Henry sighed happily.



Deep in the basement of the Truman Tower, the Candy Shop was on skeleton crew, working light and enjoying a little down time. At the moment only he, Jujube and Mr. Cinnamon were on duty, and all of them were preoccupied with spring cleaning and tidying up old files.



It was nice. Honestly, Henry loved his job—being a travel agent was a pleasure, but knowing he worked for a crack team of maverick agents made things that much more exciting. He never knew on any given day if he would be booking trips to Cologne, or Cancun, or the Coachella Valley.



And the requirements! Miss Lollipop always needed a room with a northern window. Mr. Peppermint insisted on staying at independent hotels and refused to check into chains unless it was part of his case. Jelly Bean needed a window seat on any flight he took. Licorice never flew coach—on and on, with everyone needing something special.



It took a clear head and a great memory to keep all that in mind.



Added into the mix now was the dog—although Henry actually liked the little guy. Thank God Grenadine was ex-show, so he knew all about traveling. And he never whined about his accommodations, unlike certain other Candy Shop employees. Henry sighed and checked his watch—time to pick up the mail.



He wandered to the elevator and took it up to the lobby, then made his way to the mail room behind the information desk. Pixie Stick had already sorted out the Shop mail from the stuff for the rest of the building, and Henry idly flicked through it: a few gun catalogs for Mr. Cinnamon, a stock prospectus for Jaw Breaker, a copy of Weekly World News for Bubble Gum; Fortean Times and The Bookman for Mr. Peppermint; and a handful of postcards.



Henry carried all of them back to the elevator and began thumbing through them, smiling.