WINDOWS: A BROKEN FAIRY TALE (4 page)

Raven remained
calm, knowing that she was more than a match for chunky britches.
 
“Third, I know you have to agree to annul the
contract, Mr. Jackson.
 
The only thing I
don’t know is if you’re smart enough to sign it before my family has to get
involved.
 
And in the spirit of full
disclosure, my last name isn’t really White.”

With that, she
began negotiations in earnest.

Sarah was starting
to worry a little about Raven.
 
After
finishing with the horse, she glanced at a clock on the wall and noticed she
had been gone almost 25 minutes.
 
The
part of town where Mr. Jackson’s office was located wasn’t the safest place for
a young woman to travel alone.
 
She never
made the trip unless it was absolutely necessary.
 
The danger wasn’t as great in the
morning.
 

“Oh who am I
kidding?”
 
Sarah asked the horse who was
now contentedly munching a mouth full of hay.
 
The gelding only flicked his ears at a buzzing fly in response so Sarah
made up her own mind.
 
With a grunt she
slipped a small knife into the pocket of her jeans.
 
It would be great if things weren’t that bad
but better safe than sorry.

“Where are you
going?”
 
Someone barked directly into her
right ear.

Sarah nearly
jumped out of her skin and jerked the knife, ripping a new hole in her pants.
 
She spun to see Raven snickering.

“I was going to
save you!”
 
Sarah muttered in
annoyance.
 
She tried putting the knife
back in its pocket but the damage was too severe.
 
Muttering some more, Sarah put the weapon on
top of a nearby shelf and turned again to Raven, who was attempting, with
little success, to mask the laughter that bubbled behind her lips.

“These were my best
work jeans.”
 
Sarah wasn’t the least bit
amused by the trick and was starting to slide past the annoyed stage and into
the realm of royally ticked off.
 

“Eh, it won’t be
for long.”
 
Raven’s serenity served only
to irritate Sarah more.

“How do you know
what I will or won’t have?”
 
Sarah almost
shouted, growing hotter by the second.
 
“Some of us don’t have the money you seem to…”
 
Her words trailed off as Raven held the
contract in front of her eyes.
 
In large
red letters the word, annulled, was written with a hastily scribbled Mr. Robert
Jackson, Esquire at the bottom.

Her anger fading
like a summer cloud, Sarah leapt at Raven with joy and wrapped the pale skinned
girl in a giant bear hug.
 
“Thank you,
thank you, thank you!”
 
She kept saying
over and over as Raven tried gently to disengage from the death grip which was
causing oxygen to become a bit of an issue.

When she was
finally released, and after checking for broken ribs, Raven reminded Sarah of
their bet.
 
Sarah nodded
enthusiastically, still giddy over being free of that horrible man.
 
She would have agreed to walk to the moon if
someone had suggested it right then.
  

“I’m guessing you
don’t have a ball gown.”
 
Raven stated
matter-of-factly.
 
Sarah shook her head
and started to say something but was interrupted.
 
“I’ve already got it taken care of.
 
You have an appointment at Lafitte’s Boutique
in half an hour.
 
They know to put
everything on my account and what you’ll need to wear.”

Lafitte’s?
 
Sarah’s knew she heard wrong.
 
That was the single most exclusive shop in
the entire country.
 
The doors remained
locked to everyone except those who were members.
 
Rumors circulated that there was an actual
waiting list and not even belonging to the upper caste assured one of
entry.
 
She had spent hours staring at
the beautiful gowns in the windows when she was younger, before dreams gave way
to reality.
 

“How do you have a
membership there?”
 
Sarah knew she shouldn’t
be surprised by anything at this point but some things were just too strange.

Raven whistled
mysteriously.
 
“The great thing about
becoming friends is that we’ll get to learn new things about each other all the
time.
 
Now wash up.
 
Even if you have an appointment they won’t
let you in the door looking like a beggar.”

Sarah stepped
inside to rinse away the morning’s toil.
 
When she returned, Raven was leaning into the front window of the car
they rode in last night, talking to the driver.
 
Raven waved her over and said that everything was ready.

“Why can’t I just
walk?
 
Sarah wondered.

“Because it would
take to long.” Raven held open the back door and pushed it shut once Sarah was
safely in.

