It took him a little longer than it would most people, but eventually, Edward Magorium realized something was not quite right with the world as he knew it. When he glanced at the cuckoo clock on the wall—and double-checked with the cat clock, as well as his watch—he realized Mahoney should have showed up nearly two hours ago to open the store with him.

But she wasn't there, and everything was suspiciously quiet.

He frowned at Mortimer, who was eating a salad off the floor in the hallway.

"Something very strange is happening, Mortimer."

The zebra ignored him, and Mr. Magorium sighed. "Stupid zebra."

He then picked up the phone that reached only the basement, and called Bellini. He was met with the usual questioning grunt. "Bellini, is everything quite all right down there?"

Another grunt.

"Mahoney isn't down there, is she? Or Eric?"

Another grunt, this one signifying no.

Mr. Magorium hummed to himself for a moment, then thanked his bookmaker and friend and hung up. He paced his living room for a moment, nearly tripped over a stray bouncy ball, and ultimately decided to go downstairs and outside to see what was going on, thinking it might be raining in spite of the sun shining through his kitchen window.

The store itself was fine, everything intact and content from what he could see at a cursory glance. It was, however, completely empty, which was extremely unusual for the middle of the day. There should be children and parents running around, playing and painting and creating, but there was nothing but the silence of settling dust.

He frowned and poked his head out the front door.

Mr. Magorium had always believed he was an observant man, regardless of how much of the hustle and bustle of daily life he seemed to miss (or ignore). So when he took in his surroundings and felt the shock of winter air, he knew very quickly that he was no longer in the right place. He tilted his head upward and took in the skyscrapers, which seemed taller than the buildings at home, and peered at the faces of the passers-by, none of whom looked the least bit familiar.

And, odd as the weather patterns had been, even he thought it was impossible for there to be snow in the middle of May.

He stepped over the threshold and waved at the person closest to him, a woman who was approaching with a few gift bags dangling from her hands. "Excuse me, miss. If you wouldn't mind speaking with me for a moment, I'm very confused. And you look like just the right kind of person to help me!"

She blinked at him, bangs tickling her eyelids, and shrugged a shoulder. "Sure, okay."

"It seems my store has relocated itself without telling me. Where am I?"

"Chicago."

His eyes lit up. "Chicago, really? The Windy City itself! Home of—well, so many people. Brilliant people. I was here for the World's Fair, you know, but that was a very long time ago. Look at this place, how it's changed..."

The woman stared at him. "Which one?" As far as she knew, the last World's Fair to visit Chicago happened in 1933, and she was fairly certain the man she was speaking to was not old enough to have been there. He definitely didn't look that old.

"A few, actually! I missed out on the first one in 1893—I was in Berlin that year. But, oh, let me think..."

She took a step back. "I have to go, mister."

"Oh! Wait, before you go, I have one more question. What day is it?"

"It's Christmas," she said, lifting the bags as though presenting evidence. "Are you okay?"

Mr. Magorium shook the stunned expression away from his face and smiled. "Yes! Wonderful, actually. Christmas is the greatest day of the year—all those presents, and..." He frowned. None from my store, he thought. And no Mahoney to decorate.

He coughed, the cold air irritating his lungs. "Thank you, miss. Merry Christmas."

She walked away, and after a moment, he stepped back inside. The stuffed animals and dolls and action figures were all looking expectantly at him, an assortment of balls rolling to gather at his feet. Even the trains and planes and cars stopped, waiting.

He drew in a breath and beamed in spite of all the news. "I don't know how this happened, but it seems we're in the middle of a new adventure. It may be a while before we see Mahoney and Eric again—" and here the toys frowned and drooped "—but that's no reason to sulk! Bellini is still with us, as am I. We will make the best of it, as we always have. I just need some time to think."

All things, he told himself, happened for a reason. And although the thought of not seeing Mahoney or Eric again for a very long time (or possibly forever) stuck at his heart like a cactus, he knew that they would be fine, wherever they were. He also knew that he would have to adapt to this new situation as quickly as possible and make the best of it, because it's not always about what's lost or left behind.

Sometimes, it's about the new opportunity and the everything that's waiting to be discovered.