Alice in Glass Slippers

by L. C. Davenport

  Adam untangled himself from Mimi’s grasp with the grace of a man who had found himself in that particular situation so often that disengaging had become second nature. “I could be wrong, but I believe my father is inviting all employees not needed in the stores,” he told her, placing his hands behind his back and out of sight. “The festival is a week from Friday. Surely Miss Riverton and Miss Walker still have that day off work.”

  Mimi’s smile froze on her face, making her look like a giant, overblown Cabbage Patch doll. “Naturally. Please put down four attendees from The Glass Slipper.” She glared at Alice, who was sure she’d hear about this once Adam was no longer in earshot. “Please excuse me.” With that, she turned and flounced out into the mall.

  Alice and Adam watched as the crowd parted to let her through. “That went better than I was expecting,” he said once she’d turned the corner.

  “Really?”

  He sank into a chair and rubbed his temples. “I was sure she’d fight harder about letting you and Whitney come.”

  The last customers were scurrying down the hallway, and Alice pulled down the security gate and locked the door. “What exactly are we attending again? I’m afraid I didn’t get to see the invite before Mimi started drooling over her future son-in-law.”

  Adam grimaced. “You could be thrown in prison for saying things like that. For your information, we’re throwing a festival a week from Friday, in the park behind the mall. It should be lots of fun,” he added when he saw Alice’s skeptical look. “Jugglers, acrobats, carnival games, elephant ears, fortune tellers…”

  “Kissing booths?” she asked, and grinned when he pulled a face in disgust.

  “No kissing booths.” He rose to his feet and walked toward her. “Any kissing I do will be free and completely voluntary. Would you like a sample?”

  Alice’s ears started ringing, and when he touched his index finger to her bottom lip, she could feel her head tilting back. “I never kiss on a first date,” she stuttered.

  “Then I guess it’s good that we’ve had several.”

  He leaned in closer still and whispered, “So can I put you down as a ‘yes’ for the festival?”

  At this point Alice would have agreed to move to Antarctica if he’d asked her. “Yes,” she whispered back.

  Adam’s eyes dropped to her lips. “Good,” he breathed. His hand fell to her shoulder, inching her closer still, and–

  “Alice? Did you sign for these boxes by the stairs?”

  Alice jumped away from Adam, and he blinked a few times before shaking his head in confusion.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Whitney stood uncertainly in the doorframe. She glanced between them before she blushed furiously. “Oh. Oh. I’m so sorry. I’ll be in the back if you need me,” she stammered before stumbling backward and disappearing into the back room.

  It took a second for Alice’s mouth to catch up to her brain, and even then her words were pitched several keys higher than normal. “I need to.. I’d better… I really should…”

  Adam ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “Yeah, me too… Are we still on for this Friday?”

  At her dazed nod, he smiled before sticking a finger into his collar and pulling it away from his neck. She wondered, through the haze that had taken over her gray matter, if he needed a new set of shirts. Either that or he was developing a nervous tick. She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of doctor took care of things like that, but she added it to her growing list of medical professionals he needed to see.

  “Good,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll see you then.” He turned around and was a foot from the door when he remembered that she’d locked it. “I’ll just let myself out the back.” He grinned at her lopsidedly and almost sprinted through the shelves of shoes and out the door.

  Alice, who hadn’t moved since he’d stalked toward her a few minutes earlier, let her back fall against the counter. If almost kissing Adam Wentworth could be so mind-blowing, she was fairly sure she’d spontaneously combust if he actually did it.

  Not that that was necessarily a bad thing.

  ***

  Adam’s phone rang just as he inserted his keys into the ignition, and he groaned when he saw the name flash on the display. “Hello, Mother.”

  “Darling!” she chirped. “How was your day?”

  A grin exploded on his face so fast he was sure his jaws would unhinge. “Great. Absolutely fantastic.”

  Jillian didn’t miss a beat. “So Alice agreed to go to the festival with you.” It wasn’t a question; the way mothers always ask questions that they already know the answers to.

