The Next Cinderella

Chapter 18--Private Sessions With the Prince

The tailor shop was abuzz with late-night overtime and underage labor, as Rose measured a work-in-progress emerald gown on Thomas. He stood on a stool to mimic Queen Enevere's height, and though he seemed to be cross-dressing against his will, the green really brought out his eyes. "You're making a fool of me," he muttered, fidgeting underneath the sea of cloth.

She struggled to pin some fabric behind his back. "If you don't hold still you'll get stabbed with these pins." She smiled lovingly. "You wouldn't want that now would you?"

Thomas's eyes widened as she flirted with the edge of sanity. On the subject of stabbing, Emilia outdid them all, after accidentally stabbing her thumb with the needle she'd been using on some complicated embroidery.

"Ow!" she cried. "Mummy I see blood!"

Rose snapped out of her workaholic mania and rushed over to her. "Let me see! Oh...it's not so bad." She wrapped her thumb in a tiny piece of excess fabric. "All better?"

Emilia nodded. "Yes mummy."

Now that her life was no longer at risk, Rose looked at her sternly and shook her head. "If you'd paid more attention during the demonstration this accident could've been prevented."

The stairs creaked with the sound of Peter's hobbling steps. "What's this I hear about a sewing demonstration gone wrong?"

Rose was suddenly eager to cover up the child-labor workload. She snatched the dress from Emilia and smiled. "That's not what I said! You must've misheard me because you haven't been getting your sleep; now go back to bed!"

Peter may have been slow when it came to a foot race, but in matters of deception he was usually ahead of the pack. "You thought it would be appropriate for a six-year-old to handle a sharp implement? Why not just have her roast a pig over hot coals?"

Before Rose could defend her use of child slavery—and the fact that pork was a luxury they hadn't enjoyed all year—she was forced to attend to Thomas who had somehow gotten buried under the gown.

"It's so dark in here!" he cried, flailing around from underneath the fabric. Before anyone could help him he tumbled to the floor.

Watching her son crumple into a ball of fabric was the final straw; she leaned against the wall and burst into tears. "I'll never finish these dresses in time for tomorrow's deadline!"

Peter studied the chaos of half-finished dresses in the shop. "Then you'll just have to tell Gianni you need assistants to meet these timelines."

Rose blew her nose into a scrap of fabric. "Assistants? I'm not in any position to make demands!"

Peter eased his aching body into a chair. "They need you as much as we need them, so you must make your requirements known before they give you your next assignment."

"And what about these?" She gestured to the unfinished work. "If I don't complete these on time they'll punish Myrielle, I just know it!"

Peter considered her conundrum. "Maybe for these dresses it's best if you keep it simple."

For Rose the word 'simple' had no place in the fashion-making canvas of her brain. She massaged her temples to work out the stress. "So you mean...no beaded embroidery at all?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm afraid it's a trade-off you'll just have to make."

She pulled the emerald gown off of Thomas and shook her head. "Not for the queen's gown though," she said. "Hers must be immaculate."

Peter laughed. "Of course not! We wouldn't dare risk offending a royal; but those other ones?" He gestured to the half-finished works. "It's time to go for the low-budget option."