A/N: As my lovely editor (you know who) said, "You asked for it... here it is." I hope you enjoy it. It isn't nearly as good as the prequel, but I like it anyway.
Disclaimer: I can take most of the credit for this story, but without the Grimm Brothers there would be no "Once Upon a Frozen Lasgana." I didn't write the original Cinderella.
Chapter One: Christmas in Suburbia
CYNDI
My fear of flying had not been subdued in the more than three years since Dad and Hedwig's plane had gone down in Georgia. It had taken loads of encouragement from Gail, Robi, Beth, and Jimmy to get me on a plane the first time, when I left for culinary school in Paris back in August. When December came around, Gail sent me plane tickets as an early Christmas present and said I had to come right away to spend Christmas and News Years with her. As much as everyone rattled on and on about Paris at Christmas, it was Christmastime in suburbia that got me on the plane after just a few coaxing phone calls from the people back home. Thinking about Applewood, New York sprinkled with snow and twinkling lights and my adoptive mother's sweet potato pie made the ferocious-looking Atlantic Ocean seem a little less antagonizing. Sure, I could cook alright, but it was Gail's cooking that averted my mind from the water that wanted to swallow our 747 whole.
The plane landed at LaGuardia Airport after a seven hour flight from Paris. The first face I saw when I got off was Gail's. Before I knew it, I was being suffocated by a tangle of arms, bags, and 50 polyester sweatshirts. "Oh!" Gail exclaimed, holding me at arm's length. "Look at you! Five months is way too long, Cynthia Ann!"
I smiled. "I know. I missed you so much. And I ---" It was then that I noticed what was missing from the picture. Searching the groups of people hugging, kissing, laughing, and crying, there was one face I knew would stand out from the others. "Gail? Where's Robi? Isn't he coming?"
"Did you check your bags, hon, or is this it?" She examined my tote bag and rolling suitcase as though they were the most important things on the planet.
I tried to catch her eyes, but she wouldn't look directly at me. "What is it?"
She seemed unusually sad and continued to avert my eyes. "Let's go. I'll tell you in the car. Not here." Gail reached for my hands and pulled me with her toward the exit. I went willingly, but I couldn't help but feel that something awful was going to happen once we left the airport.
Gail, a true New Yorker, whistled with her two fingers in her mouth to hail a cab. The driver loaded my suitcase into the trunk and the two of us settled into the backseat. I knew to buckle my seatbelt first thing because I knew she wouldn't say a word until I did so. Her motherly instincts always took over in transportation vehicles. "Now will you tell me what happened to him?" I asked, unable to mask my eagerness and impatience to find out.
She picked up her purse and began shuffling anxiously through its contents. I knew it wasn't good news because Gail always had to keep her hands busy when she was nervous. "It's not what happened to him, Cyndi. You see, the reason he didn't come to the airport was because he got an e-mail from Orminia yesterday." She looked up at me to make sure I was following. I nodded for her to continue. "His mom said that he needed to come right away because his dad is really sick. He had a stroke and he isn't doing so great."
I was silent for a minute, contemplating what this meant. "If Guitar Guy's dad is dying then that means…" I looked up to Gail for reassurance, for some more information that would prove me wrong. She didn't have any to give me. "Oh! Poor Robi! He hasn't even graduated yet. He's barely twenty. He must be devastated."
She nodded. "Queen Szuszanna thought it would be best if he came home."
"I'm texting him," I told her, taking out my cell phone. I really wanted there to be more to the story. I wanted him to tell me that King Istvan wouldn't die, that he wouldn't have to become king of Orminia all of a sudden, and that he would be home in time to spend Christmas and New Years with Gail and me. If I'm this scared, how's he taking this?
Cyndi: i heard. how's it goin
Robiur home? srryi'm not there.
Cyndi: it's ok. when did u leave?
Robi: 2 hrs ago. i'll be in Tsepadub soon.
Cyndi: call me when u get there, k?
Robi: sure.
I closed my phone and Gail raised her eyebrows, her way of asking a question without using any actual words. "He's not there yet," I said, "so he couldn't tell me anything."
