The Princess and the Poison

by Carol E. Ayer

  Everyone, including Katrina, was extremely slender, and I pulled my T-shirt over my stomach. Since my donut consumption earlier in the day, it seemed to have inflated to the size of Tweedledee and Tweedledum's midsections. Put together.

  "Katrina?"

  She looked up from her smartphone. "Yeah?"

  "I'm Ashling Cleary. I'm the manager and owner of StoryWorld."

  "Oh, hey." Back to the smartphone.

  "Is everything going okay? Is there anything you need?"

  She smirked at something she was reading on the screen and didn't answer.

  "Katrina?"

  "What?" Her gaze remained riveted on the phone.

  "Is there anything you need?"

  "I don't know. Not right now. I'll let you know."

  "I have some photos your agent said you'd sign. Could you come and do that now?"

  "No. As you can see, I'm busy."

  Now I understood why Katie was so put out by her. "When, then?" I cringed at the rhyme. The entourage giggled, whether at the rhyme or at me in general, I didn't know.

  "I guess in a couple of hours." She now hadn't looked at me once since I'd introduced myself.

  "Okay. Please be in my office in two hours. It's right behind the gingerbread-house customer service center."

  She didn't answer, and I turned and stalked away, aware of my muffin top showing as my T-shirt rode up over my waistband. I wasn't sure, but I heard what I thought was tittering behind me.

  * * *

  By the end of the day, the gild was officially off Jeremy Fisher's lily pad. Cameron came in after closing and tore off his glasses. He threw them with a dramatic toss into my trash can. They rattled around before falling on top of one of my ubiquitous candy bar wrappers.

  "Problems, Cameron?" I asked.

  "She wouldn't even talk to me, boss. What's up with that?"

  I didn't have an answer for him.

  Joaquin and Brittany had similar complaints when they arrived to turn in their ride keys before leaving.

  "She's completely stuck-up," Joaquin pronounced.

  "And full of herself," Brittany added.

  Katrina never made it to the office to sign the pictures, so I wasn't about to argue with them. I was mad too. But this was all very strange. She hadn't asked ahead of time for any special treatment. She'd declined our offer of a trailer, claiming she would be fine resting and dressing backstage, just like everyone else. Heck, she wasn't even pulling in a paycheck. Half the proceeds from the performances had been earmarked for The Children's Literacy League of California, and, as luck would have it, the CLLC was one of Katrina's pet causes. When she'd heard about the plays, she'd volunteered her services. So why was she acting like such a diva all of a sudden?

  Just as the door closed on Joaquin and Brittany, it opened again. Definitely Grand Central Station around here. This time, Donna stood on the doorstep.

  "Hey, Donna, what's up?"

  "Tell me you can go out with me tonight. Charlie's at a conference until ten. Pleassse." She sounded eerily like Katie.

  "Sure. I don't have any plans." Uncomfortably, I remembered Scott had thrown out tonight as a possibility for our next date in a voice mail message I never returned.

  "I need to vent like I've never needed to before," Donna said. "Let's go to Freddy's."

  That was all she needed to say. (A) I loved Freddy's, and (B) I was famished. I grabbed my purse, and we left.

  * * *

  "That girl is the biggest diva I've ever met," Donna whined after we'd ordered.

  Her attitude surprised me. She was probably the most positive person I knew, and it was strange to hear her complain. Especially since she'd been so looking forward to Katrina's arrival.

  "What is it with her? No one likes her. She wasn't exactly charming when I met her either. Are all celebrities like this in real life?"

  "I hope not. Maybe her role is getting to her. She seems to think she's a real princess. She requires both a morning latte and an afternoon latte and that they be brought over to her at the stage. She sent one of her entourage to relay the instructions almost immediately after she got here. And—get this—she wants decaffeinated lattes with almond milk, sweetened with a mix of three-parts agave syrup to one-part honey. Or maybe it's three-parts honey to one-part agave syrup. At a certain point, I stopped listening."

  I snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you would stock all that stuff."

