out of this godforsaken chain!”
“I’m not even going to touch that logic,” Ruby said. “But I’ll free you just to get you away from our café.”
Ruby picked up the hedge clippers and used them to snip off the end of the man’s beard—the portion that was caught in the chain. He howled like they’d murdered his whole family.
“You harlots! You’ve vandalized my glorious beard! What kind of monster cuts off a man’s beard when a simple untangling will do?”
“Next time you try to steal someone’s bike,” Ruby told him, “tuck your beard inside your shirt. You leave it hanging out like that, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to it.”
The man snatched up a plastic shopping bag that had been hidden behind the bike rack. As he did, a few pearls rolled out.Then he ran, gasping for breath as if he were being chased—and disappeared down the first alley he came to.
“Ungrateful bastard,” Ruby muttered.
“Ick, now there’s beard stuck in my bike chain.” Pearl picked up the fallen pearls and held them out to her sister. “Think he stole these?”
Pearl sketched the bearded man’s portrait and wrote,
Are you missing a large quantity of loose pearls? The thief looks like this
, and Ruby tacked the picture to the café’s bulletin board, where people seeking odd jobs or lost dogs posted flyers. The sisters weren’t surprised to have met the ungrateful bearded man—it was part of their curse. They’d probably meet and save him again. The real question was not
Would it happen?
but
When?
And would their curse end the way the fairy tale did?
In the story, after the sisters saved the ungrateful dwarf a third time, their bear friend appeared and struck the dwarf, killing him. Then the bear’s furry hide dropped from his body to reveal the shining figure of a prince. Enchantment: broken.
Did meeting the bearded man mean their old friend would return?
Not every curse went according to the fairy tale. Not every “happily ever after” came to pass. Ruby and Pearl’s safety was built into their curse, but the bear prince had no such assurances.
For the first time in a long while, Ruby was distracted at work. More than one customer had to tap the counter or call her name to get her attention. She tried to make up for it with bigger smiles and extra whipped cream, but she kept gazingout the window, waiting for a black bear to appear on the other side of the glass.
The bear prince would be bigger now, older. The sisters were seventeen, and the idea of being in love with a bear seemed as strange to Ruby as living out a different fairy tale—one where a teenage girl had to accept a monster as her lover. But as children she and Pearl had fallen in love with the bear prince in the same way they’d had crushes on talking animals in cartoons.
He wasn’t a bear; he was a boy trapped inside of a bear. And love at ten was different than love now. Ruby didn’t know what love felt like at seventeen. The only love she knew for certain was the one she felt for her mother and sister. And that was solid, unquestionable, eternal.
When business slowed, Ruby went into the kitchen and found Pearl cutting out dough with a bear-shaped cookie cutter.
“You’re thinking about him, too?” Ruby asked.
Pearl jumped. She was easily startled—she’d get so lost in what she was doing—but today Ruby felt the same way. Their minds were both elsewhere: wondering, hoping, afraid to hope too hard.
“It’s been so long,” Pearl said. “But if everything else is falling into place, maybe …”
“I know you don’t want to say it—I don’t, either—but if he’s alive, why didn’t he ever come back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he still will, and we can ask him.”
“Maybe,” Ruby said, and then lingered in the kitchen, breathing in the warm smells of butter and vanilla. She didn’t want to go back to her regular life yet—being the girl behindthe counter, thinking about senior year and that
“I’m not even going to touch that logic,” Ruby said. “But I’ll free you just to get you away from our café.”
Ruby picked up the hedge clippers and used them to snip off the end of the man’s beard—the portion that was caught in the chain. He howled like they’d murdered his whole family.
“You harlots! You’ve vandalized my glorious beard! What kind of monster cuts off a man’s beard when a simple untangling will do?”
“Next time you try to steal someone’s bike,” Ruby told him, “tuck your beard inside your shirt. You leave it hanging out like that, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to it.”
The man snatched up a plastic shopping bag that had been hidden behind the bike rack. As he did, a few pearls rolled out.Then he ran, gasping for breath as if he were being chased—and disappeared down the first alley he came to.
“Ungrateful bastard,” Ruby muttered.
“Ick, now there’s beard stuck in my bike chain.” Pearl picked up the fallen pearls and held them out to her sister. “Think he stole these?”
Pearl sketched the bearded man’s portrait and wrote,
Are you missing a large quantity of loose pearls? The thief looks like this
, and Ruby tacked the picture to the café’s bulletin board, where people seeking odd jobs or lost dogs posted flyers. The sisters weren’t surprised to have met the ungrateful bearded man—it was part of their curse. They’d probably meet and save him again. The real question was not
Would it happen?
but
When?
And would their curse end the way the fairy tale did?
In the story, after the sisters saved the ungrateful dwarf a third time, their bear friend appeared and struck the dwarf, killing him. Then the bear’s furry hide dropped from his body to reveal the shining figure of a prince. Enchantment: broken.
Did meeting the bearded man mean their old friend would return?
Not every curse went according to the fairy tale. Not every “happily ever after” came to pass. Ruby and Pearl’s safety was built into their curse, but the bear prince had no such assurances.
For the first time in a long while, Ruby was distracted at work. More than one customer had to tap the counter or call her name to get her attention. She tried to make up for it with bigger smiles and extra whipped cream, but she kept gazingout the window, waiting for a black bear to appear on the other side of the glass.
The bear prince would be bigger now, older. The sisters were seventeen, and the idea of being in love with a bear seemed as strange to Ruby as living out a different fairy tale—one where a teenage girl had to accept a monster as her lover. But as children she and Pearl had fallen in love with the bear prince in the same way they’d had crushes on talking animals in cartoons.
He wasn’t a bear; he was a boy trapped inside of a bear. And love at ten was different than love now. Ruby didn’t know what love felt like at seventeen. The only love she knew for certain was the one she felt for her mother and sister. And that was solid, unquestionable, eternal.
When business slowed, Ruby went into the kitchen and found Pearl cutting out dough with a bear-shaped cookie cutter.
“You’re thinking about him, too?” Ruby asked.
Pearl jumped. She was easily startled—she’d get so lost in what she was doing—but today Ruby felt the same way. Their minds were both elsewhere: wondering, hoping, afraid to hope too hard.
“It’s been so long,” Pearl said. “But if everything else is falling into place, maybe …”
“I know you don’t want to say it—I don’t, either—but if he’s alive, why didn’t he ever come back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he still will, and we can ask him.”
“Maybe,” Ruby said, and then lingered in the kitchen, breathing in the warm smells of butter and vanilla. She didn’t want to go back to her regular life yet—being the girl behindthe counter, thinking about senior year and that
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