Secrets of the Sisterhood (The Cinderella Society, Episode 1) (9 page)

The Cindys might veer into Makeoverland, but the Sisterhood was a force to be reckoned with. Unlike the movies, we weren’t battling evil villains in a far-off land. Our villains were right here at home. And I would’ve bet my cherished Kate Spade purse that Lexy was as Wicked as they came. Which meant Lexy and I were destined for more run-ins, whether I wanted them or not.

Lexy might’ve bested me so far, but I was ready to test Gaby’s theory that the Cindys could help me do battle with Lexy and win.

Chapter Twelve

Sundays are my favorite days to work at Mosaic.

I love catering to the laid-back crowd that always seems to congregate there after church. Mom and Dad are early risers, so we go to first service and then I head to the store with Nan while Dad takes Mom to brunch to indulge her latest craving—currently French toast and blueberry syrup. Which is a huge improvement over her craving phase of sweet pickles and cinnamon toast.
Together
. I couldn’t even be in the same room with her when I heard the pop of the pickles jar.

Pregnancy is so weird.

On the weekends, most of our business tends to be in the store for Nan’s custom tea blends. Nan is a master herbalist, so people flock to Mosaic from all over to try her herbal blends for everything from sore throats to indigestion. Nan’s a tree hugger from way back, so anything that helps people stay healthy naturally makes her happy.

Mayor Shellenbarger—everyone calls him Shel—helped Nan set up a Web site about a year ago so people could order online. Her teas are crazy in-demand on the Internet now. That’s the only reason she can afford to hire employees. Like
moi
.

Local business is pretty slow during the week. Mostly filling online orders. But Nan likes that locals come into the store just to chill in the little café. She calls Mosaic a gathering place. It’s where stay-at-home moms come to decompress over steaming cups of chai while their kids are at school. Where retirees come to read the paper or catch up with Nan, sipping oolong tea with ginseng.

Even with a hopping online business in the back room, the vibe in the store is really relaxing and inclusive. The kind of place that makes you feel at home the second you walk in the door.

Picture the polar opposite of high school. You get the idea.

Nan was in the back packaging up a huge order for a wellness resort in San Diego, so my job was rebuilding the pyramid of her best-selling sampler boxes and making sure the glass jars were all well stocked with loose tea.

I was refilling a tall jar by the cash register with Nan’s mandarin orange memory boost blend when the door chimed with another customer. The one I’d been hoping to see.

She stepped in, saw me, and turned to make a quick exit.

“Hi, Heather!”

New Kid Rule #1: If you wave at someone and use her name, only a jerk will completely ignore you.

True fact. Most people at least grunt a greeting in return. Nan says using someone’s name engages them. I wanted the scoop on her Lexy torment and was happy to dip into my bag of new kid tricks to get it.

Heather, being the nice person she is, froze after hearing her name.

Gotcha.

She paused for a second, then turned and came in with a half-smile on her face. “Hey, Jess.”

“What can I get’cha?”

“Oh, a bunch of little stuff. Just stocking up, you know?”

“Gotta keep the good stuff on hand.” I gave her my warmest
You can trust me
smile. “Want a basket?”

Heather took the small woven basket from my hand and started shopping. As skittish as she was, I wasn’t pressing my luck. Better to give her some room and see if she loosened up. I’d never seen her keep her distance—at least not from me—so the Lexy thing must’ve really shaken her up. Or she was mad at me about the last day of school, even though she’d totally gotten me back in front of Lexy. Whether she’d meant to or not.

I wiped down the checkout counter and refilled the tea carafes in the café while Heather filled her basket with wax envelopes of loose tea. A couple of customers came in to pick up orders, and I noticed Heather’s hopeful glances toward the back when she thought I wasn’t looking. It finally dawned on me that she was waiting for Nan so she could check out.
 

Yep. Definitely avoiding me.

Fortunately, when Nan did come back out front, she was rolling a handcart with the stack of boxes headed for San Diego and carrying her purse. “I’m taking these over to the shipping center so they can go out first thing in the morning. You’ll be okay for a while?”

“No problem,” I told her. “Take your time.” I’m pretty sure Heather wanted to kick me for that last part.

Nan gave Heather a little shoulder hug as she passed, stopping for a second to say hi. Nan’s like that. She makes all her regulars feel like the store is their second home.

Heather’s shoulders sagged when the front door closed behind Nan, and I knew I had her. Not that I let on. I could be plenty patient. Maybe not about getting my makeover going—
soon, please!
—but I could where Heather was concerned.

I pulled out a box of mesh tea infusers from under the counter and considered the infusers already on the wall display behind me. I picked through the box for different designs. The one with an engraved star and the one with a peace symbol would round out the collection nicely. I hung them from their chains on the pegs of the wooden display bar, not wanting to venture far from the cash register and give Heather a reason to bolt. You have to pass in front of the checkout to get to the front door. I was holding my ground.

Heather looked like she was waffling about whether to pay or leave her basket and come back later, so I offered my kindest smile. “All ready to check out?”

Heather debated for a second and then nodded, reluctantly setting her basket in front of me.

I hated seeing Heather so hesitant around me. My brain grasped for things to ease the tension in the air. Deciding to play it safe for now, I made small talk about the next mosaic workshop Nan was hosting.

Adorning the wall of the café is a display of framed twelve-inch-by-twelve-inch mosaic tiles. It started when a customer on her cell phone accidentally knocked over a table of ceramic tea pots crafted by a local potter. The tea pots were so pretty Nan couldn’t bear to throw the shards in the trash. Instead, she created a mosaic tile with the shattered pieces and hung it on the wall that would affectionately become known as the
Broken into Beautiful
wall.

