Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Are you telling me no?”

Pearl’s smile became distinctly forced and her stomach plummeted to the floor. “No, ma’am, we simply have no more openings for today. The soonest available appointment is next Thursday.”

“Next Thursday?! That’s far too late! You let them in right away, why are they more important?!”

The woman gestured widely behind Pearl, likely at the closed office door she’d just escorted an elderly couple into. Pearl tried to find the words to explain that they’d booked their appointment three months prior, and that the office hasn’t accepted walk-in appointments for as long as Pearl has worked here.

One look at the woman’s pinched face told Pearl she wasn’t going to like that answer.

The only other secretary working right then was Elizabeth, and Pearl could hear occasional snippets of the hushed conversation she was having with her customer. It wasn’t something she should interrupt.

Pearl bowed her head slightly to the woman before her. “Let me ask my supervisor, just to check.”

Five minutes later, the woman swept out of the tax office like a hurricane, leaving several frightened patrons in her wake- Pearl among them. She certainly hadn’t liked being told no, but Pearl had no other option, as much as she wished she could whisk the woman into an office and help her herself.

As she did many days, Pearl felt distinctly helpless.

The sun was setting as she left the tax office, casting dramatic shadows over the streets. Pearl heard her stepmother’s voice in her head- “Always be home by dark, or the Wizard Howl might find you.”

Pearl was fairly certain the Wizard Howl only ate the hearts of beautiful girls, so she had little to worry about. Pearl was also fairly certain the Wizard Howl wasn’t real, but that was a different matter.

Pearl had nothing to fear from a wizard no one ever saw, and she had nothing to fear from the dark.

Pearl hurried regardless, and made it home before the streetlights came on.

“Pearl, dear, do you plan on earning a certificate and becoming a tax evaluator yourself?”

Startled, Pearl nearly dropped her spoon, just barely managing to finesse the spoonful of custard back onto her plate without making a mess. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself.

She met Mrs. Major’s curious gaze and smiled, even as her stomach twisted with anxiety and dread.

“Yes ma’am, I’ve been recommended for the course by my supervisor. He said if I start the course this spring, I’ll likely have my certificate by next year,” Pearl said.

Mr. and Mrs. Major both sang their praises, and Pearl sat back to let her stepmother, Cecelia, tell them more about all the people who had given professional recommendations for Pearl and how rare it was for a girl as young as Pearl to be accepted for a course in something as important as tax work.

Pearl didn’t know much about it all, truth be told. Cecelia had secured her the job at the tax office, and she’d done all the research into what was required for her to be promoted.

“It’s quite the important position,” Cecelia boasted, “I’m quite proud of Pearl, you know-”

“Is that what you want to do?”

A shocked silence fell over the table. Pearl’s stomach once again plummeted to the floor, her appetite gone despite custard being one of her favorite desserts. She peered across the table at Scott.

Scott Major, her fiancee.

He wasn’t smiling, nor was he even pretending to enjoy the meal. His serving of custard sat untouched.

Pearl met his eye, and felt very much like she was being judged.

“I-” she said, slowly, softly- “I want to help people.”

Silence continued to stretch.

Cecelia laid her hand on Pearl’s arm and laughed, light and good-natured. “A good place to be, then, in charge of keeping people’s money on track. Taxes can end someone, if done incorrectly!”

Cecelia and the Majors shared a laugh, and Pearl found herself joining in, as if on instinct.

Scott did not laugh, and he spent the rest of the meal pretending Pearl didn’t exist.

“Sounds like he wanted to know if your mom forced you into that job, which, well. She did.”

“She didn’t force me! It’s an important job, she worked hard to get me my position,” Pearl says, feeling defensive of Cecelia, “Besides, I like helping people. It’s a good job for me.”

Gem narrows her eyes. It’s clear she doesn’t believe a word Pearl has said, and Pearl has to admit, she’s having a little bit of trouble believing herself. She’s worked at the Neighborhood Tax Office for almost a year now, and she feels no closer to truly helping people than she did her first week there.

Pearl appreciates the work she does, and she appreciates the work Cecelia put in to get her the job. But all she really wants is to make people happy, and she hasn’t done that even once at this job.

“I suppose you could have it worse, at least you get to sit down all day,” Gem says.

