Finding Ever After: four fairytale-ish novellas

by Pepper Basham

But weren’t they lying to her stepfamily?

  The next ten minutes went by in a blur as the judges sampled the goods, made notes on paper, and swigged bottles of water. Maggie tasted one of her tarts—perfect—and then paced the floor behind their workstation while Griff kept finding more crumbs to clean.

  Finally, the scorecards were discreetly examined, and Ronny was back on the mic. “We have a winner, folks. Hope you liked your oven.” He grinned and the bakers clapped. “Thanks again to Northgate for their generous donation.”

  Maggie braced herself against the workstation, gripping the counter behind her with both hands. This was it. Her big moment, finally. She cast a wobbly smile at Griff, who gave her a steady nod. She relaxed slightly. This was theirs. Everything was going to be okay.

  “I’ve been instructed to inform you that all of the entries were absolutely delicious, and it was hard to narrow it down.” Ronny, still wearing his trademark beanie, reached up to adjust its fold. “Being a judge myself, I can attest to this truth.” He rubbed his generous belly.

  Come on, come on. Maggie tightened her hold on the counter.

  “But we had to narrow it down, so the winning entry of the 2019 Cabin Fever Bake-Off is…” Ronny raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for a drum roll. The crowd sitting down stomped their feet, but the result was more chaos than anticipation. He held up his hands for quiet. “Hot Chocolate Cookies, baked by Carolyn Craft and Harper Weir!”

  The crowd applauded as Maggie’s heart stammered, then skipped, then plummeted. She looked at Griff, whose wide eyes indicated his own shock. Harper squealed and rushed to the front, while Carolyn remained demurely behind her workstation.

  Understanding dawned. Hot chocolate cookies. Of course. Carolyn’s hot chocolate recipe was legendary. How had she missed that possibility? All those marshmallows…the big bottle of maple syrup. She bet they were to die for.

  And now Harper was going to get the glory.

  “How’s it feel to be a winner, buttercup?” Ronny handed Harper the mic, and the tart Maggie had just sampled cramped in her stomach.

  Harper smiled what Maggie recognized as her best pageant smile, and reached up to fluff her hair. “Fantastic, as usual.” She offered a little curtsy to the crowd, who applauded again. They were eating her up—also as usual.

  Ronny leaned over to share the mic. “I understand your sister is in this competition, too?”

  “That’s right.” Harper pointed, and Maggie held onto the counter as her legs went weak. She inhaled sharply as all eyes in the crowd swung toward her.

  Griff’s arm hooked around her waist in support, and she leaned into his strength. Would someone take the microphone away from her spotlight-crazed stepsister already?

  “Not just my sister, either. My ex-boyfriend too, believe it or not.” Harper wiggled her fingers in a wave.

  At Griff.

  Maggie blinked. What?

  She craned her head up to see Griff’s expression, expecting to see confusion. But she saw only the wide whites of his eyes and the remorseful downturn of his lips. Lips that had kissed her less than twenty-four hours ago.

  Lips that had apparently also at one time kissed her sister’s.

  “Griff?” Maggie eased away from him, her heart pounding a hard rhythm in her chest that she couldn’t control. A wave of nausea rolled in her stomach. But he didn’t deny anything. Didn’t offer an explanation. Just kept staring at her with regret in his solemn eyes.

  Mirror mirror.

  It had answered once and for all.

  9

  “Maggie!”

  Carolyn’s voice echoed behind her as Maggie trudged through the snow away from the main lodge, her heart threatening to burst in her chest. She shook her head, arms crossed to ward off the late afternoon chill attempting to penetrate her bones, and kept walking, unwilling and unable to emotionally handle anything else. She didn’t even know if she was headed toward Wintercrisp Cabin or not—she just had to get away. Away from Harper’s smirk, away from the stares of the crowd.

  Away from Griff’s ominous silence.

  “Maggie Craft.” Carolyn’s tone pitched in warning, just like it had all those years as a teenager when she was about to do something clumsy or potentially embarrassing. That’s probably why she was coming after her. Maggie had caused a scene—and Crafts didn’t do that.

