§ § § -- September 26, 1999
"How did it go?" Roarke asked when Leslie stepped out of the time-travel room and pulled the door shut behind her.
Leslie chuckled. "She wanted to bail out…no real surprise there. Of course, I told her she couldn't. She was complaining about the prince—said he's got one giant ego."
"Ah, I see," murmured Roarke, amused. He reached out for a small potted plant that sat on the desk and fingered a couple of the leaves curiously. "Was she very upset?"
"She seems to be keeping a sense of humor," Leslie observed, crossing the room. "I think I heard her call the wicked queen a cannibal just as I was leaving." That got a laugh from Roarke, and she leaned over to peer at the plant that was holding his attention. "That wasn't here before. Where'd it come from?"
"Rogan brought it over," Roarke said. "This is thyme. He mentioned that Julie has been complaining about the high cost of the herbs and spices she uses in her cooking, and thought he might try growing a few of them himself. I asked if he would mind giving us one or two small pots, for Mariki to use."
"Oh," said Leslie. "Well, in that case, more power to him. I do remember he was looking for something to do so he wouldn't just be freeloading off Julie, spouse or no. And anyway, poor Julie's looking pretty done for these days. For seven months, she sure is big."
Roarke glanced up. "Have you spoken with her lately? It's occurred to me that she would appreciate a little diversion, if you get my meaning."
Leslie thought for a moment, then lit up. "Now that you mention it, this would be a great time to plan a baby shower for her. Thanks for planting the bug in my ear, Father. If it's okay, I'll call my friends and see if we can arrange for them all to come." He nodded, and she picked up the phone and began making calls. Leaving her to her own devices, he arose and carried the little pot down to the kitchen, then dropped into the time-travel room himself and settled onto a tall stool beside a large, heavy mirror with a scrolled frame of dull gold. He had just finished checking his watch when the voice came.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall…who's the fairest of them all?" demanded the queen.
Roarke smiled fleetingly to himself, then said sweetly, "Though fair you are, my dearest queen, none fairer than Snow White can be seen." He winced playfully at the strident shrieks that greeted this pronouncement, but waited till they had faded completely away before he indulged himself in a quiet laugh and left the room.
§ § § -- September 26, 1999
After a decidedly restless night on a twin-sized air mattress in the dwarves' living room, Caroline finally fell into an exhausted sleep just before sunrise, and was thus rudely awakened less than three hours later by the bustling and chattering of her seven hosts. To add insult to injury, she finally got her eyes open enough to see something, only to find herself face to ferocious face with Grumpy. "Get up, you lazy thing," he growled. "Breakfast doesn't last forever, and I've got a potato patch for you to harvest."
"Oh, joy," said Caroline, giving him a saccharine smile. "I'll save all the green parts just for you." Grumpy harrumphed and stalked away, while Happy cackled with delighted laughter, Dopey scratched his head in puzzlement and Doc rolled his eyes with disapproval. Sleepy yawned, triggering a like reaction in the still-drowsy Caroline, and Sneezy and Bashful looked at each other and grinned. Caroline struggled off the air mattress, shook out her skirt and padded toward the kitchen to inspect the breakfast fare, feeling like Gulliver in Lilliput. "Wow. Belgian waffles?"
"You like those?" Bashful asked, looking shyly delighted. "Everybody here loves them. Except Grumpy, of course."
"Of course," agreed Caroline and snickered. Bashful filled a plate, and she settled onto the floor near the table and dug in with gusto. Grumpy was shoveling down a bowlful of cold cereal, but the other dwarves were greatly enjoying Bashful's cooking.
Caroline offered to do dishes after breakfast, earning a grateful smile from both Sneezy and Bashful. "Thanks for the assistance," Sneezy said, whipping out a handkerchief and letting loose five rapid sneezes into it, one right on the heels of another. He gave her a sheepish look and shrugged. "Well, we gotta head for work."
"On a Sunday?" Caroline exclaimed.
"We get time and a half," said Sleepy, "and we need it. The property taxes on this place are astronomical. Well, come on, fellas." He headed for the door, and the other dwarves followed him out. Bashful, the last to leave, cast a quick glance back at Caroline over his shoulder.
"Don't let in any strangers," he cautioned, then scuttled out.
Caroline pondered that for a few minutes while she gathered the breakfast dishes and started water running in the sink. "I guess it's okay to let in the evil cannibal queen, then, since I know her," she mused. After all, that's what was supposed to happen anyway. So she supposed that, technically, she wasn't disobeying Bashful's word. The queen would be in disguise, but everybody knew the old apple-selling hag was Queen Nasty anyway: so that still didn't make her a stranger. Satisfied, Caroline washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen, then headed out to Grumpy's potato patch and surveyed it with distaste.
"Well, good morning, sweetie-pie," she heard a voice nearby say, and looked around. Sure enough, a wizened elderly woman stood just inside the picket fence, large basket over one arm and a gap-toothed grin splitting her face in two. "How are you this morning?"
"Can't complain," said Caroline, taking in the visitor and thinking how eager the queen must be to do her in, to show up this early. "You?"
"Ah, my health could be better…arthritis and osteoporosis and…" The old woman caught herself. "Oh, but you don't want to hear about all that, do you now? Matter of fact, I'm sure you'd rather hear all about my nice shiny apples. Come and take a look, sweetie-pie. They're the very best I could pick." She unhooked the basket from her arm and held it out in display at Caroline, who meandered over to peer under the lid. Sure enough, it was filled with tempting apples. She started to reach inside, but the crone snatched the basket back. "Oh, no. These come at a price. Ten pfennigs apiece."
