The Fairy-Tale Matchmaker

by E. D. Baker

  After feeding Noodles and eating her own breakfast, Cory looked through the ads and found two that interested her. The first house was only a few streets away.

  * * *

  WANTED

  Individual with patience, strong lungs, and a big heart to help with occasional babysitting for large family. Must pass interview. Contact Gladys at 2345 North Shore Rd.

  * * *

  The other was halfway across town.

  * * *

  WANTED

  Person to mow lawns. Job will last all summer and includes three houses. Lawn mower provided. If interested, contact A. Porcine at 123 Cozynest Lane.

  * * *

  After sending messages to both people, Cory cleaned up the kitchen, fed the mice, and took out the trash from the garbage basket. When she walked Noodles to the yard, he didn’t want to come back in, so she got a later start than she’d intended.

  Apparently, she had given up being a tooth fairy so she could spend her summer babysitting and mowing lawns. Cory hoped her mother didn’t hear about this.

  The woman who had answered Cory’s message lived near a large lake at the south edge of town. Although Cory had heard of the house before, she’d never actually seen it. “So this is the house that looks like a shoe,” she murmured, looking up at the house from the street. She thought it looked more like a boot than a shoe with its high leather sides and thick edging around the bottom that could have been a sole. If it hadn’t been for the front door in the toe and the windows at random intervals in the walls, it wouldn’t have looked like a house at all.

  Cory stood by the road for a moment, trying to see what a home buyer might notice. The grass was a little long, the shrubbery overgrown. Swings hung from the branches of an old oak in the side yard, while another tree supported a dilapidated tree house.

  “Hello! Are you Cory?” called a voice. A little woman who couldn’t have been more than four feet tall stood just inside the open door.

  “I am,” Cory said, heading up the stone path.

  “I’m Gladys!” said the woman. “Won’t you come in?”

  Cory stepped across the threshold into a room lined with chairs and sofas. It looked comfortable enough, but the furniture was crowded so closely together that there was almost no space to walk.

  “What an interesting house. How long have you lived here?” Cory asked as the woman closed the door.

  “Twenty-six years. My husband and I bought it when we first got married. It’s a good house and has served us well. This is the main room,” said Gladys. “We have a lot of children, so we needed lots of seats if we all wanted to be together.”

  “How many children do you have?”

  “Forty-three,” the old woman said, sounding tired. “That includes four sets of twins and one set of triplets. Only eleven still live at home. Make that twelve. One just moved back in. Come along. The kitchen is this way.”

  A narrow hall led to the kitchen, where a big maple table dominated the room. Chairs were crammed so tightly around the table that Cory didn’t see how anyone could pull them out to sit down. The room would have looked large if it wasn’t so full of furniture.

  “Would you like some tea?” the woman asked as she took some cups from the cupboard.

  “Uh, sure,” said Cory.

  “Have a seat,” Gladys told her, still facing the counter.

  Cory took hold of the closest chair and pulled. The two chairs on either side moved with it, so she had to push and pull all three chairs until she could get one out. She sat down and couldn’t help but notice that the chair seat was sticky.

  “Here you go,” Gladys said, handing her a chipped cup full of slightly warm tea. “Now, I want to hear all about you. How long have you been babysitting?” She pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and sat down.

  “I just started, actually,” said Cory.

  “What’s the largest number of children you’ve watched at once?”

  “Uh, one,” said Cory.

  “That will do. Learn through experience, I always say.” At the sound of a loud thud somewhere overhead, Gladys sighed and said, “That would be my son Tom Tom. Shortly after he graduated from school, he was arrested for stealing a pig. He just got out of jail. Can you believe the boy found a job already? He works the strangest hours, though. I’d ask him to watch his brothers and sisters when he’s home, except I know he’d just yell at them and lock himself in his room. Of all my children, he’s the most like his father. But then again, he’s the only one I birthed. The rest were all adopted, thanks to my husband. You don’t know who my husband is, do you?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t,” said Cory. “Should I?”

  “No, I suppose not. It’s just that most people do. My husband used to be known as the Pied Piper. He was a young musician when I met him, but he had a way with music. We were married for five years before we had Tom Tom. We wanted more after that, but eventually we realized that wasn’t going to happen. Marvin, my husband, knew how much I wanted them, so he got it into his head that he was going to get them for me. He went to the human world and used his pipe to lead the children here. I did want more children, but I meant one or two! Then he was arrested and went to prison. The authorities left the children here with me. They couldn’t go back to the human world, and somebody had to raise them. I did the best I could by myself.”

  “You raised forty-three children by yourself?” Cory asked, incredulous.

  Gladys nodded. “Of course, they were all different ages when they got here, from little tykes up to teenagers. The older ones helped me with the younger ones. The ones that were old enough to work got odd jobs to help buy groceries. We made do, but it wasn’t easy. So that’s my situation. What do you think?” Gladys said, leaning forward in her chair. “Are you interested in babysitting my children? It wouldn’t be very often—just when school is out and I have to work.”

