Cindy - A Sweet Reverse Harem Cinderella Retelling

Chapter 1

"Cindy." Came my stepsister's nasally voice through the swinging door that led from the kitchen to the public part of the bakery. "We're out of croissants."

I looked up from the dough mixture I was currently kneading to where Brittney stood, just enough into the kitchen that she could talk to me, but no further than necessary. 

"There's more on the rack over there." I said, pointing a flour-covered hand towards them.

"Can't you get them?" She asked, rolling her eyes a little at me. 

I gestured to my dough. "I'm kind of in the middle of something." 

"Oops there's a customer." Brittney said, without even looking behind her to the store front. "Just bring them out here please. Thanks." She left without a backwards glance. 

Brittney was frustrating to say the least. She and my other step-sister, Kylie, took turns working the front of the bakery while I did all of the baking. It was just a small store, but it had been in my family for generations. Baking was something my father taught me, and we used to do it together before he passed way. 

With a sigh, I abandoned my dough and washed my hands. I had to enter the front of the store to get the tray the croissants sat on because of course Brittney didn't bring it back with her. The bakery was mostly empty, an elderly woman sat at the table by the window and two teenagers sat with their heads ducked together against the far wall. 

I grabbed the tray from the display case and was about the return to the safety of my kitchen when I spotted the large poster on the wall. 

"What's that?" I asked Brittney. It had not been there when I came in this morning. 

"Oh!" She exclaimed with a smile that was a bit to wide for her narrow face, "A man came in and put that up. A man from the palace! Apparently they're throwing three nights of balls so the three princes can find a bride!"

"What? Really?" I asked, putting the tray down so I could go inspect the poster myself. 

"He said all eligible maidens are to attend." Brittney continued, "I told Kylie and she broke up with Ben so she could go. We're going dress shopping this afternoon so I'm going to need you to take care of the counter okay?"

"Brittney-" I started but she cut me off.

"No, don't tell me any reasons I can't go. I work so hard at this job every day when I come in. I really do the most so I deserve the afternoon off to go dress shopping with my sister. When I bag all three of the princes, you'll understand why I have to do this." She explained semi-condescendingly. 

"But the ball isn't for another month." I said, a headache brewing behind my eyes. I'd been up since 4am, baking the croissants she'd refused to bring out of the kitchen. 

"I know but I need to go now, before all of the good dresses are taken." She said. "It's fine though because you can just work the counter."

I couldn't, not really. Even though Brittney and Kylie were annoying, they were good at costumer service. I hated whenever they ran off and left me to interact directly with the customers. But, just like every argument I'd ever had with one of the sisters, there was no reasoning with them, no changing their minds. So I ended up just smiling and nodding at Brittney, like normal, and then walking back into the kitchen. 

Shortly before he died, my father married Matilda, an older woman who he thought could be a good substitute mother for me. While I understood that he wanted to leave me with someone who cared for me, it became clear soon after he passed, that Matilda was a cold stepmother and a cruel business woman. Matilda's two daughters, Brittney and Kylie, she'd had from a previous marriage. They were her real daughters, and she doted on and spoiled the two of them. Matilda had made it clear that I would never be like a real daughter to her, and I had accepted that. 

My father left the deeds to the store to Matilda, I wasn't old enough at the time to take over the business, and she took what was once a small and old-fashioned little bakery and turned it into a cold and unfamiliar enterprise. She put me to work in the kitchens where I could apply the knowledge my father left me with. 

The croissants went on the tray and I took them back out to the front of the store. Brittney was leaning on the counter and filing her nails, looking bored. I left her to her hard work and went back to kneading my dough.

Baking was simple, it was something I understood really well. I liked the precision of it, it was satisfying to put work in and produce something people ate and enjoyed. Working at the bakery was hard, I woke up very early in order bake everything fresh before each day began. My stepmother tolerated no imperfections. Each night, she gave me a list of all the baked goods she wanted in the store the next day and I would bake them. If I didn't perform up to her standard, she wouldn't pay me. Which made things so much harder on days like today, when I would have to man the counter. 

I finished knead my dough, savoring to quiet of my kitchen and hoping that I would make it through the day.