Not Quite Cinderella

“The prince is giving a ball!”

“In the middle of a war?” Marian looked at the thin, sallow, pastry chef who didn’t look like he’d ever tasted his own wares. “Are you serious? A party during a major offensive?”

The sallow chef nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes! The prince will choose a bride, the king will abdicate, and the whole war will be over.”

Marian nodded slowly. “So, what I’m hearing is… your side is losing?”

“My side?” The thin man looked confused.

“The king is losing, isn’t he?”

The man’s eyes widened. “I would never say something so traitorous!”

“Of course not.” She gave him a polite smile. “A fudge brownie please.” She pointed a the rich confection and waited as he bagged her purchase.

“Three coppers, if you please.”

She slid a silver piece across the counter. “The stars shine on those who show charity today,” she said and walked out, skirts swirling around her.

The baker wasn’t the only one with the news. The whole square was buzzing with people rushing to prepare for the upcoming party. Dress shops had lines of customers and coaches waiting outside. The grocers cart was empty. Flower sellers were scarce, or possibly just waiting in line for a seasonable dress.

One very determined hat seller stepped into Marian’s path, advancing at her with a bright green horror stuffed with purple feathers. “Have you something fetching to wear to the ball, Milady?”

“No,” Marian said, trying to sidestep the feather tickling her nose.

“Have you considered green, Milady? It would be a most becoming color on you.”

“Yes, if I had darker skin or fairer hair I’m sure it would be. But, since I have neither, I think perhaps another color.”

“Purple?” The hat seller waved the plumes closer to her face.

“No, lime and plum aren’t the right shades for me. Thank you.”

The hat seller pounced, placing the hat on her head and stabbing it in place with a five inch hair pin.

Marian glared as she counted, in Greek, to ten. “Remove the hat.”

“But for just a few silvers…” the seller wheedled.

“REMOVE THE HAT!!!” Thunder cracked through the clear sky.

The seller grabbed the hat, ripping the felt, and ran.

      Marian removed the pin from her hair and tossed it on the ground. Around her the natives edged away, fearful of what she might do next. She rolled her eyes and walked back to the inn she’d checked into late last night. It wasn’t the fanciest place she’d ever spent the night, but it wasn’t the worst.

She tossed a small bag of silver pieces to the innkeeper for a hot bath and a warm meal and walked up the stairs, musing over the worst place she’d spent the night. Probably in the burnt out hovel last year, the one where the ruins were still smoking and the air smelt of burnt flesh. She slept in the stone cellar, on the floor, waiting for the pain to stop.

Opening the door to her small room she paused. No, the cellar was the second worst. The first worst had to have been that palace three years back, the hideous pink silk and white lace covering everything affair. That was the worst. Definitely.

Someone knocked. “Water, miss, for your bath.”

She opened the door and smiled at the fresh-faced maid carrying two buckets of steaming water. “Please, bring them right in.”

“Here you go, miss. Getting ready for the ball, are you?”

“Me?”  Marian shook her head. “I wasn’t planning on going.”

The girl sighed, starry eyed. “Oh, but a ball. Doesn’t everyone want to go and dance the night away?”

Marian wrinkled her nose. “Pinched shoes, creaking corsets, and the smell of old women marinating in their perfume. It really isn’t all that grand.”

“But, to meet the prince!” The girl put the buckets by the fireplace, not spilling a drop. “I’d love to go, just to see everything. To maybe see the prince.”

“And I suppose your wicked stepmother is making you stay home and polish the silver?” Marian asked.

The girl blushed. “No, mother wouldn’t mind if I went. But I’ve nothing to wear. Nothing nice. I wouldn’t get past the guards.”

She waved her hand. “Nonsense! You’re quite a lovely girl. Hurry and fetch my bath and perhaps I can find a suitable tip for you.”

The girl curtsied. “That’s quite all right, miss. Even if we had a spare silver or two all the nice dresses have been bought up.”

Marian shooed her out. “Get my bath and let me worry about the tip.” She opened the door to the room’s armoire and studied the dresses inside. Fine blonde hair, pink cheeks, deep blue eyes and brown muddy feet…. The girl needed something full length and dusky. Marian discarded the idea of dressing the girl in red, to wanton. And pink was just cruel, the poor girl would look like a shepherdess who’d lost her nursery rhyme. Blue was the obvious answer, but too obvious.