With an attitude
of acceptance rapidly developing after the strange happenings over the last 24
hours, Sarah had to shrug.
 
What was a
trip to an exclusive boutique after everything else she’d seen?
 
“You had time to stop by and set up an appointment
for me after you went to Mr. Jackson’s?”

“No.
 
I set up the visit before I came by this
morning.”
 
Raven told her.

“How did you know
I’d agree?”

“Because you’re a
good person and wouldn’t force me to go alone.”

Sarah felt herself
becoming agitated by the conversation.
 
“If you were so sure, then why make the bet?”

“Cause if we
hadn’t bet you wouldn’t have told me where to find your former landlord.”
 
Raven patted the roof of the car with two
muffled bangs.
 
“I’ll meet you there at
six o’clock sharp.
 
I have some more
business to finish up but Bodie will take good care of you.”

The car started to
drive away but slammed to a stop as Sarah leaned out of the window. “I just
have one more question.
 
How did you get
Mr. Jackson to agree to end the contract?”

Raven gave a coy
smile.
 
“I just paid him two months rent
and batted my eyes a little.”

Why don’t I
believe that?
 
Sarah asked herself as the
car turned left onto the main street towards the upper class section of the
city.

           
Across
town in the offices of Robert Jackson and Son’s Real Estate, Mr. Robert
Jackson, Esquire sat staring at a bag of gold coins on top of his desk, still
shaken by the morning’s events.
 
He
couldn’t believe it but the girl proved who she was and now worry was gnawing
at his stomach.
 
It was one thing to
bully the poor in this town; he even paid a small stipend to the Protectorate
to get away with some of the less than completely legal tactics he
employed.
 
To cross paths with a member
of THAT family was begging for trouble though.
 
Worse still he had threatened her.
 

Mr. Jackson
brushed a hand over his face to wipe away the sweat.
 
Despite the loss of a reasonably valuable
contract, he felt that never seeing either of those girls again would be more
than worth it.

CHAPTER
3: RICH AND FAMOUS

           
“I don’t wanna go!”
 
The girl screamed in the silence of the
chamber.
 
 
 

           
“Stupid balls.
 
Stupid dresses.
 
I’m gonna be bored to tears!
 
Just because you want to know something about
the stupid Prime Minister.”
 
The redhead
was yelling at a picture of a beautiful olive skinned woman with the name
“Elspeth” on the gold plaque.
 
She kicked
the wall under the portrait and started hopping around on one foot while
rubbing her injured toe.

           
Suddenly she spun around and pointed
a finger at the shadow which seemed to pulse with anticipation, “And you stay
back there or so help me there will be consequences.”

           
The shadow shrunk backwards and the
girl continued her ranting.

           
The
blacksmith got out of the car and stared for a moment at Lafitte’s Boutique.
 
The two story building was built with blocks
of granite and had no dirt or grime that she could see.
 
Four pillars at the top of a short flight of
stairs leading to the entrance supported a second level balcony with an
intricately carved railing.
 
Six broad
windows, three on either side of the main stairs, boasted the most glorious and
expensive looking outfits she’d ever seen.
 
Two armed guards, both wearing identical perfectly pressed uniforms,
were stationed at the front door.
 
Glinting in the warm spring sunlight, the entire building sparkled like
a rare and flawless jewel.
 

As she stood
gawking, forgetting entirely why she was supposed to be there, a recognizable
figure exited a long black car, striding up the steps and saying something
indistinguishable to the guards.
 
Sarah
looked down at her tattered old jacket as she fidgeted with her necklace,
trying to remember where she had seen the increasingly agitated woman before.
 
The guards calmly maintained their stance in
front of the door, refusing to acknowledge the woman wearing the bright yellow
dress as she shrieked in their faces.
 
Finally accepting defeat the woman turned and stormed back down the
steps to the waiting car.
 
As she got a
good look at the lady’s features, Sarah recognized her as the mayor of
Vestavia’s wife, one of the most popular women in town according to the
newspaper’s Society section.
 
She’d often
wondered what it would be like to attend one of the lavish parties held at
their estate.

“What am I doing
here?”
 
Sarah said, trying to talk
herself out of this adventure.
 
