Excerpt of The Princess and the Poison by Carol E. Ayer

The prince leaned down and kissed Sleeping Beauty, but
Sleeping Beauty didn't stir. How could she? Dead
princesses don't kiss.

"She's arriving today." I craned my neck to look up into
the giant's face. "Wish me luck."

No answer, reassuring or otherwise. The beanstalk and
Jack were similarly taciturn. So I continued on my
rounds, circling around the beanstalk to visit the Three
Billy Goats Gruff. One of the does had just given birth
to twins, so the title of the set was now off in gender
and number. Our herd had grown to five. After smiling at
the two sleeping kids curled up against their mom under
the brightly painted bridge, I moved on to pull a few
weeds at Mary's Garden and pick up some mustard-stained
hot dog wrappers in front of Alice's Tunnel. Then it was
back to my office to greet the staff.

StoryWorld, the storybook park I owned and operated in
Northern California, was hosting a summer play series,
starring actors from The Springdale Players and The Older
but Wiser Seniors' troupe. In a surprising turn of
events, twenty-something Hollywood actress Katrina Irvine
had volunteered to play the leading roles of Sleeping
Beauty, Snow White, and Cinderella. This was the biggest
thing to happen to StoryWorld since local celeb Jake
Bryant, the weatherman at Channel 14, cut the ribbon to
open the Wizard of Oz-themed tornado exhibit. Katrina was
the hot Hollywood star of the moment, and we'd sold out
the entire summer's performances already.

My staff, not the most focused bunch at the best of
times, had been beside themselves for days in
anticipation of Katrina's arrival. I knew today would be
especially trying in the getting-my-employees-in-line
department.

Cameron Thibodeaux arrived first, sporting skinny jeans
with a paisley shirt and a pair of black-rimmed glasses
that didn't have lenses. He strutted into the office and
executed a full turn in front of me. In typical Cameron
fashion, his arm brushed several files off my desk, and
he bent to pick them up.

"What do you think?" He handed me the files. Five
leather, corded bracelets encircled his wrist.

"Not crazy about it. Where's your StoryWorld T-shirt?"

"Boss, come on. Katrina Irvine is going to see me for the
first time today. Let me wear this. Just this once."

Sap that I was, I agreed. He nodded happily, scooped up
the change fund for The Castle—the entrance to the park—
and left.

The rest of the staff was on his heels, all of them
arriving at least fifteen minutes earlier than they
usually did. Since they were habitually late, this made
them on time for once. The boys seemed a little more
cleaned up than usual, and the girls, wearing gobs of
makeup, had elaborate coils and curls twisted on their
heads. I had the feeling I'd have a tough time getting
them to wear their StoryWorld baseball caps.

Once I'd sent everyone to their stations to prep for
opening, the girls with caps in hand and promises on
their glossed lips to wear them, I traveled up to see my
friend Donna at the Jack Sprat Restaurant. The pumpkin-
shaped building with a vent stack as a stem sat in the
very center of StoryWorld. I spent a lot of time there,
especially lately since I had an appetite that would not
die.

Donna leaned out the order window. "Hey, Ashling. Want a
coffee?" Even Donna's hair was more styled than usual.
Typically, she had her blonde hair up at work, held by
something she'd found lying around the restaurant, like a
plastic fork or chopsticks. But now it flowed across her
shoulders, shiny and silky-looking. And it looked curled
at the ends. Had she used a curling iron?

"It's pretty hot already." I looked up to the cloudless
sky. "How about an iced mocha? And a chocolate donut,
please. With sprinkles." To my great delight, Donna had
recently begun making her own donuts, and they were
delicious. I'd already tried every kind and was now on my
second run-through. Of the many hats I wore, Quality
Control Inspector of Donuts was by far my favorite.

"Coming right up. Do you have time for a walk?"

"Yeah. You're on. I've got paperwork, but it can wait."

As I waited for my friend, I sat at a table in one of the
glass-slipper chairs, a highlight of the restaurant for
visitors young and old. Continuing the kid-lit theme,
Donna had placed a pot of mini-carnations on each table
and stuck Wizard of Oz cupcake picks in the soil. My pot
featured Toto.

Donna worked hard to make the restaurant the success that
it was. Besides decorating the tables, she loved
inventing new dishes that played off children's
literature titles, like the Three Little Pigs Hot Dog and
Little Mermaid Fish Tacos. When Snow White's Apple Pie
was on the menu, she always saved me a slice. Donna was a
really good friend, despite the ten-year age difference
between us. And not just because she kept me flush with
treats and coffee.

The fragrant scent of donuts wafted over to me from the
pumpkin's kitchen, and I tried to distract myself by
going over my schedule for the day. Assuming Katrina's
presence wouldn't impede my plans, I had next week's
schedule to complete, a bank deposit to make, and calls
to return, in addition to the never-ending paperwork that
accompanied the running of any business. Unfortunately,
just because I worked at a storybook park didn't mean
elves took care of my paperwork during the night. Not
only that, but my assistant Marissa was on bed rest due
to a difficult pregnancy. She wouldn't be back for
several months. So neither Marissa nor elves would be any
help today.

After a few moments, Donna appeared from the back of the
restaurant, carrying a cardboard container that held two
large cups of iced coffee and a donut wrapped in a
napkin. I couldn't help but notice she wore a top with
pretty embroidery detailing along the neckline, a blue
pendant necklace, and matching dangly earrings—the type
of thing she wore when we went out but never at work. I
self-consciously smoothed my red StoryWorld T-shirt over
my jeans and finger-combed my shoulder-length brown hair.

Donna handed me my donut and coffee, grabbed her drink,
and tossed the holder into the recycling bin to the side
of the restaurant. We headed out companionably toward the
Emerald City, its neon green towers shining brightly in
the early morning sun. We stopped on the way at Peter
Rabbit's Garden. The set—a mix of small statues, live
rabbits, and a vegetable garden separated from the
animals by a cute picket fence—was one of my favorites.
Donna and I took turns petting a bunny, who was gnawing
on a carrot. Our animal keeper, Dave, must have just been
by with the morning repast. The rabbit seemed to be as
enthralled with his breakfast as I was with mine.

"Has she arrived yet?" Donna asked once we were going
again.

I studied her. Her brown eyes were lit up with
excitement. Was she also going gaga over our visiting
celebrity? Given her special outfit, maybe I shouldn't
have been surprised.