She squeezed my shoulder. "I'm sorry he can't be here, but we'll have a great Christmas, just the two of us, you'll see."
I knew that Gail and I were more than capable of celebrating Christmas alone and having it be wonderful, but I wasn't quite willing to acknowledge the fact that he wouldn't be sharing it with us. What was Christmastime in suburbia without Guitar Guy? "Miracles happen at Christmastime," I offered hopefully. "He might still show up."
Gail shrugged. "Anything is possible, I guess."
BREAK
I presented the mayor of New York City with a bowl of my very best mashed potatoes and gravy. He tasted it, made a funny face, and spit it out in my face. "You can't cook if Guitar Guy's not here," he said, matter-of-factly. I nodded sadly as I realized it was probably the truth.
Brrmmhbrrmmhbrrmmh…brrmmhbrrmmhbrrmmh
I sat up in bed with a start. I wasn't in New York City at all, but in my bedroom, surrounded by furniture that tended to be less judgmental than most politicians. From outside I could hear Will Hoffman, who lived across the street, revving the motor of his '96 Jeep Cherokee. He was having trouble starting it…again. I felt bad for him. It was cold outside, probably below freezing, and it was no fun to be stuck outside trying to get your car to start at seven-thirty in the morning.
Grateful to be inside where it was nice and warm, I wrapped myself up tighter in my down comforter and tried to go back to sleep.
Brrmmhbrrmmhbrrmmh…brrmmhbrrmmhbrrmmh
A few moments later, when I was just minutes from sleep, the doorbell rang. Gail was one of those people who went all out with homey touches. Before she'd adopted me, I'd been living there for at least thirteen years with people who couldn't have cared less if there were curtains in the windows or matching pillow cases on the beds, but when she moved in (I'd spent too much time trying to stay in this house to move to hers after the adoption) she'd brought doormats, coo-coo clocks, liquid soap dispensers shaped like frogs, and candles that smelled like cinnamon. I wondered if the house had had those sorts of things back before Mom left us. I wondered how I'd ever lived without them and why I'd never made Dad buy them. That morning, however, when the doorbell Gail had installed started playing Beethoven instead of just plain ding-dong, I thanked God for those years without annoying doorbells that awakened me from my beauty sleep.
Gail was a sound sleeper. She probably hadn't even stirred in her bed. So I sat up, stretched, stepped into my fuzzy slippers, put on my robe, and trudged downstairs. Even in my flannel, checkered pajama pants I was shivering. Squinting as the early morning sunshine hit my darkness-accustomed eyes, I opened the door to find a very embarrassed and very cold Will Hoffman standing on the front step.
"Yes?" I asked, trying to keep the usual morning grumpiness from my voice.
"Uh…I didn't wake you up, did I?"
I smiled. His car was dead and I didn't want to make him feel any worse. "No. Blame Michael Bloomberg."
He looked confused. "The mayor? Why?"
I shook my head, still smiling. "Never mind. Are you having car troubles?"
Will adjusted his glasses, trying to look dignified despite the circumstances. "Yeah. It won't start and I've got to be to work in…" He looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes. My mom's on the Hudson with her boyfriend and my girlfriends in California on break, so that leaves you. Sorry."
I nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Don't you work at the Greek restaurant on 29th Street?"
"Yep."
"Can I put on some clothes real quick? You can come inside if you want to. It's freezing out here." He nodded and came inside. He hadn't been in the living room for almost seven years. "I'll just be a minute," I assured him on my way up the stairs, hoping my tone apologized for the awkwardness we both felt.
We were in the car ten minutes later with the heat on full blast, blowing into our cupped hands to keep warm. Gail had bought me a used Volvo for my seventeenth birthday (I learned to drive pretty late in life) because she was always saying they were the safest cars for a teenager. I'd been leaning towards a Miatta for quite some time, but I'd grown to appreciate my little car. It was painted a nice dark blue, was pretty roomy inside, and hadn't needed to go to the shop since Gail bought it for me.
