Cinderella: Happily Never after

The past

At work, Henry and I had come to a sort of unspoken understanding between the two of us. We didn't talk about the conversation we'd had the day he'd made me cry, but ever since then we had grown more comfortable around each other. We weren't really friends, but he no longer scowled or muttered irritably when I was around and I no longer got the impression that he secretly wanted me to leave and never come back. He was still bossy and arrogant, but when he ordered me around or got exasperated when I made a mistake, there was a lightness in his tone that hadn't been there before and something in his eyes that told me he wasn't really upset. My entire experience working at his shop had become much more pleasant, which was certainly a nice change.

One afternoon, on a Monday in late December, I was helping a customer locate a book when the bell above the door tinkled and a blast of cold air filled the shop. I looked up. Three elderly ladies walked in, pulling off their gloves and brushing the snow off of their coats, looking relieved to be out of the cold and in the presence of the warm, crackling fire in the fireplace. Henry, who was standing at the counter, smiled at them.

"Hello, ladies," he said. "Is there anything I can help you with this morning?"

"Henry, dear," one of the ladies said, approaching the counter and smiling up at him, "how lovely it is to see you again."

"It's lovely to see you again too, Mrs. Nelson," Henry said. "How's your grandson? Has he finished school?"

The woman nodded. "Oh, yes, Jack finished school this past year. He's doing wonderfully. He's going to be a lawyer, you know. Smart, smart boy. Just like his father."

Her two friends nodded their heads in agreement behind her, smiling enthusiastically, as if there was nothing in the world they enjoyed talking about more than the intelligence of Mrs. Nelson's grandson.

Henry nodded. "I'm glad to hear he's doing so well."

I finally found the book I'd been looking for and handed it over to the man who had been looking for it. He smiled at me gratefully and wandered away to continue browsing. I made my way over to the counter where Henry and the three ladies were still chatting to see if he had anything he needed me to do before I left for the day.

"You know, Henry," Mrs. Nelson was saying, "I haven't seen you in church recently. That lovely sister of yours is there every week. And so is your fiancée. But you always seem to be missing on Sunday mornings. Why is that? I know your shop isn't open on the Sabbath."

Henry's eyes darted from side to side. He looked a bit like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Err..." he stammered. "Well, you see..." Suddenly, as if only now noticing my presence at the counter, he grabbed my arm and pulled me in close, his arm snaking around my waist as he hugged me to his side. "Have you ladies met Ella?" he asked, in an obviously desperate attempt to change the subject.

One of the women squinted at me, fumbling around in her purse for a pair of eyeglasses which she promptly put on before continuing to appraise me. "Aren't you the princess?" she finally asked.

I nodded, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment I felt when Henry dropped his arm and took a step away from me.

"That's right," Mrs. Nelson said. "I remember hearing about that. You hired the princess to work in your shop." She tilted her head, looking me up and down. "How strange," she murmured. "How very strange indeed."

"I suppose," I mumbled.

"So why'd you do it?" the third women piped up. "Princesses don't usually have jobs."

They were a nosy bunch, these women. Not that it came as any surprise. In my experience, there were no bigger gossips than elderly, church-going women.