From the back of the armoire she pulled out a lilac gown with silk, seed pearls, and diamonds fastened around the low collar. Perfect. Even if the girl didn’t net the prince in this affair, which might be a blessing considering the political situation; she’d find some suitor willing to marry her for the dress alone.

The maid backed into the room, carrying the wooden sitting tub and turning red in the face.

“Just set in down there by the fireplace,” Marian instructed. “It’s to warm for a fire, but it does seem the proper place for a bath. Do you have a screen, perchance? The windows are lovely but, well, a maiden and her modesty and all that…”

The maid turned around, nodding again, and stopped to stare at the gown. “Oh! That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen! Are you wearing it tonight?”

“This?” Marian made a show of regarding the gown with great skepticism. “It really isn’t my color. Far to regal, and to pale, for my skin I think. Do you like it?”

She maid wiped her hands on her own brown skirt and gently fingered the hem of the lilac gown. “It’s so lovely…”

“I really do think it’s a tattered old thing. You can have it if you like.” Marian tossed the dress at her. “Go and try it on, if you hurry your mother will have time to fit it to you before the ball.”

Her eyes went wide. “But, your bath…”

Marian shrugged. “I can handle that. Go on, have fun tonight.” The maid left and Marian started humming herself. She bathed, ate a leisurely meal, taking pleasure in watching people bustle through the streets rushing to prepare for the festival, and then she took a nap.

She woke when the bell on the tower tolled ten, she had two hours to midnight. With great care she dressed in a perfect white gown with a belled skirt and a low neckline. Out of her traveling gear she picked a fine gold chain with a white opal pendant that flashed fire in the candlelight. In the window she could see her reflection, the perfect vision of a mysterious princess arriving late for the ball. Down in the alley she could even see the perfect coach, just waiting to whisk her away.

How banal.

Marian swept down the stairs and out the back door, unnoticed by the snoozing innkeeper. The coachman didn’t say a word as she touched her necklace and tucked her head like a coy innocent. She smiled as they clattered through the cobblestone streets, charms were almost cheating. Well, not charms plural, Marian reminded herself, Charm, singular, and not the kind that witches and sorceresses used. A single simple charm to make everyone love her.

There was a momentary twinge of guilt, what if the nice little maid had charmed the prince? Marian furrowed her brow, wondering how she would work that one out. As the coach rolled to a stop at the palace gates, the tower bells chimed eleven, the page ran up to open her door, and with a sigh Marian gave up worrying about the dilemma. All she could do was hope for the best, and kill anyone who got in her way.

With innate grace she swept up the stairs, walked down the halls, and paused at the grand entrance waiting for the final flourish in the music and the perfect dramatic entrance. She tapped her foot. The music hit its crescendo and the she walked through the door.

The prince’s hand dropped away form the blue-clad beauty’s waist he’d been dancing with. Marian curtsied at a distance, hiding a snigger. A pale blue dress on a blue-eyed blonde with upswept hair, really? How clichéd could a fair godmother get? If she had a copper for every time a well-meaning interloper put a blue dress on a blue-eyed girl she’d have enough for a retirement fund, or at least a vacation somewhere tropical.

She forced a blush as the prince ran up the short staircase to bow low over her hand.

“May I have this dance?”

“I’d be delighted,” she simpered. It took practice to simper, and it paid off. The prince danced her around the room, staring deeply into her eyes like a fool in love. And then danced her into the moonlit gardens.

“Am I really in love? Or is this some magic? A dream?” he whispered as he leaned close.

“Magic,” Marian whispered back. “A charm enchantment.”

“Do you love me?” The prince tenderly brushed a finger along her cheek. “I love you.”

“I know.” She stepped away from him. “But it won’t last past dawn.”

He stepped closer. “If we have only to dawn, let us dance the night away.”

She smothered a laugh in her hand, pretending to cough. “Virgin!” Recovering herself she smiled at the prince. “I have a carriage, let’s run away together.”

He put his hands on her hips and pulled her close. “I’ll do anything you say.”

