A Grimm Legacy (Grimm Tales) (19 page)

The entire day was spent primping and polishing the three women upstairs for their night out. For Andi this meant countless hours of verbal abuse and infinite trips up and down the stairs, fetching odds and ends from all over the house. Andi sent Quinn down to her room to read over the book of fairy tales in preparation for that night. Quinn tried to protest, arguing she would be more help waiting on the demands of the wretched sisters upstairs, but Andi was firm.

"Unexpected fairy godmothers or mice talking along with the birds would complicate things.” She thrust the real invitation in her hand and gave her a friendly shove. “Go. Read."

Fortunately, one sister or the other sent her into town several times for a new pair of shoes, or a specific pair of gloves. These errands she passed off to Fredrick and Dylan.

Andi barreled into the barn where the boys were trying to stay out of the way. “Here,” she said, pushing a slip of paper at Dylan.

“
What else could they possibly need?” Dylan asked, raising his eyebrows as he took the list from Andi. “Besides a membership to Weight Watchers and some major plastic surgery, that is.”

“
Cyn-thi-a!”

Coriander
’s shriek was faint, but the fact it could be heard in the barn was impressive.

“
You can trade places with me at any time,” Andi said, turning on her heel.

"You never know what might happen at these…
fundraisers
, after all."

Dylan followed the road that passed in front of the house and reached toward the shops.

“
What’s on the list?” Fredrick asked, keeping pace beside him.

“
Just one thing: silk stockings, size triple-X.” Dylan grinned at Fredrick. “No need to guess who those are for.”

Feet pounded behind them on the packed dirt road. Turning, Dylan found Quinn jogging to catch up.

“Mind if I tag along? I’m going to need a dress for tonight.” She looked them up and down. “And so are you.” She colored a little and wouldn’t meet Fredrick’s eyes. “A tux, I mean. You’ll both need a tux.”

Immediately interested in the fashion dilemma, Dylan pictured outlandish hats and wondered if could pull off wearing a monocle. Fredrick frowned and hunched his shoulders. He was probably dreading the process of getting fitted and having people staring at him.

The road they were on was the only one into the tiny town, starting at the train station and dead-ending at the market. The shops were tucked back in the fringes of the trees, often using a trunk as one wall, or an overhead branch to support a roof.

The first night they were there getting supplies for Andi, the place was deserted. It hadn
’t been very late, and the shops were still open, but Dylan could count on one hand how many people they bumped into. The lone salespeople they encountered in each store were surly, bordering on lethargic, and the merchandise was in sorry shape, with layers of dust coating everything.

Now
, the closer they got, the more they were jostled by throngs of people dashing back and forth with hat boxes, wrapped parcels, and dry cleaner bags.

Quinn veered suddenly away and headed for a small shop tucked off the main road. A second hand store had been built into the treetops with a hand-lettered sign in the window:
The Dragon’s Horde.
Standing in front of the large display window, arms crossed, head tilted back, she looked inside. Nodding once to herself, she waved the guys on and climbed the rope ladder, the only way up and inside.

“
There’s the kind of girl you should be shopping with,” Dylan told Fredrick as Quinn shimmied up the tree. “One that can make a quick decision.” He clapped him on the back, and steered him farther into town. “Ready to buy some stockings?”

A line of gabbing women wound out of the door of the dress shop where Dylan had purchased gloves for Andi earlier in the day. Fredrick twitched nervously the entire time they were in the store on their first trip, and the mass of twittering women wasn’t likely to help him relax this time either.

“
Why don’t you just—” Dylan turned to find Fredrick halfway across the street, his shoulders hunched, the back of his neck bright red. He was headed straight to
After Midnight
, a gentleman’s clothing shop. A life-size stuffed grizzly bear proudly wearing a tuxedo was on display by the front door. Whatever Fredrick’s misgivings about getting into a tux for tonight, it must have looked better than what Dylan was heading into.

After ducking into
The Sweet Tooth
for a bribe, Dylan crossed to the dress shop. He prodded his way through the crowd at the door under a half lit neon sign,
Dress to Empress
. He winked at the line of women who scowled at his passing. He looked around the cluster of women waiting to try and find Gretel, whose palatable loneliness made her the perfect candidate for Dylan’s charm on his last visit.

He almost ran smack into her, looking harried with a pair of pink heels dangling from two fingers and a flurry of hats taking up the rest of the space in her arms.

“Just the girl I was coming to see,” Dylan said, flashing her his biggest smile.

“
Were the gloves not right?” Gretel asked, the adoration in her eyes dimming slightly.

“
How could they not be? You picked them out.” Dylan swooped in and with one swift movement transferred the girl’s armload of women’s paraphernalia into the arms of a faceless mannequin wearing nothing but a pair of leopard skin boots. He slipped a small box into Gretel’s hands.

Her cheeks turned pink.
“You shouldn’t have,” she said, lifting the lid.

“
Someone needs to spoil you,” he replied, attempting to be bashful and failing miserably.

“My favorites,” she swooned
, nibbling the edge of a chocolate. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,”
Dylan said, putting his arm around her shoulders and gently turning her away from the line of angry women at the door.

Luck
had nothing to do with it. She’d mentioned her sweet tooth on his last visit. He’d just gone next door and asked for her usual.