  “She might have.” Adam’s grin became impossibly wider when his mother sighed into the phone. “All right, she did. Just a few minutes ago. And I’m making her dinner on Friday.”

  There was a long pause. “Sweetheart, you can’t cook.”

  Adam was mildly offended. “Yes, I can. How do you think I survived through college?”

  “Well, I distinctly remember at least one case of salmonella poisoning and a frantic call about a stove on fire. You were making ramen noodles, I believe.”

  That made Adam’s excitement dim, but only slightly. “That was a long time ago,” he said loftily, pulling out into traffic. “I’ve had a lot of time to perfect my culinary skills since then.”

  Jillian obviously thought his line of reasoning left a lot to be desired. “I’d better come out there and take care of things for you,” she decided, tapping her fingers against the receiver. “Otherwise Alice may kick you out of her house, assuming you haven’t killed her, and I’ll never be able to buy all those cute little outfits all my friends insist on shoving in my face every time one of their offspring brings a baby home from the hospital.”

  Adam groaned inwardly. No wonder Jillian was getting on his father’s nerves. She’d only been on the phone for forty-five seconds and already he was beginning to wish cell phones had never been invented. “Mother, please. I can take care of it. By myself,” he stressed when Jillian’s tapping grew faster.

  “You seem awfully sure of yourself. She must have succumbed to the Wentworth charm. Did you kiss her?”

  Adam’s mind flew back to the scene in Alice’s shop just thirty minutes earlier, and his fingers relaxed around the steering wheel. “Not quite,” he sighed. “One of her co-workers interrupted us.”

  “Adam Harvard Wentworth!” Her voice was scandalized. “Since when do you go around kissing girls in public? Haven’t I taught you anything about proper romancing?”

  Sometimes his mother could be terribly old-fashioned. It was probably good that she didn’t know how many girls had ‘succumbed to the Wentworth charm‘–in public, no less. “Mom, I don’t think she minded.” He let his mind replay the moment his hand drifted to her shoulder and jumped when the person behind him honked angrily. He snapped back to attention and concentrated on getting home.

  “It doesn’t matter if she minded or not. I hardly think a shop is the right place to kiss the Girl of Your Dreams for the first time. Honestly, Adam. And you call yourself a romantic.”

  He didn’t, actually, and wondered how in the world she’d made it sound like half the words in her speech were capitalized. “I’ll try to do better next time,” he said a little unsurely. Maybe his mom had a point. Alice did deserve romance and flowers and all that other stuff that women loved to get all excited about. It dawned on him that cooking dinner on Friday appeared more daunting than he was willing to admit–at least to his mother.

  “Make sure you do. Oh, and I have bad news.”

  “Oh?” he said absently, parking his car in front of the house so Alice could have the driveway. “What’s that?”

  Jillian sighed heavily. “I won’t be able to make it to the festival after all. Your father suddenly remembered a charity function he promised we’d attend six months ago.”

  Adam made a mental note to send Joseph a case of his favorite golf balls. “That’s too
bad,” he said as genuinely as he could. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  “Really? I suppose I could tell Joseph to go by himself just this once if you need me–”

  Adam interrupted her before she could get too carried away. “I think we’ll survive, Mother,” he told her. “Besides, I’ll see you in July. Unless you’re coming to the next event.”

  “No,” she said in distaste. “That’s all your father’s doing. I know he was planning on staying home, but I have a feeling that he’ll change his mind.”

  She was probably right. “Have fun at your charity gig,” he said. “I’m glad it’s you and not me.”

  “Some things never change,” she said affectionately. “I’m hoping Alice can make you see that getting all dressed up for a party isn’t as bad as you think.”

  “She’s amazing, but no one’s that good.”

  Jillian just laughed. “You never know,” she said. “You also told me a long time ago that you’d never listen to the oldies.”

