by Laura Kenyon
Belle raised her eyebrows and smiled. In front of them, bright white rays poked through the trees, lighting the ground with flecks of gold and magenta. If she squinted, she could see Carpale Castle—its towers rising up from the center of the kingdom, poking the clouds that stretched across the tangerine sky. The view was prettier from the top, for certain. But if the whole point of the journey was to give Rapunzel perspective, who cares where it came from? They sat this way for some time, breathing and thinking and not needing to speak at all, until Belle realized the forest was growing dark.
“Was it this way?” Rapunzel asked as they ventured back toward the path. She was stopped at a clump of trees that might have indicated a fork.
“I … I don’t think so.” Belle scratched her head. “We should stay straight.”
Rapunzel looked ahead but didn’t budge. “Which one is straight?” Beast yelped in frustration. “Aren’t you from Braddax?”
“Yes, but I always stay on the path!”
“Oh yeah.” Rapunzel veered to the left. “Too bad. We’d be much better off if you’d gone exploring once in a while.”
Belle let this slide. But as the crickets’ serenade grew louder and the moon’s glow grew brighter, she began to agree.
“Seriously, though,” Rapunzel said. “My knowledge of Braddax stops at the fraternities and the zoo.” Her tone betrayed more than a slight sense of worry. “Are there any dangerous animals out here? Or a guard station? Maybe we should call Cindy and ask her to come pick us up. She’s not too far.”
Belle felt a wave of shame bubble up inside her. Hadn’t she failed enough? Cindy’s thirtieth birthday party was in two days and she was probably going crazy with last-minute details. “I can’t ask her to do that.”
“Well, either she loses an hour of party planning or she goes to our funerals on Saturday. That is, unless you’d rather call Donner. He’s probably closer.”
Belle stopped abruptly, yanked off her pack, and began rifling through an assortment of layman’s survival gear. Bug spray, dog treats, granola bars, bandages, steel wool, matches. Finally, she slumped back and whipped her head up. “Did I by any chance give you my cell phone?”
In the darkness, Rapunzel’s pupils looked huge. “You have got to be kidding me.” She let out a long, slow breath. “All right, well, we better pick up the pace.”
Belle shuffled behind, ducking under branches and trying to keep her body from bursting into a thousand panicked butterflies. How could she have forgotten her phone? How could she have lost the trail? She rubbed her belly. What kind of mother got lost during a six-mile hike in her own kingdom?
“What’s that thing’s problem?” Rapunzel called over Beast’s whines.
“Shush,” Belle pled with her dog. “I’ll feed you when we get back, okay? Just be quiet. Everything’s fine.”
As she raced forward, Belle remembered a time when she wouldn’t have minded being lost in the forest for a night. But that was before she got married … before she had a fetus to look after … before she realized she’d never known herself at all. But she could change this last part. In losing everything that wasn’t important, Belle had cleared space for everything else that actually was—everything that would grant her the sort of happiness that made a person glow from inside. She wanted to be a good mother. She wanted to provide for herself by doing something she honestly cared about—maybe open a bakery, or a restaurant, or write a cookbook. She wanted to strengthen her relationships with the people she cherished. She did not want to die in the woods still married to Donner.
“Oooohf.” She slammed into Rapunzel’s back. “What the heck?”
“Look.” Rapunzel peeled apart a couple branches and pointed. “What’s that?”
“What’s wha—” Belle squinted into the trees and saw it too—a ball of light. No, three balls of light. Windows! Their eyes grew wide and Beast’s tail began to whack at their legs. Then he growled. Then his tail whacked some more. Belle knew exactly how he felt—both relieved and anxious. Was it safe for two lost women to knock on a stranger’s door in the middle of the woods?
“It worked out okay for Snow and her dwarves,” Rapunzel said, reading her mind.
As they got closer, the cottage turned into a cute little bed and breakfast. It was a light shade of something—hard to tell in the darkness—with darker shutters bearing heart-shaped holes. A “For Sale” sign sat between a picket fence and the start of an overgrown path. Two exterior lights switched on as they stepped toward the porch. With a quick shrug, Rapunzel stretched her hand through a plastic wreath and rapped the door three times.