“
She sent me back for a pair stockings,” Dylan said apologetically, handing her the slip of paper. Gretel clutched the paper and her chocolates, but didn’t look at either, instead choosing to grin dopily into Dylan’s eyes. “You know how sisters can be,” he said with a laugh and a shrug as he gently propelled her toward the stocking display. She nodded happily, oblivious to the mass of impatient women fuming around her.

Day had slipped into evening when Andi was summoned upstairs for "the finishing touches,” as Lady Wellington put it. Andi’s feet were tender to the touch and it was agony to place one foot in front of the other. She was so tired her eyes burned when she blinked.

Another hour of tightening corsets (did people still wear those?) arranging hair, fastening buttons, and sliding on shoes, then finally—finally—they bobbed down the stairs. Powdered and pinned within an inch of their lives, they all
grasped their Louis Vuitton clutches and tripped out the door in Jimmy Choo heels.

Andi handed them into the open topped carriage retrof
itted with running board lights.

"Cynthia, sweetness." Lady Wellington didn't look at her as she arranged her skirts on the leather seats. "You've worked so hard today getting your sisters ready, why don't you take the night off?"

Coriander gave Andi a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Andi took perverse pleasure in the smear of lipstick on Coriander’s front teeth. "You never know what might happen at these…
fundraisers
, after all."

Portia gave an unladylike snort and Lady Wellington tittered behind a gloved hand before rippling her fingers in Andi's direction. The driver snapped the reins and they disappeared into the
night. Good riddance.

Quinn
, dressed in a sleek red evening gown that reached to her ankles, appeared beside Andi before the carriage was even out of sight. A small bustle in the back of her dress bespoke Victorian times, but the top was strapless, and a silk sash in a twisted teardrop pattern slung horizontal from shoulder to hip. Her dark complexion and brown almond-shaped eyes were set off by traditional Indian jewelry that dipped from the part in her hair to right above her eyebrows.

She was striking. Her yards of hair were intricately braided and piled high on her head, cr
owned with a few dyed feathers.

Quinn twirled
. "What do you think?"

"You look amazing,
” Andi said as her took in her ensemble. "You may need to tone it down a bit, or the prince won't even see me.” Andi gave her a tired smile.

Quinn laughed and headed back to the house. "Come on Cinderella, let's get you dressed."

“
Should I be looking for a pumpkin to turn into a coach?"

"Quinn!" Andi called after her. 

Turning, Quinn found Andi stumbling along in her wake.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to attend a ball tonight. I can barely walk."

"Feast," Quinn corrected, wrapping an arm around Andi and propelling her forward. "Although there will be dancing too."

Andi groaned.

"Don't you know how to dance?"

"Of course I know how to dance,” Andi snorted. “I'm simply not looking forward to doing it on two swollen feet."

"Sorry. We'll let you sit down as much as possible
. Maybe I can rummage up a few painkillers left over from Fredrick's ten-point landing.”

"Where are we going
?"

"You'll see,
” Quinn said, enjoying keeping Andi in the dark as long as possible.

They stepped through the kitchen door into the stillness of the courtyard
, the tree standing sentinel in the center. Even Quinn could feel its life pulsing from yards away, like it breathed in and out. Andi tilted her head up to the branches as Quinn dragged her across the stunted grass. The last of the sunset filtered through the branches, causing the tree to glow.

The boys both wore tails and white bow ties. Tuxes probably hadn
’t changed dramatically in the last 200 years. Quinn hid a smile and tried to ignore the blush she felt creeping up her neck at how well Fredrick's tall frame looked in the formal wear, even though he kept shifting his weight from side to side with nervous energy. In complete contrast, Dylan was clearly looking for attention with a top hat, gloves, and a pocket watch he pretended to frown at as the girls approached.

Quinn stole a look at Andi, and although the shorter girl narrowed her eyes at Dylan with a stern frown, she couldn
’t completely control the smile playing around the corners of her lips that hinted at the fact he cleaned up pretty well. It would never do to let him know, though—they’d never hear the end of it.

Dylan offered Andi her cloak, which he had draped over one arm, and her grandmother's shoes that hung from his two fingers.

"You found them!" Andi stroked the soft fabric.

"I assume
d that evil stepmother didn't wear them tonight because there is no way she would fit in them. You’re a midget,” Dylan said.

"Thank you,
” she said wryly and turned her attention to Fredrick. "How did the stocking buying go, Fredrick?"

Quinn smiled
at Andi’s need to needle him.

"We found out I look best in a medium, nude, with control top." Dylan snapped the watch shut. "Do you really think he went into a woman's underwear shop?" Dylan shook his head. "I went, of course."

"Like you minded." Fredrick pointed out. "You said, and I quote, ‘Gretel thinks I hung the moon.’"

Dylan brushed imaginary lint off his coat, trying to look serious. "I do have a way with the ladies."

"Now what?" Andi asked. "Is this where my fairy godmother appears? Should I be looking for a pumpkin to turn into a coach?"

"Sort of
. Come see what we found first,” Quinn said.

She circled the wide trunk of the tree, leading Andi
to the far side on a patch of clear earth and a square stone the size of a large, open book. Andi knelt down and traced her fingers over the weatherworn letters, illegible in places now.

"Lillian Cynthia Wellington
." Andi placed a palm on the grave marker. “My grandmother was named after her."

"The story says after your great-grandmother died, Cynthia watered a hazel branch with her tears, and this grew," Quinn said. "This is where she got her clothes to go to the feasts, and if we
’re making assumptions based on a book of fairy tales, this is your best bet."

“
My best bet, huh?” Andi said squinting up at the tree.