  "The Jack Sprat has a nice selection but really! After a lot of back and forth—through her lackey, not her, mind you—she finally agreed to decaf with regular nonfat milk and two teaspoons of sugar. The first of which I brought over to her. You'd think I offered her poison. She took one sip and screwed up her mouth at me. Although it must not have been that bad, because she still wanted the second one this afternoon. Which I personally delivered again, with not so much as a thank you in return. Or even an acknowledgment, actually. The second time she just seized the cup out of my hand and didn't say a word."

  A busboy appeared and placed two glasses of water, along with a basket of sourdough bread and a ramekin of butter, on our table. I grabbed a piece of bread, buttered it liberally, and stuffed half into my mouth.

  Donna gave me a surprised look.

  "What? I'm hungry." My mouth was half-full, so this came out more mumble than words.

  "You know I'd never criticize you, but are you sure you're all right these days? You've been eating a little more than normal."

  "Are you saying I'm fat?" I huffed.

  "Of course not. And if you were, I wouldn't care. I just want you to be healthy. I want you to stick around for a long time."

  I was unpleasantly reminded of Jamie. I'd wanted him to stick around for a long time. "You're right. I know. I've been eating out of control lately. I just can't seem to feel full."

  "Why, hon? Is it grief? You said you were doing better about Jamie."

  I nodded. "And I am. Really. I still miss him like crazy, but missing him is more a part of me than something I'm fighting against or trying to get through."

  "But what about Scott? We never got to finish our conversation."

  I looked around the restaurant in an effort to collect my thoughts. Freddy's didn't have the greatest ambiance, with its dull brown walls and fake foliage. A crack ran down the glass container showcasing the desserts, and the carpet needed a thorough vacuuming. But I loved the food. When I was a teen, my mom, stepdad, and I used to come to Freddy's once a week on what we called "Splurge Day." We stuffed ourselves with nachos, club sandwiches, and fries and somehow still had room left for slabs of mud pie. Jamie and I used to frequent Freddy's as well, but we chose the healthier options like salads and salmon.

  It was nice having someone special to share my life with, and frankly, I wouldn't mind having that again. But, in order to have that, I needed to be able to kiss someone new without bursting into tears. And I probably had to allow him to do more than just kiss me, and I didn't know how I would avoid that next step for much longer.

  "I'm not sure I want to be in a relationship. I like my independence." Because it wasn't the whole truth and maybe not even the partial truth, I didn't look her in the eyes.

  "Come on, Ash. I know you. There's something more to it. Are you scared?"

  I reluctantly met her eyes. "No."

  "I think you are. Maybe you just need to forge ahead."

  "Maybe. I don't know."

  "At any rate, you shouldn't keep Scott on the hook forever. You need to make a decision."

  "I know. I will." I armed myself with another piece of buttered bread. "Now. About Princess Katrina. Tell me more."

  "You should have seen her face when I delivered that first latte. She looked like a spoiled five-year-old."

  Donna continued on in the same vein until our orders arrived. I slathered ketchup and mustard on my cheeseburger and stuffed tomato slices, red onion, and lettuce under the top bun. The onion rings came with ranch dressing, and I poured the creamy liquid across the pile.
Before I knew it, I'd devoured everything on the plate, including the orange slice and parsley garnish, and possibly some of the china. Then I finished every piece of bread from our basket, slathering each one with globs of butter from the ramekin.

  Donna was far more restrained with her personal-sized olive and mushroom pizza. She didn't even finish the whole thing and asked for a doggie bag. Sadly, she didn't offer the leftovers to me.

  "How's Charlie?" I asked as we waited for the doggie bag to arrive. I tried to not stare at the leftover pizza. If I looked at it much longer, I was going to swipe it from Donna's plate.

  Donna's husband, Charlie, taught botany at the local university and was über-passionate about his subject. He grew exotic plants in a greenhouse behind their home and tended to their garden religiously. He'd even been known to hop out of a still-moving car to examine a shrub or tree, at which point he'd regale his fellow passengers with a litany of its origin, Latin names, and practical uses.

