Alice in Glass Slippers

by L. C. Davenport

  Then he’d found the pile of ball-game invitations stacked neatly on his desk and had wanted to go back home and pretend it was Tuesday. He liked baseball as much as the next guy. What he couldn’t envision was watching it with a bunch of women who’d pretend they didn’t understand so he’d feel obligated to explain it to them.

  Things had started to look up when Alice reached out and held his hand–twice–and he’d started to feel like the day wasn’t going to be a total wash when Lewis had called him over.

  “I was kind of in the middle of something,” Adam had hissed.

  Lewis had smirked at him. “I didn’t see anything going on, Mr. Tall, Dark and Stupid. What kind of fool tells a girl he’s going to wait for her to–”

  “Keep your nose out of my business,’ Adam had snapped. “What happens between me and Alice–”

  “You mean, what doesn’thappen between you and Alice–”

  “Is none of your business,” Adam had finished.

  “I can always kiss Whitney when we’re around you two,” Lewis had offered. “That way Alice will start to get ideas, and if you’re lucky–”

  “Was there a reason you called me over here, or did you interrupt my date just so you could mess with my brain?”

  Lewis’s smirk had grown even bigger. “I wanted to let you know that I’m going to steal Alice all day on Friday,” he had said, “and I didn’t want you to get all bent out of shape when you see the two of us wandering around the mall.”

  “The mall?”

  Lewis had rolled his eyes. “Yes, Wentworth, the mall. You happen to own several. It’s the place you buy things that you think you need: clothes, shoes, perfume, fishing gear. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “Fishing gear?” He didn’t know Alice was into camping.

  “Is something wrong with Alice?” Lewis had said, craning his head around Adam’s shoulder. “She looks like she’s going to pass out at any second.”

  Adam had swiveled around to see but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. She was just talking on the phone… As he had looked closer, though, he almost thought she was talking on his phone, and he nearly lost his lunch, when she had mouthed the word, ‘marriage’. He had sworn under his breath, “Please don’t let that be my mother…”

  He could imagine Lewis had snickered behind him as he dodged around the tables and screeched to a halt in front of Alice. By the time he had arrived, her head had been on the table. “Children?” she had asked in a muffled voice.

  How Alice came to answer his phone was a mystery he didn’t have time to figure out, but there was only one person who’d call and ask about marriage and children. He hadn’t even bothered checking the display. “Mother!” he had barked. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Oh, Adam, she’s just lovely. A little jumpy, perhaps, but that’ll get better with time.” She had paused for a millisecond to listen to his mortified breathing. “Oh, don’t be so angry, darling. I was just trying to get her to open up to me–”

  Adam knew it was the epitome of rudeness to hang up on his mother, but it was better than saying what he wanted to.

  And Alice had called him good-looking. Surely that had to mean something. Maybe the day wasn’t a total wash, after all.

  ***

  The first thing Alice heard Friday morning was a thud at her bedroom door, followed by a quiet word that would have made her mother gasp and cover her mouth, most likely in horrified amusement. Alice groaned and then did it again when she realized it was too late to pretend to be asleep.

  “Alice!” Lewis hissed. “I know you’re awake. Get out of bed. We have work to do.”

  “For your information,” Alice muttered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before peering near-sightedly at him, “today’s my day off. I was planning on spending at least another hour in bed.”

  Lewis sank down on the edge of her mattress. He looked uncommonly excited for that hour of the day. “Alice,” he said in a cajoling voice, “would I bother you if it weren’t important?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about life-or-death?”

  Alice squinted at him. “You’re not bleeding, and you’re too chipper to have a ghastly disease. And anyway, if it were life or death, you’d have called.”

  Disgruntled, he sat back. “Would it help if I said I brought breakfast?”

  Ten minutes later, Alice was sitting at her kitchen table; cursing the day that Lewis had discovered her unhealthy obsession with anything covered in cream cheese. “If you tell Adam I love this stuff you’re a dead man,” she said around a mouthful of cinnamon roll. He already had ridiculous powers of persuasion; the last thing she needed was for him to discover her culinary kryptonite.

