The Fairy Stepmother Inc.

by Maggie Hoyt

  Ella gasped. I peeked over the rocks.

  “Are you all right, miss?”

  I wanted to cheer. Instead, I reached my hand in the pouch, pulled out a handful of petals, and readied my toss.

  Ella nodded.

  “You don’t seem very all right,” the prince said. He knelt down in front of her. “Can I help you with anything? Can I help you get home?”

  “I can’t go home,” Ella said. I released a handful of rose petals. They drifted softly around Ella. The gem plopped into the dirt next to her. Cue the prince’s astonishment.

  I immediately tried to duck. That only sent my knees sliding once more across the slick surface of the mud. This time I grabbed at the rock before I could hit it, all while trying to keep my head down. Fortunately, I needn’t have worried. The prince didn’t look up. He just looked into Ella’s eyes. I cautiously peered over the side.

  “I helped a fairy and she told me I would have the luck I deserved, but then my stepsister was mean to the fairy and now frogs drop out of the sky when she talks, and she got really angry, so Stepmother kicked me out of the house.” That deserved a shower of petals.

  “Kicked you out?”

  “She doesn’t like me. Because I remind her of my father.”

  It’s not true, I thought as I threw another handful. But that doesn’t matter, Evelyn, because this isn’t about you.

  Things were silent for a little while. Come on, El. You can do this.

  “I’m Ella.” I saw her slowly extend her hand toward the prince. I tossed down a pearl.

  “Um, hi, Ella. I’m Aiden.” He shook her hand.

  “I like your … hat.”

  I winced a little. Well, magic couldn’t pick and choose. I let fly a few petals.

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  There was another pause.

  “Do you come to the river often?” Ella asked.

  “Yes, I come here every weekend! It’s a very nice river. It’s so peaceful.”

  “My father used to take me here when I was little. And the lake. Have you been to the lake here?”

  “No! Is it nice too?”

  Ella nodded. “There are geese.”

  I sighed and looked in the pouch. I didn’t have enough petals for drivel. I willed them to hurry it up. My lower legs were going to get a rash. Instead, the two kids sort of stared into each other’s eyes. I say sort of because they did a lot of shyly looking away.

  “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you.”

  There. That was escalation.

  “It’s all right.”

  I dropped the fake diamond. Symbolically, as foreshadowing. They paused for another while. I should have brought something to eat.

  “Is it too forward of me to ask you to marry me?” the prince asked. “Yeah, it is. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mean, we just met. My parents just have marriage going through my head. And I like you better than all the other girls I’ve met. I’m probably in love with you. Sorry. I’m messing this all up.”

  “No, I don’t think you are,” she said.

  “It’s just, in the stories, when the girl marries the prince—I think you’re exactly who they mean.”

  “I think you’re very sweet.”

  “So, maybe—maybe we could get to know each other better? Since you can’t go home, you could come with me. We would take you in.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course!” The prince blushed as he stood up and offered her his hand.

  “Thank you so much.” Ella took his proffered hand and stood. I couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t let go.

  They started to walk off, hand in hand. Now came the moment of truth. They were out of my reach. I couldn’t throw rose petals after her forever.

  “I was at the ball,” Ella said.

  “Really? But I’d remember if I’d danced with you!”

  “I was too shy. I just hid in the crowd. Wait—it’s stopped!”

  “What?”

  “The rose petals. They’ve stopped.”

  Ella and the prince looked around. He seemed to think for a moment.

  “Didn’t the fairy promise you the luck you deserved?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Well, you’re going to live in the palace. That is pretty good luck.”

  “Of course! I don’t need them.”

  “Not at all.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Not for their logic—you can justify anything in fairy tales—but for his character. He wanted her, not a constant shower of stones that looked precious from a distance.

  “I’ll leave the jewels here for someone who does.”