  "He's having problems with insomnia. He's not coming to bed when I go to sleep." Donna looked wistful.

  I laughed. "The two of you are so cute. Still close after all these years." Donna and Charlie had married when they were eighteen, after dating exclusively all through high school. I made a mental note that their twenty-fifth anniversary was coming up at the end of the year. Twenty-five years! I'd only been with Jamie for five. A deep feeling of longing surfaced in my chest.

  "Ash, you could have that kind of relationship too…"

  I just nodded and picked up the dessert menu. What did I feel like? Cherry cheesecake or mud pie?

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next afternoon, Katie called out for me from the gingerbread house when I returned from bringing change to the entrance. "You have a visitor. Scott Lawrence."

  I dropped the two fifty dollar bills I was carrying and quickly stepped on one that threatened to blow away. "Really?" I stared at one of the peppermint candy decorations on the wall in front of me. Too bad they weren't real.

  "Yeah." Katie stepped out of the gingerbread house, looking confused. "Why?"

  "No reason. Okay. Thanks." I picked up the bills and continued to the office, willing my hands to stop shaking.

  I opened the office door partway and peered in. Scott sat in the visitor's chair with Dinah, our park cat, on his lap, the volume of her purr-box set on high. Scott looked up from scratching Dinah's head to fix me with his brown eyes, dark and soulful. He wore a black suit with a blue tie, and my heart skipped a beat. I'd always been a sucker for a guy in a suit. Did he have to be quite so good-looking?

  Now that he'd seen me, I didn't have much choice. I went in.

  "Hi!" I said way too enthusiastically, giving him a stupid little wave.

  Scott placed Dinah on the floor and got up. He enveloped me in a hug, which sent shivers up and down my body. Shivers which felt an awful lot like desire. I surreptitiously inhaled his cologne. He smelled fantastic.

  "Good to see you," he said softly into my ear, which only made things worse. I almost melted into the floor. What was happening? Part of me wanted this and part of me most certainly did not.

  I exited awkwardly from the embrace and placed the bills on my desk. "Yeah, good to see you too. What brings you to StoryWorld?"

  "Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?"

  "Considering you live thirty miles from here and work farther away than that? Not really."

  He laughed. "Busted. Okay, I confess. I made a special trip. You haven't let me know about our next date, so I thought I'd come and get your answer in person. I'd really like to take you out again."

  I should have been annoyed he'd painted me into a corner, but instead, I was flattered. Which didn't mean I knew what to do, either about our potential next date or Scott in general. I felt like I had a you-should-do-it angel on my left shoulder and an are-you-crazy devil on my right. Or maybe it was an are-you-crazy angel and a you-should-do-it devil. If I knew the answer to that, I might know what to do.

  "So? Since I'm here, and it's"—Scott checked his watch—"four thirty, what do you say I take you to dinner? I could check out that comic book store down the street and come back whenever you want."

  I made a gesture that was half acceptance and half refusal. Boy, was I a mess. "Okay."

  "Great. What time should I come back?"

  "I should be done at six."

  "Perfect. I'll be back then. Looking forward to it." He flashed me a dazzling smile and left.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, I called Donna at the Jack Sprat and told her my plans. She sounded much more excited than me, and at one point, I had to pull the phone away from my ear as her voice grew louder with glee.

  After I managed to extricate myself from the conversation with Donna, I looked at Dinah in her bed. "I guess I have a date tonight."

  She lifted her head to listen to me but didn't seem very impressed. At least she and I were on the same page.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Scott and I placed our orders at Jeremy's Steakhouse. The waiter left, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. My wooden chair seemed unnecessarily hard. Needing something to do with my hands, I dumped the sugar packets out of the holder and sifted through them. A local landmark was pictured on each packet, and I found one that featured the StoryWorld Castle. I slipped the packet into my purse to add to my collection of StoryWorld memorabilia.

