This is set mid-fourth season; not really dependent on any specific episode(s). It's rated PG-13 for some mildly adult language. Please forgive the first person point of view-- I couldn't help myself.

I didn't create and don't own these characters or the premise of the show. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no infringement is intended, and absolutely no money is being made from this. Please do not reproduce in print. Please do not archive. Archive links are welcome to this page.

Thanks, as always, to Karen and Kelly, my fabulous beta readers.

Feedback makes me feel like the luckiest person on earth; if you want to send me some, it goes to kirbyfest@yahoo.com.

***

I was fingering the fourth Harry Potter book, wondering how long it'd take to get into paperback, when I glanced down to the other end of the shelves and spotted Parker.

I've seen her around town my whole life. We're about the same age, and we both grew up in Blue Cove. She didn't go to the public school-- almost none of the rich Centre kids do. They go private or Catholic until high school, when most of them get shipped off to Choate or some other overpriced boarding school that costs more a year than I make in five.

The only Centre kids I knew were poor. Kids of maintenance workers, gardeners, that kind of stuff. We didn't know kids like Parker, the kids with good cars and big houses up on hills. Most of them were snotty. They lived in a whole other world from the rest of town, like they had some kind of special, magic life because their parents worked at the castle. That's what some people called it, but I thought that was a stupid name. It didn't look like a castle. It looked like a prison. Creepy, the kind of place you got double-dared to drive by.

Anyway, we were both born and raised here, but I only even know her name because my brother had a friend named Stan, whose dad was a night janitor up at the Centre. Stan and I went out a little, right before I started going with Robbie. Mostly I dated him because he had the best car I'd ever seen-- a '65 Thunderbird convertible. Midnight blue, and he kept it waxed and gleaming with hands that never spent that much time on me. The only time I ever felt like a princess was when we were out in that car, and we were usually on our way up to the forest preserve to screw around.

There was one time Stan actually bothered to buy me ice cream before he pushed up my skirt to do his thing, and we were parked out front of the 31 flavors. We were eating our ice cream (he liked rocky road-- funny how I can still remember that), and we saw Parker coming out of the drug store down the way.

He waved his cone at me. "You have shit on your nose." As I reached up to wipe the ice cream off, he tilted his head toward the brunette looking through her purse for keys, several cars down. "See that girl? Her father pretty much runs the Centre."

There was a moment of quiet while I tried to watch the familiar brunette out of the corner of my eye, without her catching me. She'd set a small brown paper bag on top of the car (an old Volvo) and was going through her purse for what was probably the fifth time. I heard her swear in frustration, not very quietly, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

Her head whipped up and she caught my gaze. We stared at each other for one long moment, and I could feel a cold drop of melted ice cream slide onto my hand. Her eyes flicked to Stan, then down to the car-- and her eyebrows rose in appreciation. Glancing back at me, she nodded, slightly, and we grinned at each other in that silent kind of understanding that women have sometimes. Big loser, great car.

Then her hands hit the jangle of her keys, and the moment was gone as she let herself in, remembering at the last minute to grab her bag from the roof of her car.

Stan, oblivious as always, popped the bottom of the sugar cone into his mouth and started up the car. "Let's go," he mumbled around the food with his usual class.

The brunette was starting her car as we went by. "What's her name?" I asked Stan, half-curious and half just making conversation so that the trip to the forest preserve seemed like something besides just a ride up for a two-minute screw in the back seat.

He shrugged. "Her last name's Parker. Don't know her first name."

Anyway, that's how I know her name. That's about all I know, really, but you see a person around since you were a kid, you almost feel like you know more. And there she was in the bookstore, looking through one of those big shiny books with lots of pictures in them.

Looking at her, all dressed nice in black with shoes that I'd break my neck if I wore, made me feel pretty insecure. I don't dress up much, and I felt lucky that I was even wearing a clean t-shirt. Her hair looked good, she had makeup on. Head and shoulders over me, right there. And she was just so damn skinny.

