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The kitchen of the Beanstalk Bakery was a hollowed out room inside a giant beanstalk, around which stood a coffee machine and several display cases. The entrance was easy to miss from either side of the door, as it was the same bright green as the outer beanstalk and the kitchen walls. In contrast, the floor was a checkered black and white, the counters marbled brown, and the refrigerators shiny gray. All in all, it was a cozy place, warmed by large ovens and lit by dangling lamps.
Therein an aproned Ginger Breadhouse was situated, rolling up her sleeves and taking in the scents. A chilled smell of yeast and honey emanated from dough that had been kneaded the night before, which she had removed from the fridge so that it could return to room temperature. Leaving it be for the time being, she gathered ingredients for the variety of baked goods the bakery proudly displayed fresh from the oven each morning.
Her co-worker, Gus Crumb, was sleepy-eyed and droopy in the pre-dawn light, but valiantly went about his task of preparing sourdough loaves. A commendable effort, even if he only took the job for the employee discount and had to be pressured by his cousin to accept it.
Leaving the bran muffins and miniature pies to Gus, Ginger turned on the ovens and quickly whipped up three cupcake batters (chocolate, vanilla lemon, and coffee flavored) in large metal mixing bowls. She then placed cupcake liners in cupcake tins, filled them with measured scoops of batter, and put them in the oven.
Setting a timer for the cupcakes, Ginger then retrieved the snickerdoodle dough from the fridge in small portions. With every portion she repeated the motions of rolling out the dough, cutting out people-shapes, and sprinkling them with a coat of sugar and cinnamon. She then returned the cinna-men to the fridge until the muffin and cupcake-occupied ovens were available and their temperature adjusted. In between preparing the cookies, Ginger removed, emptied, and refilled the cupcake tins, leaving the steaming cupcakes on cooling racks.
What followed was a dance of sheets and tins, ovens opening and closing, as muffins, cupcakes, pies, and cookies baked. At some point during that time the sesame rolls and the sourdough loaves were shaped and placed in the largest oven, slowly browning gold at the edges.
When the rushed frenzy died down, Gus took over the ovens and the unbaked pastries left by the previous night’s shift, while Ginger made a variety of icings and glaze. Soon it would be time for her to leave the kitchen and open the bakery for early customers, but for now Ginger was content to remain in the homey setting.
- - - - - - -
Ashlynn Ella smiled at the sound of crinkling that came from the paper lining the shoebox as she gently placed a pair of kitten heels, that were almost as cute as their namesake, inside of it.
“So you’ll be taking these?” she asked her current customer.
“Definitely,” he said.
“Great,” Ashlynn said. “Go up front and my co-worker will ring you up.”
She stretched with a satisfied heart, interlocked hands reaching up and until her back popped.
“Hey, hey, hey!” a familiar figure slid into her field of vision. “What’s sizzlin’, hot stuff?”
“Sparrow,” Ashlynn pursed her lips, a laugh bubbling in her chest. “Ridiculous as ever, I see.”
“You know it,” he winked. “Whatcha got for me?”
“Come right along, sir,” she put on her customer service voice as she led him down the aisle. “As you can see, here to our left we have an assortment of over the top punk boots. Do you have a preference between buckles, chains, and spikes, or are you more of a studs and heels kind of guy?”
Sparrow snorted.
“All of the above, got it.”
“I know my way around,” Sparrow told her. “You’ve got needy clientele right ‘round the corner.”
“Thanks,” Ashlynn said. “Don’t make a mess.”
“Me?” Sparrow splayed a hand across his chest. “I would never.”
Ashlynn rolled her eyes as she made her way to a section dedicated to dance slippers, where a first year she vaguely recognized stood straight-backed and teary-eyed.
“Excuse me?” she spoke gently. ”Can I help you?”
“I’m fine,” the other teen sniffled. “You can go.”
“I’m Ashlynn,” she persisted. “It's nice to meet you.”
The red-haired girl glared for a moment, then relented.
“Clara Lear. And the pleasure is all mine.”
“I would hope not,” Ashlynn joked.
Clara huffed out a breath, looking unamused.
“I’m due a break soon,” Ashlynn tried sounding apologetic. “Would you like to get lunch with me? Or just a hocus latte?”
“Coffee, please,” Clara said. “As long as you’re paying.”
“Of course,” Ashlynn said.
“What?” Clara was startled. “I wasn’t that serious…”
“It’s fine, I would’ve offered anyway,” Ashlynn waved away her concern. “Let’s go.”
“What about your boss?” Clara asked.
“It’s fine, worst comes to worst, Sparrow can show people around.”
“Excuse me?” came a squawk from behind the shelf.
Giggling, albeit wetly, Clara let Ashlynn hook their elbows together and pull her out to the main street.
“It’s just a fight with a classmate,” she said. “Not a big deal.”
“Classmate? Not a friend?”
Clara shrugged.
“I see you hanging out with that blue fairy all the time…” Ashlynn trailed off, meeting Clara’s eyes.
“Farrah?” Clara’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Wait,” Ashlynn blinked. “Farrah, as in Goodfairy?”
“The one and future godmother,” Clara grimaced.
“Oof.”
