Page 6 of Isabella and the Slipper

Lol. I think I love you.

Isabella choked and almost dropped the phone on the floor. She caught it in time and stuffed it back into her pocket. He was joking, of course, but seeing those words still made her heart jump into her throat.

She opened the gallery’s website and logged into the content editor. The website was her responsibility, as per her stepmother’s commands. Usually she didn’t mind doing it. At first, it had been stressful, as she had no clue how to build a website. It had taken her a whole month of watching YouTube videos and reading to figure out how to get the thing up and running.

She found theWater Lilyand deleted it from inventory. Tomorrow she’d have to take some photos of the new artwork they were getting in to put up on the website, but tonight she wouldn’t worry about it.

Paco stuck his head in her office. “Hey, pretty lady.”

Isabella smiled at him. Paco mostly helped with the behind-the-scenes work at the gallery, but sometimes he took over for Leilani on the sales floor or helped paint the walls when they were redecorating. He was a friendly man in his forties. “Hey, Paco. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just a heads-up, more art is coming in,” he said with his Mexican accent.

She nodded. “Okay, thanks.”

He waved and ducked out again.

She pulled up the books and entered the day’s sale on the ledger. Not only was she the webmaster, she was also the bookkeeper. Elenore wrote the checks, signed the contracts with the artists, and hobnobbed with the clientele. Elenore’s job mostly consisted of hanging out at the country club and going to social events. But she claimed it was necessary to keep the customers returning.

After entering the sale, Isabella opened the closet and took out the broom. It was also her responsibility to keep the gallery clean. By the time she was done, it was after six. She waved to Leilani on her way out. “See you tomorrow.”

The gallery was located on a commercial strip only three blocks from her house. Since it was on the way home from school, Elenore didn’t think she needed a car. “It’s better for you to walk,” she’d say. She must not have wanted Delilah and Ava to be healthy by that logic, what with the sporty little Mazda MX-5 she bought them.

Isabella entered her house and walked into the kitchen, her stomach grumbling. She pulled out the sandwich meat and some bread, and then fixed herself a quick meal. Elenore strutted in as she was getting out the package of Oreos. “Don’t touch those. They’re for the party tonight.”

Of course they were.

She slid them back on the shelf and shut the cupboard door.

“Don’t drop any crumbs, or you’ll have to vacuum,” Elenore said, as she patted her long, blonde hair that she wore swept up in a fancy French twist. Isabella had never seen the woman with even one gray hair. It was like they were scared to make an appearance. Her fingernails were manicured and always blood red. She usually wore long dresses with leather boots, as if she’d stepped out of a time machine from the 1890’s.

Elenore breezed out of the room, leaving behind the gagging essence of her overpowering perfume.

Isabella made a face at the empty doorway. She picked up her plate and climbed the stairs to her room. Every time she walked through her home, she felt her heart break a little more. It was magnificent, with a huge, open floor plan and balconies that jutted out in architectural genius. Her father had bought it because she had fallen in love with it. But now that he was gone, everything belonged to Elenore.

She bit into the sandwich as she entered her bedroom, and then shut the door. Elenore always threatened to banish her to the attic with the spiders if she didn’t do as she said. Isabella wasn’t sure if it was an empty threat or not, so she did as she was told.

Her one joy was her bedroom. It was the largest of all the bedrooms in the house, but it was the one Isabella had picked out when she and her father had moved in, and no one had the backbone to kick her out. Plus, it was the only room large enough for her hobby, and Elenore liked pushing Isabella to improve her painting skills.

The fading sunlight streamed through her floor-to-ceiling sliding-glass windows, hitting her canvases. Painting was her relief. Her retreat into another world. She wasn’t as good as her father, but she still gained immense satisfaction from it. Her father had made millions from his passion, and she loved the connection she felt to him when she painted.

She stepped out onto her balcony and took another bite of her sandwich. The view always took her breath away. Being situated on the edge of a cliff had its advantages. The Los Angeles valley stretched before her. At night, the city was lit up with a million pinpricks of light. Right now, in the setting sun, the orange light reflected off the buildings. The breeze raced across her skin, blowing her long, dark hair. She closed her eyes and leaned on the railing, wondering what Chase was doing.

After she finished her dinner, she walked back inside and drew the curtains. She’d spend the evening doing what she loved. She set up a blank canvas on her easel and tightened it in place. Her father had taught her the art of painting directly on the canvas with her fingers; she squeezed out several colors on the palette, then dipped her fingers in the cool acrylic paint.

She allowed the process of applying color to canvas take her away and was surprised when noises sounded from downstairs. The people were starting to show up for the after-game party. Minutes had turned into hours. The sun had set long ago. She wiped off her fingers with a rag, then went into her bathroom to wash them.

As she dried her hands, she heard a chime from Chase’s phone.

Done with the audition. Won’t be getting that part. Ha!

She held in a smile and punched in a response.

What’d you do?

Didn’t look up. Read in monotone. The director was quite unimpressed.

I hope your parents aren’t mad.

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