  I waited until they were well out of earshot before I stood up. The mud made a slurping noise as it suctioned off my stained stockings. I trudged down to the bank, shoes squirting with each step, to pick up the gems. If I could get some back in their settings, I’d wear them to the wedding. Honestly, if I had anything fall out of the sky every time I spoke, I think I’d stop talking. Wouldn’t anyone? Stupid stories. Designed to make you shut up and clean.

  I pulled the drawstring on the pouch. I only had a few tears in my eyes as I made my way home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FAN WAS STILL huddled on the floor when I returned. I was half-worried she’d have figured out the secret of the frogs, or that she’d just decided she didn’t care, but as soon as I stepped in the door, I realized just how distressed she was. She’d obeyed me. The frogs were now burping in one of our nice iron kettles. I’ll have to wash it really, really thoroughly, I thought.

  “I found the fairy,” I said, sitting down in front of her. Her nose was red and her big brown eyes brimming with tears, as if she’d been crying the whole time I was gone. “She said that when you’re nice to others, you deserve good luck yourself. Since you were rude to her, the curse will be lifted when you show you have nice things to say.”

  Fan glared at me, her lips hardening into an angry pout. Then she exhaled sharply and closed her eyes for a second, choosing her words—or rather, her gestures—carefully.

  She extended one arm out wide, then balled that hand into a fist and punched her other hand.

  “What? No, of course I wasn’t going to punch the fairy!”

  She shook her head and pointed to herself.

  “I’m pretty sure you won’t deserve good luck if you punch the fairy.”

  Fan rolled her eyes.

  “Well, I don’t know what you’re trying to say, dear. Do you want to write it down?”

  Apparently, she didn’t. She raised one finger in the air and rotated her wrist, tracing circles in the air. Then she stuck out her tongue.

  “Excuse me, is that supposed to be rude? Because that is not helping your situation, young lady.”

  She shook her head vehemently and waved her arms in front of her face.

  “All right, sorry!” I said.

  She crossed her arms in front of her face, and then thrust them down to her sides.

  I sighed. “Right, start over.”

  This time, she stretched out her arms and gestured—aha!—to the area around her. Then, she put her hand to her mouth and pretended to laugh.

  “The whole house is laughable,” I guessed, which was true.

  She pointed to herself.

  “You’re—oh,” I said, finally understanding. “Everyone’s going to laugh at you.”

  She nodded, waved her arms all around her again, and stuck out her tongue. Then she pointed pleadingly at the frogs.

  “Everyone else around here is mean, and they don’t have any frogs.”

  Her face began to crumble as she nodded again.

  “All I can say, Fan, is that they haven’t had the fortune of running into a fairy. You have, and if you want things to change, you’re going to have to make it happen. It may not be fair, but it’s just the way things are.”

  She scrunched up her mouth in a fairly decent imitation of a duck.
>
  “You can do this, Fan. I’ll help you. We’ll just have to practice thinking nice things until it becomes natural. We’ll—I don’t know, we’ll think of a compliment for every person we see.”

  She shook her head insistently, but her eyes said fear more than stubbornness.

  “You don’t want to see people,” I said. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to avoid them. We got rid of Ella, remember? You’re going to have to help me shop and do the chores.”

  She threw her head back in despair.

  “All right. I’m going to go see what’s wrong with the cistern.” Nothing was wrong, so it would be a quick fix. “Then why don’t you bathe and wash your hair.”

  It didn’t feel like we should return to life as normal, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. What happened at the end of the stories? Nothing, obviously. You had to end the tale somewhere. It was as though the wicked stepmother and stepsister ceased to exist.

  I thought I would feel more of a sense of accomplishment. I’d found Ella the best future I could, and thanks to some frogs, I was hopefully going to get a kinder Fanchon, one who would soon be able to afford a roof and enough food. We simply had to last until her birthday. I even wrote a strongly worded refusal of marriage to a certain ancient nobleman. I expected to feel more relieved.

  One consequence of expelling Ella was that I suddenly had to cook. My skills were limited to putting slices of cheese in between slices of bread and making stew, although Fanchon probably disagreed. Look, the stew was a little thin, but it’s not like I had great ingredients. If I’d had good chicken, it would’ve been a different story.

