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or doing spring cleaning even though it’s fall . Or getting a divorce . Anything to get out of having dinner with the royal duds.
    “Eight o’clock sharp,” I reply with a forced half-smile. I could have said midnight or noon tomorrow. Time has no meaning for Cinderella. She shows up when she shows up.
    “Wonderful! Which of these two dresses do you like better?” She holds up two almost identical silky blue gowns. I pick the first one, not that it really matters.
    Her eyes dart back and forth from one to the other.
    She sighs. “Oh, Jane, I just can’t make up my mind.”
    She waltzes out of the store with both of them. Size 4. Even with the baby bump.
    “Dahling, I sooo love your hair,” comes an all-too-familiar voice from the distance. It’s Emperor Armando, the proprietor of the Ballgown Emporium and Lalaland’s hottest fashion designer. He knows me well. He just happens to me my fairy godmother and created the magnificent ivory wedding gown I wore when Gallant and I exchanged our forever vows.
    Forever Aurora . I can’t the words out of my head. They make me want to run home and take a sharp scissors to Armando’s bridal gown. Or throw it into the fireplace. And hear it go snap, crackle, and pop.
    Wearing his signature caftan gown, this one with a blazing pattern of orange and gold threads, the big burly Emperor sashays up to me and plants a big kiss on each cheek.
    “Dahling, you look miserable. What’s going on?” he asks.
    I silently debate whether to open up to him about Aurora. With his insightfulness and brutal honesty, he could be helpful, but in the end, I decide not to bare my heart. I sigh instead. If only he could make Aurora magically disappear. Unfortunately, his fairy godmother powers are limited to makeovers.
    “I need something new,” I tell him before he can give me a lecture on the aging effects of frowning.
    “Wait ’til you see my new collection. It’s to die for. Everyone’s clamoring for a piece to wear to Gallant’s museum gala.”
    The mere mention of his name makes my temperature rise. While I stew, Armando takes off. He returns with a dozen stunning gowns folded over his arms. Exactly what I like. Tight-waisted, full-skirted, and lots of layers. But wait. They’re all Size 8.
    “I wear Size 6.”
    “Dahling, trust me, with all that rich food you’ve been eating, go with the 8’s.”
    I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrors that line the walls of the store. Damn it! He’s right. I have put on a few.
    Hastily, without trying the gowns on, I tell Armando that I’ll take them all. Gallant’s having an affair, and I’m getting fat. It doesn’t get worse than that. He’s going to pay for what he’s done. And this is just the beginning.

    Next stop: The Glass Slipper. I order a pair of every shoe Elz has in stock even if she doesn’t have it in my size. “Send the bill to Gallant,” I tell my shoe store mogul friend. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when he opens it up.
    “How’s it going?” Elz asks sympathetically.
    “Terribly. I don’t have one solid piece of evidence to prove that Gallant is sleeping with Aurora.”
    “Just show him the letter.”
    “I can’t do that. It would show him I’m a lowbrow thief.”
    “Right.” Elz thumbs her lips as she thinks. “You know, Rump always opens up to me when he’s had a lot to drink.”
    Say no more, my friend. I’m already uncorking a bottle of wine in my head. I’ll get him drunk tonight, and he’ll tell me everything.
    My shopping expedition has definitely done the trick. I’m cheered up; I’ve just gone through a boatload of Gallant’s money, and I’ve got a plan of action. Okay. Just one last thing to do before I go home. Make a stop at Aurora’s Secret. Maybe she’ll be there. I’ll get to see what Sleeping Shrewdy looks like. As I step out of The Glass Slipper, I get cold feet. I’m not ready to face the competition.
    Readying for our dinner party, I silently