“Smart kid.” Marian patted his cheek. “Take my hand and lead me the back way to the carriages. And then pick the fastest one.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, showing the first real sign of independent thought, which wasn’t promising. A strong willed person would fight the charm enchantment, the prince wasn’t fighting at all.

Really, she was doing the kingdom a favor by removing him from the line for the throne.

“My love?”

“We’re running away together,” Marian told him as he led her through dark rose gardens and down marble steps to the courtyard full of carriages. “By the way, you have a beautiful castle.”

“We have a beautiful castle,” he told her. “Forever we, you and I together in love.”

“At least until dawn or death do us part.” Marian let him hand her into the carriage. In a high up window she saw a young woman, radiant in lilac and diamonds, flirting with a powerful young duke.

At least someone got a happy ending.  

Off The Rack

The solution to Lisa’s problem glowed neon in the fading light. She pulled into the parking lot under the sign with blinking words, “Free Groom Half Price Ring Bearer w/ Every Wedding Gown”.

Inside, the boutique was softly lit. No crass racks of squashed satin dresses here. Elegant confections of lace, pearl, and silk each stood center spotlight in a setting of varying vistas.

 One gown, a simple silk design, was advertised as the best for a beach wedding. The price for beach and horses thoughtfully included on the price tag. Another gown looked like the work of a deranged fairy godmother with some magpie in her ancestry, and was touted as ideal for a themed Cinderella wedding.

Lisa browsed until she caught the clerk’s attention.

“I’m so sorry you had to wait, Miss. I was just seeing to another happy customer. Now, what dress were you looking at?”

“I rather like the beach dress – “

“A favorite theme. Very chic this season.”

“Yes, but the train doesn’t quite suit me.”

“If you can describe what you want, I can point you in the direction of several lovely gowns. Or I can show you some of our recent arrivals.”

“Something figure hugging, but not trashy.” Lisa sketched an hourglass shape in the air with her hands. “I want to go for understated taste and old-world elegance. Maybe a few pearls or a touch of crystal. Nothing ostentatious though.”

“Would you prefer a pure white or an ivory?”

“Pure white. This is my first wedding, I want to do it properly.”

“Of course. Don’t we all?” The clerk had pulled out a pad of paper and took notes with a quick glide of her pen. “What kind of sleeve were you looking for?”

“Sleeveless, perfect for a summer wedding.”

The clerk nodded. “Something drapey, long, and sleeveless. You know, I think I have just the gown. It might be your size too. It’s an Elyia, and we were only able to get three of her gowns this year. A little pricey…”

There was a judicious pause.

“Money is not an issue,” Lisa assured her.

“Perfect.” The clerk beamed happily. “The gown is pure silk, a mermaid silhouette, you know. It hugs and then flares below the knee. Very artistic. No embellishments, but I know it will be perfect for you.”

And it was.

Lisa twirled in front of the three-way mirror. Cool silk swirled around her ankles. Curves she didn’t know she had popped into proper place and gave her the kind of figure you usually paid surgeons big money for.

“I’ll take it!”

“Excellent.”

She changed in the dressing room and handed the gown over to a hovering underling. The clerk hummed a happy tune as she made more notes. Lisa smiled. “Now, about the groom…“

“Right this way, please.” Still humming, the clerk led Lisa past fantasy wedding settings, prices discreetly listed, past rows of hothouse flowers set in stasis and perfect for everything from boutonnieres to bouquets, and into a back room.

The clerk flicked on a light.

Rows of grooms hung awkwardly with coat hooks down the back of their tuxedos. Some were so short their feet dangled several inches above the floor, others were so tall that they sat folded up. To one side, the plus-sized grooms circled slowly on a rack like a herd of tethered balloons.

“Ignore the tuxedos,” the clerk said, straightening the tie on a short groom propped on a display rack. His feet kicked a few inches above the ground as he snuffled in his sleep.

“Clothes are interchangeable. So are shoes.” The clerk turned. “Did you have something already in mind? Off the rack, maybe? Or do you want a custom groom?”

Lisa clicked her tongue in thought, recovering quickly. “I really don’t know. I’ve never been groom shopping before. What do you advise?”