Robbie had the hots for Parker in high school, whenever he saw her around town. "If you turned around any faster to look at her, you'd fucking get whiplash," I'd snarl at him, annoyed but not especially worried.

Robbie wasn't in her league. None of us were.

So after high school, Robbie went into his brother's garage and I went to junior college. Community college, they call it these days; somebody must've thought it sounded better. I had some wild idea that I could be a teacher. Stupid, huh? I finished a whole year of gen ed requirements, working my ass off at my cousin's diner in between classes. Thought I could do it, I really did.

But I got pregnant. That was that. Robbie and I got married and lived with his parents for a while after Susie was born. God, that sucked. You ever been a pregnant twenty year old, living in the bedroom over your in-laws' garage? They never let you forget it. Never. We got out as soon as we could, and we only had to stay in the trailer a year, since I managed to get a decent job at the tire plant. Phones, filing, whatever. Health insurance, too. I've been there ever since and have done all right.

Never did manage to get back into school myself. Three kids and a husband who sucks down too much beer equals no college, no teaching, twenty extra pounds on my ass and everyone sharing one bathroom. Whatever. I don't have any dreams left. Not for me, anyway. I gave up on those years ago.

I hadn't seen Parker live and in person in ages. There had probably been ten or fifteen years where I hadn't seen her at all, after high school, but I was pretty busy then. Spotted her again a few years ago, whipping into a gas station in her Porsche. I noticed the car first. I notice cars. After that, I saw her around town every so often. She was almost always alone, which I didn't get; she'd aged a hell of a lot better than I had and should have men all over her. Well, if men were what she wanted.

Guess they were, because she turned up on TV about a year ago, when that guy got killed in her house. George, who's a dispatcher and hangs at the Keg with us, told Robbie and me it was her boyfriend who died. How bad must that have been for her? Jesus, I've had more than my share of shit, but at least everyone's managed to die without getting murdered. I got really interested in the news right about then, just to see if anything more showed up, but after another news report or two the story just went away. That happened a lot with people who worked at the Centre; things just went away. Like I said, those people lived a magic life.

But here she was, in the little downtown Blue Cove bookstore, spending a Saturday afternoon just like I was. Only difference was she looked better, and could probably afford to actually buy the books she was looking at.

"Mom?"

Hayley walked up next to me, her face shining. She loved the bookstore and the library; if I'd let her put her bed in one of them she'd move right on in. Hayley's my baby, my angel. One of those too-late mistake kids, but I wouldn't trade her in for anything. Somehow, she was turning out to be the smartest of all my kids, though Rob Junior had his moments.

At nine, Hayley was almost too pretty, reading four grade levels higher than where she was supposed to be, and shy but the sweetest kid in the world. Where she came from, I don't know, but this daughter is going to college if I have to mortgage everything we own. She isn't going to end up stuck here.

She had several books in her arms, and I started getting the speech ready. We can't afford them. Put them back, baby; we'll get on the waiting list at the library. But I let her tell me about the books first, because I liked to listen to her talk, liked to see the light in her eyes. I've never felt that way about anything in my life, hardly, but my kids.

As she was giving me a plot summary of each of the four books (and showing me the covers as visual aids) I realized that, this time, I wasn't the one sneaking looks at Parker. She was looking over at us. At Hayley, really. I was used to that. Like I said, Hayley's really pretty. And when she's happy, all lit up with excitement about something-- well, you can't keep your eyes off her. She sparkles.

Hayley had finished her sales pitch and was looking at me with those huge brown eyes. As usual, I melted-- as much as I could afford to melt.

"How about..." I pulled a paperback out of the stack and held it up. It was something on the pyramids, and it was only about eight bucks. I could swing that; just take a bag lunch an extra day or two next week and lay off the Burger King. "We get this one, and..." As her face fell, I brushed the hair away from her face with my free hand. "We put the other ones on our wish list."

Hayley knew as well as I did that our wish list was twenty miles long and growing, but she just nodded. My good girl. "I'll hang on to this," I told her, tucking the book under my arm. "You go put those back where you got them, okay?"

