Alice in Glass Slippers

by L. C. Davenport

  When the current girl, Tammy or Terry–he had to check his notes to be sure–giggled and dropped her spoon twice, Alice left without sparing a glance in his direction. Her lunch was left untouched on the table.

  He arrived home Thursday night after an interview at a bar with a man who had all the qualifications he was looking for. But when Adam asked him what he liked about the mall, the guy sighed and looked away. Adam’s shoulders dropped as he watched the man walk to his car a few minutes later.

  Alice still wasn’t home when he parked in front of the house, and he frowned and glanced at his watch. It was almost eleven. He put the key back in the ignition to go searching for her when he heard a knock on his window.

  “Is Alice with you?” Lewis demanded, scowling when Adam shook his head and exited the car. “I texted her a while ago asking when she was going to leave the shop, and she didn’t really answer. I think something’s going on.”

  Adam put his hands behind his head and stretched out his shoulders as they walked up the front steps. “She’s usually home by now.”

  “I know that, Stalker.” Lewis rolled his eyes.

  “The woman lives above me. I can hear her walking around up there. And stop calling me a stalker. I’m just… observant. With good hearing.”

  Lewis snorted at this. “A rose by any other name, man.”

  Adam chose to pretend he’d momentarily become deaf, and they sat on the top step staring at the street with nothing too see. It seemed like a small eternity before Lewis said, “She could be avoiding you, you know. That’s how Alice deals with unpleasant situations. She pretends they don’t exist.”

  Adam felt a little offended. He’d never been called ‘an unpleasant situation’, and he wasn’t too keen to have it start now. “I haven’t done anything to her,” he retorted stiffly before squirming on the stone steps. He’d thought Alice was reciprocating his… advances in her shop the other day, but maybe he’d read her wrong. That idea bothered him more than he thought it would.

  “So you didn’t almost kiss her in front of a mall full of people?”

  “It was closed,” Adam snapped. “Hey, wait a second. How do you know about that?”

  Lewis leaned back on his elbows. “I saw you, Mr. Tall, Dark and Interrupted. For a man who’s supposed to possess all these womanizing ways, you sure aren’t slick.”

  Adam cursed under his breath. He really should have thought before becoming so close to her. But there she’d stood, all laughing mouth and dancing eyes, and it was like his brain had been tuned to the Alice frequency and he couldn’t stop himself. He hadn’t wanted to stop himself.

  A nudge in his ribs made him twitch, and Lewis laughed quietly. “Don’t worry,” he said, slapping the other man on the shoulder. “She didn’t mind.”

  They lapsed into silence again. Adam couldn’t keep his eyes from straying down the street every six seconds. “Alice’s been looking really tired lately,” he muttered. “You don’t suppose…”

  Lewis sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “No,” he said slowly, “she’s just been spending a ton of time in the store. I don’t know why. They haven’t been any busier than usual.”

  “Then why all the long hours?”

  Lewis thought about this for a minute. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “But I bet it has something to do with Mimi Walker.”

  “You think everything that happens to Alice has something to do with Mimi.”

  Lewis looked at Adam pityingly. “You’ve met the woman,” he stated. “Can you tell me anything different?”

  He had a point, Adam thought. “But what can we–”

  Without warning Lewis rose to his feet and peered down the road. “Here she comes,” he said with some relief. “Get in the house. Alice will have our hides if she finds us waiting out here for her in the middle of the night.” He hopped over the hedge as Adam scrambled to his feet. “Keep your eyes open,” Lewis called, his voice drifting across the lawn. “And your hands to yourself!”

  The last thing Adam heard before he shut the door behind him was Lewis’s faint laughter.

  He was too tired to plan a way to catch Lewis with Whitney at an inopportune time. He kind of thought it wouldn’t be that hard to do, given the sappy expression on the man’s face whenever she was singing. Or laughing. Or breathing.

  He also needed to devise a foolproof dinner plan that didn’t involve noodles and chicken, the cause of the salmonella. His mother had been wrong–he’d had it twice.

