Page 73 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part Two

“What would you like?”

She thought about it for a time and said, “A dress.”

Cinderella’s grin spread across her beautiful face and made Baba Yaga feel like she was lucky to have come across the sad stranger. “I would love to design a dress for you. You will tell me what would make you feel even more beautiful than you are and I will make that dream come true. Um. Just as soon as I have the resources.”

“You won’t forget.” It sounded like a warning.

“I won’t forget,” Cinderella pledged.

“Spend the night. Tomorrow is the first day of your real life.”

Many influential fae had come to know Baba Yaga so that there was no trust barrier when she recommended a new party planner. Within a short time, Cinderella had a store front in the posh part of Grand market. The space had come with a fine apartment upstairs.

She didn’t miss her husband or the court ladies she’d left behind because every day was filled with the excitement of creativity. She soon learned that she was able to form unique visions in her mind, but render them as holographs, magically, so that her clients could preview and tweak her ideas.

It wasn’t long before she’d accumulated the resources to make Baba Yaga a most unforgettable dress. Baby was thrilled. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Where will you wear it?” Cinderella asked.

“Sometimes my patrons invite me to parties. I’ve never gone because I didn’t have the right thing to wear.”

“Baba. I’m so happy I was able to be a part of this dream. Please let me know what party you’re going to attend, and we’ll go together.”

That was the first time Cinderella had seen Baba Yaga smile, and it changed the course of her life. From that day forward she decided she wanted to be the cause behind smiles.

After a time, she realized she had more money than she needed. She didn’t need much because she’d rather work than spend.

One day as she left her shop on the way to a canal palace for a consultation, she encountered a very large man who seemed to be lost.

“Is all well with you, stranger?” she asked.

He looked at her as if he might cry. “Not really. I… Don’t know where I am and I don’t know how I got here.”

That story sounded familiar to Cinderella. On further questioning she suspected that he might be a woodcutter who’dplayed a part in many stories known to humans as fairy tales. How could she not take pity on him?

“I have someplace to be.” She looked at the timepiece she wore attached to a chain around her neck. “But if you wait here, I will help you when I return.”

A couple of hours later Cinderella returned to find the man waiting patiently at the door of her shop and remembered how it felt to have no place to go and no one to see. She returned Baba Yaga’s kindness by giving him a room for the night and asking what skills he possessed. Over unoaked Chardonnay, she encouraged him to talk about working with wood and metal and various other materials, she realized he was an underutilized artist who could be used to bring her visions of parties to life.

“I can use someone like you,” she said. “Tomorrow we’ll find a more suitable place for you to stay, and you’ll begin your new life as a real person.”

Cinderella used most of the profits from her party planning and dress designing business to fund a foundation and build a halfway house.

As time went on, the Lorraine fae came to understand what she was doing. While they knew and liked some of the immigrants who’d settled in their area, their feeling about the community of outsiders was generally negative.

The fae were unaccustomed to change and resistant to new ideas. They were of the opinion that those brought to life in the magic world by human belief were inferior, and even referred to their kind as folklore trash.

Of course, they still came to Cinderella for beautiful clothes and unforgettable events. For all their magical abilities, magic-kind had never distinguished themselves creatively.

On commencement of the second day of Samhain Court, I noticed that Braes Brightgen was at the plaintiff’s table with afae man I didn’t know. He hadn’t acted as counselor for many cases in my court, but had managed to leave a lasting impression as a good-looking guy with a likable manner.

At the defense table was Blythe Merriwether and, the princess, herself, Cinderella. She wasn’t wearing a top knot or a blue gown. Her hair shoulder-length hair was left unbound in the most classic, simple style. She wore denim skinny jeans, black pumps, and a black tailored suit jacket over a white tee featuring Mickey Mouse.

As Lochlan announced the lawsuit, I had to tuck my chin to hide my amusement. When I had myself under control, I looked up at Braes.

“Counsel for the plaintiff. The floor is yours.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Braes said, buttoning his suit coat as he stood. “I’m Braes Brightgen. Representing the Grand, Lorraine property owners association. Here with me is the current president, Duke Falls Blanches.”

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