It pulled back immediately, revealing a woman with tight white curls and giant glasses. She leaned into the light, panned them up and down with her lips pursed, and then bounced up in jubilation. “You came!” she exclaimed as Rapunzel and Belle inched backwards. “Geitano told me this day would come! Welcome! Please, please, come in! Come in!”
The lost hikers exchanged concerned glances and didn’t budge. Not long ago, two kids were nearly killed when an undeclared fairy found them pulling ginger-board shingles off her house. She died in the process—shoved into the very oven in which she’d planned to roast the children—but one could never be too careful.
At least that’s what Belle was thinking when the old lady repeated her invitation and exclaimed that she had “plenty of treats for everyone.” Hearing his magic word, Beast took off over the threshold, dragging Belle in his wake and frantically sniffing for food.
“Well, don’t just stand there. My name’s Trudy. Have a seat.”
Belle looked around. There was no hallway tunneling out from the front door—none of that outdated closed-in feeling she’d expect from an old lady’s cottage. Rather, the threshold spilled right out into a large, bright sitting room with a stone fireplace, matching armchairs, an overstuffed couch, and a brick archway separating the living area from a long, mahogany bar. Beast made a beeline for the corner, pounced down so that his butt stuck straight into the air, and pulled a cookie out from under the bookcase.
“We renovated a few years ago,” Trudy said as she brought in a tray of tea, treats, and whiskey. Her voice sounded like it was at one time sugary, but had crystallized over the years. “It was always Phin’s dream to run a bed and breakfast in these hills. Said he wanted to watch the sun rise over Braddax and set over Carpale. Well, there’s no better spot for that.”
Belle smiled and slid cautiously onto the couch. She surveyed the curtains (too flowery), the artwork (plastic wreaths and shots of more flowers), and the bookshelf (too many knickknacks and not enough novels). Then she noticed a photograph of Trudy and a bald man with a massive smile. A funeral card and a dried rose leaned against the frame.
Rapunzel cleared her throat from the doorway. “It’s a beautiful location,” she said, refusing to migrate so far as the rug. “But could use your phone? We got a little lost in the woods and—”
“Say no more,” Trudy interrupted, unloading the tray. “I know all about you two. Fate got you lost in the woods and now you need my phone to call for a ride.”
Ladies and gentlemen, give the woman a prize.
“What do you mean, fate got us lost?” Rapunzel asked.
“Oh.” Trudy chuckled. “You’re here to buy this place, of course. Geitano told me you’d come.”
“Geitano?”
“My psychic. He’s part fairy. And he said two lost women facing a state of transition would stumble upon my little haven and start new, wonderful lives here.” She smiled, panning from one befuddled face to the other. “It was Phin’s dream, rest his soul. Not mine.” She clapped her hands together and beamed. “Now, I have caramel clusters and raspberry tea cakes. What would you lovely ladies like?”
Never the accept-food-from-strangers type of girl, Belle decided to step off the path a bit and request a nut-covered glob of caramel. Beast hurried over, then curled himself up like a giant snail at her feet. As she nibbled, she contemplated this crazy o
ld woman’s story and ignored Rapunzel’s death stare. The psychic angle was smart but completely transparent. Who else would stumble unexpectedly upon this place but people who were lost to begin with? Who wasn’t facing some sort of transition? And who wouldn’t be tempted by years of predicted happiness if they just gave Trudy a big wad of cash?
“What’s your asking price?” Belle took a second caramel as Rapunzel edged beside her, accidentally kicking Beast in the snout.
“My asking price?” Trudy grinned, carefully refilled her teacup, topped it with a dash of whiskey, and looked Belle square in the eyes. “Your soul.” Belle jerked back in terror. “No, I’m just kidding.” The old woman flopped back into the armchair, laughing. “I love seeing people’s faces when they think I’m some evil witch in disguise.”
Rapunzel leaned slowly forward and actually began petting Beast. His eyes were sewn shut.