  And he needed to figure out how to get Alice to tell him what was going on at The Glass Slipper.

  That may be the toughest one of them all.

  ***

  Alice woke up Friday morning feeling about the same as she had the night before when she’d stumbled up the stairs and into her bed, fully clothed. Absolutely wretched.

  She lay in bed and tried to fall back asleep, but she could hear movement in the apartment below her. She plumped her face into her pillow, cursing the day Adam Wentworth set foot in the state of Michigan.

  Well, not really, she told herself glumly. Even though their first meeting had been less than stellar, she couldn’t quite bring herself to wish it had never happened. And that, in a nutshell, was the problem.

  How could a guy almost kiss a girl and then the very next day go and have lunch dates with two other women? He would have kissed Alice that time, if it hadn’t been for Whitney’s poorly-timed interruption. It wouldn’t have been so terrible, she thought as she squeezed her eyes shut to keep the images of all those girls fawning over Adam out of her mind, if it hadn’t happened every day that week. All right, never mind that last part. It just made it worse.

  Whitney was puttering around the kitchen when Alice stumbled, freshly showered, into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” Whitney asked, looking her over. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

  There were so many answers to that question that Alice hardly knew where to start. Between Mimi’s threat to sell the shop and Adam’s dating practices, it wasn’t like her mind-set had been blissfully clear.

  “It’s Adam, isn’t it,” Whitney said before Alice could decide which subject to bring up first. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what happened Sunday. I should have checked before I walked in that day.”

  Alice rubbed her eyes. “Whitney. We’ve been over this a dozen times. Please don’t worry about it.”

  Whitney looked unconvinced but didn’t pursue it. “Well, then what’s the problem? Are you anxious for a repeat?” She shot a sly look at Alice out of the corner of her eye.

  “No.” Alice took a bowl out of the cupboard and slapped it on the counter. “Not at all.”

  Whitney waited until she’d sat at the table with her breakfast before saying anything else. “Are you losing sleep over the fact that Adam’s pretending to be a player?”

  Alice didn’t look up. “I don’t think ‘pretending’ is the right word.”

  “Oh, I think he’s got his eyes set on someone in particular,” Whitney said, and smiled when Alice scowled at her. “His main problem is that he’s too gorgeous for his own good. Someone needs to break his nose for him.”

  Alice let out a surprised bark of laughter. “You’ve been hanging around Lewis too much.”

  Whitney shrugged, but not before her cheeks turned pink. “It’s true,” she said, and checked on something in the oven. “I’ve seen the way the girls in the stores look after him. It’s like they’re piranhas who’ve just been given fresh meat. For all we know they’ve resorted to hypnotizing the poor guy.”

  Alice snorted. “Right. And I guess the only way to break the spell is for him to kiss a beautiful princess.”

  Whitney laughed. “I hardly think he’d be opposed to the idea. You should offer and see what happens. Maybe all the other girls will disappear in a cloud of heavily perfumed smoke.” The oven timer beeped, and she pulled a large puffed pancake out. She sliced a piece and slid it across the table. “I’ve got to go. I told Le
wis I’d bring him breakfast as a thank you for the driving lessons. Oh, and you dropped some papers when you got in last night.” She pointed her chin toward the far counter. “What were you doing out so late, anyway?”

  The plate in front of Alice suddenly seemed very interesting. “Just puttering around,” she mumbled, knowing that Whitney would see through her vague answer. “You know, a little organizing…”

  Whitney stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked at her friend quizzically. “You’ve been ‘organizing’ for the past week,” she said bluntly. “What’s up? Are we being audited? Although why any auditor would need to see the storage room is beyond me. Wait,” she said, her eyes widening. “Are you trying to avoid Adam?”

  It would be so easy to let Whitney think that, but Alice couldn’t bring herself to lie to her first girlfriend. “No,” she told her. “I’m not avoiding anyone.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’d stay and grill you some more but I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you when I get back.” She gave Alice a look that clearly meant, ‘and we’ll continue this conversation whether you like it or not’.