“Why don’t you have a look around and check the tags while I get you some refreshments? You’ve already been in the store over an hour. Shopping makes one hungry.”

“Tea and biscuits?”

“Don’t be silly! For groom shopping we have chocolate dipped strawberries and champagne.”

“That sounds delightful.”

While the clerk bustled out in search of a light repast Lisa browsed the aisles of grooms. Most the men slept. A few mumbled to each other, one winked at her in a coquettish manner.

She checked the tag on one of the folded grooms as he snored with a cute snuffle.

Name: Todd

Personality: Deferential

Height: 6’5”

Weight: 215

Age: 29

Income: $56,750 annually

Lisa flipped the tag over to catch care details. Self-washing, cooked 70% of his meals, but required special weekend care in the form of regular poker nights out with the boys.

She frowned.

“Oh,” the clerk said, coming back with a little trolley. “You don’t want that one. Those models are best for second marriages and planned divorces. The seams tend to loosen up after a few years and they balloon. We have a strict No Return policy on grooms.”

“Right.” Lisa let the tag drop.

“What do you like?” the clerk asked.

“I’m leaning to the taller ones. Something to make me look not quite as tall.”

“Do you prefer athletic or thin, dear?” With a practiced eye the clerk started pulling grooms off the rack. She held up two specimens, one with the heavy muscled look common in football players and the other a reedy fellow with glasses slipping off his nose.

“Muscular, but not that bulky. I don’t want him to make me look fat.”

The clerk nodded. “I wouldn’t say anything, of course, but so many girls come in here and pick grooms that don’t suit their look at all. They forget a husband is an accessory you wear every day, and treat it like dress shopping. You need to take the long view. Your dress only has to look good once, but a groom needs to retain shape for months. Years in some extreme cases!

“Here, try this one.” The clerk held out a lithe man with good muscle tone, blond hair cut short, and a steady in-and-out type of snore.

Lisa checked the tag while the clerk unfolded the sleeping man. “Isn’t he a little long for me? The tag says six foot eight. I’m only five foot seven.”

“A little shorter than?”

She hesitated, scanning the tag. “I don’t know. Can you do alterations? Maybe take an inch or two off the legs?”

“Not with these ones. But we do have the custom fit grooms in the next room.” The clerk folded the unwanted groom up and placed him back on the rack. “All the grooms are free with the gown purchase. Custom is as cheap as off the rack today, so you might as well get what you like.”

“You’re right.” Lisa smiled. “Let’s go look at the custom designs.”

The clerk led her into a blue lit room filled with vats and situated her in a comfortable chair in front of a large screen with the trolley of food next to it.

Lisa sipped her champagne as the computer turned on the computer. Bubbles rippled through the vat nearest her making the lone leg turn in it’s nutrient broth.

“Now here,” the clerk said, “you can program in all the parameters. The basic hair and eye color are very easy to change later on if you want, but after the groom is altered we can’t change metabolism, personality, or height. So be very sure that you enter those correctly.” 

The list wasn’t as endless as it first seemed. Lisa entered her preferences on the right of the screen and the computer displayed her potential groom on the left. She selected the advanced options and dithered over setting his income.

“If I give him a high income will he be gone too much do you think?”

The clerk shrugged. “It depends on what occupation you choose for him. That’s right down there, question twelve. You can set a very high income if you choose the right profession. And heirs are usually very indolent, always at home. But they also have the highest percentage of thefts in the nation. You don’t want someone to sneak in and steal your groom on the wedding night.”

Bitter memories twisted Lisa’s features. “No. I don’t.” She selected an income of $96,560 annually, more than enough when combined with her own salary, and a profession as a college professor. “Will I need to pay extra for his education?”

“Usually, but not with our current special. The wedding season is almost over and we honestly need to move these older models out. The ones I can’t sell will go to the government. At a discount, of course,” the clerk hastened to add lest she seem unpatriotic.

Lisa just nodded, not really listening. “The computer wants to know a percentage for fertility. How do I calculate that? Is it so many times out of ten we get pregnant or so many times out of ten we don’t?”

“The fertility percentage is per time. Women have a much lower fertility rate, usually not over twenty-five percent, so you want his correspondingly high. Eighty-five to ninety-five is the fashionable level at the moment. You could put it higher if you want more children or at zero if you aren’t interested in having them the old fashioned way. It won’t affect the groom’s performance at all.”