Her words are dripping in sarcasm, and Gem’s impish grin is blinding when Pearl catches her eye.

Pearl rolls her eyes. “Well, everybody loves you here! All your coworkers are so lovely, and I’ve never seen a customer leave the store without a smile on their face!”

“That’s because it’s a bakery and I’m giving them cake, not because of my customer service.”

“Oh, just take the compliment, will you?”

Pearl sways as Gem shoves her, and they laugh again, the sound drowned out by the bustle of a midday rush. All around them is noise- crates being picked up and placed back down, oven timers screaming, a dozen voices clamoring over one another in a desperate plea to be heard.

A part of Pearl wonders what it must be like to work in a place like this, so loud and full of life.

“What about your coworkers? It’s been a while, have you gone out with any of them yet?” Gem asks. There’s an odd tone to her voice that puts Pearl on edge. “Have you made any friends?”

It’s not a judgment. Pearl knows this.

But the question makes her chest feel tight, and she kind of doesn’t want to answer.

“We haven’t gone out, no, they’re all much too busy. Poor Elizabeth works so hard to support her little brother, I wouldn’t want to take up any of the time she has with him. And my boss is…”

Is… what? Cruel? Pearl can’t say that- she shouldn’t even be thinking it! Pearl’s mouth starts to go dry and she can feel Gem’s eyes on her, waiting, waiting.

It isn’t a judgment. Pearl knows this.

“Is it really that bad?” Gem asks, softly, sadly.

It isn’t a judgment, but in this moment, it certainly feels like one.

“It’s not bad at all,” Pearl answers.

She doesn’t need to look Gem in the eye to know she doesn’t believe a word.

“Pearl, could you take these papers to the Madame, please? They’re for her current client. I’d do it myself, but I really want to get all of these organized before we leave, if it’s not any trouble?”

Elizabeth’s expression is apologetic and so, so genuine. One look at her desk reveals a mess of papers that will need to be filed away within the hour- Pearl would have said yes to helping her even if she’d been busy. As it is, Pearl has finished all her paperwork, and there are no clients currently waiting.

“Of course! And I’m all finished, if you’d like some help with those after!” Pearl says, gesturing to the mess with what she hopes is an encouraging smile.

Elizabeth grins, her apologetic expression fading into obvious relief. “I would, thank you!”

Pearl takes the folder of neatly stapled papers from Elizabeth and steps up to their boss’ office.

Pearl pauses outside the closed door, the folder flat against her chest. She isn’t particularly afraid of the Madame. She’s never been afraid of much, truth be told. But something about the woman’s clinical manner of speaking, the steadiness of her stare, as if Pearl is being judged and found lacking-

It puts Pearl’s stomach in a twist, and she prefers to avoid the woman when possible. Which is never.

Pearl knocks twice, light as she can while still being heard. A voice beckons her in. Another voice-

“Is there nothing you can do to help me?”

Pearl pauses in the doorway, breath lodged in her throat, and observes.

An elderly woman is slouched in the chair before the Madame’s desk. She clutches a stack of papers in her lap that has begun to spill onto the floor, and Pearl’s fingers itch to help gather them up again.

The woman is crying. Pearl can see her body shaking, can see the tears on her wrinkled cheeks-

Pearl lets out the breath she’d been holding. Breathes in, breathes out, breathes in.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

Pearl speaks softly, quietly, leaning down by the woman’s side. The old woman turns to look at her and Pearl can see the panic in her eyes, the fear and worry and helplessness-

“Pearl, dear, what do you have for me?” the Madame asks. No-nonsense.

Pearl almost ignores her. She wants to ignore her. But-

“Some paperwork, ma’am,” Pearl admits. She stands up, faces the Madame. The old woman continues to cry by Pearl’s side. “Elizabeth said they were for your current client, so I assumed it was urgent.”

“Oh, thank you. Give them here, please.”

The Madame doesn’t look at Pearl as she reaches for the folder, too busy reading over some document on the desk before her. Pearl places the folder in her outstretched hand. The hand retreats.

The Madame gives the folder one quick glance, then waves Pearl away. “Thank you, you may go.”

Pearl doesn’t go.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

The Madame looks up at her then- Pearl can see it in her periphery. But Pearl isn’t looking at her.

