Collaring Cinderella

Edna Morgan lived right next door. I’d only met her a couple of months ago when Martha moved us to the grounds, but our connection was instant. Edna used to be the Goldwyn’s nanny, and she’d raised Rafael mostly by herself. His mother was a famous actress and left his father months after having a baby. After that, Edna cared for Rafe like he was her own child.

Edna came over to bring us cupcakes when we moved in, and luckily, I’d been home alone. We became fast friends over a cup of tea—we shared a love for all things British—and her homemade snickerdoodle cookies. I hadn’t known any of my grandparents, and I’d been feeling lonely since I’d lost my father. With Martha’s cold attitude, I couldn’t hope for any parental advice, but Edna was amazing. She made me feel like I had a place in the world, and a purpose as well.

And on top of that, she was a totally kickass woman.

She’d been a Vegas showgirl for most of her life, and she had the most amazing wardrobe filled with the kind of gowns I’d only seen on TV and in magazines before. They were all sparkly, with feathers and skintight fabrics that left nothing to the imagination. Sometimes I went over to her cottage, and Edna let me try on ridiculous outfits that made me feel like I was really a grown up, even with my virginity still intact.

Edna loved it. She’d never had children of her own, even though she’d had plenty of relationships. But after her Las Vegas years, she came into the employment of Mr. Goldwyn, and she worked for him until her retirement. She always spoke of the Goldwyn family fondly, which only served to spark my curiosity. But Edna didn’t know about my growing obsession with Rafael. No, I’d kept that private, too afraid of her mocking me if she found out… or even worse, telling my stepmother, who didn’t need another excuse to punish me and make me feel worthless.

I wrapped my fingers around the cup of tea in my hands and peeked over at Edna.

“You have something to tell me, don’t you?” she asked and I giggled out loud. She knew me so well.

“I might have… met someone today,” I said, deciding not to tell her every little detail. “He’s… something else.”

“A man?” she asked, hurriedly setting her cup down and giving me a sneaky look. “Go on, tell me everything. I want to know what happened.”

“I ran into him today,” I said, trying to avoid the details as much as possible. “He’s… different . Not like the guys at school. Older. Sexy. Oh, I don’t know.”

“Come on,” she laughed. “Did he make you feel all fluttery?”

“Yes,” I admitted reluctantly. “Butterflies, just like you told me about.”

She gave me a wise little nod and sipped her tea.

“I knew it would happen eventually,” she said simply. “And what troubles you now, Ella? Are you worried your stepmother will find out?”

“Of course,” I said with a sigh. “She would never let me be around him. You know how she reacts every time I want to do something by myself… Go to a party, do anything but chores. She hates it.”

“You have to stand on your own two feet someday, Ella,” Edna told me, knitting her eyebrows together in worry. “I want you to be independent. Martha doesn’t own you.”

“I know,” I said miserably. “I know, it’s just that…”

We both flinched when we heard the front door opening. I was out of the chair in seconds, folding Edna’s blanket and placing it perfectly on the sofa. Edna rushed to the kitchen to wash our mugs, and I fidgeted nervously in the living room, terrified of Martha’s reaction. She hated Edna without ever really giving a real reason for it. I always thought she just hated me having a friend.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Her sharp voice cut through the room like a knife, and I stepped in front of Edna. She was a brave woman, and she’d gone through many hardships in her life, but when Martha was around, she seemed to cower in fear, and I hated it.

“I’m just having a friend over,” I told Martha, and she rolled her eyes.

“You don’t have friends, Ella,” she said viciously. “An old lady who lives on the same land isn’t a friend.”

I bit back my reply and watched Martha storm through the kitchen, leaving shopping bags in her wake.

“Make sure she leaves now,” she called out behind her. “And take out the trash while you’re at it.”

I winced at the harshness of her words, but Edna patted my back. “Don’t worry,” she said with a weak smile. “I’ve dealt with bitches like her my whole life.”

“Edna!” I giggled in surprise. She wasn’t really one to cuss.