  Adam noticed that she didn’t mention Peggy Lee by name, and was grateful for minor miracles. It was also to her credit that only a trace of motherly perception–along with a smudge of irony–escaped over the phone.

  ***

  “You’re late.”

  Mimi’s voice drifted into the back room the next morning as Alice shrugged out of her jacket, and she almost turned around and went home. It never boded well when Mimi beat her into the shop.

  “Did you hear me, Alice Riverton?”

  Sighing, Alice gave a last, longing look at her escape route and shuffled her way into the front of the shop. To her surprise, Brittany was sitting in front of the cash register, flicking through a fashion magazine while her mother paced around, glaring at shoes like they were the cause of all her problems.

  “It’s about time. Have your legs been fused together, girl? You move as fast as–”

  “A penguin on downers,” Brittany said absently. Alice stifled a snort of laughter. Perhaps there was a shred of Mr. Walker in Brittany’s genetic makeup after all.

  Mimi ignored her daughter. “I would have thought you’d be in here at the crack of dawn, considering all the extra tasks you still have to complete.”

  Alice smiled broadly and took the list Mimi had given to her out of her skirt pocket. “Do you mean this list? I was about halfway through it when I found out that Whitney’s father was a college professor.” A look of dawning realization and horror spread across Mimi’s face. “I was bound to find out sooner or later,” she continued, knowing she would probably regret enjoying Mimi’s discomfort so much but not really caring.

  Mimi glared at her with narrowed eyes. “Brittany,” she snapped. “Get me a large coffee. Black.”

  Brittany opened her mouth to argue but decided against it after one look at her mother’s expression. She danced past Alice on her way out, sing-songing, “Someone’s in trouble,” under her breath and grinning wickedly.

  The two women stared at each other. A detached portion of Alice’s mind wondered when they were supposed to draw their weapons, and when they did, if Mimi was planning on fighting civilly.

  “Do you know what makes me unhappy, Alice Riverton?” Mimi’s voice was cold when she finally spoke. It made Alice shiver.

  “Insubordination?”

  That may not have been the wisest thing to say. “Ingratitude,” Mimi barked, her nostrils flaring. “I’ve tried to be nice to you, Alice Riverton. I’ve done everything I could to make sure you were happy and content here at the store.” Mimi pretended not to notice Alice’s snort of disbelief. “But now I’m afraid you leave me no choice.” She stalked toward the gate and rapped on it, tapping her foot impatiently while Alice pulled it open. Then she grabbed Alice’s elbow and marched her through the empty mall, stopping in front of a discount shoe store that looked like the manager had been on vacation since the middle of the Cold War.

  The gate was already up and Mimi took a step toward it. Before she could get her foot over the threshold, a small woman with a greasy bun materialized in front of her. “Mimi Walker,” she greeted sourly. “It’s been a long time.”

  Mimi smiled a smile that made the hairs on the back of Alice’s arms stand on end. “Alice Riverton, this is Susan Platt. I’m about to acquire her shop.”

  Alice took an involuntary step backward. “Another shop?”

  The look on Susan Platt’s face answered her question. “Yes, another shop,” the woman said in disgust. “It seems like no one is safe from the Walkers these days. The papers won’t be ready to sign until noon,” she told Mimi, crossing her arms in front of her chest and scowling. “So unless you’re here to tell me you’ve changed your mind, get off my property.”

  A sound almost like a purr emanated from Mimi. “I don’t change my mind about these things.” She was way too smug for her own good, Alice noted, and took another step back. “I’m here to teach a little lesson. You see, Alice Riverton, as much as you hate working for me, I do have ways to end your troubles. And as much as it’d pain me to do so, I’d be willing to help you find the happiness you deserve.”

  Susan cleared her throat. “I have work to do,” she said pointedly. “Take your employment problems somewhere else.”

