The Cinderella Theorem (19 page)

She poisoned that apple–oh yeah.

“Do
you like the new song?” Tybalt came out of his office, stealthily, like a cat.
(But, I suppose since he
is
a cat, I cannot use “like a cat” to describe
him.)

“Yes,”
I nodded. “It’s got a nice beat.”

Tybalt
swished his tail along with that nice beat. “What can I do for you, Princess?”
He smiled slyly. “Do I need to participate in another lie for you?”

I
ignored his lying reference. “I need a dish of cherry vanilla ice cream to go,
please.”

“Coming
right up,” Tybalt wrote the order down and passed it back into the kitchen. I
looked around while I waited. There were several new paintings on the walls.
Were they Ella’s? I examined them closely. One of them was of a bird. Ella
had
done
several paintings of birds with Miranda. Another painting was a still
life, featuring cleaning supplies: a broom, a mop, and a bucket. Ella
did
like to clean. There was a series of three landscapes depicting what could only
be Ella’s pristine estate.

Tybalt
noticed my interest in the art. “Yes, yes,” he said, coming from behind the
counter with the container of ice cream. “Ella came by on Wednesday to show me
her paintings. She has some quite nice ones. They ought to be in a museum.”

“Really?”
I turned away from the painting called
Alone, I Clean
. “Did she seem
happy to you?”

“How
should I know?” Tybalt threw up his paws. “
You’re
the Happiologist.” He
shoved the container into my hands. “Now here’s the ice cream. I’ll put it on
Calo’s tab.”

“How
did you know it’s for Calo?” I took the bag.

“Oh,
please,” Tybalt sighed. “Calo’s the only person who ever orders that flavor.”

“I
like cherry vanilla, too,” I said, somewhat hotly, defending my favorite
flavor.

His
cat-eyes widened slightly. “How nice.” His voice was a soothing purr. “What a
perfect match you are.” He glided away.

I
frowned. What does that mean?

~~~

Calo
did
seem to be happy to have the ice cream. He stopped the spinning and
muttering and snatched a spoon out of his desk drawer.

“There’s
nothing like cherry vanilla!” he cried happily. I slyly peeked at his monitor.
It was rising slightly.

“Enjoy
your ice cream, Calo. I’ll be right back.”

“Where
are you going?” Calo’s words were garbled by a mouth full of ice cream.

“Oh,”
I loosened my tongue for the lie I had practiced on the ride back. “Doug
stopped me on the way in, and asked me to come up to the Observatory. A chart I
wanted is ready to be picked up.”

Calo
rolled his eyes. “You and your charts.” He shoved another spoonful in his
mouth. “Hurry back. We need to go over Okera’s case again.”

I
nodded and left.

Did
all Happiologists lie this much? Did the great Miranda have to lie to her
clients? Did my father? At least, I
was
going to the Observatory, so it
wasn’t a total lie.

On
the way, I tried to visit Grimm, but the
Do Not Disturb
sign still hung
on the closed door. I reluctantly went on to the Observatory.

When
I entered, Doug was staring at a wall of hourglass monitors, making notes on a
clipboard.

“Wow,”
I breathed. “That is a lot of monitors.”

All
of the wall space in the huge room was filled with monitors. Along a different
wall another Observer worked from a rolling ladder.

Doug
turned around. “Yeah, it is a lot.” He looked up at them. “And this isn’t even
all. I guess you’ve seen the monitors in the entrance way.”

I
nodded. “Your job must be huge.”

Doug
shrugged. “It’s not so bad, better than accounting.”

“You
were an accountant? What fairy tale has an accountant?”

Doug
laughed. “None of them, actually. I’m naturally created. I went to college with
your dad, and a few years after graduation, he recruited me for this job. He
said he wanted someone with attention to detail.”

“So
you just moved here? What about your family, your parents?”

“Well,
we didn’t move right away. I commuted for a while, through your tub, but after
we had kids, my wife and I decided to move here permanently. It’s a great place
to raise a family, very safe.”

“Except
for witches and curses and possible vanishing.”

“Sure,
sure. There are risks everywhere. We worry less here though, and we actually rent
an apartment in your world, so we’ll have an address for mail and a place for
the grandparents to visit when they come to town.”

“Right,”
I said, trying to focus. My mind created equations about the probability of
these grandparents phoning when no one was there or dropping by for a surprise
visit only to find their children’s apartment abandoned and dusty. Then my
analytical mind jumped ahead to my future. Would I live a double life as well?
Would I have a real world apartment to invite my friends to, while I portaled
through my tub to my job and other life?

I
also started to wonder what my mother told her parents about my father. They’d
died while she was in college. And did my dad have parents? I suppose he had to
inherit the throne from someone, so maybe his parents were dead also. I was
balancing my equation for grandparental death probability, when I realized that
Doug was speaking.

“What?”
I asked, stupidly.

Doug
smiled. “I didn’t think you were hearing me. I asked what could I do for you?”

“Oh,
right.” I ran a hand over my hair and collected my thoughts. “I wanted to know
if there was a way to make a special update list.” Tybalt made a good point. I was
the Happiologist.
I
needed to know how Ella was doing.

“A
different one from Calo’s?”

I
nodded. “I just want to be updated on one person, and is there any way I can
get the update delivered directly to me, no matter where I am, this world, my
world, wherever?”

Doug
must have been used to odd requests from Happiologists, because he just said, “No
problem.” He studied me, starting at my head and moving down to my feet. “Do
you always wear those shoes? Or could you always wear them for as long as you
want the special updates?”

“Yeah,
sure,” I looked at my sneakers.

“Great,”
Doug pulled a magic wand from his back pocket and tapped my left sneaker. “Okay.”
He stood up. “You’ll start getting your updates there, folded into eighths,
every hour. Who do you want on the list?”

“Ella,”
I answered, and then, without thinking, I added “And Calo.”