  “Oh, he’ll figure it out for himself. Now, here’s the plan. We’re going to the mall today, and I need you to make sure Whitney stays far away.” He looked at her anxiously.

  Alice put her roll down. “Are we doing something illegal?”

  Lewis let out a bark of laughter. “No. We’re going shopping for–”

  “Lewis? Is that you?”

  The color drained from Lewis’s face so fast Alice grabbed a hold of his arm to keep him upright. “In here, Whitney. I was just trying to convince Alice to help me out with a little project.”

  Whitney stuck her head around the doorjamb and smiled at him. “Oh, okay. But I need her for a project of my own next Friday, so you better get everything done today.”

  “What are we doing?” Alice asked, curious.

  “We’re going to Mimi’s house to get the rest of my stuff. I love you, Lewis, but I don’t think I’m ready for you to rifle through my underwear drawer.”

  Lewis grinned weakly at her, and when her steps retreated down the hallway he slumped forward onto the table. “That was a close one. Not that I wouldn’t mind rifling through her underwear drawer…”

  “I heard that, Lewis!”

  He jumped guiltily. When Alice snickered at him he grabbed her plate and shoved it in the dishwasher.

  Highly amused by all this jumpy behavior, Alice didn’t bother to lower her voice when she asked him, “What are we shopping for again?”

  He glared at her and refused to say anything until they were safely in the mall’s atrium. “We’re shopping for rings, and if you tell her what you were doing today, so help me, Alice, I’ll–”

  “Rings?” Alice blinked at him for several long seconds. “As in, you’re going to ask her to marry you?”

  Lewis gave her an exasperated look. “Why else would I be looking for a ring for Whitney?” he snapped, and then threw his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m a little nervous. I don’t mean to take it out on you. Hey, what’s wrong?”

  Alice sniffed and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Nothing. I’m just happy for you,” she said blearily. “I can’t believe you’re going to get married.”

  Lewis grinned. “She hasn’t said yes yet.” He didn’t look too concerned. “Now, dry your eyes and help me find something Whitney won’t be able to say no to.”

  Laughing, Alice let him lead her down the halls. “I hardly think that’ll be a problem. I am a little surprised, though.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “You haven’t been dating very long.”

  He just shrugged and kept walking. “No, we haven’t. But I love her, she loves me, and I know I can’t live without her. Why wait around?”

  Thinking of Adam, Alice smiled to herself. “I guess if you put it that way…”

  Lewis’s eyes danced with amusement. “She’s my ‘dweam wiffiin a dweam.”

  Alice laughed and elbowed him in the side. “All right, Westley. Let’s look for Buttercup’s ring.”

  Six hours later, she wasn’t feeling nearly as indulgent. She watched as he jotted down notes in a notepad he’d stowed in his pocket. By now it was covered in small drawings and gem terminology. “Were you planning on buying a ring today, or is this a fact-finding mission onl
y?”

  “Buy a ring? In the mall? Are you kidding me? That’s the tackiest thing I could possibly do.”

  “People buy engagement rings all the time at the mall.”

  Lewis looked mortally offended. “Not me. I’m designing it, and then I’ll have Annalynne make it for me.”

  Annalynne... Alice had forgotten all about the Hughes’s family jeweler–she’d been doing Lewis’s mother’s pieces for years. Alice waved a hand at Lewis and sank down on a bench in the hallway across from The Glass Slipper. “Go on,” she sighed, leaning her head back against the wall. “I’ll just sit here and wait.”

  He frowned at her, but when she folded her arms across her chest he walked away, muttering under his breath about diamond settings.