Now people brought Nan old plates they found at garage sales or in basements and attics, and the mosaic workshops she hosted filled up the same day the sign-up sheets were posted. Around the holidays, it wasn’t unusual for there to be a dozen people on the waiting list hoping for a spot to open up.

Heather was a regular fixture on Mosaic Day. Most people took theirs home, but some donated them to the store for Nan’s display if she wanted them. I don’t know if Heather had ever taken one home. Hers graced the
Broken into Beautiful
wall, always in prominent locations. Nan made sure of that. There was something about Heather’s mosaic art that struck a chord with Nan’s customers.

“Nan got a box full of broken depression glass,” I told Heather, pulling out a decorative Mosaic Teas bag for her order. “She told me to set some aside to see if you wanted first dibs for the next workshop.”

The depression glass piqued her interest, and Heather’s shoulders relaxed a tad. “I’ve never worked with that before. Does she have it in different colors?”

“I know there’s a bunch of blue. And some amber, I think?”

“I’ll probably need to file the edges if they’re sharp,” she said, almost to herself. “Make sure it doesn’t cut anyone if they brush up against it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” I agreed. “I’ll try to remember to put out sandpaper and emery boards.”

I scanned each of her items as we talked and pretended not to pay attention to them, but it was hard not to see a theme emerging. Chamomile, lavender, valerian, passion flower, lemon balm . . . almost everything in her basket had soothing and calming effects. Plus, they were good for insomnia. Heather’s attention gradually drifted back to her order, and our conversation hit a lull.

I finished up the sale, trying to keep things light, but the more items I scanned the quieter Heather got.

“She also has some shells someone brought from a trip down to Savannah,” I added. “They’re kind of shiny and iridescent.”

She nodded, but her unease had returned. I think we both knew I had a pretty good hunch where her need for rest and soothing were coming from.

Heather handed over her cash, and I took my time putting it away and getting her receipt as I waved to another customer on her way out. Everyone else was milling around the café with their complimentary Sunday tea and today’s blueberry mini scones. We had as much breathing room and privacy as the store would allow.

I leaned in. “She bullies me too, you know.”

I said it quietly, nonjudgmentally, but I wanted her to know.
You don’t have to go through it alone.

“I know,” Heather said, averting her eyes. “I picked up your papers.”

“I’m sorry about that day. None of it went the way I wanted.” I handed her the bag and receipt. “I offered before, but seriously, if there’s anything I can do—”

“It would only make things worse,” she said. “If I do what they want, they’ll move on.”

That didn’t sound like the Lexy I knew. “You really think so?”

Heather nodded optimistically, still not meeting my eyes, then slowed the nod and shook her head. “Not really.”

“You can get out of it. I’ll help you.”

She didn’t respond at first, but I could almost hear a silent cry for help at war with the need for protection. I knew that feeling of being trapped way too well. All it took was one person to step up and help to make a difference. But you had to open up and let them.

Sometimes I need to take my own advice.

“You can’t,” she finally said. When she looked up, I saw tears glistening. “It’s not like with you, Jess. It’s more”—she searched for the word—“
involved
. She’s not just being a bully. She needs me.”

The way she said it made me want to shake her. “Lexy doesn’t need anyone, Heather. She just uses people.”

“As long as . . .”

“As . . . ?”

“As long as she keeps her end of the bargain, she can use me.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “No one deserves to be used, Heather. That’s not how the world works. You need someone to—”

“I don’t need someone to do anything except butt out.”

It was the most blunt I’d ever heard Heather be. It didn’t come out rude, just tired. And final. It made my heart hurt, because I’d so been there. But this wasn’t my fight, and I couldn’t tread where she didn’t want me.

“Thanks for the stuff, Jess. And for caring,” she added softly.

Heather walked out of the store, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do to stop her. Or help her.

Chapter Thirteen

Being in the Club for the second time didn’t take away any of the awe factor. Mel and I showed up the next morning to get through the rest of our
Cinderella Makeover Manual
overviews before our first official Alpha class. Gaby, of course, had been there since the first pot of coffee went on out front. She greeted us in the lounge, sporting a smartphone on a lanyard and an apple crumb muffin in one hand.

Gaby nabbed us each a soda as we stowed our gear in the cute pink lockers. She had some great dance music playing on the speakers in the kitchenette, which she promptly turned off.

“Sorry,” she said. “I needed a little pick-me-up.”

Mel and I grabbed our binders and settled into the yum study hall chairs as Sarah Jane and Kyra were coming in the door. They stowed their stuff and joined us at the table. Sarah Jane set down her enormous binder next to mine. Even laying it gently on the table still resulted in a loud thud.
 

I eyed the monstrosity, suddenly glad mine only had a few dozen sheets in it. I wondered what hers could possibly be filled with. She was a third-level Cindy, I’d found out—a Gamma—so who knew what all was in there?
 

From what I’d learned so far, Alpha level was mostly about the
celebrating your strength
part of the creed, and Beta level got deeper into
embracing your future
. Clever girl that I am, I reasoned that Gammas were all about
being extraordinary
. As for Deltas . . . what came after being extraordinary? World domination?

We all dug into our
CMM
work—Mel and I on the last few overviews, and Sarah Jane and Kyra on their special projects. The air hummed with productivity vibes.
 

The door to the Club opened again, and Paige entered with Audrey trailing her. I was so startled seeing Audrey in the Club with us that I almost missed how serious she and Paige both looked as they headed for Paige’s leader office. Our big Sisters eyed them solemnly and quietly closed their
CMMs
. By the time they’d finished putting their binders away, Paige had opened her door. She gave Sarah Jane a silent nod and slipped back inside, while Audrey headed out of the Club looking preoccupied and more than a little perturbed. Sarah Jane and Kyra keyed into the Gamma office and closed the door behind them.