  Alice finished her pancake slowly. She needed a reason to be out of the house. She grabbed the papers Whitney had left for her and headed toward the family room, stopping when she read the one on top.

  ‘Mr. Shumacher from The Warbling Bird Assisted Living Center called for Daisy Duke.’

  She’d gathered all her weird-old-man notes and brought them home, thinking they were just too funny to leave at the shop. They must have fallen out of her purse when she dropped it by the door…

  As soon as she finished reading the note, she knew where she was going that morning.

  ***

  Unfortunately, Mr. Shumacher was not available. “I’m sorry,” said the girl at the front desk. Lucy, according to her nametag, said it almost fearfully when Alice asked for him. “But he’s no longer with us.”

  “He’s been moved somewhere else?” This surprised Alice slightly, but she had never had a reason to be in an assisted living center before and had no idea how they worked.

  “Well, I guess you could say that…” Lucy’s eyes flickered to a door to the right that was labeled ‘manager’ before she smiled weakly and took a deep breath. “I’m afraid Mr. Shumacher, bless his soul, has… um, he’s…”

  Seconds later, Alice understood. “He died,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Lucy sagged in relief. “Yeah.”

  “But he called the shop just two weeks ago,” Alice said. “When did he pass away?”

  “Two weeks ago.” Lucy didn’t hesitate.

  “Right,” Alice said slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”

  Lucy looked a little sad. “You’re the lady from the shoe store, aren’t you? I remember talking to you.” She glanced down at Alice’s feet and sighed dreamily. “I love your shoes. Maybe I’ll come in after I get my pay-check and get me some of those.”

  Alice absently handed her a business card. “Call first to make sure I’m there. My name is Alice. The current owner has a different idea of fashion than I do.”

  Lucy’s expression turned serious, and she winked solemnly, making Alice laugh. “Right,” she said slowly. “I get it. I’m sorry I didn’t have good news about Mr. Shumacher.”

  Alice couldn’t resist asking, even though she was pretty sure it was inappropriate. “What happened to him?”

  Lucy looked around and leaned closer. “It was his heart,” she whispered. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but it was rather sudden.”

  “I thought he was sick,” Alice said, tapping her fingers on the counter and trying to remember what Mr. Shumacher has sounded like. “I could have sworn he was on a respirator.”

  “Oh, he was.” Lucy nodded. “But his thumper was okay for an eighty-nine-year-old man.”

  Alice shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry I was too late to come see him. He sounded pretty lively over the phone; I was looking forward to meeting him.”

  Lucy looked past Alice and straightened up. “He didn’t have very many visitors. Just that Daisy lady.” She smiled apologetically.

  “That’s okay. Thanks for the help.”

  And with that Alice’s foray into the world of assisted living centers was over.

  The thought of going home, and possibly facing Whitney’s game of ask-Alice-pointed-questions-until-she-spills-her-guts, wasn’t very appealing. After wandering around for the rest of the morning, Alice found herself turning down her street and into her driveway. Whitney’s car was gone, and Alice thanked the god of picked-on roommates for granting her a few extra hours of peace. She thanked him again when she saw Whitney’s note on the kitchen table saying that she’d be out with Lewis for the rest of the day.

  Adam hadn’t told her what time to be ready for dinner, and even though she knew she should call him, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She grimaced as images of kissy-faced women gave him their phone numbers. For all she knew he’d forgotten the whole thing.

  Ah, her internal Whitney-voice said. Do you want him to forget?

  “Shut up,” she said crossly. “I don’t care what Adam Wentworth does with his spare time.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire, sang the imaginary Whitney.

  “I’m not lying!”

  The voice didn’t return, but Alice felt twitchy for the rest of the afternoon.

