The Urban Princesses: Cinderella

Chapter 4

"Oh you can throw that out,"

"This? Are you sure?"

"Yes, it's just a piece of junk anyway,"

"Mrs. Goldman, this is lined with gold,"

"Oh, then put it in a box I guess,"

I chuckled to myself and placed the stack of china in a cardboard box lined with bubble wrap.

"Ok, basement is done. Where to next?"

"Attic. But dear, my old bones can't make it that far up the stairs. I trust your judgment." She smiled at me.

We went back up the stairs and she rested in the front room. I headed up the first flight of stairs, which wasn't much. But the next flight was very steep and at least twenty feet long. I made my way up the creaky wooden step, every step felt like the stairs were going to collapse under my weight.

I closed my hand over the cold knob, the door creaked open and it revealed a dusty attic with a slanted ceiling. It was filled with antiques and boxes. I went over to a large china cabinet and wiped off a layer of dust with my sleeve. Crystal wine glasses, porcelain teacups, old dolls, but what really caught my eye was the photographs.

Mostly pictures of who I assumed were Mrs. Goldman when she was youthful, curly golden hair and a radiant smile, along with less grandma-ish clothes, long velvet gowns, silk blouses, chiffon skirts. How rich was this woman? I always knew her as the kind older woman in the tutor house next door, but as I looked at these pictures, I saw so much more. A story. A life. An adventure. She was happy in each picture, usually with a man, but only when she wasn't she was receiving awards and shaking hands with political figures. I felt a twang of jealously, I wanted a life like that.

I opened the fragile wooden door of the cabinet, careful not to break the old mahogany. I saw a stack of photographs, I curled my sleeve over my fingers, making sure the oil of my skin didn't damage the photos, and picked it up. I sifted through the images. I saw a wedding photo, she wore a long lace gown, the next was holding a small child, a handsome man sat next to her in a hospital room. I never knew Mrs. Goldman had kids. I went through more pictures, until I found one of her older self, probably in her fifties, sitting on a floral couch with an attractive blond woman with dazzling blue eyes and a wide smile, they seemed to be mid laugh.

It was my mom.

I never knew they were friends. In this picture, it looked like I hadn't been born yet. She never mentioned anything about Mrs. Goldman.

"Ella, my sweet child! Your step mother summons you home!" Her old voice called up the attic stairs.

I put the pictures back in the cabinet and went back downstairs. Mrs. Goldman stood by the front door.

"Mrs. Goldman, I found this picture upstairs, you knew my mother?" I showed her the picture and she put on her glasses.

"Ah, Viveca was such a wonderful girl,"

"How did you know her?"

She smiled and pulled her glasses off. "That is for another visit, dear. Here," she held out a twenty dollar bill.

"Oh no, I couldn't take your money,"

"Please, you don't understand how much you have helped me today,"

I smiled. "It's ok. I can come back tomorrow if you'd like."

Her old eyes lit up. "Oh you're too kind,"

I smiled and walked back over to my house. I dreaded going back. I would rather help Mrs. Goldman. Especially because I wanted to know how she knew my mom.

"Ella Marie Saunders!"

I sighed and went into the kitchen, my step mom looked angry.

"You did not clean off the dinner table! Instead you go off and help some old hag next door who had enough money to hire God to clean her attic! What do you have to say for yourself?!"

I wanted to say that she was the old hag, not Mrs. Goldman, but I figured I shouldn't make her even more angry. "I'm sorry. I'll clean off the table." I grumbled.

And that's what I did.

***

Trina's POV

"Please! You can cut off my allowance for a year! I just want to go!" Ella pleaded.

I ran my tongue over my teeth and sighed. "Fine." Her eyes lit up and she smiled. "On one condition," I held up a finger. Her smile faded.

"You must get all of the preparations done for the girls' post prom party, and be home by midnight."

She swallowed. "O-Ok. I can do that."

She was too hopeful, her hope was going to break her, she got that from her mother. I'm hoping that maybe we will work her so hard, she will crack, then maybe she will move out or remove herself from our lives and not want her share of her father's massive will. I knew she wasn't going to get the list done, because the list was double, triple the size of her normal amount of chores. And if not, I would add a few extra things. But the main reason I didn't want her to go because I knew she was going to take attention away from Delia and Anya. I wasn't going to hide it, she really was a beautiful girl.

"Now, get to work on dinner,"

She went back to work at the cutting board. I went into the living room where Delia and Anya were leaned towards the door.

"Mama! I thought you said she wasn't going!" Anya whined.

"Oh, she isn't,"

They both looked confused. Dummies.

"She will have too many chores, besides if she does finish them in time, she won't have anything to wear,"

They grinned at each other.

Everything was working out perfect.