  She sat there for a few minutes before she focused on her mother’s window display. She hadn’t looked at her slippers in a long time, and she smiled faintly. They really were quite astonishing–dainty and shimmery, with a heel so thin she could almost see through it. No wonder her mother had only worn them once.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Alice started and almost fell to the ground when Adam whispered in her ear. He laughed and draped his arm across the back of the bench, his fingers absently rubbing her shoulder through her sleeve. She leaned into him and shook her head. “I need to get you a louder pair of shoes,” she mused. “It’s not safe for you to go around sneaking up on people.”

  “Speaking of shoes,” Adam said. He was entirely too close to her, but Alice couldn’t find it in herself to complain. “Have the ones I asked you to order for me come in yet?”

  Alice frowned and glanced up at her shop. “They did,” she told him slowly, “but they weren’t the right size so I sent them back and ordered another pair. They should be here soon.”

  “Good.” He took a deep breath. “I saw you shopping with Lewis today.”

  She snorted, and he let out a surprised burst of laughter. “I’d hardly call it shopping. Whitney had better be happy with whatever he comes up with.”

  Adam let out a long, low sigh and relaxed a little. “I’m sure she’ll like whatever he finds. What are you doing next Friday? Can we hang out? All day?”

  Alice was about to tell him she already had plans with Whitney when Lexie came out of the shop. She bounced across the hall and beamed at them. “Alice! Hi! I hope you don’t mind that I’m helping my mom out today. She seems to think it’d be good experience for when I get out into the real world.” Lexie rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “Like I don’t already live in the real world. Do you think I could get paid in shoes instead of money? I saw this pair… Oh, hello, Mr. Adam.”

  Adam smiled at her. “Hello, Lexie. Did you ever get your parents to drop the Ivy League talk?”

  She made a face. “Nope. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m going to Michigan State no matter what they say. They have cuter boys there. Hey, Alice. Do you know anyone named Anna Nichole Smith? Aside from the dead one, I mean.”

  Adam caught Alice’s eye and they exchanged a knowing look. “Why do you ask?” Alice thought she already knew the answer, but coming from Lexie that statement could mean a whole lot of things.

  “Some old guy called this morning looking for her. When I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about, he got all yappy and told me I needed to mind my manners.” She looked at Alice defiantly. “I have plenty of manners. Just not for rude old men who ask dumb questions. Oh, wait. That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, was it?”

  Adam’s shoulders started to shake, but he didn’t make any noise. Alice was mildly impressed. “Don’t worry about it,” she assured her. “Did he give you his name?”

  Lexie’s face cleared. “Oh, yeah. I wrote it down for you back in the shop. I don’t know if he’ll call back or not. If he does, you can tell him that I wasn’t lying and he should really apologize. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m disrespectful.”

  Later that evening, when Whitney’s bedroom light had clicked off, Alice stared at the sticky note Lexie had given her.

  Harold called for Anna Nichole Smith. She was supposed to meet him this morning and didn’t show. Harold was rude and wouldn’t give me his number.

  It wasn’t much to go on, but how many Harolds could there be in assisted living centers in Brothers, Michigan?

  The number was, sadly enough, rather high. By the time she got to the last number on her list, she was beginning to regret telling Adam that she could sleuth this one out on her own. “You’re going to have to work on this complete independence thing you have going,” Adam had told her as he reluctantly gave in. “A guy likes to help out sometimes, you know. Makes him feel all muscly and primeval.”

  If it had inflated his ego, Alice would have told him he was plenty muscly for her.

  Lucy, from the Warbling Bird Assisted Living Center was very happy to hear from her, but didn’t know of any Harolds that had a girlfriend named Anna Nichole Smith. She got a good laugh out of it, though.

  “What’s up with you and all these whacked names?” Lucy gasped over the phone. “It’s like your some sort of magnet for old men with girlfriends who have famous alter-egos.”

  Alice rubbed her temples and shrugged, even though she knew Lucy couldn’t see her. “Beats me. I wouldn’t bother with it, but after Mr. Shumacher I guess I kind of feel like I should figure out what’s going on. And, well, they’re calling my shop. All the time.”