“I think
Raven’s trying to pull one over on me and I should just go home before I get
arrested for being a derelict.”

But, remembering
that she lost the bet, Sarah marched towards the boutique with grim
determination.
 

Reaching the two
guards Sarah fully expected them to immediately threaten her, or at least look
down their noses.
 
The one on the left
just blankly requested that she show them her membership card.
 

At least they’ll
be polite when they toss me on the side of the road, Sarah figured.
 
“My name is Sarah Petty.
 
Raven White set me up an appointment for this
afternoon.”

As the guard on
the left examined a sheet of paper pulled from inside his jacket, Sarah took a
second to examine them.
 
Both wore
Protectorate dress uniforms.
 
Identical
maroon jackets with black pants and black boots so polished they could easily
be used as mirrors.
 
Wool caps covered
their ears and hair, making color indeterminable.
 
They also carried swords at their sides; not
the flimsy kind of weapons worn by other Protectorate men in their finest.
 
These swords, she noticed with a trained eye,
were meant for business.
 
These guards
weren’t simply here to impress people.
 
They were here for protection.

The guard checking
his list interrupted her study.
 
“Yes,
Ms. Petty.
 
We’ve been expecting
you.”
 
He nodded to the guard on the
right, who produced a key and slid it into a lock.

“Please enjoy your
visit ma’am.”, said the guard who unlocked the door.
 
He politely held it open while Sarah stepped
inside and was promptly struck dumb.

She had never seen
the inside of Lafitte’s before.
 
The
windows where they showcased the latest fashions were backed by white walls so
the interior couldn’t be seen from the street.
 
The door she entered through was thick cherry wood and had no windows at
all.
 
Everywhere Sarah turned to look,
she saw something more expensive and amazing than she ever dreamed
possible.
 
A marble staircase in the
center of the room lead to the second floor and several large glass cases
filled with what she bet was priceless jewelry took over the entire right side
of the store.
 
There were maybe ten
people she could see meandering through the displays.
 
A pink dress, worn by a mannequin the size of
a small child, caught her eye and she ran her fingers softly over the silk
material.
 
Gossamer ribbons tied at the
back and three diamonds, each a quarter of an inch in diameter, were used in
place of buttons.
 
Out of curiosity Sarah
looked for a price tag, but found none.
 
Just then, a voice greeted her from behind.
 
She spun around, embarrassed without really
understanding why.
 

The lady who
greeted her was absolutely gorgeous.
 
Rich brown hair was piled atop her head in what at first looked to be in
total disarray but in truth was immaculately coifed.
 
The make-up was perfect, hiding any
blemishes, which Sarah doubted were numerous if not flat out non-existent,
without being garish or heavy.
 
The
saleslady wore a tight brown skirt with a white shirt with small ruffles down
the middle.
 
Brown stockings and heels
that were both fashionable and comfortable finished the look of a woman with
taste but a job to do.
 
Sarah, who hadn’t
worn make-up in two years that she could remember, felt very drab next to this paragon
of grace.

“I’m Sarah
Petty.”
 
She finally stammered after
collecting her thoughts.
 
“I have an appointment.”

“You’re Raven’s
friend, right?
 
She told me that you’re
attending the ball with her tonight.
 
My
name is Veronica.”

Sarah smiled
sheepishly, still feeling completely out of place.
 
“I wouldn’t say friends, really.
 
We just met yesterday but she won a bet and I
have to go to this party with her.”

The brunet gave a
friendly chuckle.
 
“Count yourself
lucky.
 
I lost a bet to her last time she
visited and I had to sing the Valentria anthem in front of everybody.
 
I was so embarrassed.”

The two girls
shared laughter before the saleswoman wrapped her arm in Sarah’s and led her to
the stairs.
 
“Have you had lunch
yet?”
 
She asked, to which Sarah shook
her head no.
 
“Oh good.
 
Our chef has prepared veal medallions
simmered in a lobster sauce, with a blue cheese salad and boysenberry dressing
as a side.”

“I can’t afford to
eat here.”
 
Sarah explained as they
reached the top of the stairs and turned left, the fact that customers who came
to buy clothes sometimes sat down to a five star meal not really surprising in
the world of wealth she currently found herself transported to.

Veronica told her
that it was all part of the package deal and that she wouldn’t need to pay a
dime as they entered wide double doors.
 