  “Sure,” Cory said slowly. “Although I have to tell you up front that I intend to find a career. I’m not going to be able to babysit for long.”

  “Oh, that’s all right!” said Gladys. “I might not need you for long. A few of my older children are having a hard time making it on their own. Any one of them could move back any day and they’re all more responsible than Tom Tom. I just wanted to find someone who could watch the kids for now and knew our story beforehand so she wouldn’t run off the first time she helped me out. Thanks for coming by. You’ll be hearing from me soon!”

  Cory found herself standing on the walk in front of the house, not sure what had just happened. It had felt as if she was interviewing the woman more than that the woman was interviewing her. At least Gladys understood that Cory wasn’t going to babysit for long.

  But then I don’t want to mow lawns forever, either, she thought as she landed facing 123 Cozynest Lane a few minutes later. It was a tidy, little brick house at the end of a dead-end street. A well-trimmed hedge surrounded the house, serving as a background for masses of daisies, dahlias, snapdragons, and zinnias. The grass, however, was quite long, reaching almost to her knees. A short, little man dressed in yellow slacks, a flowered orange-and-pink shirt, and a wide straw hat was bending over the flowers, picking the largest and prettiest.

  “Pardon me,” Cory said, coming up behind him. “Are you Mr. Porcine?”

  The little man straightened suddenly as if startled, and turned to face Cory.

  Cory was surprised to see that he was a pig; not that he looked like one, but was an actual pig with a snout holding up a pair of sunglasses and pointed ears poking through slits cut in his hat. She had met dogs who looked and acted like people, as well as cats, monkeys, a blue dinosaur, and even an alligator, but she had never met a pig. Although they were usually animals that had been changed through magic, she had heard that there were some who were descended from such altered animals and acted as normal as any person. When the pig removed his sunglasses to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, she decided that he must be one of these.
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  “Why do you ask?” said the pig.

  “I’m Cory Feathering,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ve come in response to your ad; if you’re Mr. Porcine, that is.”

  The pig flicked a glance toward the front door, before saying, “I’m Mr. Porcine, but I didn’t write any ad.”

  “Didn’t you advertise for someone to mow your lawn?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But,” she said, glancing at the address on the house, “this is the address in the listing.”

  “What’s going on here?” a second pig demanded as he strode across the lawn. He looked a lot like the first one except for his patched shorts, faded T-shirt, and earring in one of his ears.

  “This girl said that someone posted an ad for a person to mow his lawn, but it wasn’t me,” said the first pig. “We wouldn’t do that, would we, Bertie?”

  “Of course not! I find this highly suspicious. Why would you say we had placed an ad when we clearly did not? Is this some sort of trick? Why would anyone do such a thing, unless … Who sent you? Why are you really here? Is this some ploy you’ve concocted to snoop around? We don’t take kindly to snooping!” The pig moved toward her in a threatening sort of way.

  “Uh,” said Cory, taking a step back, “I think there’s been some sort of mistake. I came here to work, not snoop.” She thought it was curious that while Bertie looked angry, his brother looked frightened. “Good day, gentlemen. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She was about to leave when the front door to the little brick house opened.

  “What’s all the ruckus?” said yet another pig. This pig was more conservatively dressed than the others in tan slacks and a white shirt. He wore metal-framed glasses on his piggy snout and he smelled of aftershave.

  “This girl is sniffing around, asking nosy questions,” said the pig named Bertie. “She made up some story about answering an advertisement.”

  Cory sighed. “Someone named A. Porcine wrote a help-wanted ad for a person to mow his lawn.”

  “I’m Alphonse Porcine,” said the pig in the suit. “I wrote the advertisement. I purchased a lawn mower last week, but I found that I was unable to push it myself. You’ll have to excuse my brothers. They’re a little jumpy around strangers. They don’t get out much,” he said, giving the other two pigs a meaningful look. Turning back to Cory, he continued. “So, if you are interested, I could use your help. I need you to mow this yard as well as the yards on either side of mine. They belong to my brothers, who also cannot work my mower.”

  “Oh, sure,” Cory said, glancing at the other two houses. “I can do that.”

  Cory had just seen a house that looked like a boot, so she didn’t think that the house made of straw or the house made of twigs was odd. They both had big yards, however, so she paid more attention to the grass she’d have to mow, trying to estimate how long it was going to take her.

  “Would you like to start now?” asked Alphonse. “The mower is around back.”

  The other two pigs followed them to the shed behind the house and watched while their brother took out the mower and showed Cory how to use it. Cory could see why the pig couldn’t manage the mower; he was so short that he couldn’t see over the handlebar and he’d have to push with his arms above his head. What she couldn’t understand was why he’d bought it in the first place.

  Alphonse puffed and grunted as he pulled it out of the shed. “I saw a smaller version at the shop. I was very impressed … that it powers itself with cut grass … and has never-need-sharpening blades. The salesman … talked me into buying … the biggest one they had, although they didn’t … have any in stock at the time. He said it would … cut the mowing time in half. I’m sure … it would, if only I could use it. Do you … think you could handle it?”

  “How do you start it?” Cory asked.