  Lucy was quiet for a moment. “We have a lot of residents with friends in other centers. I could ask around for you if you’d like.”

  This made Alice brighten up a little. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  Lucy laughed. “Of course not. I love a good mystery story, even if it’s about delusional old geezers with too much imagination! And besides,” she added rather slyly, “I’m trying to give you a good impression of my work ethic. I think a part-time job in shoes might be right up my alley–especially if I get a discount!”

  The rest of the week dragged on in a fit of bad weather, with little Adam to brighten things up. Alice was glad when Friday rolled around again. It had rained every day, sending her splashing down the driveway in her red raincoat that didn’t manage to keep her skirts dry. She had just plumped the cushions on the couch and pulled a book off the shelves Friday morning when Whitney called from her bedroom. “Are you about ready to go, Alice?”

  She groaned and put the book back in its place. She’d completely forgotten that Whitney had asked her to help out at the Walker house. “Give me just a second,” she called back, and wondered if she should have had an extra helping of breakfast.

  Whitney was quiet in the car. Alice wasn’t sure if this was because she was driving or because she was nervous about their errand. “Thanks for helping me today,” Whitney finally said when they turned onto her old street. “I didn’t really want to do this by myself. This house gives me the creeps.”

  “Didn’t you grow up here?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Alice didn’t understand this comment until they got inside, and she took an involuntary step backward.

  “It’s horrid, isn’t it?”

  Alice could only nod at Whitney in distraction. There was so much… stuff… laying around that her eyes had a hard time finding a spot to focus on first.

  “Where did you get all this?” She reached out a hand to finger the statuettes lining a shelf next to the front door.

  Whitney shrugged and made a face. “Beats me. It started showing up a little after my parents’ divorce was final. Brittany and I learned not to ask too many questions when we were younger.”

  Alice followed her back through the house and up a flight of stairs to Whitney’s old bedroom. It was the only place in the house that she felt like she was able to breathe without knocking something onto the floor. “I’m glad you came to live with me,” she told Whitney, who blushed prettily. “And I’m glad you don’t live like Mimi does. Now, let’s unearth your stuff and get out of here. Th
is house gives me the creeps.”

  “Told you.” Whitney’s smile was more of a grimace.

  They worked in companionable silence until Alice found a battered box hidden in a corner. When she lifted the lid, she found what appeared to be a family tree, filled out meticulously in childish cursive. “What’s this?” she asked, picking it up and turning it over.

  Whitney looked away from a stack of boots. “Oh, I forgot I still had that. When I was eight or nine I became fascinated with genealogy, and I started researching my mom’s line as far back as I could. I didn’t get very far before my dad found out and told me that he was very sorry, but there was no way I was adopted because he was in the delivery room when I was born and that while he understood my desire for more normal parents, I was who I was.” She laughed and took the sheet of paper from Alice. “I was so sure he was wrong.”

  “Most eight-year-olds are sure about everything,” Alice told her, rifling through the box. She found a packet of letters and some black-and-white photos printed on thick paper that were yellowing with age. “Who are these people?”

  Whitney peered over her shoulder. “Relatives,” she said before going back to her packing. “I think I wrote their names on the back.”

  All the women in the pictures looked sallow, even in their monochromatic tones, but one in particular grabbed Alice’s attention. The picture was of a tall woman who looked like she’d been born old. Her mouth was pursed up, making Alice think she’d just eaten a lemon on purpose and had relished the sourness of it. The name on the back read Bertha.

  The sound of Whitney dropping a shoe on the floor brought Alice back to her surroundings. She placed the picture underneath Whitney’s family tree and got back to work.

  When they left several hours later, Alice’s car stuffed full of Whitney’s worldly possessions, she made sure the box was packed safely in her back seat. After all, she didn’t want to lose any of Whitney’s background, she told herself, and tried to rid her mind of Bertha’s scowl.