  Before Scott came to pick me up, I'd changed into a fancy blouse I kept at the park for special events, and I'd attempted to put on eye liner and eye shadow borrowed from Donna to make my blue eyes brighter. I was fairly competent with lipstick and mascara, but was out of my comfort zone when it came to anything beyond that. I ended up looking like a drunken raccoon but didn't have time to remove the makeup and try again. Now, I ran my pointer finger along my lash lines, hoping I could improve matters somewhat.

  Scott leaned back, looking perfectly comfortable with the furniture, me, and my drunken raccoon look. How was this so simple for him?

  "How was your day?" He startled me with the easy intimacy. The question made it seem like we were an established couple. And, in some ways, maybe we were. By now, we'd covered all the basics—family ties, hobbies, childhoods, and previous relationships—though I hadn't told him the entire Jamie story yet.

  I knew Scott had fallen out of his treehouse when he was six and had broken his right arm. He'd broken the other arm on the jungle gym two weeks later (yes, he'd been on the jungle gym with a broken arm). In high school, he'd asked the most popular girl to go to the prom, and she'd declined, shaming him so much he didn't ask a woman out again until he was twenty-one. He knew about my parents' divorce and my mom's remarriage, my love for donuts and chocolate, and my extreme hatred of shopping for anything other than fairy-tale jewelry. He'd accepted the fact I didn't like warm weather, despite being a native Californian. We'd found out that not only were we both thirty-three, but our birthdays were only six weeks apart. We'd even laughed about the fact our sun signs, Virgo for him and Libra for me, weren't considered the best match.

  It reached my brain that I should answer Scott's question. "Other than a temperamental Hollywood star wreaking havoc, things were fine."

  Scott laughed. "That's right. I forgot the famous Katrina Irvine is now in residence. I saw all the news vans in the parking lot."

  "Yeah. What's weird is she's donating her services to benefit the CLLC, which is really nice, but she hasn't been behaving well at all. Only the second day she's been here and she thinks she owns the place. Apparently, she's been telling my staff how to do their jobs! Whenever she's got a break from rehearsals, she walks around the park, sticking her nose in everywhere."

  "Have you talked to her about her behavior?"

  "Not yet. Have I told you I'm not very good with confrontation? By far the worst part of my job is dealing with unhappy people. Or difficult people. Usually, my assistant, Marissa, handles the confrontation. She doesn't mind it. I think she even likes it. Sh
e considers it a challenge, I guess. But she won't be back to work for several months."

  He said gently, "You're the boss, Ashling. It's up to you."

  "The director—Julie—doesn't seem to be having much luck controlling Katrina. So, yeah, I guess it is up to me. Unfortunately." I fingered the White Rabbit on my Alice in Wonderland necklace.

  "You can do it. I have faith." He beamed another radiant smile at me. His belief in me, while probably unwarranted, caused goose bumps to break out on my arms.

  I just hoped he wouldn't decide to do something crazy, like lean across the table and kiss me. Time for a change in subject. "So, what about you? How are things at ThrillsLand?"

  "They're good. We're looking into building a park in England. Have you ever been there?"

  "I wish. When I was younger, my mom was too busy running StoryWorld for us to take extended vacations. And now, I guess I'm too busy running StoryWorld. I work virtually every day, especially during the summer when we're open seven days a week. I'm not sure I could afford it, anyway."

  "You really should go if you ever have the chance. It's wonderful. You'd love the Story Museum in Oxford. It's right up your alley."

  He certainly knew my sweet spot. Our conversation flowed easily from there as we discussed our favorite childhood books as well as some current events. Still, at the end of the evening, I did my best to avoid a kiss by dropping my car keys just when Scott turned his lips to mine. I drove home, feeling oddly morose.

  * * *

  The next morning, a light knock sounded at the office door while I was drawing up a birthday party contract. I looked through the window, hoping and yet dreading to see Katrina, for whom I'd left a note at the stage requesting a meeting. It wasn't Katrina but a young man I recognized from our promotional materials as her co-star, Bradley Laramie.