Savage Cinderella

Chapter 10-Old Friends and New

Chapter 10

Old Friends and New

Brinn made her way into town. The full-day hike had her breathing heavy by the time she reached the alleyway of the General Store. The sun had dipped below the horizon an hour ago and she rushed to reach her destination before full-on darkness took over. Thursday wasn’t her regularly scheduled night to work, but Mr. Hoffman was used to the oddities of her comings and goings. He’d eventually stopped questioning her on much of anything since they’d come to know each other three summers before. It quickly became clear that trust and privacy were equally important to both of them. Brinn proved herself a hard and honest worker and the old man rewarded her with respect for her secrets and an open door policy that meant everything to her.

It wasn’t long before Mr. Hoffman had set up an old cot in the store room for her twice monthly visits and allowed her to come and go as she pleased, a blessing on frigid winter nights or especially lonely times. 

She slid her pack from her shoulder and dug for her key. She would spend the night in the comfort and warmth of the storeroom, the scent of old wood and bags of grain there to break the monotony of sleeping all alone in her musty cabin.

The alley, with its smelly dumpster, reminded her of how different life was before meeting Mr. Hoffman. When he first found her scrounging through his trash, he tried to convince her that he wasn’t angry; he just wanted to help her. He said that his wife, Mary, would never forgive him if he allowed a child to go hungry or eat from the trash. When he explained that Mary had died back in the late nineties and that, after that, life seemed pointless, Brinn decided to take a chance. Maybe they had something to offer each other.

With no children, and only a few distant relatives remaining, he seemed to have found in Brinn, a reason to go on. They were both on a first name basis with loneliness and both of them knew it was a hard friend to have. They’d been drawn together by the common bond of a broken heart and their relationship had turned into one of mutual respect and a deep friendship.

In return for her help around the store, he agreed to let her take whatever supplies she needed. She chose carefully and took only small boxes of grains and dried fruits, items she could easily carry and that would last for some time. He always added an extra treat to her pack, shoving handfuls of sourballs or penny candy into the side pouch. "Every kid deserves a sweet treat now and again," he’d said, even as she argued that he'd given her enough already. Sometimes he would add a book from the shelf after catching her reading. He would smile at her ability to repeat interesting passages back to him.

Unlike her attachment to the written word, her math skills left much to be desired. He taught her to take inventory as she stocked shelves, and spent extra time at first reminding her how to write her numbers and count accurately. To her credit, she caught on quickly and became proficient over time. As the years passed, she took on new responsibilities around the store. She organized the shelves, took over the inventory, and even handled filling out purchase orders. 

Brinn usually left just before dawn, giving the illusion that the General Store had been visited by elves overnight, the shelves fully stocked and the floors cleaned to perfection. Windows gleamed, and Mr. Hoffman delighted in Brinn's creative arrangements consisting of pyramidal stacks of cans at the end of each aisle, or the vase of wildflowers that graced the front counter and lilies that scented the room.

At first, he didn’t seem to understand her refusal of money or her insistence that she work at night so that she might remain unseen by customers. But after several incidents of kids teasing her about her limited and ill-fitting wardrobe, and adults gawking at her as if she were a misfit toy or a dirty old boot, he did whatever he could to help her avoid customers as much as possible. He made excuses when they would ask about her, and told people that she was his grandniece on his sister’s side. That seemed to satisfy the busybodies and the local sheriff who seemed curious, but otherwise disinterested in a grubby teenager with hair hanging in her eyes and a mistrusting scowl on her face. Eventually people stopped asking. Brinn decided early on that it was best to keep out of sight.