“The asking price is very low for the condition, actually. The place is completely secluded. Very peaceful. The nearest paved road is a mile away, and there’s a huge storage shed—definitely large enough for a cabin if you’d like to expand. It does come with six buildable acres, so the sky’s the limit.” She trailed off for a half-second, and then concluded with a burst. “Oh! And the land hooks right up to the walking trail you probably came up, and the ridge looks right over the river. It’s a real steal.”
“Walking trail?” Rapunzel burst in. “Yeah, could you tell us how to get back to that?”
Trudy gave a closed smile. “How about you stay for dinner and then I drive you back to your car? You must be starving, and I rarely get visitors anymore. No one wants to spend time with an old crone.” Trudy rubbed the web of purple veins running along her hands. “But if you young beauties took this place over, you’d have customers knocking down the door.”
“Can you really see the sun rise and set over both kingdoms?” Belle asked, sinking back into the couch. There was something about the place that she liked—a lot. Everything seemed up-to-date, like Trudy said. It just needed some redecorating. She loved the idea of having her own place to live and work at the same time. She liked the prospect of hosting guests—the kind of guests who enjoyed the Braddax Hills as much as she did—and cooking them breakfast. She liked the way Beast was already fast asleep—a picture of comfort in a warm little cottage in the center of the wilderness, where he could roam and frolic and chase squirrels as much as his precious little heart desired.
“There are five guestrooms,” said Trudy, watching Belle intently, “and two more separated for the owner. I’m using one as an office now, but the previous tenants thought it worked well as a nursery, so it could really be anything.”
If she didn’t know it was impossible this early, Belle would have sworn she felt her baby kick. She panned past the fireplace and leaned forward to get a better look at the dining room.
“Well,” Rapunzel cut in, her voice dragging as she slid closer to Belle, “this is a lot to take in immediately.” She tugged at Belle’s hand while smiling at Trudy. “And we’re really exhausted from our hike.” She tugged again. “How about you drive us back now … and we’ll come back for dinner another time? A better time. When we’re less tired and … cleaner?”
Trudy lowered her eyes, but nodded. “Of course.” She hoisted herself up from the chair and took Belle’s elbow. “Just let me give you a quick tour. Something to chew on in the meantime.”
Chapter Twenty
CINDERELLA
On Cindy’s fifth birthday, her father returned from one of his overseas trips with a book that quickly became her obsession. Titled World of Wonder, it detailed hundreds of the most iconic pieces of art ever created. She was immediately enthralled by all the colors, the lines, the majesty. But it was the sculptures that called to her most. She stayed up nights wondering how the artists could turn solid marble into crisp, feather-thin leaves springing from a woman’s graceful fingers; how they could make a stone man appear to writhe and twist, as if frozen mid-struggle; how they could morph a cold hunk of rock into something that nearly ignited with the passion of two lovers. She dreamed of following in these great artists’ footsteps one day, but never made it beyond mud animals and putty hearts. Just like her desire to travel the world, that wish had fallen away when she fell for Aaron.
Perhaps it was fate that turning thirty had brought all these deferred dreams rushing back. Perhaps it was fate that the Cosmopolitan Museum of Art offered a beginner’s course in clay sculpting. Perhaps it was fate that, when she learned of Aaron’s betrayal, she was more ready than ever to let her repressed talents shine. After all, nude sculptures were the hallmarks of all the masters—even if hers was slightly … abridged.
Hours before her party was set to begin, Cindy examined her pseudo-masterpiece in the guest room she’d made off-limits for the past week. Despite all the sloppy pain and anger that had gone into the process, the final product wasn’t actually that bad. The eyes were dead on. The slender nose was perfect. The lips curled skillfully into a smile that seemed to echo through his entire face. The hair looked more like a helmet, but she’d always heard that was a tough part. She’d sculpted Aaron with his arms raised high in victory. In one hand sat his kingdom and his family. In the other, a row of condoms flared out like a fan. Etched along the bottom, a legion of scantily clad women fawned at his feet, clawing toward his legs with ravenous desire as he raised his chin to the sky.