  The realization added fuel to the fire burning in her stomach, and she abruptly stopped and turned. Snow crunched under her boots on the paved drive. “Look, I really don’t need a lecture on the family name right now.”

  Carolyn stopped in front of her, rubbing her hands over the sleeves of her rose-colored pea coat. She hadn’t even stopped long enough to take off her apron before coming after her. The sight of her regal stepmother in such a get-up tempered Maggie’s anger, and sudden tears pressed instead.

  Oh no. That worse. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose to ward them off.

  “Maggie.”

  That was the third time Carolyn had said her name, each time in an entirely different tone, and this softer, gentler one was almost Maggie’s undoing. The tears dripped down her cheeks and onto the front of her sweater, faster and faster until her chest was polka-dotted. Her lungs burned with cold—and heartbreak.

  Something soft pressed into her hand. One of father’s white monogrammed handkerchiefs. He used to wipe her tears with these and call her Princess.

  Bittersweet longing filled her chest. “Thank you.” She dabbed at her eyes.

  “Keep that one. I still have several.”

  “No, I mean, thank you for—being nice. I know I embarrassed you.” Maggie sniffed and folded the handkerchief into her jeans pocket. She hadn’t even grabbed her coat on the way out.

  “Harper embarrassed me.” Carolyn lifted her chin. “And she’ll hear about it.”

  That was news. Maggie squinted at her stepmother, whom she suddenly realized she might not know that well, after all. “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m here to see if you’re okay.”

  A fresh wave of grief rocked over her at the mental image of Griff with Harper. “Not really. I feel so stupid.” Understatement of the year.

  Carolyn raised her neatly penciled eyebrows. “You didn’t know Harper and Griff had dated before?”

  “Did you?”

  Carolyn shook her head. “She never breathed a word.”

  Fury boiled. How could Harper do that to her? She must think she was such a fool. Not only had she won the contest and gained further fame and adoration, she’d publicly humiliated Maggie in the process—over a guy. Apparently, stealing the affection of her last few boyfriends wasn’t enough. She had to rub this one in, too.

  Heat climbed up Maggie’s chest into her neck, flushing out the cold. And how could Griff do that to her? He knew their plan—why hadn’t he mentioned at some point that he and her stepsister had a history together?

  Because he still had feelings for Harper.

  Her stomach rolled as she answered her own question. All his weird reactions around Harper made sense now. The coyness, the kitchen rendezvous, the way Griff would ignore her, yet try to include her. Like he wanted her attention. Games. All games.

  And Maggie was the biggest loser.

  “There’s something you don’t understand.” Maggie licked her dry lips and hugged herself tighter. “Griff and I—we’re not actually together.”

  The wind rustled Carolyn’s sleek bun, daring to loosen a wisp onto her cheek. “What do you mean?”

  Maggie shivered. “I mean, we made it all up. He’s here as a fake date because I’m always single. I wanted you to think I had finally met a good guy.”

  “Fake?” Her brow furrowed and her red lips pursed. “Then why are you so upset? I don’t understand.”

  “Because I fell for him. For real.” Maggie looked down at her boots. “I thought he felt the same, but—I guess not. I guess he was just here for Harper all along.” So much for her tarts being enticing.
She hadn’t even won the contest with them.

  She had nothing good to offer anyone.

  “Oh, boy.” Carolyn inhaled a deep breath and slowly released it. “Why on earth would you lie to me, Maggie?”

  “I wanted to impress you.” Even now, out loud, she could tell how ridiculous it sounded. “I just wanted your approval.”

  Carolyn reached out, touching her arm. “You already had it.”

  “Then why are you and Harper always on me about being single? All the old maid and cat lady jokes?” The memory of them burned even now.

  She sniffed and pulled back out the handkerchief. If her dad were here, he’d know what to say. But if he was here, she wouldn’t be in this situation, because she’d never have lied to him. Wouldn’t have had reason to.

  Would he have really approved of Griff? Her stomach twisted. It didn’t matter now.