"Sweet ride," my neighbor said, buckling his seatbelt.
I wasn't sure if he was complimenting me or making fun of me. Either way, I would be a good sport about it. "Thanks," I replied, with just enough sarcasm and just enough appreciativeness in my voice to make him think I'd understood what he meant. I had learned that trick in France because I only understood about three words in ten and wanted everyone to get the impression I heard every word they said.
"What year is it?"
"Umm…I thinks it's either a '98 or a '99. I'm not sure. Sure isn't an '07, though. I can tell you that much."
He nodded. "It runs good." Will tapped the dashboard as though giving my Volvo a congratulations love pat for driving so well.
"Yeah. Which is more than you can say for your car."
He laughed. "Tell me about it. That thing's a p.o.s. and everyone knows it."
I pulled up at the restaurant. "Here we are. When do you get off? Will you need a ride?"
With the passenger side door open, so all the cold air came inside the car, he weighed his options for a moment. "If my boss can't take me home, I'll give you a call. How's that?"
"Sure. Just let me know."
As I drove home, I thought about the years when the two of us had played together and I couldn't figure out the real reason why we'd stopped being friends. I'd always thought it was because he'd suddenly gotten weird and started smoking marijuana, but after this car ride, I began to wonder if any or all of that was just rumors I had heard from people at my old high school. He didn't look or act like he was on drugs, and saying that someone was "weird" seemed like such a broad description that I couldn't even remember why I'd labeled him that way. If he'd changed at all, he'd just gotten taller and more attractive. In fact, he reminded me a lot of Superman's cover, Clark Kent. I doubted that Will Hoffman flew or wore blue tights and a red cape, but maybe he could be a journalist. What was he going to college for? I racked my brain, sure that Mrs. Hoffman had told me exactly what he was majoring and minoring in, and suddenly remembered that he was really involved in drama. He acted and sang and stuff like that. Three summers ago, he'd been in The Sound of Music. There was obviously a lot more to the boy who lived across the street than my immature assumptions of him.
BREAK
"Do planes ever get delayed 48 hours?" I asked Gail over breakfast the next morning, as I dipped my sausage link into the pool of syrup flowing off my waffle.
She finished pouring syrup into each one of her waffle's squares. "Forty-eight? I don't think so. Why?"
"Because Robi never called. The plane should have landed by now, wouldn't you think? It's been two days and I'm worried about him."
She considered the question as she stirred her too-hot coffee. "I'm sure he just spaced out," Gail said finally. "I'm sure that he meant to call you."
I rushed up to my room to get the phone out of my charger. When I was charging it, I stuck it in the top drawer of my dresser because the little green, pulsing light was enough to keep me awake when I charged it at night. I dialed his number.
Cyndi: hey
Robicyndi? o. how's it goin'?
Cyndi: alright. happy x-mas eve, eve.
Robi: eve, eve?
Cyndi: yeah, it's the eve of Christmas Eve.
Robi: ok, then. srryi didn't call u yesterday
Cyndi: it's ok. just wanted to make sure u were alright. u r, rn't u?
Robi: shrugs i've been better. but can we talk about this l8er?
Cyndi: yeah, i guess so. bye
Robi: bye
I decided that things weren't good. Things weren't good at all. But was there anything I could do about it? Not unless you can show up in Orminia with a cure for Robi's dad.
Gail knocked on my door and came in. "So?" she asked.
I shrugged. "He was all, 'can we talk later?' and so I said we could. I think it's even worse than I thought."
She sat next to me on the floor at the foot of my dresser. "You haven't forgotten your theory about Christmas miracles already have you?"
I shook my head, though of course I already had.
"Good then. What we'll do is get your mind off this. I'll bet every single person in Orminia is worrying over this, so you don't need to too. Let's go bowling or something. What do you say?"
After thinking for a moment, I remembered somebody who always used to go bowling with me. "Can Will Hoffman come with us?"
Gail looked surprised, but she didn't object to it. "If you want him to, then sure."
BREAK
A/N:
Please Review: )