden one was her favorite: exuberantly happy, one yellow-gloved hand pulling back his striped blue-green coat to show off his orange-and-gold-checked waistcoat, the other flung above his head, reaching for the gold panpipes he’d lost long ago. “Don’t worry, baby,” s...he said to him, patting her work bag between them. “I got your pipes right here.” He grinned crookedly down at her, or at least down toward the ground as a breeze picked up, biting with the chill of the Ohio October night. Mab pulled her canvas painting coat closer around her and looked out over the newly restored jewel box of an amusement park. It had taken her thirty-nine years, but now she was not only in Dreamland, she’d saved it. Once I finish the Fortune-Telling Machine, I will have put this place back the way it was at the very beginning.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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