She’s looking at the old woman, slouched over the papers Pearl has gathered for her in the quickest of moments, shaking with sobs that seem too strong for her to bear. Pearl stands with her hand perched on the woman’s bony shoulder, watching her dab her tears with the handkerchief Pearl offered her.

Pearl wants to help. She so, so badly wants to help.

But-

“No, Pearl, I have it quite handled,” the Madame insists, “I will call you if I need you, dear.”

Pearl leaves the office and closes the door behind her, feeling more helpless than ever.

“Pearl, dear, we need to have a little chat.”

Startled, Pearl almost drops the folders she’d brought home from the tax office, but manages to catch it without spilling its contents all over her bedroom floor. She sets the folder on her desk.

“Come in,” Pearl calls.

The door is already opening, revealing an incredibly sheepish-looking Cecelia. This put Pearl on edge; Cecelia is not a shy or sheepish person, nor does she often seem to feel very guilty over anything.

Pearl isn’t so sure she wants to have this little chat, anymore.

Cecelia hesitates in the doorway for just moment before entering the room and sitting primly on Pearl’s bed. She takes her time smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, then pats the bed invitingly. Or not so invitingly, given the strangled look on her face. Pearl sits carefully beside Cecelia, hands in her lap.

“Pearl-” Cecelia starts, stops. Clears her throat. Starts again. “You know how hard it’s been since your father died, trying to make all the payments on the house and the shop. We’ve barely made it by.”

Pearl nods, a dark pit swirling in her stomach.

Almost a year since her father died. Almost a year since Cecelia was left with her late husband’s home and business, a business she couldn’t sustain alone. Almost a year since Cecelia got Pearl her job at the tax office, almost a year since they sold the shop. Almost a year since they lost everything.

Not everything, Pearl reminds herself. She has plenty to be grateful for.

Losing her father had certainly felt like losing everything, though.

“I know you’ve been working so hard, and I’m so proud of you, Pearl. I truly am. I think this job does a lot of good for you, and I really believe you’ll do a lot of good for others there, too.”

Cecelia’s words are kind but distracted. She’s clearly stalling.

“But darling, it’s- it’s not enough. We don’t have enough money to pay off the mortgage.”

Oh.

“I’m so sorry, Pearl, but… I’m afraid we’re going to have to sell the house.”

Oh.

The words hit Pearl like a slap to the face. No matter how much Cecelia tries to soften the blow, Pearl aches as if something vital has been ripped from her chest. Her breath feels lodged in her throat.

This house is all Pearl has left of her parents. This house is where she grew up, every happy memory of her parents lies within these walls- the early days with her mother before she died, learning to read and cook and sew; late nights with her father hearing stories of the bright future he’d laid out for her.

He’d said she would inherit his business, once upon a time. Pearl had been delighted.

But then he’d died, and he’d left everything to Cecelia, and everything had fallen to pieces.

Sell the house.

“I also wanted to tell you,” Cecelia whispers, “that Justin proposed to me last night. I accepted, under the condition that you could come to live with us, too. Until you and Scott are married, at least.”

“Oh,” Pearl breathes.

Sell the house.

Pearl doesn’t want to sell the house. She really, really doesn’t want to sell the house.

But Cecelia is right. They can’t afford to pay the mortgage; Pearl only makes minimum wage, and poor Cecelia has spent most of the past year handling their finances and fielding a courtship; she’s been far too busy to hold down a proper job, and Pearl didn’t want her to have to, not after everything.

Cecelia has done so much for Pearl. Getting her the job at the tax office, and now bargaining for Pearl to have a place in her new home when she’s not even Cecelia’s real daughter…

She owes it to Cecelia, doesn’t she?

Pearl doesn’t want to sell the house. But there’s no other option.

So Pearl takes Cecelia’s hands in hers, and smiles, and says: “Okay.”

Chapter Text

“Alright dears, you just stay right there, we’ll be back in a moment!”

Pearl watches Cecelia vanish into the parade crowd with her arm looped through Mrs. Major’s, off to collect drinks for the four of them. This leaves Pearl and Scott alone beside one of the shops along main street, watching from the back of the crowd as endless rows of soldiers march past.