  She changed her clothes into something that looked very business-like on the off chance that Adam would show up at some point, ambled around the apartment a few times, and picked up things that weren’t out of place. Finally she gave an exasperated sigh, threw down an innocent throw pillow, and escaped outside. Her father had built a small deck next to her front door, and she flopped onto her swing and tried not to listen for sounds coming from the apartment below her.

  When Adam found her there an hour later, she was fast asleep.

  ***

  Adam was never cooking again.

  He’d found the perfect kitchen appliance. A crock-pot had seemed foolproof at the time–just dump the ingredients in the thing and leave it alone. It was the ‘leave it alone’ idea that had really hooked him. And there was the added benefit that he didn’t even have to be in the kitchen to use the thing. He could plug it into his bathroom socket if he wanted.

  But the thing that emerged from his brand new, state-of-the-art crock-pot didn’t look anything like the picture in the cookbook. In fact, it resembled the hindquarters of one of those weird pink-bottomed monkeys that threw unmentionable things at each other at the zoo.

  There was no way he could serve that to Alice if he couldn’t even stomach looking at it. He stared at his dining room table and thought fast. Unfortunately, the only solution he came up with was a frozen pizza. It would be hard to explain the pizza delivery guy, or the box, or the lack of succulent pizza smells, or…

  His finger was halfway to tugging his collar away from his neck when he remembered he wasn’t wearing a collared shirt, and he groaned. It was already a quarter after six, and Alice was most likely either frustrated or had given up on him and was making her own meal.

  That thought wasn’t as awful as it sounded. Maybe he could man up, confess his absolute ineptitude in the kitchen, and beg her to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  He was halfway to his door when the doorbell rang. He sprinted toward it, half expecting to see Alice, but instead was faced with an older, smiling woman. In a frilly apron. And, best of all, carrying a box filled to the brim with things that smelled both edible and divine.

  “You must be Adam,” she said, and handed him the box before pushing her way past him. “I’m Ruby.”

  Ruby? Adam mouthed. “Should I know you?” he called as he trailed after her.

  “Jillian rang me this morning and told me you might need a little help with dinner. Where’s the kitchen?” Without waiting for a reply, Ruby headed down the hall.

  Under normal circumstances Adam would have cursed his mother for interfering in his perso
nal life, but all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of gratitude. He’d have to include a case of Belgian chocolates with his dad’s golf balls.

  “Adam!”

  He jumped and almost dropped the box when he looked behind him for his mother.

  “Adam! Hurry up before the food gets cold!”

  How could women of a certain age all sound the same when they were ordering their–or their friend’s–children around? Adam ran to the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Miss Ruby. And thank you so much.”

  She was standing by his defunct crock-pot, her lips pursed. “What is this?”

  He dumped his precious box next to her and took a deep breath. “It was supposed to be a roast.”

  Ruby craned her neck closer to it and peered inside. “Whatever did you do to it? Never mind,” she said when she saw Adam’s pained expression. “Something tells me I don’t want to know. Now, get cracking. Put the rolls in the oven to warm for ten minutes; that way the house will smell nice and yeasty. Where’s your flour?”

  Adam had never bought flour in his life. “Um…”

  Ruby patted his arm. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s purely for aesthetic reasons.” She started pulling things out of the box. “Ah, here we are.” She pulled out a small container, dipped her fingers inside, and smudged them across Adam’s nose. “There you go. All set. Now, put this on the table and go get your girl. Feel free to let her think it was all your doing!” She winked at him, patted him on the bum, and sailed out like an angel of culinary mercy.

  Ten minutes later, Adam was pounding up Alice’s stairs. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her sleeping on the swing with her feet tucked underneath her.

  The wind ruffled her hair and made her skirt shiver over the side of the swing. “I could come home to this every day without any problem,” Adam said to himself, and his eyes grew wide. Had he really just implied that he could marry this girl? He was years away from marriage. Wasn’t he?

  And he hadn’t even kissed her yet; not that he hadn’t thought about it more times than was probably healthy, but still… Marriage? He’d only known her for three months!