Mother looks downward. “Gillian, you know business has been slow.”
“That doesn’t mean magic hasn’t found its way to our boot!” I try to sugarcoat everything for my brothers and sisters. “Look what I found near the Pegasus stables this afternoon.” I pull the comb out of my pocket and they gasp. “It practically begged to be rescued.” Anna reaches out to touch the golden comb as if she can’t believe it’s real. “I guess it was meant for you.”
“Someone dropped it,” Anna says, being her noble self. “We should find the owner.”
“Nonsense!” I put the comb in her open palm. “Finders keepers, losers weepers. Isn’t that what Hamish says?” Anna doesn’t look convinced. “I asked one of the stable guys if he knew whose it was,” I improvise. “He didn’t and said I should keep it.”
Anna’s face lights up. “Really?” Mother smiles as Anna uses the comb to pull her curls to one side. She runs to the small mirror near the door. “It’s so pretty! Thank you, Gilly!”
I’m about to say “You’re welcome” when I hear the lock turn. Father is home. My siblings hurry across the creaky floorboards and stand near the front door. Mother brushes off her apron and Anna jumps to her place next to her. We all line up like we’re a processional at a ball. “Hello, Father,” we say as if on autopilot. Mother does too.
“Family,” Father says as he hands Mother his hat and cloak to hang up. The smell of shoe polish radiates off him like stinky perfume. “Are we ready to eat?”
“Yes,” Mother says. “You can go in first and I’ll feed the children after.”
I bite my lip. Father always gets to eat alone and takes the biggest portion. Mother says he needs his strength and quiet after working so hard. I hear Han’s stomach growl.
“Okay,” Father says, stopping to ruffle my brothers’ heads and kiss Trixie and Anna. When he sees me, he freezes. “Gillian.”
“Father.” I bow my head. The two of us are not on the best of terms these days. He’s tired of getting visits from Pete, and I’m tired of us going hungry. Neither of us is willing to budge.
He’s barely squeezed his way past us to get to the kitchen when we hear the knock at the door. Anna and I lock eyes, and my stomach drops. My brothers and Trixie look at me. I pretend to fluff pillows on the couch. Dust appears in the air from where I hit a pillow.
“Felix, please get the door.” Father squeezes past us all again to greet our visitor.
I try to stay calm. There is no way I was trailed. But the door creaks open and my worst fears are confirmed: there are Pete and Olaf. Pete walks in without being invited. Olaf is so huge he has to duck his bald head under the rafters. I’m not even sure he’s going to fit in the room. We all move back so they can squeeze in. I try to appear cool and aloof.
Father reaches for Pete’s hand and shakes it. “Good to see you, Peter. Olaf.”
“Hi, Hal,” Pete says solemnly. Olaf grunts. “Sorry to bother you this late in the evening. Are those work boots I ordered almost finished?”
He’s here about a boot order! I relax and almost chuckle. I’m so paranoid.
“Yes, should be done by tomorrow.” Father bows. I feel my cheeks flush. Father believes commoners must bow to law enforcement because they work for royals. We are at the bottom of the barrel. Father has always believed a person’s class in life is their class. You can’t change it. You shouldn’t want to change it. All you can do is respect it.
I totally disagree.
“I wish I could say that’s the only reason I’m here,” Pete says and looks right at me. “Good evening, Gillian. How was your day?”
“Nice, Pete,” I say. “Have you gotten taller?”
He grimaces.
Father glares at me. The only sound is our cuckoo clock. “What has she done?”
“Of course you’d take his side,” I mutter under my breath. Father may not warm to me the way he does to a hot cinnamon bun, but I still hate letting him down.
“Have you given me reason to think otherwise, Gillian?” he asks. Father is a tall man, as tall as Olaf, but unlike Olaf, he looks tired. Working fourteen-hour days in that shoe shop and then coming home to six kids will do that to a person, I suppose. “First it was that pocket watch you took from the King’s page, then it was the book from Belle’s library—”
“Borrowed,” I correct him. “Belle said that was a library, so I borrowed a book. I was going to bring it back.”
Maybe.
Father rubs his forehead. “I don’t know what to do with you anymore.” He looks at Pete for backup. “All I do for this child and it’s never enough.”
“If it were enough, Mother wouldn’t have trouble putting dinner on the table every night,” I jump in, unable to contain my anger. “Too bad we can’t eat shoe leather.”
“That’s enough!” Father’s voice starts to rise.