“Right.” She set the fertility percentage at ninety and moved on to a question about social skill sets. Did she want a pre-set personality or to mix and match her own?

The clerk refilled her glass. “Would you like a ring bearer today too? They’re half price!”

“Oh! I hadn’t even looked. Really, I always thought I’d have a little flower girl. Do you sell those?”

“Only the dresses. But we do have an arrangement with the local modeling and acting agency. If you buy bridesmaid and flower girl dresses here they’ll give you seventy-five percent off the cost of renting a bridal party.”

“I might look into that.”

“If you choose one of their pre-posed parties I already have the sizes on file so you won’t need to come in and actually meet with the bridal party before the wedding. We find some brides prefer that.”

“Hmmm. I do have some real friends. I’ll have to talk to them and see if they’re interested in coming to the wedding. Everyone’s so busy lately, it’s hard to get people to take the time off of work.”

“Bring pictures to the modeling agency and let them find look-alikes for the wedding. That way your girlfriends can be there without actually wasting any of their own time.”

Lisa nodded and hit the last button. “There. That’s my groom!”

The clerk looked over her selections. “Oh! Isn’t he handsome? An excellent choice. You have exquisite taste. He’ll look fabulous next to you. Now, you do know that the custom made grooms aren’t ready to go today. It will take three weeks for the order to get in. You weren’t planning on having the wedding this week, were you?”

“No. I was thinking a summer wedding in a few months.”

“Good. Good. Did you want to pick the groom up beforehand or the day of? Remember, you can’t return him once he leaves the store. If you think you might get cold feet it’s best to leave him in our vault until the day of the wedding. You can always call us up and tell us you’ve changed your mind. We’ll put him out on the rack for a twenty-five dollar restocking fee.”

“That sounds good. I’ll pick him up the day of.”

“Excellent. Would you like to look over our ring bearer selection?”

“Certainly.”

The ring bearers were in a smaller room combining both racks of small boys and several smaller vats. All the ring bearers were sleeping fitfully.

“We have one of the largest selection of ring bearers in the city,” the clerk said. “You have your choice of ages, from toddler through teenager. And we have the Grow Your Own option. It’s very popular for people who choose Living in Sin before marriage. You can take both the prospective groom and the infant ring bearer home on the same day with a voucher. When the ring bearer has reached the size you want you just bring in the voucher and we’ll fit him to a little suit.”

Peering curiously into the vat where a pair of feet led their own private existence until needed Lisa asked, “Is that a popular choice?”

“Very popular. People love to have their own screaming brat carrying their ring down the aisle. It makes for such a cute video and, of course, the wedding reception fight always needs a good screaming brat.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I never really wanted a son.”

“Than why not consider our rental options.” The clerk motioned to a rack of freckle faced boys labeled six-year olds. “We call this the nephew option, although you don’t need to buy an Aunt or Uncle with them. We lease them to you for a twenty-four hour period and with the proper application of sugar they can be very good.”

“Well. I just…”

“Or maybe the teenage nephew?” The clerk bustled Lisa over to another rack where gawky teens hung in ill-fitted suits. “These models have the full range of sarcastic comments, insults, and eye-rolling. Although a well applied fifty will keep them from making hurting remarks or hitting on your maid of honor.”

“Gosh, I just don’t know.”

“There’s no rush,” the clerk assured her. “Our sale doesn’t end until Friday. That gives you plenty of time to plan out the details and coordinate with the wedding planner. Just bring the receipt for the gown in when you come back during our sale period and you can have whatever you like.”

“Perfect.” Lisa collected her gown and voucher for her new groom before driving home feeling perfectly vindicated.

As she wrote out the wedding invitations she wondered how her foremothers had handled all these messy complications. What did you do if you woke up one morning and wanted to marry before they invented bridal shops with everything you needed?

Probably relied on dating. As if that ever worked!

She took extra care in addressing the invitation to Michael and Janie. Let her ex and her ex-best friend see just how hurt she was by his dumping her: Not at all!

Janie could have the off-the-rack boyfriend with his part-time job. She was getting herself a real man.