“Ouch!” Rapunzel pouted and swatted at her hand. “Had I known this would be so bothersome, I would have brought a wig instead!”
Gretchen rolled her eyes as Rapunzel drew the curtains closed, and the driver gave her an understanding shrug from his seat up front. Sighing, she turned back to her cottage.
The light had almost completely faded indoors, and Gretchen stacked more wood on the hearth and lit candles carefully stowed in glass lanterns to illuminate her workspace. She cleared the mess of the last attempt and set the cauldrons in the sink to soak. With a smothered yawn, she prepared another batch of ingredients and carefully swabbed the hair with a cloth dipped in a clear distilled fluid, which she was sure wouldn’t interfere with the potion.
When she added the final drop to the solution, she heaved a sigh of relief as it emulsified into a smooth mixture. It would do the job, and if it was particularly potent, long hair or no, she would need the services of a good hairdresser every week for the next few months. She decanted the brew into a small jar and cleaned up the mess of the afternoon’s concoctions, blinking away sleep that pulled at her eyelids. When her kitchen was back in order, she grabbed a jar from the table and shuffled out to the carriage with a shiver. The moon was high in the night sky and the horses and even the driver was snoozing despite the cold.
After scratching against the carriage door, Gretchen frowned and pushed the curtain aside to see Rapunzel curled up on the bench seat slumbering. Too tired to care, Gretchen dropped the potion beside her and hustled back inside with plans to dive into bed and catch whatever hours of sleep remained before Jurgen arrived.
Chapter 3
Gretchen took pity on the poor driver and his miserable beasts when she trod out to her garden in the morning. She fetched him a cup of tea with some toast and rustled up some carrots for the horses.
“Blessings on you, madam.” He bobbed his head in time with the horses chewing their own morsels.
Gretchen tipped her hat and marched to her pumpkin with her hands on her hips. It was the largest she’d ever managed. She was certain it was bigger than the one Mildred had carted with her last year. But Nora said Mildred’s was plumper. Unless she was just trying to wind her up. She pulled out the jar and fiddled with the stopper, weighing the probability of getting caught cheating.
Every year, she’d entered the competition. She’d tried all kinds of fertilizers. She applied every snippet of gardening lore that she’d scoured from books and old timers who claimed to have the secret sauce of vegetable production. She’d even tried tinkering with the seeds before she planted them, which had produced one of the worst results when they’d yielded bright blue pumpkins to the scorn of the other entrants. She just wanted to win once. Just to earn a little respect. One item ticked on the bucket list, and from there she could loll around at the fair each year eating pumpkin pie and drinking the best brewed ale.
Gretchen took a deep breath and sprinkled a spare dose over her prized produce and bit her lip as she waited for it to swell. A squeak came from the carriage behind her, and she spun to see a long leg stretch out the window, a satin slipper hanging from a toe.
“No.” Gretchen gasped and turned back to her garden where her pumpkin was already sprouting its first tufts of golden hair. She sank to her knees. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“What have you done?”
Gretchen winced at the strangled screech. She could say goodbye to her payday. And losing twenty gold coins paled in comparison to the flack she’d cop for bringing a hairy pumpkin to the fair.
The sounds of the driver scrambling to quiet the horses urged Gretchen to her feet, and as she drew close to the carriage, its door popped from its hinges. An arm waggled around, searching for purchase as a second leg squeezed through the door. The carriage itself looked like a demented crab threatening to pop its shell at any moment.
Gretchen grabbed hold of a flailing leg and pulled as hard as she could despite the hollering inside. There was no telling how big she’d get if she swallowed the whole darn potion. Trying not to tally up the revenue lost in that brew, she gritted her teeth and yanked the second leg clear of the door.
“What’s going on here?” Jurgen’s familiar growl came from around the carriage.
“Quickly. Before she busts the whole cabin!”
Rapunzel’s hips wedged in the doorframe, and Jurgen recoiled as he rounded the corner. Her dress had popped open during the ordeal and her bare rear end wiggled furiously in an attempt to slide free. Jurgen rushed in to maneuver her hips to escape the confines of the carriage. She slid out, arms overhead, and thumped to the ground in the fetal position.
“What have you done, you horrible woman? Look at me. I’m a monster!” Tears spilled over her cheeks, the carefully painted kohl running in inky streaks.
“Get something she can cover herself with.” She waved a hand at Jurgen and squatted next to Rapunzel. “You got the wrong potion. Think you have it rough? I’ve got hairy pumpkins over there.”
“Hairy what?” She sat up, her face bright red with rage. “I don’t care about your stupid pumpkins, witch! I came to you for a hair tonic, and I’m the size of a giant.”
Gretchen tapped her nose and winked. “Well, good news on that front. There’s plenty of the hair tonic left. But I’ll want restitution on account of having to shave my pumpkin before the competition.”
“This,” Rapunzel tapped Gretchen’s chest with a finger the size of a zucchini, “is your fault. You
