“One scoop or two?” I asked. I watched as the customer struggled to rein in her tantruming toddler.
“What? Oh … two. With extra crushed pineapple.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than her little boy knocked two containers from the counter onto the floor, spraying fruit preserves and M&Ms in every direction. “Liam! Naughty!” She gave me a helpless shrug. “I’m so sorry. He missed his naptime today …”
Outwardly, I managed a monotone, “Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up.” Inwardly, I screamed. If Lanz had been here, he would’ve turned this moment into fun with some good-natured jokes or an entertaining clean-up dance routine. He would’ve had everyone in the shop laughing, including me. There was no laughter this afternoon.
I checked my watch. It was only four o’clock. Another four hours to go till closing time, and right now I was manning the shop solo, while Mom went over the month’s profits with Mr. Sneeves in the back office.
I had nearly finished sweeping up the last of the mess when a familiar voice made my stomach turn to sludge.
“Wait until you see my tutu,” Violet gushed as she stepped through the door along with a group of her friends. “All the costumes were donated from the American Ballet Theatre. They performed Cinderella last season. I’m telling you, it’s gorgeous!”
I focused my attention on the floor, but then I heard, “Oh, Malie!” followed by Violet’s tinkling laugh. “I almost didn’t see you down there.”
I stood up, gritting my teeth. “What can I get for you today?”
Violet slid into a chair by the window and her friends followed suit. “The works! Four Fairy-Tale Ambrosia sundaes and four banana splits. You’ll bring them to the table, right?”
I nodded through my irritation. Violet would show up on one of the worst days ever. I scrambled to make the sundaes, hoping that the faster I made them, the faster she and her friends would leave. Already my eyes burned from holding back tears. Right when I couldn’t bear another word, Violet walked toward me.
“Malie.” Her voice was quiet, dripping with faux sympathy. “I’m sorry about what happened with this Cinderella mix-up. I was positive you’d already told your mom about getting the part, otherwise I never would’ve said anything.” She offered me a peacemaking smile. “I hope you’re okay, and that there are no hard feelings.”
At first, I couldn’t even speak. How dare she feign regret? My throat closed in anger, my body turning rigid with the effort of staying calm. Finally, I uttered a strangled, “It’s fine. I’m fine. No worries.”
Violet golf clapped, and for a moment seemed to contemplate hugging me. The fierce look in my eyes made her think better of it. “What a relief,” she said as she glided back to her table. “I knew you’d understand.”
I blinked rapidly, refusing to give Violet the satisfaction of seeing tears. Then I refocused on the two trays of sundaes and splits before me, adding sprinkles and hot fudge. Meanwhile, Violet unveiled the Cinderella costume from a garment bag. It was a breathtaking shade—pearlish pink like the inside of a conch shell. It was covered in iridescent sequins, with a delicate heart-shaped neckline.
“It has to be taken in,” Violet was saying over her friends’ oohs and aahs. “But look at this. Sixty layers of tulle in the tutu! It’s the real deal.”
My breath came quick as I slid my hands under the trays. Balancing them precariously, I started for Violet’s table. Just get through it, I told myself.
I didn’t see the puddle of strawberry preserves in my path until my right heel skidded through the slick. A second later I was sitting on the floor, stunned, as trays and sundae bowls clattered down around me.
“Oh my god,” shrieked Violet, staring down at her costume in horror. “Look what you did!”
Ignoring the preserves and chocolate sauce dripping from my own hair, I stood up and stared at the red and brown splatters across the bodice of the Cinderella costume. “I’m so sorry.” My voice quivered. “Let me soak it in some cold water—”
“Are you kidding?” Violet’s face was the color of the strawberry preserves, her mouth curled into a scowl. “You did this on purpose, just to ruin it for me!”
“I didn’t!” I cried. “ I slipped—”
“What on earth?” Mom’s voice came from behind me, and I turned to find her staring at the scene in horror, Mr. Sneeves right behind her.
I opened my mouth to explain, but before I could, Violet exploded, “This is the worst customer service I’ve ever received.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “She deliberately spoiled this costume, and her attitude is completely unacceptable.”
Mr. Sneeves stepped forward. “My deepest apologies. If you’d allow me, I’d be happy to have the costume dry-cleaned—”
Violet pulled the costume protectively to her chest. “No one in this shop touches this costume.” She stared at me. “I never would’ve expected you to be so cruel, Malie.” With that, she barreled out of the shop, her friends in her wake.
“Miss Analu.” Mr. Sneeves’s voice was deadly calm. “A word in the kitchen. Now.”
I could barely look at Mom as we followed Mr. Sneeves into the kitchen.
“Mr. Sneeves,” I began as the kitchen door swung shut, “this was a terrible accident—”
“No. I don’t think so.” He scowled as he turned to Mom. “Your complete inability to exert control over your daughter’s behavior has led to a level of unprofessionalism I never should’ve ignored.”
Mom shook her head, an apology already forming on her lips.
“Unprofessionalism?” I repeated before Mom had the chance to speak. The fury building in my throat poured out of me. “I’ll tell you what’s unprofessional, Mr. Sneeves. You criticize my mother for the way she runs this parlor, even though she works extra hours without overtime pay to make sure it’s successful. She deserves your respect, and if you would pull your head—”
“Malie!” Mom grabbed my arm, pressing it firmly. “Enough.”
“No,