  On the third day after Ella left, Fan beat me to the kitchen for lunch, where I caught her chopping a tomato and carrots from our garden and putting them on a bed of cabbage. She looked up at me, startled, probably worried I’d be offended. I just thanked her and let her work. The tomato ended up a little crushed, like she’d gripped it a little too hard, but there wasn’t blood anywhere, so I took it as a win.

  On the fifth day after Ella left, Fanchon ventured out to the market with me. She started out with her head held high, jaw clenched, defying anyone to make fun of her. We both knew perfectly well that news of our fairy misfortune had spread around the countryside. There wasn’t a soul in Strachey who didn’t know that Fan had been cursed to have frogs fall from the sky when she spoke. Her haughty determination wilted just a bit under the stares and whispers of our neighbors. By the time we actually reached the stalls, she’d balled up her fists in an effort, I thought, not to burst into tears.

  “Well, they’re certainly not making it easy to think kind thoughts, are they?” I said. “I say we practice with the vendors. They’re usually nonjudgmental. What’s something nice we could say about the cheese seller?”

  Fan stared daggers at me as I stepped up and bought my usual wheel of cheese.

  “I like that he treats everyone with good cheer,” I said, turning my attention to the vegetables. “If his last customer was rude to him, he never takes it out on the next one.”

  I glanced at Fan to see her response, but her attention was drawn elsewhere. Two young noblewomen walked past; they tittered as they saw Fan and began a whispered conversation. I turned my head just in time to see Fan lunge forward, fists still clenched.

  Grabbing her arm, I pulled her in close to me. “They’re not worth your time,” I said quietly. “Not worth the time you’d spend on an insult.”

  Fan still smoldered with fury. She’s only ever learned to go on the attack, I thought. You’ve got to teach her how to defuse.

  “But if I had to have a kind thought about those two,” I said, “I could say, well, isn’t it in style to be small right now? Small waist, small feet? They’re even small-minded!”

  Fan cracked just the tiniest shadow of a smile.

  “I want you to appreciate that I’m doing this with you, Fanchon. It’s very difficult for me to have nice things to say, and I’m old and set in my ways. All right, vegetables.”

  As I began haggling over cabbage, I saw Fan cringe and slink away. I turned to look for her when I’d finished, but I didn’t see her in the stalls. That didn’t surprise me. While she could have pointed at an item she wanted to buy, she didn’t have any money, and I didn’t think she could mime “Put it on my credit.”

  Outside the market, I scanned the street. Shoppers had stopped in the road to chat, blocking the way for a poor coach driver, who inched his horse forward while shouting at everyone to get out of the way. As the people finally scattered and the coach pulled through, I caught a glimpse of the grassy hill on the other side of the road.

  I almost missed Fan; she had her back to me, and she was facing two smug-looking young noblemen—I’d hardly expected her to be conversing with boys. Then I saw her fists, still clenched at her sides, and the way every inch of her body suggested that it wanted to back up. I quickened my pace.

  “… Belinda says she’s too embarrassed to have you at her party, so she’s uninvited you. Is that true?” I heard one say. Was that Oliver Quincey?

  “Tell you what, if you just say nothing, we’ll assume the answer’s yes.” And Liam Windham, his doublet laced obnoxiously open to display a little tuft of chest hair. They chortled at their own wit.

  “Wait, I’ve got one, I’ve got one,” Oliver said. “I heard that you’re kissing any poxy sod who will give you a few sovereigns, and that onion-breath Alfie is your best customer. Is that true? If you say nothing, we’ll just assume that’s a yes.”

  Fan tried to back away, but Liam grabbed her wrist. “I think she should give us the same deal. Come on, doll.”

  The minute his hand touched her arm, I felt a plume of flame ignite between my ears. Fan attempted to yank her arm away, but naturally, he wouldn’t let go. She started trying to peel his hand off her arm, so he reached for her with his free hand. The moment I came within reach, I lunged forward and seized his wrist.

