Cinder Emma

A/N- Some parts of this story are taken from the movie 'Ever After.' If you haven't seen it, go rent it. It ROX! Also, shout out to Nixiy, my first reviewer! Kudos! Reviewing is good!

This chapter is the PG coming through. Nothing major, just a few *cough* choice words.

Chapter Two     Enter Jeremiah

"Emma…Emma….Emma!"

Emma jerked out of her sleep to find her step-mother, Jesimae, staring down at her with a less than pleased expression.

"Cinder Girl, if you're going to stay up late, you have to face the consequences! You have to open the shop, Bernadette has a headache!" Jesimae yelled at her. She reached down and yanked Emma up by her long, red, frizzy hair. "This is the third time this week! Soon you'll be as useless as Wren! Now, go fix breakfast!"

Wincing, Emma made up her bed and got dressed as fast as she could. Humph, she thought. If Bernadette has a headache, then I'm the head of Winslet Cotton Mill. And of course it's my fault she has a 'headache.' She walked down the stairs as quietly as she could, knowing that a slight sound could set Jesimae off. Making her way into the kitchen, she shut the door as silently as the creaky thing would let her. It needs some WD-40.

"Hello, Emma," greeted Camilla, the household maid. Why Jesimae hired a maid, Emma could only guess. They were in financial trouble as it was, but Jesimae felt a need to flaunt money she didn't have.

"Mornin', Cam." Emma set to work preparing breakfast. "How's Isaac and Hanna gettin' along?" Camilla had two children, ages 5 and 12.

"Eh, can't say much either way. Hanna's goin' through the usual pre-teen drama, and Isaac is recovering from the fact that Hanna doesn't wan'ta play with him no more." She held the batter bowl that she was stirring close to her chest. "Ah… to be young again!"

Emma laughed. Cami was one of the only people who could get her cheered up in the mornings. To quote Camilla: "She'd sleep through a hurricane, a forest fire, and a Mill Worker protest if Jesimae'd let 'er."

"Ma'am is in a fine mood this morning, ain't she?" Camilla asked.

Emma snorted. "Yes, my dear sister Bernadette has come down with another horrible headache!"  They both burst into giggles.

"Camilla! Emma! Hurry up with breakfast!" They heard Jesimae shout from the dining room.

"Comin', Miz Carson!" Camilla picked up the food from Emma, put it on a tray, and proceeded into the dining room. "I heard Miz Bernadette come down wit another headache, Miz Carson…"

Emma put on her coat, double checked her pocket for her keys, then set out across the street for Carson's General Store. It was the only main store in town, besides the hardware store, so everybody came to Carson's for their general needs (with the exception of the Winslet's, Winder's elite family).

Turning the doorknob, she stepped inside the cold room. The smell of fabric, food, and many other things hit her nose. The smell of her father. It's kind of a good thing that Bernadette ain't show up around here much, she'd ruin the smell with that fancy perfume a' hers.

Heading behind the counter to count the money in the cash register, she heard a noise from the back room. Frowning, she headed back to counting. A few minutes later, she heard it again. If someone got in here, I'll skin their hides…

Creeping toward the back room, she saw that the door was pried open. Damn it… I told Jesimae we needed a new lock… She snuck around the bags of seed and bolts of cloth so that the thief wouldn't hear her. She reached the door without incident. Gently as possible, she curved her neck around so that she could see out the door.

A man, around 6'0, was saddling up his horse. Using her saddle. The one her father gave her on her 13th birthday, promising to get her a horse as soon as he could. Earl never lived to keep his promise. She narrowed her eyes. This stranger had crossed a line even Bernadette knew was sacred. She reached down as her feet for something to throw. Baseballs; Perfect. Just as the man went to get on his horse, Emma came at him with the force of a dragon.

"How dare you-"

"Ow, I-"

"If you had asked I would have given-"

"Ma'am, I, OW-"

"-Never come back to the store-"

"Let me expl-"

"You don't need to explain a damned thing! You stole-"

"Merely borrowed-"

"Borrowed my ass!"

"Ma'am if you'll let me explain!"

"I told you-"Then Emma realized who he was.

He was Jeremiah Winslet, son of Hank Winslet, who owned Winslet Cotton Mill and half the land in Winder, including Carson's.

"Oh go- um, Mr. Winslet, sir, I- um," She stuttered for a good thirty seconds. "If you'll come inside, sir, I, um, sir, I can get you, um, whatever-"Way to go Emma. Lose the store and get beat by Jesimae.

"Its fine Miss…."

"Emma. Just Emma." She was trying extremely hard not to scream.

"Well, Emma, I must say, your aim is very good," Jeremiah said, rubbing his neck. "But I'm afraid what I really want can't be found in a store."

"Oh, well, um, I'm extremely sorry Mr. Winslet, sir, If there's anything you need, say the word, and-"

"I promise you, there's nothing I need in your store." He mounted his horse. I will return your saddle as soon as I can. Just keep this between the two of us, okay Emma?"

"Yes sir, not a soul will know." As if I would tell Bernadette and Jesimae.

"Good. Keep your promise." With that he handed her a twenty dollar bill and rode off.

Emma stood there in shock. Why in heaven's name would he need her saddle in the first place? The Winslet's owned a farm outside of town, with horses and saddles out the ying-yang. Unless he's runnin' away again…

Jeremiah Winslet had a history of escaping from the Winslet manor, Winslet Perch. Why anybody would run away from the fanciest town in Winder and the county was beyond anybody. Jeremiah was the heir to the Winslet fortune, mill, and house, had free roam all over town, could have anything he wanted at the snap of a finger, but he was not happy. Every single person in Winder wanted to be him. I guess you want the things you've never had.

Emma picked up the scattered baseballs and went back inside the store.

~***~

The rest of the day went relatively well. James Gaston had a bit of a trouble with a broken part on his backhoe; Rachel Hamen needed two bolts of fabric to sew dresses for the Winslet girls, Poppy Freeden had a new grandchild and needed new toys, nothing to out of the ordinary.

As the sun cast its last light on Winder, Emma locked up the store. She sighed as she looked up at the hill where Winslet Perch sat. If only the dear God had been willing…

Turning away, Emma saw old Mr. Cats, a old black man who had walked the streets at sunset for as long as anybody could remember. Mr. Cats wasn't his real name, of course, but he was always accompanied by one or more of his feline friends.

"How's it goin', Mr. Cats?"

"Not as bad as some, not as good as some. And you Miz Emma K.?" He tipped his hat. Mr. Cats was the only person who called Emma anything but Emma. Sometimes it was Emma K., others he called her EC, or E.K.C. She didn't mind though.

"Fairly well. Did you know Miz Poppy Freeden's girl had another baby?"

"Good heaven, they be spittin' 'em out fas'er than chew in July." They both chuckled at this. "You know, Miz EC, not all things are as they seem."

She looked at him. Mr. Cats gave her that knowing look that made him appear to look right through you. "I'm afraid that I-"

"Emma Kathleen Carson! Why aren't you home by now? You know better than to talk to hoodlums like that! Inside, now." Jesimae had come stormin' across the street, a woman on a mission. Emma had to make super, and Bernadette was tired of waiting.

"Comin', Jesimae. G'Bye, Mr. Cats!" Emma called over he shoulder while being drug by Jesimae across the street. Mr. Cats tipped his hat, then went on his way.