“But Cinderella is so girly—”
“It’s got mice and horses and magic,” Darcy reminded her.
“Well, I suppose I could bring them.”
“No. Have your husband bring them. You absolutely have to come with us. We’ll have a girls night out, maybe go for a drink afterward.”
Susan stared, dumbfounded, as if such an activity had never reached even the outer limits of her mind before.
“Mommmm,” the boys cried, shoving up against her. “We’re bored!”
Susan’s shoulders slumped. “All right, boys, let’s go. I want to show you the Life Saving museum.”
“They have videos of shipwrecks there,” Darcy told them.
“Shipwrecks! YAY!” The three boys danced around the room.
Darcy smiled at Susan. “You see, I have good suggestions, don’t I?”
Susan nodded. “All right, I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll knock on your door at six thirty.”
—
Cinderella delighted everyone. Well, probably not Otto, who stormed through the crowds leaving the theater, his three sons trailing behind him like the tail of a kite until he reached his wife.
Because he was in public and Willow stood on one side of his wife and Mimi and Darcy on the other, he attempted a smile as he bellowed, “Okay, you saw your movie with your friends. You must come put these children to bed.”
Before Susan could speak, Mimi said, “We’re taking Susan with us for a little drink.”
“We won’t be long. You can put them to bed yourself, can’t you?” Susan implored.
“I think your sons look more than ready for sleep,” Darcy added, nodding toward Alfred, who was yawning.
“Your boys are so nice,” Willow chirped. “If you’d like, I could babysit for them sometime, so maybe you and Mrs. Brueckner can go out together.”
Otto was clearly flummoxed by the persuasive wall of women facing him.
He wavered, obviously desperate to come up with an argument they couldn’t refute, and Darcy took advantage of his momentary silence.
“So, okay, great. Let’s go, ladies. Bye, guys!” Darcy took Susan’s arm and pulled her away from Otto.
“All right, boys,” Otto ordered. “Let’s walk back to the house. Your mother will be home later.”
“But, Dad,” Alfred protested, “I’m tired. Do I have to walk?”
“It’s only a matter of a few blocks. You’re not a baby.”
“But I’m tired,” Alfred whined.
“Stop sniveling. If you three can walk home without complaining, I’ll let you go to bed without brushing your teeth.” Otto raised his voice as he put forth this proposal, probably in the hope that such rebellion against good parenting would cause Susan to change her mind and rush back to deal with the boys.
But Mimi had taken Susan’s other arm, and as the crowd dispersed, the women hurried across the street and away from her husband and sons.
“Let’s go to Town,” Darcy suggested. “We can sit out on the patio.”
She steered them a short distance from the theater, turning onto a narrow lane paved with Belgian blocks. “I know it’s tricky walking,” she told Mimi, “but we’re almost there.”
“I’m fine,” Mimi insisted. “Willow’s got me.”
They broke into pairs, Darcy and Susan on one side, Mimi and Willow facing them. They were seated at a table, and for a moment, as if they were obeying some natural law, all the women settled in place, gazed up at the night sky, and breathed deeply of the fresh salt air. Nantucket’s harbor was only two streets away.
Susan spoke first. “Thank you for inviting me. I’d forgotten how delightful Cinderella is.”
“That was a charming movie, and very pretty,” Mimi said. “But I have never been a fan of the basic story.”
Darcy sensed a discussion heading down the tracks toward them, so she sided with Susan, wanting to encourage her. “Why not, Mimi? It’s all so adorable—the mice, the fairy godmother, the rags-to-riches story.”
“Because,” Willow cut in, “it’s basically about a woman being rescued by a prince because of her beauty.”
“More than that,” Mimi added, “because of her size. The size of her feet, anyway.”
“I think it’s about magic,” Susan insisted. “We all need a little magic in our lives in order to go on. We all need to believe that what happened to Cinderella could happen to us—not that we’ll be rescued by a prince, but that we can change someday from undervalued housemaids to beautiful princesses—well, okay, not real princesses, there are no princesses in our country, but you know what I mean!”
A waitress arrived, and Mimi took charge. “Three glasses of champagne and an interesting sparkling water for our young friend.” She turned her attention back to Susan. “Did you not see—oh, drat, what was the name of that movie with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere?”
“Pretty Woman,” Willow said.
Susan was shocked. “You have seen Pretty Woman? How old are you?”
“I’m fourteen. So I’ve seen it on DVD. I’m young, but I’m not, like, clueless.”
If you only knew, Darcy thought, thinking of Willow with Logan Smith.
“Still,” Susan persisted, “that movie’s older than you are!”
“But the topic is ageless,” Mimi cut in. “The twist the movie gave it was what Julia Roberts says at the end, something like ‘He rescued me—’?”
“And I rescued him right back!” Willow spoke the words with Mimi.
Mimi and Willow smiled at each other.
“Besides,” Willow continued, “the whole ugly stepfamily is so over. Half my friends are part of blended families, and it’s all good. And look at me, Boyz is my stepfather, but he’s totally cool.”
“Still,” Mimi continued, “the message of being chosen because of your beauty is another age-old message that I’m wishing we could make so over, too.”
“That’s never going to change,” Susan said, pausing as their drinks arrived. “It’s built into our DNA. It’s out of our control. Women will always go for the strong, handsome man, and men will always go for the most beautiful woman. It’s Darwinian law, nature’s way of making certain the strongest survive.”
“Intelligence is part of the mix now,” Mimi argued. “We aren’t cavemen anymore. We’ve learned to make fire; we’ve invented the wheel; and during the past three decades, we’ve started to value the intelligent person, not just the pretty one.”
Susan said. “But men still think with their…”
“Pricks.” Willow whispered the word.