Pearl twiddles her thumbs, avoiding eye contact. She feels nervous when left alone with Scott like this- she hasn’t forgotten how he’d looked at her during dinner last time, or how he’d ignored her after.

Pearl so desperately wanted to make a good impression on him, but he just… didn’t seem to like her.

She wasn’t sure what else she could do.

“Should we go somewhere else?” Scott asked.

Pearl turned to look at him, feeling utterly confused. “Go somewhere?”

“Sure. I have no love for the military, I’d rather not stand here all day watching them show off.”

“But… Cecelia and Mrs. Major will be back soon, won’t they worry if we leave?”

Scott’s formerly bored expression turned sour, and Pearl felt herself stiffen. When he looked at her, it was with a kind of disbelief, as if he were both concerned and disappointed in Pearl’s words.

“You don’t truly believe they’re coming back, do you?” he asked, slow and sullen.

Pearl stared.

What reason did she have not to believe Cecelia? Why wouldn’t they come back? Cecelia had always kept her word, and it would make no sense for her and Mrs. Major to have lied.

It didn’t make any sense. Pearl started to feel somewhat nauseous.

Scott sighed, clearly sensing Pearl’s confusion. “My mother will do anything to get her way, and right now she wants us to be alone. She thinks it will help us… bond, or something.”

His emphasis on the word bond made Pearl think it was the last thing he wanted to do with her.

“Oh,” Pearl whispered.

It was a reasonable assumption, Pearl had to admit. She and Scott hadn’t been alone for even a moment since they’d been reunited for their courtship, and they’d never been particularly close as children, even though they’d been in the same class throughout their school years.

They didn’t know each other. This was perhaps their mothers’ way of giving them the opportunity.

Pearl just wasn’t sure if Scott really wanted to know her.

“What do you think?” Scott asked.

I want to go home, Pearl thought. I hate this parade and the soldiers and the people.

I want to go home, Pearl thought.

“A walk does sound quite nice,” Pearl said.

Scott stared at her for a long, long moment, until finally he scowled at her and said: “Liar.”

Pearl felt as if her heart stopped beating.

“What?” she breathed, almost in awe.

Scott’s expression had become almost rageful- it was the most expression she had seen him show, and it made her take a step back from him, as if putting space between them might lessen his anger.

After all, it was clear that she was the reason for it.

“Why do you lie about everything?” Scott hissed, “You say you love your job, but you can’t think of a single good thing to say about it except how grateful you are to be there. You say you’re delighted to come to the parade, but you look like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world.”

Oh.

“You never start a sentence by yourself, you just let your mother do it for you and go along with what she says! You’ve never even talked to me by yourself, it’s always your mother talking for you.”

Oh-

“How can you expect me to want to marry you if you don’t even care to know me?!”

The words hit Pearl like a slap to the face.

Because it’s all true. Not once had she gone out of her way to talk to Scott, to ask him questions, to find out what kind of man he was. It wasn’t her place to ask. Pearl had trusted Cecelia’s judgement, and had naively assumed that anything she might need to know about him, Scott would tell her.

Pearl had come to assume that Scott hadn’t wanted to get to know her, that he didn’t like her.

Scott had come to the same assumptions of her.

“Scott, I-”

“Do you even want to marry me?”

“What?”

Again, Pearl’s blank, confused response only fueled Scott’s anger. She could see him shaking.

But Scott made no moves toward her, only stared her down and repeated:

“Do you even want to marry me?”

Silence.

Scott’s anger began to fade into sadness, and Pearl felt as if she’d been soaked in ice cold water.

Scott’s voice seemed to crack as he asked, “Do you even know what you want?”

Pearl didn’t.

Her thoughts whirled a mile a minute, trying to find the one thing to say that would quell Scott’s anger and fix their relationship. But as the seconds ticked by, and Scott’s expression grew ever more sad and closed-off, Pearl felt in her gut that there was nothing to fix. They had no relationship.

They had nothing, and it was all Pearl’s fault.

Scott didn’t say anything else. Pearl watched him vanish into the crowd, and while several people glanced his way in concern, not a single one of them seemed to notice Pearl.

Pearl, huddled beside a closed-up hat shop and quietly crying, felt completely and utterly invisible.