“I have no way of coming out of this as anything but the villain,” she continued. “As always. The whole year is giving me the cold shoulder after I made the nice girl cry.”
“That’s hardly fair,” Ashlynn frowned. “No-one chooses their role.”
“I just told Farrah that I thought she should ease up on the helpful magic!” Clara’s dam burst. “She’s exhausting herself! But no , the future good-doer knows best!”
“You were just concerned,” Ashlynn said sympathetically.
“She told me to mind my own cursed business and started crying,” Clara’s lips wobbled and she began to hiccup. “I just w-wanted her to take c-care of herself.”
“An admirable goal,” Ashlynn rubbed the other girl’s back soothingly as they stopped outside the Hocus Latte Cafe. “Come on, let’s order something warm to drink.”
“N-no,” Clara shook her head. “I’m going to go talk to her, and be more open with my worry. I came across as too controlling, so I should apologize for that, but make sure not to apologize for upsetting her, because that’s putting the blame on her, even if that’s-”
“You’re rambling,” Ashlynn cut her off gently.
“Sorry,” Clara flushed. “For that, and for dragging you out here for nothing.”
“From what I recall I was the one doing the dragging,” Ashlynn smiled. “and it’s my lunchtime anyway.”
“Uh, thanks,” Clara’s cheeks reddened further. “For listening.”
“Anytime.”
“Rain check on that coffee?”
“Of course,” Ashlynn made a shooing motion. “Go.”
“See you around, Ash.”
The strawberry blond gazed fondly upon the other princess, satisfied.
She was definitely ready for some lunch, though.
- - - - - - -
Poppy O’Hair swept up the green-tipped hair on the floor, the product of her latest customer’s new ‘do.
“I’ll close up,” her co-worker said. “I know you’re excited for tonight.”
“I'll deny my excitement until the end of time,” Poppy said. “But thanks. I owe you one.”
She rushed out of the Tower Hair Salon to meet her sister at the Yarnes & Noble bookstore, where they’d have about half an hour to hang before leaving to catch the movie playing in the Multi-Hex Theater.
“Holly!” she frantically waved her hand high up in the air.
“Hey!” her sister rushed towards her, and squeezed all the air out of Poppy’s lungs with her hug.
The twins tended to be so busy with their separate social lives that sometimes their own bond fell to the wayside. After a first year of frustrations and miscommunications, a designated ‘sibling time’ had been set aside for every third weekend. Tensions between the girls had noticeably lowered after the application of this plan.
“Let’s go!”
Holly enthusiastically led Poppy into the store, gazing wide-eyed at the towering shelves.
“Ah,” she took an exaggerated breath. “That smell of paper, and new books!”
Poppy shook her head.
“What?”
“Never change, Hol,” she patted her sister’s shoulder. “Never change.”
- - - - - - -
Madeline Hatter donned a small pink hat with a ginormous yellow flower from a peg on the Shoppe’s wall, serving as a walking advertisement for her father’s handiwork with enthusiasm.
Not that there were many customers in the wee hours of the morning, but it was wise to be prepared as a mountain goat. Then, as long as there were no avalanches, you’d be fine.
Maddie double checked her surroundings.
All clear.
Except for one Briar Beauty, napping with her cheek smooshed against a table for one, who had apparently remained in the vicinity of Ever After High that particular weekend.
“Yoohoo,” Maddie prodded her shoulder. “Anybody home?”
“Wha-” Briar blinked open her dark eyes. “Huh?”
“Welcome to the Wonderland Haberdashery and Tea Shoppe!” Maddie proclaimed. “What can I do for you at this fine hour?”
“It’s past curfew,” Briar said in a strangled fashion. “I’m going to be in deep hot water.”
“Or,” Maddie hopped onto the table and squatted at Briar’s eye level. “You sleep over, and Momma Bear doesn’t catch you going back to the dorms late. Cause then you won’t be sneaking in the first place.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Briar said. “Are you sure that’s okay?”
“We have the guest teacup for a reason!”
“The what?”
Maddie jumped off the table and pulled Briar by the hand into the backroom, where a giant teacup filled with pillows and blankets resided.
“Huh,” Briar slid her crownglasses down to cover her eyes. “I’ve never slept in a teacup before.”
“Oh?” Maddie inquired. “Then what kind of cups have you slept in?”
Briar started laughing.
“What?” Maddie asked, smiling. “Not that you need a reason to laugh, of course!”
To prove her point, she joined in on the merriment, causing Briar to laugh harder, only to stop when she began hiccuping.
“Nothing like a good laugh before bed,” Maddie said, satisfied. “Just what the Hatter ordered.”
Briar wiped her left eye with a contented sigh.
“Your dad won’t mind?”
“Nah,” Maddie grinned. “Dad loves company. But you will be obligated to join us for morning tea. Obviously”
“Obviously,” Briar echoed. “Well, I’m tired.”
“Then I will see you at breakfast.”
“Thanks, Mads.”
“Night!” Maddie said. “Sleep tight, prepared for attack, if bedbugs bite, bite them back.”
“Good night, Maddie,” Briar’s lips twitched. “Wonderful dreams.”
“They’re mine,” Maddie said. “How could they be anything less?”