To say she’d gotten carried away would be an understatement. But after the “always and forever” check (childcare money for sure) and Belle’s display of courage, her priorities had shifted. If Belle believed she could strike out on her own and still keep her baby, then so should she. Showing the world that a pauper could marry a prince was all well and good. But showing men they can’t push their wives aside without consequences? Well, that was something of which her teenage self would be proud.
“Yoo-hoo! Anybody home or have we already begun celebrating?” A grating voice hacked through Cindy’s solitude. Her older stepsister Priya, a.k.a. the devil, was at the door. How had she even found her? Scrambling to hide the sculpture, she yanked a towel from the bathroom and flung it over the piece.
“There you are,” Priya declared, posing in the doorway and awaiting the sort of fawning reception that would never come. Grace bounced in behind her, all smiles as usual. How the two of them had come from the same horrid woman, Cindy would never know.
“That your little art project?” Priya floated forward and gave the towel a toxic glance. “Don’t worry, I won’t peek.”
Grace smiled apologetically. Even after ten years free from Priya’s grasp, she still cowered a bit in her older sister’s presence. Cindy hated this. It reminded her that the memories of abuse she suffered at their hands were real.
Priya flicked a thin package into her hands as she floated past. “I suppose I should give this to you,” she droned, issuing a tight-lipped grin and rigid hug. “Happy birthday. You still look tolerably young.”
“Umm,” Cindy said, rolling the package over in her hands. “Thanks, I—”
“Happy birthday, Cin!” Pushing past Priya, Grace locked Cindy in a bear hug and swayed side to side as if squeezing a victorious toddler. “It’s a gift card to the Red Kettle.” Priya rolled her eyes and strolled toward the window. “I—we know how much you love that place. And of course it includes free babysitting by yours truly.”
Cindy looked down at the unopened present and smiled. “Thanks guys. You really didn’t have to, but—”
“Oh pish,” Grace said. “It’s the least we can do after all the things we put you through as kids.”
Priya grunted from the window. Or was that a laugh? “Well, we’ve got hair and makeup appointments with Mademoiselle de la Poche at ten, so Grace and I should get going. Just wanted to get our gift out of the way before everyone started lining up to congratulate their idol on staying alive for another year.”
Grace stayed in one spot, then gave a miniscule bounce be
fore attacking Cindy with one more hug. “See you tonight, step-sis! Can’t wait!”
“Ditto,” Priya added, stopping on her way out to relay a blue envelope with an orange seal. “Almost forgot. This is for Aaron. Some delinquent page boy gave it to me in the hall. Seriously, do I look like one of your employees?”
Cindy was still staring at the envelope when the door shut and silence returned. The sender had left out both her husband’s title and a return address—suspiciously informal for correspondence with a king. It simply said “Aaron” in bubbly letters atop a pair of squiggly lines.
Ordinarily, she would have wavered about opening the letter. She would have tucked it into her pocket, speed-walked down to her husband’s study—only stopping once or twice to relive the temptation—and handed it to him with a forced smile. But at this point, what did she have to lose?
First, she tried holding the envelope against the window, but it was too thick to see through. Then she tried to carefully peel back the seal—until it began to crack. Finally, in a bout of rage and exhaustion, she tore the wax right off and yanked out the letter.
Cupid’s fountain after dinner, it said. Think she’ll miss you? ~ Kim, AAF
Cindy felt the paper crunch inside her fist before remembering she needed to leave it intact. Kim. AAF. Always and forever. Here was one more bit of evidence. She was doing the right thing. She had no choice but to expose Aaron for all of this tonight. There was nothing left to debate.
As the clock ticked closer to her final celebration as Queen, Cinderella brought her mended ball gown down from the closet, dug up a box of blue envelopes, curled her hair, ironed Kimberly’s note, fastened her teardrop earrings, reaffixed the seal, carefully filled in her makeup, and wrote down her beloved husband’s name in bubbly letters atop a pair of squiggly lines.
Her statue wasn’t scheduled for unveiling until just before dessert, but she couldn’t pass up the chance to catch Aaron in the act.