  “Oh, but Ms. Platt, you’re the key to my plan.” Mimi put a vicelike grip on Alice’s shoulder. “If she can’t perform her tasks to my satisfaction, I’ll have to assume that I am a poor employer. And the only thing to do, I’m afraid, would be to sell her precious shop. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone interested in purchasing a high-end shoe store, would you, Ms. Platt?”

  Alice felt the blood drain from her face. Susan’s, however, lit up like she’d just won eternal youth. “You can’t do that,” Alice mouthed, unable to make any sound.

  Mimi’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “Oh, but I can, my dear. And while I may not be able to fire you, Ms. Platt would have no reason to let you stay.” Her eyes bored into Alice’s. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Alice swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Perfectly,” she croaked out.

  Mimi’s teeth glittered when she smiled. “And don’t forget that you have an hour for lunch every day, as well as Fridays off. I’d hate for anyone to think that I was a bad boss and made you work straight through seven days of work. Not that anyone cares, but we must keep up appearances.”

  “Right,” Alice whispered. Her mind was disturbingly blank.

  Mimi gave her shoulder one last squeeze before she let go and turned to Susan. “Ms. Platt, what exactly would you offer me…”

  Alice turned around and fled through the mall, her hands over her mouth to keep her scream inside. If she’d thought Mimi was horrid before, she now knew she’d had no idea exactly how evil she could be. Mimi would never sell The Glass Slipper, she told herself over and over. It was her first shop, and it made her more money than all her other stores combined. It’d be pure stupidity to dump it just because of a grudge.

  Wouldn’t it?

  ***

  The next few days were a blur of interviews and meetings. Adam rarely had time to stop by The Glass Slipper. On the few occasions that he pulled himself away from his duties to peek into his favorite shoe store, Alice was always either helping a steady stream of customers or sequestered away in the back room and couldn’t come out.

  He did, however, see her at lunch when they were both in the food court. He’d found that most shop owners–at least the female ones–preferred to talk to him over food. When Kyle from security had mentioned that every time Adam purchased a woman a meal, they felt justified in calling it a date. He’d groaned and stared at his list of names, doing some internal math. And then he groaned again. He didn’t have much time, thanks to his parents, so lunch appointments were his best bet.

  “I’m going to have half the mall population thinking I’m dating them,” he muttered, and scowled when Kyle clapped him on the back.

  Alice was sitting next to the window when he entered the food court
on Monday, and he positioned himself so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. At least he’d have her laughing eyes to look at while he listened to inane chatter from his dining companion. Sure enough, when his first interview of the day appeared, all heaving, scantily clad bosom and heavily painted lips, he caught Alice smirking at him. She raised her eyebrows at the woman’s back and laughed into her sandwich.

  It took all his concentration not to blow his straw wrapper at Alice’s head. He smiled and chatted and let the poor woman scrawl her phone number on a napkin–with her lipstick, naturally. He threw it in the trash after she’d giggled her way into the main portion of the mall. His next appointment nearly hyperventilated when she caught him winking. He didn’t have the heart to tell this one that he wasn’t winking at her but Alice.

  This scene repeated itself over and over for the next few days. Adam was beginning to wonder why it seemed like women owned all the shops in his mall. He could have sworn that his list was predominately male. Surely they weren’t all sending him their daughters…

  By the time Thursday arrived, Adam was sick and tired. Sick, because after four days of mall fare, he was relatively sure the grease he was ingesting was eating a hole in his intestinal wall. Tired, because… well that seemed pretty obvious to him. If one more girl ‘dropped’ her napkin on the floor so she’d have to bend over to retrieve it, he might pass an ordinance saying that everyone who worked in the Brothers Mall had to be covered from head to toe in dense fabric. Maybe even burlap.

  What he couldn’t figure out, though, was why Alice was looking increasingly exhausted.

  She also seemed more and more disgruntled. As his second interview of the day appeared in front of him, Alice’s eyes slid away from him as she stared out the window. He was beginning to think there was a zebra crossing the street outside when he spotted her fingers shredding her brown paper bag. The pieces were so small that they looked like confetti.