Caroline eyed her. "Is that a lot?"
"Why, hardly," the old woman said, looking offended. "You won't find better prices for apples anywhere else in the kingdom. And I'll have you know that the queen is my very best customer. What better endorsement could you ask for than that?"
Caroline privately reflected that she'd sooner trust an endorsement from Dracula, but refrained from saying so. "Well, I don't know. Bashful had some gorgeous apples yesterday, actually. I don't know where he got them, but I think it's a safe bet that it wasn't from you."
"Mine are far better," the old woman boasted, "and that's a promise. Look, if it'll help persuade you, I'll give you a free sample. Let me see, which is the best one?" She rummaged around in the basket, lifting out several apples, inspecting each and dropping them back in before coming up with a brilliant-red specimen. "Now, look at that, sweetie-pie. Isn't it just beautiful? I bet you've never seen such a red, red apple in your entire life. Here, take a bite." She held the fruit out to Caroline, who gingerly plucked it from the old woman's fingers and turned it around and around, inspecting it thoughtfully. She noticed a small dark spot on one side of the apple, and at that moment remembered Leslie's tip from the day before to bite from the bruised side.
"Hmm," Caroline murmured thoughtfully, "this really does look tasty. All right, I'll try it, but I warn you now, if it's mushy, you're losing the sale." And she took a big bite from the apple, taking great care to ingest the bruised part. The old hag watched closely, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
She's waiting for me to drop dead, Caroline realized. I hope my high-school drama classes weren't a total waste. She chewed the apple slowly, pretending to savor it, then swallowed noisily and smirked at the old crone in satisfaction. "Not bad, lady, not too bad," she remarked. "But I…" She stopped, gasped, clutched her stomach, let out the most agonized moan she could conjure up, and then collapsed in a heap on the grass.
The crone cackled with glee. "She's dead, finally, that wretched little brat is dead!" the queen's voice sang out, as if she figured she no longer needed to bother disguising her voice. "Now that miserable mirror will start telling me what I want to hear. At least it better, or else I'm going to smash it, seven years of bad luck be damned. Gotta get back to the old castle and celebrate!" Laughing maniacally, the queen departed; Caroline listened till she could no longer hear the slightest trace of the woman's mirth, then opened one eye and squinted down the trail. No one was in sight, so she got to her feet, picked up the dropped remains of the apple and made a face.
"I better keep this. It could be evidence," she decided and retreated into the house, where she carefully placed the apple atop the refrigerator before returning to the potato patch and digging out exactly eight potatoes. Grumpy would have to pay her before she pulled up any more, she decided, carrying them in and scrubbing them in the sink, poking a few holes in each, wrapping them in aluminum foil and popping them into the oven. She then turned her energies toward the far more enjoyable pursuit of baking sugar cookies. And that was what the dwarves walked in on when they came home for lunch.
Grumpy, in the lead as usual, stopped so abruptly that all six of his companions bumped into him like so many dominoes. "Gee, Grumpy, how come you did that?" Dopey asked, sounding truly perplexed.
"Are you blind as well as dumb?" Grumpy shot back. "Look who's taken over our kitchen!" He turned and glared at Caroline, who stared back in amazement as he hollered, "You were supposed to die this morning, you fool female! What's the big idea, messing up the schedule that way? You realize that stupid prince will never come around and kiss you and take you away? Now we're stuck with you!"
"Maybe we oughta poison her ourselves," suggested Doc. "I've got some great stuff in my bag that oughta do the trick."
Caroline finally lost her temper and snapped, "Hey, you bloodthirsty midgets, can it! I don't care if that moron of a prince never comes back. Who'd want that strutting ostrich kissing them anyway?"
"You sure had eyes for him yesterday morning," Happy said, giggling.
"Yeah, till he opened his fat mouth," Caroline retorted, disgusted. "Just for that, Doc and Grumpy, I'm gonna ask Bashful to make sure you don't get supper—never mind having any of my cookies. I bet the cannibal queen came to you two little old goats and had you make up the poisoned apple." She grabbed the fruit in question off the top of the fridge and brandished it at them, taunting, "Want a bite?"
"I'll have you arrested if you make me eat that thing," Grumpy yelled.
Caroline sneered at him, "Go ahead and try it, you little creep!"
"Hey, knock it off," ordered Sleepy. "I want my lunch, and then I want a nap. No more yelling—it's keeping me awake."
"Baked potatoes for all," Caroline said curtly. "Except Doc and Grumpy, that is. I'm not cooking for any dopey dwarf who wants me dead."
"Hey," protested Dopey, looking wounded, "I don't want you dead, they do." He pointed at the two miscreants, who both glared at him.
Caroline sighed. "I didn't mean you," she began, then threw her hands in the air and gave up. "Help yourselves, guys. There's butter for the spuds, but I couldn't find any sour cream or chives, sorry." She yanked a batch of cookies out of the oven and began scraping them off the cookie sheet with a spatula.
"Don't worry about them, Miss White," Dopey said in what he probably thought was a comforting voice. "They're just having a bad day."
"Geez," Caroline muttered under her breath, rolling cookie dough into balls for the next batch. Chair legs scraped across the floor as the dwarves took seats, and Caroline cast them a narrow-eyed look. Doc seemed unconcerned about his potato, but Grumpy sat there inspecting his. Rats, and I forgot to give him one with green spots.
Then, out of nowhere, Bashful winked at her, just before digging into his potato. Her eyes widened, and she stared long enough to see his quick smile before he broke their gaze. She grinned to herself, returning her attention to the cookies. It looked as if she had found the ally Leslie had told her about.
