Page 260 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 27

Thank goodness for Winnie. She’s planned Calla’s entire surprise birthday party right down to the party favors. After yesterday’s apple-picking excursion with all its extreme ups and downs, there’s no way I could have handled it, even if I’d had the time. My battered heart has shut me down.

As I sit on the edge of Calla’s bed, braiding her hair, I wonder for the umpteenth time: what am I doing here? Shrink promised that I could go back to my castle if I completed my apprenticeship. But now, what’s the point? My castle belongs to that Midas creep, and my mirror is no longer of any use to me. When Marcella (walking perfectly fine) flung a shoe at me this morning for not delivering her daily Fairytale Tattler to her in bed, why didn’t I throw it back and just call it quits?

“Do you think Papa’s going to get me a puppy?” asks Calla, snapping me out of my funk.

Gallant.I can’t get him out of my head. Though I’ve tried to avoid him, he did mention at breakfast that he and Marcella had something very important to do today, and now they’ve been gone for hours.

“I hope so,” I sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to get you something,” I add with remorse.

Instead of a frown, Calla’s lips curl into a dimpled smile. “You are a gift.”

Her unexpected, beyond-her-years words light up my heart, and I smile despite myself.

Calla has no clue about her surprise birthday party. My job has been to keep her occupied until Winnie gives me the signal to bring her into the courtyard. We’ve played checkers, read a book together, and given Lady Jane a bath. In my gloomy state, it’s not been easy, and I’m running out of ideas.

Just as I finish with her hair, a rock hits Calla’s bedroom window. Finally, the signal.

“Come on, birthday girl. Let’s get some fresh air and play hide-and-seek.” Calla reaches for Lady Jane, then takes my hand.

The warmth of her little hand in mine radiates throughout me. She’s the reason I’m still here.

“Surprise!” shouts Winnie and a group of one hundred or so children, mostly boys, I’ve never seen before.

“Happy Birthday, Calla!” I say, joined by the others.

Calla is overwhelmed. “Wow!” is all she can say.

Wow is right. Winnie, dressed up as a fairy godmother, has created the ultimate Princess Birthday Party. There’s a magic castle playhouse, pretend tiaras and crowns for all the children, and a pony ride. She’s even brought along that giant dragon from the toy store. How did she manage to get it here? I’m probably better off not knowing.

“Who are all these children?” I ask.

“They’re from the local orphanage,” replies Winnie. “I thought it would be more fun for Calla if she had other children to play with.”

Despite Winnie’s good intentions, my blood runs cold. I bet they’re from that Midas Orphanage for Lost Boys. I hate that Midas!

I recognize one of the children—that unruly boy I saw the other day at Mother Goose. Much better behaved today, he’s showing Calla how to make the dragon roar by stepping on its foot.

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing at him.

“That’s Curly,” says Winnie.

“He’s an orphan?” I’m surprised. “Didn’t I see him with his nanny the other day?”

“Oh, that was his latest foster parent. He’s been in and out of the system for years. No one wants to keep him.” Winnie pinches her lips together and shakes her head. “It’s sad because he’s really not a bad kid.”

The boy makes Calla roar with laughter. After her initial shock, she can’t get enough of the fire-breathing dragon. What a wonderful birthday she’s having. Sadly, I can’t remember turning seven. In fact, I can’t remember any of my childhood birthdays. It was just another day to scrub floors and beg for money. My mother didn’t give a damn. She didn’t buy me a thing; she was too busy shopping for new clothes for herself and seducing men. In a way, I was an orphan too. Maybe, worse off.

Winnie forces me back to the present by bringing two youngsters over to meet me, a boy and a girl. “These are my children, Hansel and Gretel.” Of course! They look just like her with freckled faces and flaming red hair. The little girl’s the spitting image of her brother, except she has long thick braids. I bet they’re twins.

“Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty,” they say in unison as they bow before me.

Huh?

“I told them you’re a queen,” Winnie whispers in my ear.

I smile at the two children. “Just call me Aunt Jane.” Why not? Winnie’s like a sister to me. “And the next time you see me, I’d prefer a hug to a bow.”

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