  “Take your hands off my daughter,” I said. If I could have lifted him by his wrist, I’d have dangled him in the air. Despite my best attempt at a vise grip, however, he broke free with a sharp tug.

  “Now, this is all a misunderstanding!” Liam said. He pulled Fanchon toward him and put his arm around her. “We don’t mean any harm,” he patronized.

  “Right! She hasn’t said a word of complaint,” Oliver added. They fought back laughter.

  “I told you to leave her alone.” I shoved Liam Windham, aiming right for his shoulder, to knock his arm off my daughter.

  “Whoa, madam,” he said, letting go of Fan and taking a step back. “We’re just having fun here.”

  “Fun?” I shouted. “Do you think my daughter’s having fun? Are your little jokes making her laugh?”

  “Umm, madam, I think …,” Liam began. He raised his hands and began making small pressing motions. I recognized that gesture. It was the universal sign for calming down hysterical women. Something in me snapped.

  “You have never thought a day in your life!” I stepped up so I could shout in his face. He made one more calming gesture, like he was going to push me away, so I slapped at his arms. His look changed from amusement to bewilderment, and he shot Oliver a glance of growing panic.

  “You’re out of control, madam,” Oliver said as he grabbed me by the arm.

  I wheeled on Oliver, tearing my arm out of his grip with a flailing jerk. “I have had enough of you and your friend’s swaggering, self-important, insolent pretentiousness. You are terrorizing my daughter! You’re not funny, you’re cruel!” I yelled and shoved Oliver.

  “Hadn’t we better get guards?” Liam said, scanning the market wildly as Oliver staggered back.

  I felt Fan tug at my dress. She was probably embarrassed, and I know I should have been, but I just couldn’t take it any longer. I was so furious—furious that I’d lost Henry and Ella now, furious that I’d had to stoop so low to take care of my daughters, when any one of these people could have helped. I think I was
even furious at Husband #1, and if I was conflating these little twerps with my abusive late husband, well, too bad for them.

  Oliver shot forward, his face a few inches from mine. “Did you just shove me, old woman?” he barked.

  In response, I reached out to shove him again, this time with both hands. He was ready for me, deflecting my hands with his forearms, but I kept reaching for him, forcing him to parry my barrage of elbows and grasping fingers.

  “Oh my God, she’s insane!” Liam hissed. “Guards!” he shouted a bit half-heartedly, as though he wasn’t really sure he wanted any authorities seeing this.

  I ignored Liam’s call for help and Fan’s silent, insistent pleas for me to back down. I finally got past Oliver’s guard and seized the lapels of his doublet.

  “If I even see you look at my daughter again, I will—”

  “What?” Oliver said, shoving me slightly as he disentangled his clothes from my grasp. “You’ll tell our mums?”

  Before I could add to the list of my increasingly poor decisions, suddenly someone grabbed Oliver’s collar from behind and pulled down hard, pinning Oliver’s arms to his sides. Then Oliver began to topple backward, revealing Ethan Kingsley neatly sweeping his legs out from under him. Oliver hit the ground with a thud.

  “Kingsley, you pillock!” Oliver shouted.

  “You leave Fanchon and Madam Radcliffe alone,” Ethan demanded.

  “This is definitely not all our fault,” Liam said.

  “Get over here, Kingsley,” Oliver said. He had picked himself up off the ground and was now marching toward Ethan.

  I saw Liam glance from Oliver’s clenched fists to my face. I must not have looked any saner—he grimaced in alarm and rushed to intercept Oliver.

  “It’s not worth it, mate,” Liam said, putting his hand on Oliver’s chest and pushing him away.

  As the two of them stomped off, the rush of anger drained out, leaving me exhausted and horrified. If Ethan hadn’t shown up, I’d have started a fistfight with two twenty-year-old men. What was wrong with me? For some people, grief just manifests in crying jags. Apparently, it spurs me on to humiliating brawls I couldn’t possibly win.