“And the woman who was wearing them? Uh, the Mad and Irate Witch of Whatserville? What’s her gig?” Wanda asked with a frown.
“The Mildly Irritated Witch of the East, darlin’,” Brenda corrected. “She’s my big sister, by the by. Got downright snockered on some thistleberry wine at the winter ball last week and stole the daggone shoes. Can you even imagine the hootin’ and hollerin’ over that scandal?”
“The horror,” Nina groused, brushing her many layers of yellow skirt out of the way of her long legs.
“Exactly!” Brenda agreed, punctuating her point with her wand. “Any ol’ way, she put ’em on and took off. Couldn’t find her anywhere! Musta been holed up with that cute blacksmith she was chattin’ up at the ball. Knew I should have checked there first.”
“Again, I ask, why me? What in my aura says I can’t be a fairy godmother, too?”
Brenda’s shoulders, covered in poofy material, collapsed. “Because your aura’s plain miserable, Red. Getting to the castle is the key to your happiness. Ya gotta trust ol’ Brenda on this. You need a happily-ever-after like a good southern girl needs her pearls and pumps.”
Perfect. She was so pathetic, so pitiable, even some shoes thought she needed a happily-ever-after.
Speaking of sisters and shoes, Toni gathered the courage to ask the question she dreaded the most as she finally looked to her left at the woman who lie in a lump under a snow-topped bush with red berries. Her body was tucked into a loose ball, the red and gold skirt of her ball gown flowing behind her.
Horror and shame washed over her that she’d waited this long into her conversation with Brenda before she’d asked after her sister.
“I’m sorry about your mediocre sister. Or whatever her name is. I would never hurt someone. Did I…kill her?” She gulped, holding her breath and crossing her fingers.
Brenda reached out a perfectly manicured hand and tweaked the tip of Toni’s nose. “Don’t be silly, Punkin’. She’s just passed out cold. I’ll give her some hair of the troll and she’ll be fresh as a little ol’ daisy in the time it takes you to say goober, and then she’s hittin’ fairy godmother rehab. On that you can count.”
Toni inhaled a shuddering breath. Thank God. “Okay, so let’s address this happily-ever-after then. I don’t care what my aura says, I’m good, really. I’m about as happy as I’ve ever been. So if you could just use your magicthingamajiggy and poof us to the castle, I’ll give the king his shoes and we’ll ask him to send us home and roll on outta here. That work?”
She used to be a pretty good negotiator in her old life in Jersey. Ask anyone at the flea market. She was infamous for talking the sock guy down on his prices. There was no reason she couldn’t be one here in Shamalot.
Brenda’s eyes, ringed by blue eye shadow and curly lashes, widened in reproach. “I can’t do that. It’s against the cotton-pickin’ rules, and it’s all kinda bad manners to ask me to just zap you on outta here. That’s an abuse of power I ain’t willin’ to touch, sister. The realm has rules, and if I break ’em, I’ll upset the balance of order. You have to make the journey to happiness on foot, and your gal-pals here are your guides.”
“Point of contention?”
Brenda looked confused as she cocked her head, her hair cascading over her shoulder. “A what? Speak English at me, Red.”
“Why is it just me who needs a happily-ever-after and none of them? I don’t want to throw anyone under the bus, but how did I get the kewpie doll? And I hate to be petty, but why does everyone get wings but me?”
“The answer’s simple—because you’re not a fairy godmother and they’re already happy.”
Toni’s shoulders slumped as her head throbbed. “But I’m telling you, I am happy.”
Mostly. Sometimes. Happiness was subjective, and if she wasn’t exactly skipping through fields of sunflowers, at least she wasn’t being held someone’s terrified hostage. It was as close to happy as she’d been in a long time.
“Now, now, Red,” she chastised. “No one gets to the realm if they’re shootin’ rays o’ sunshine outta their butts. It was you who wished you were anywhere but that outlet mall, wasn’t it? Somethin’ ain’t right in your life, and it’s gotta be fixed or you can’t ever leave Shamalot. You wished for it, you got it. The realm knows your heart, and there ain’t no foolin’ it. This is your journey.”
Her stubborn streak, the one that had saved Stas killing from her, kicked in. “Okay then, what if I refuse to go on the journey?”
“Then I guess you’d better see a man about rentin’ yourself one of those cute little cottages over yonder and settin’ up housekeepin’ for life. Oh, I know just the person, too! Sweet as peach pie on a summer day. You want his card?”