~~~

“Are
you sure you don’t want to come?” Mom spooned strawberries into her cereal.

“Yes,
I’m sure. Ella’s expecting me.” I took a bite of my waffle.

“Oh,
but Lily, you’ll miss all the best parts of the fair. The ribbon dance, the
parade of vegetables, the yodeling contest.”

I
opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, but my dad spoke first.

“I
think it’s nice that Lily has made a friend here in Smythe,” he smiled. “Maybe,
after she and Ella visit, they’ll both walk over to the fair.”

“Oh,
I suppose you’re right.” Mom was still disappointed I would miss the ribbon
dance. I ranked the importance of attending the Bremen Town Annual Fair fairly
low: above reading fiction and just below studying for a non-math class.

Several
things were bothering me, and they all added up to one big equation of worry. I
was telling lies left and right (a), and while they were
all
for a good
cause and had
only
the best motives behind them, it still felt wrong.
The lying guilt was no doubt intensified by the moral tone in several of the
fairy tales I had recently studied. Liars always get punished, and nothing good
happens to them.

Hearing
my father call me Ella’s friend was also pricking to my conscience (b). I
did
like Ella, but I knew I was only spending all this time with her to prove
my school paper. I had to make Ella normal. (Manipulation is another one of
those things that isn’t rewarded in fairy tales.)

Calo
was still a source of worry (c). What was going on with him?

(a),
(b), and (c) were compounded by (d): the nagging thought that Levi was up to
something. Throw in an (e) lack of time for Corrie and an (f) the continual
issue about the vanished-but-still-here Candlemaker’s Daughter file and you’ve
got a big mess of worry. (a + b + c + d + e + f = a big mess of worry.)

I
sat up suddenly. Another update had arrived in my shoe. They still surprised
me. I should have asked Doug how long it took to get used to them. I wondered
if Doug and his family would be in the kingdom today, or if they were commuting
back to the real world. I looked at my mother.

“Did
your parents ever know about the kingdom?”

Mom
choked on a spoonful of cereal. She coughed, took a sip of juice, and said,
“You know they’re dead, sweetie.” She looked at my dad.

“But
how did they react when you told them about the kingdom?”

“They
died before I met your father, Lily.”

I
closed my eyes, thinking. I can say with 97% accuracy that my mother has never
told me a single thing about my grandparents–other than they were dead. They
were never mentioned, and I grew up thinking that I shouldn’t mention them,
either.
[46]

“How
did they die?”

Mom
swallowed more cereal. “In a train wreck.”

“That’s
how you said Dad died!”

Mom’s
eyes darted to Dad’s. “Well, that’s where I got the idea for your father’s
death. You know, art imitating life.” Mom looked at her watch. “I’ve got to
hurry. I’ll meet you on the terrace, Matt.” She kissed the top of my head.
“Have a nice day, Lily.”

I
added (g) to my equation of worry.

(g)
= my mother may be lying about her parents.
[47]

Why
would she need to lie about her parents? (a + b + c + d + e + f + g = a big
mess of worry.)

I
took my bike out of the rack and looked around; no one was watching. I quickly
stooped down and pulled the latest update out of my shoe. Studying it, I was
surprised. Ella was Happy. Actually Happy. Everything was moving according to
my plan. My worries were momentarily relieved, except for the fact that Calo’s
levels had fallen to Been Happier. He was now just three levels away from
vanishing. I wondered again who his Happiologist was. Shouldn’t someone be
doing something?

~~~

Ella’s
maid answered the door. “Her ladyship is expecting you, Your Highness,” she
curtsied. “Allow me to lead you to the studio.” I followed the maid upstairs.
She stopped on the first landing, opened the door to Aven’s map room, and
announced, “Princess Lily.” She held the door open as I walked in.

My
jaw dropped. All of Aven’s maps were gone. The floor was covered in a drop
cloth, the map table was shoved to one corner and covered with paints and
brushes, and eight of Ella’s paintings hung on the walls. Ella sat on a pile of
atlases facing the easel with a smock tied over her dress. She turned around,
“Lily, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You
took over the map room,” I said.

Ella
looked around. “Yes, it’s got the best light.”

I
doubted that. All the houses and rooms in Smythe’s SFL seemed to let in a
plethora of light. Ella motioned to the painting on the easel. “What do you
think?” I looked at the painting and saw the Bremen Town Musicians singing.
“The BTM saw my work at Once Upon A Tine and asked me to do some album art for
them. Isn’t it wonderful?” she gushed. “And look at this:” she pulled something
out of her smock pocket–her plaid-filled monitor. “I’m Happy! Really Happy! Oh,
it’s just amazing!” She smiled and looked around the room. “Let’s go have some
tea, shall we?” She took off her smock and twirled out the door. “I’m so
happy!”

Ella
kept talking while we waited for the tea. “The studio is just the perfect place
to work. Besides the lighting, it’s spacious, and cheery. It’s got such good
energy.”

“Yes,”
I nodded. “It was nice of Aven to let you have that room.”

“Oh,”
Ella looked down. “Um, Aven doesn’t actually know I’m using it.” She shrugged.
“He still hasn’t been home. I half expect him to tell me that he’s just going
to rent an apartment in Atlantis while he’s working on the sea floor map. I
don’t even know if he’ll make it in for your tea tomorrow.”

“My
tea tomorrow?”

“Yes,
your parents invited us for Sunday tea.”

“Oh,
right.” I had forgotten about that gesture of good will and openness.

“But
I don’t think Aven will mind that I’m using the room. He hardly has a chance to
use it himself.” She smiled. “And I suppose it’s sort of my payment for forever
dusting all those atlases.”