  Carolyn crossed her arms over her coat. “Maggie, I can’t speak for Harper, but I know that I ask about your love life because I don’t want you to be alone. What I had with your father—” Her voice cracked. When she spoke again, she’d recovered her usual decorum. “What I had with him was very special. I want both of you girls to have that too.”

  Maggie avoided her eyes, concentrating on folding the cloth into a tiny square. “So that’s why you were always so hard on me?”

  “I didn’t realize I was. I wanted the best for you—you have so much potential. And I think you’ll be a great wife one day.” Carolyn offered a timid smile.

  Maggie wanted to believe her. But so many years of thinking otherwise was hard to release. “If you really mean that, then why did you start up the Wintercrisp Cabin tradition in January, instead of at Christmas, when we used to come?”

  “You’re always welcome to come to our house at Christmas.” Carolyn hesitated, looking somewhere over Maggie’s shoulders into the woods. A squirrel darted from one berry-dotted bush to another. “I guess I changed it because Christmas is such a difficult time of year for grief. And you remind me very much of your father—it’s hard on me to see him in you.” She softened her tone. “That’s a compliment.”

  “I thought it was because you didn’t want me crashing your real family holidays.”

  “Maggie Craft! You are my real family.” Carolyn shook her head. “I think I’ve made some mistakes. And it sounds like we have a lot to talk about. But I want you to know, you don’t have to lie to me. I like Griff, but I like you without him just as much.”

  A burst of warmth began to thaw the frozen edges of her heart. She’d been basing a lot of things—big things—on quite a few assumptions. That might have been the worst mistake of all. Regret knocked. “Carolyn—”

  Her stepmother chuckled. “In fact, I like both of you so much I asked him to build my vacation cabin.”

  The words froze on her tongue. Carolyn had talked to Griff about hiring him to build for her. Realization dawned in a slow awakening. No wonder Griff hadn’t wanted to confess right away—if Carolyn had found out the truth, she might have rescinded her offer.

  He was using her.

  Dismay punched like a fist. Fooled again. The breeze lapped at Maggie’s hair, drifting down the neck of her cold sweater. Her mind raced. Once bitten, twice shy.

  What happened after twice bitten?

  She refused to find out.

  A knock sounded on her bedroom door. She knew she’d have to face Griff sooner or later, but she was really hoping for the later part.

  “I’m busy.” She cradled the mug of hot chocolate Carolyn had made for her and breathed in its warmth. It’d taken a full half hour to warm up after their long talk outside, and her toes still tingled in her house shoes.

  The door swung open and Harper stood in the frame. Her usual overly-confident, triumphant smirk was missing. A solemn expression pinched her features. “Can I come in?”

  “No.” Maggie pulled her legs up underneath her on the bed as Harper came inside anyway.

  She shut the door all but a crack and leaned against the foot of the bed. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  Maggie glared at her. “For what? Humiliating me in public? Lying to me about my boyfriend?”

  “Lying to you about your fake boyfriend, you mean?” Harper shot her a pointed glance, and Maggie’s anger deflated.

  “I guess I lied too.”

  “I really am sorry, for embarrassing you and Griff. I do like him.” She held up her hands. “Not like that. Just, you know, for you. I thought he was a good match. You guys were cute.”

  Maggie felt like she’d wandered into one of the pages of her favorite fairytales. Nothing made sense anymore, and the villains suddenly had soft sides. She shook her head. “Then why did you do that at the competition?”

  “I don’t know.” Harper tossed back her hair as she collapsed on the bed. “The attention got to me, I guess. You know how I get with a microphone. I was just so relieved I’d won.”

  “Because losing for the first time ever would have been too difficult?” Maggie rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t exactly muster a lot of sympathy.” Compassion. Alliance. Understanding. She had none of it.

  “Look, I know how you think of me. I know why you never come around.” Harper looked down at the bedspread, tracing the snowflake design with her finger. “But my life isn’t as easy as you think.”

  Maggie still wasn’t falling for the sob story, as genuine as Harper made it sound. She took a sip of her hot chocolate before she said something she’d regret. Her stepsister was spoiled, haughty, and entitled. She had her good moments, but today hadn’t been one of them. Nothing she could say could change—

  “I’ve always been so jealous of you.”