"Sure, mom." She smiled-- with only a little sadness still in her eyes-- and disappeared around the shelf. I turned away with a sigh and looked back down at the book of Graceland pictures I'd been flipping through. Parker had moved a few feet closer and was looking at one of the books in the travel section. I shot just one quick look at her, wondering if I could wear that color of lipstick, before going back to looking at the Jungle Room.

"That's pretty." Hayley's voice came out of nowhere; she'd slipped in between me and Parker without me noticing she was back. She pointed shyly to the picture of the castle on the book Parker was holding. "Where is that?"

Parker smiled down at Hayley. Me, I was still trying to get over my shock. Hayley never says boo to strangers, and here she was starting a conversation.

"It's in Germany." Parker actually bent down and crouched on her heels, bringing her face and the book more to Hayley's eye level. Could've knocked me over at this point, between Hayley suddenly coming out of her shell and Parker being so nice to her. Hey, she never looked like the type to like kids. Goes to show you.

Hayley's finger touched the picture of the castle lightly, then she pulled it away with a guilty look on her face. "It looks like a princess lives there," she whispered, ducking her chin a little like even she couldn't believe she was actually talking to a stranger.

"Well, it's actually the Sleeping Beauty castle." I'd never heard her talk before; her voice was very low and calm, like she knew exactly how to talk to shy little girls. "It's called the Dornroeschenschloss Sababurg." I had no idea what the hell she said, but I knew without a doubt she was saying it exactly right.

If Hayley's eyes got any wider, they'd pop. "So a princess really did live there?" she breathed. "A German princess?"

"Right there. And I'll bet she lived in that tower." Parker pointed at one of the turrets.

"Wow." Hayley stared at the picture for another moment, then remembered I was there and looked up at me. "See, mom?"

I smiled at her. "I see, sweetie."

Parker was watching Hayley's face with this look. Still not sure what it was—maybe a little like my cousin Anne who can't have kids? Who knows. Hayley had turned her attention back to the book, and I heard her sigh. "A real princess. I always wanted to be a princess," she confided.

"So did I," Parker said, and her voice was so sad that-- for just a second-- I thought she was going to cry.

All of a sudden Hayley realized she was talking to a complete stranger. She turned bright red and ducked behind me. Smooth. I reached behind me and grabbed Hayley's hand as Parker stood, still holding the book. "Sorry," I said apologetically. "She's shy."

Parker shook her head, slightly, apparently indicating she didn't mind. "She's beautiful. You must be very proud of her."

I nodded. "I am."

Parker smiled at me, and for a minute it was like it had been twenty years ago-- that weird understanding. This time, Hayley was the one who broke the mood by tugging at my hand. "Mom!" she hissed. "We have to go to the grocery store!"

With one quick apologetic glance at Parker, I was dragged away by my daughter. We went back to the magazine rack for a moment-- I needed to pick up a couple of bride magazines for Susie-- and by the time I got Hayley away from all the pictures of the Backstreet Boys, another ten minutes had gone by and we were really running late. Robbie gets cranky if dinner isn't on time. He just hates getting to the bar any later than he has to.

As I was digging money out of the bottom of my purse, Judy (the cashier-- she's a distant cousin; I'm related to half of this damn town) pulled a bag out from under the counter and handed it to Hayley. "This is for you."

Hayley tore into the bag with a delighted yelp. "Judy, you shouldn't..." I started.

She cut me off. "Nope. That lady who was in here bought it and asked I give it to Hay."

I think my jaw hit the ground as Hayley pulled out the castle book from the bag. That sucker was a forty dollar book, at least. Damn.

Hayley didn't shut up about it all night, and carried the book around for days. I don't blame her.

I got a smile from a good-looking guy on the street, too, as we left the bookstore. Not bad for a mother of three. As days go, that one was of the better ones, even if dinner did end up being late. I told Robbie if he wanted to eat sooner, he should learn how to cook.

Men!

End

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