  Alphonse plucked a few blades of grass and sprinkled them into a recessed cup in the top of the mower. There was a soft hum and a light went on. The mower vibrated and moved a few inches forward. Cory took the mower from the pig and started pushing. It was hard at first because the grass was so tall, but after she’d pushed it a few feet, the light grew brighter, the hum grew louder, and the mower rolled through the grass easily, leaving a clean-cut swath behind. All Cory had to do was steer.

  “Just push the red button to turn it off,” Alphonse told her, gesturing to a place on the handle.

  “I can do this!” said Cory, thinking it wouldn’t take long at all.

  “Good!” said Alphonse. “Then I’ll leave you to it.” Cory was aiming the mower to the edge of the yard when he turned to his brother and said, “So, Roger. Were you picking my flowers again? Bertie, we have to talk about the way you act with strangers …”

  Chapter 8

  It took only a few hours for Cory to mow the three little pigs’ lawns. When she finished, Alphonse paid her well and asked her to come back the following week. Cory flew home to find that her uncle was still at work. She took Noodles out, threw away yet another threatening message from the TFG, and went to her room to change her clothes. She was pulling a soft yellow shirt with fluttery sleeves over her head when she noticed an old blue shirt that had been mixed in with the rest of the clothes. The shirt had belonged to Walker back when they were in Junior Fey School, and he’d given it to her when they went swimming one day and the weather had turned cold.

  Seeing the shirt brought back the hurt and anger that she’d felt when she saw him with that girl. He was cheating on her and thought he was getting away with it! Walker was a lowlife, a lying worm that didn’t deserve her as a girlfriend! No, that wasn’t right. He was worse than a worm! He was … Cory shook her head. He wasn’t worth her time or her tears. Swiping furiously at the damp streaks on her cheeks, she told herself to forget him. When everyone had told them they were the perfect couple, she’d wanted to believe it was true. When her friends wished they had boyfriends like Walker, she’d been happy knowing that he was hers. Apparently, she’d been deceiving herself all along. The real Walker wasn’t the person she’d thought she was dating. That person would never have done something like this!

  “Marjorie was right,” Cory told herself. “It’s time for a new start.”

  Opening her closet door, she took out one of the boxes she’d used to move her things to her uncle’s. The blue shirt went in the box first. Rooting through her clothes, she weeded out those that Walker had given her and had once seemed so special. After that she went through the few mementos she’d brought to her uncle’s house, and picked out the ones from Walker, like the tooth-shaped toothbrush holder and the saber-toothed-tiger tooth necklace. She hadn’t noticed before that aside from his old, used clothes, the only things he’d given her were tooth related.

  The box was only half full when she closed the lid. She thought about putting it out with the trash, but decided to leave it on Walker’s porch instead. Torn between never wanting to see him again and telling him exactly what she thought of him, she carried the box out of the house and down the street. She was nearly there when she finally decided what she’d do. If she saw him, she’d talk to him. If he wasn’t there, she wasn’t going to seek him out. It was possible that he knew she’d been at the restaurant last night. Even if he hadn’t seen her, someone might have told him afterward. Somehow she doubted that he knew. If he had heard, he probably would have been over to see her to tell her some sort of lie. Walker had never liked loose ends.

  When Cory finally reached his house, she set the box on the porch and hesitated. Should she ring the bell hanging beside his front door, or leave the box and walk away? If she rang the bell and he didn’t come, she would have tried at least. But what if he …

  And then Walker stepped out. He looked surprised to see her. “Hi! I didn’t expect to see you today. What’s with the box?”

  “I’m returning your things,” Cory told him. “I don’t want them anymore.”

  “Why, Sweet Pea?” he asked, looking puzzled. “What’s wrong?�
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  Cory’s lips tightened into a thin line. He had the nerve to act like nothing had happened! And for him to call her his old endearment … “Don’t ‘Sweet Pea’ me, you lying, two-faced—”

  “What are you talking about?” he said.

  Cory thought he was still trying to look innocent, but she had seen the flash of understanding in his eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw you last night, kissing another girl.”

  “Oh, her!” Walker said. “That was nothing. She’s my cousin who came to visit.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Walker! At least show me that much respect! I know she’s not related to you. I’ve been to your family reunions! I know everyone in your family and I never met that girl.”

  “An old friend from school?” he asked as if he doubted she would believe him.

  “Be honest, Walker!”

  “Fine. She’s someone I met at a club one night. It’s your fault I’m with her at all, you know. If you hadn’t been so busy, you would have been there and I would never have talked to her.”

  “I was at work, which is where you should have been instead of going to clubs. You worked the same hours I did! Is that why you had Blue fill in for you—so you could go to clubs?”

  “I needed a break now and then. I’m not like you. I want to enjoy life, too!”

  “So do I!”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t know how you’re going to do that, now that you’ve quit the only job you know how to do. When I met you, you had a future. We had a future. We were both going to have good jobs and be able to afford whatever we wanted. But now you’re unemployed, with no future except mooching off your uncle. You’re a deadweight and I’m not going to carry you!”