  Maggie jerked, hot chocolate splashing over the rim of her mug onto her fingers. It dripped on the bedspread as she froze, staring at Harper. “You’re what?” She’d alluded to being jealous the other night in the kitchen, but that had been a first. A huge first.

  Always? Impossible.

  “Don’t make me say it twice.” Harper let out a huff of air. “Maybe being pageant queen and popular has its perks—but there’s a lot of pressure, too. Sometimes I wish I could just blend in, you know? I never know if people like me for me, or if they want something from me. Especially guys.” She shrugged. “But you’re kind, and pretty, and successful—all on your own. Mom’s always so proud of you, telling me that I should take after you.”

  Carolyn thought that about her? Another chip of anger slipped off her shoulders. So many wrong assumptions.

  “And people like you.” Harper looked up and met Maggie’s gaze. “Griff likes you.”

  She snorted. “Griff used me.”

  “You used him too, though, right?”

  Maggie’s instant rebuttal died on her lips. She had used him first. Just because he’d agreed to it didn’t make it right. This whole plan had been a disaster from the beginning. Lies never worked out the way one expected—and they were all paying the consequences.

  “We dated for, like, five minutes back in college, Margaret.” Harper leaned forward on the bed. “He’s only had eyes for you while he’s been there. Fake boyfriend or not, that part was real.”

  Hope tapped on her shoulder and Maggie closed her eyes, refusing to answer. She didn’t want to be bitten twice. Didn’t want to hurt again where Griff was concerned. But Carolyn and Harper had both, on multiple occasions, alluded to how much Griff was into her. He hadn’t just been acting—had he? There’d been that kiss in the bookstore. The flirty looks. Their banter. Was it just a game, like he’d played games with Harper? Or had he meant it?

  And if he’d meant it, how could she ever know for sure after he’d lied?

  When she opened her eyes, she looked directly at her stepsister, and for the first time, she didn’t see a threat. She saw a young, broken, mixed-up woman just like herself. Maybe they weren’t mirror images of each other—maybe Harper had tanner skin and lighter eyes and blonder hair. Maybe she was more traditionally beauti
ful.

  But they were both insecure. Both fatherless. Both looking for a love to last.

  She’d been wrong about her stepmother and her stepsister both. “What you did today was pretty awful, but I forgive you. And I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I’ll come around more.”

  Harper smiled in relief. “Just bring those tarts when you do, okay? They’re amazing.”

  “Whatever. They didn’t win.”

  Her stepsister rolled her eyes. “That’s because Mom made something with hot chocolate in it. No one had a chance.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “All I did was stir and pass out marshmallows.”

  Sympathy bloomed then, from a tiny seed, and Maggie reached over and squeezed Harper’s hand. “Hey now. Don’t be too hard on my sister. She’s got a lot to offer.”

  Harper squeezed back, an uncommonly shy smile turning up her lips. “Not stepsister?”

  She hadn’t even noticed she’d said sister instead. But it felt good. “Nope.”

  “Well this is mushy and fabulous, but I’m going to go find some food. All I’ve eaten today is marshmallows.” Harper stood up, tugging her sweater down over her jeans. “Just don’t blow it with Griff, okay? I still want to be in your wedding.”

  “No promises.”

  She pointed at Maggie. “Just talk to him.”

  “I’ll try.”

  She started to leave, but Maggie called her back before she made it to the hallway. “There’s one more thing.”

  Harper paused in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

  “Quit calling me Margaret. Sis.”

  Griff set the basket of remaining tarts on the kitchen counter inside Wintercrisp Cabin, then leaned over and braced his head in his hands. He wasn’t even sure if he would be allowed to stay at this point, after everyone’s dramatic exits.

  First, Maggie had run out after Harper’s announcement, with Carolyn right behind her. The crowd had buzzed a little, but it was thankfully short-lived as Harper was awarded the mini-trophy and the judges announced everyone was free to take the contestant’s leftovers home. The focus immediately shifted from family drama to grabbing platefuls of cookies, cupcakes and pie.