Eight tables sat in two rows of four, unlit candles in the middle of
each.
 
Wide bay windows allowed in
sunlight and the plush green carpeting was soft enough that Sarah felt a
difference between it and the marble floor even in her heavy work boots.
 
A young man, probably only a year or two
younger than Sarah, greeted them both with a smile.

“Stan, this is Ms.
Petty, Raven’s friend that we were told to expect.”
 
The sandy haired server bowed graciously as
Sarah asked that she just be called Sarah.

“May I take your
coat, Sarah?”
 
Stan reached for the garment.
 
As he placed it over a nearby coat rack,
Veronica turned a sharp eye to their guest.

“Sarah, I need to
measure you, if you don’t mind.”
 
The
blonde girl nodded and the brunet placed her hands on Sarah’s hips, moved them
up to her shoulders then produced a pad and pen from some invisible pocket and
jotted down numbers before looking at Sarah again.
 
“Raven says that you’re a blacksmith,
right?”
 

Sarah started to
feel anxious again and wondered if now these people were going to make fun of
her.
 
“Yes I am.
 
Does that matter?”

Veronica smiled, “Well
of course it does.
 
You see, many of the
women who shop here rarely get any form of exercise.
 
At Lafitte’s we strive to accentuate a
person’s natural beauty rather than just provide expensive garments.
 
In your case, I could tell by the tightness
of your hips that you’re in shape.
 
Since
you’re a blacksmith, your arms will be well toned.
 
Add in the fact you have flawless skin, I
think that an opened back gown will be the most appropriate for tonight.
 
Maybe something dark blue to go with your
eyes.”
 

Sarah nodded
slowly.
 
“You’re very good.”

The saleswoman
took the compliment graciously, “I’m expected to be.
 
Everyone who works here is trained with the
idea of perfect comfort for our guest.
 
Although, to let you in on a little secret, Raven requested that I take
care of you this afternoon.
 
She seemed
to think our personalities would get along well.”

The blonde girl
smiled and stuck out her hand, “Well I’m glad that Raven has such good taste,
Veronica.”

The brunet shook
the offered hand firmly and said, “So am I, Sarah.
 
Now I’ll let Stan take care of you for the
next forty-five minutes or so while I go get everything ready.”
 
With that, Veronica turned and left the
dining room as Stan escorted Sarah to her seat.

Stan showed Sarah
to a table near the balcony were she could look out over the street.
 
One group of children was having a water gun
fight at one end, while a different group seemed to be playing hide-and-seek at
the other.
 
The chair she was sitting on
was the softest leather she had ever encountered.
 
Warm to the touch, in molded to her body
perfectly.
 
Stan asked her what she would
like to drink and with a smile, Sarah said she didn’t think they had any sweet
tea in the back.
 
The server nodded and
disappeared to the back for a moment, reappearing with a large glass of amber
liquid and a basket of warm croissants.

           
Sarah
gingerly took a sip of tea, surprised it was iced but still expecting it to be
unsweetened.
 
She was happy to realize
that not only was it sweet but that it was also the best tea she had ever
drank.
 
“I didn’t think fancy places like
this would have sweet tea.”
 
She mused
out loud, forgetting for a moment that Stan was standing right next to the
table.

           
“We
only make it when Raven comes in.
 
She’s
very insistent on having it.”
 
He
explained.

           
The
woman at the table sat her glass down and peered at him for a moment.
 
“Can you tell me anything at all about her,
Stan?”

           
“Not
much, I’m afraid.”

           
“Oh,
right.
 
You’re probably sworn to some
kind of secrecy by the store.
 
Sorry I
asked.”

           
Stan
laughed, “No, nothing like that.
 
It’s
just that there isn’t anything much to tell.
 
Raven and her sisters come in at least once a month.
 
Sometimes their mother comes with them but
that’s pretty rare, usually about twice a year.”

           
“What
about her friends?
 
I’m sure she’s
brought them in before.”
 
Sarah took
another sip of tea and buttered two pieces of bread, offering one to Stan.

           
The
server politely declined but continued the conversation, “Not in the two years
I’ve been working here, she hasn’t.
 
It’s
always struck me as being a little odd, honestly.”