“Pearl, I’d like to speak with you in my office.”

Caught off guard, Pearl set aside the paperwork she had been reading through and hurried to follow the Madame into her office. Thinking this might be a quick discussion, Pearl remained standing.

When the Madame motioned for her to sit, however, anxiety began to swirl in Pearl’s stomach.

“Do you know why I’ve asked you here, dear?” the Madame asked.

Pearl shook her head.

The Madame motioned to the stack of paperwork set between them. “I noticed recently that some of the papers referring to my most recent case had gone missing. They returned within a day, but then another set of papers went missing. Again returned within a day. So I read through each case...”

Pearl’s stomach sank.

“… and it became clear to me that all the cases in question were essentially the same. Elderly clients in a desperate plea for tax exemptions. I’m sure I can guess what was going through your mind, yes?”

Pearl nods, clutching the sides of her chair with white-knuckled grips.

She’d known the moment she took the first case file home that she had committed a crime. Case files of any kind were not to leave the premises, as tax information was extremely sensitive. But Pearl had seen the desperation in that old woman’s eyes, and she had been determined to find a way to help her.

So she’d read every detail of the woman’s case two times over, and then she’d found other similar cases to read through for insight. Pearl had taken notes, had read the tax laws three times through.

“I only wanted to find a way to help her,” Pearl admitted.

The Madame nodded in understanding. “I know you did. But it isn’t our job to do so.”

“How can you say that?”

Pearl hadn’t meant to speak her mind- she had only meant to admit her faults and apologize for them. But once it came out, Pearl felt a sudden rage rise within her, a rage that had been boiling for months.

“How can you say that it isn’t our job to help people?” Pearl blurted, “How am I supposed to sit by and pretend that we do our jobs well when we let people struggle without even trying to change it?!”

“Pearl-”

“You told me when I got this job that we were here to help people. And I believed you.”

“Pearl, please-”

“You lied to me.”

The Madame’s eyes flew wide, and for a split second, Pearl wondered if this was how she had looked to Scott the night before when he had abandoned her at the parade, hurt by her silence.

For a split second, Pearl regretted having ever said a word.

But she couldn’t spend another moment pretending to help people when she wasn’t.

So she stood from her chair and marched out of the Madame’s office, ignoring Elizabeth’s voice calling after her, laden with concern. She marched out of the tax building and down the street, not even really looking where she was going until finally she collapsed on a bench near the town square.

I’ve just quit my job, Pearl thought. Running out like that is just as good as quitting.

Guilt began to rise in her throat, but then came the memory of that old woman, bent and broken in the chair before the Madame’s desk, and the guilt faded just as quickly as it came.

That evening, when Pearl returned home, she admitted everything to Cecelia without a single tear. She couldn’t bring herself to cry over the loss of her job at the tax office, even as guilt began to tug at her as she remembered how much work Cecelia had done to get her the job in the first place.

Cecelia, for her part, was much more concerned than she was angry. She promised to call the tax office first thing in the morning and straighten things out with the Madame, insisting Pearl had done nothing wrong. Pearl disagreed, but she had no energy to try and argue her own sins to her mother.

Cecelia had promised she wasn’t angry with Pearl, had made her a cup of chamomile tea, and had sent her up to bed to rest after the stressful day. Pearl had gone willingly.

It wasn’t until she tiptoed downstairs for another cup of tea hours later that the shame really settled in.

Pearl heard Cecelia’s voice in the dining room- odd at such a late hour, when normally Cecelia would be in bed knitting or listening to the radio. Pearl had paused on the stairs to listen.

“Darling, I don’t know. But I can’t trust the Majors not to break the engagement after last night… I’m not sure I even want her to marry him after how he abandoned her!”

Cecelia must be on the phone, most likely talking to her fiance, Justin. Pearl felt her heart sink as she remembered her falling out with Scott. He had never returned. Pearl had simply stayed put until Cecelia and Mrs. Major had returned nearly two hours later, half-drunk and weary from the festivities.

Pearl had never fully convinced Cecelia that Scott was not at fault, and the tension between Cecelia and Mrs. Major was palpable the entire way home. They had not bid each other good night.

Pearl had ruined her engagement with Scott, and she had ruined their mothers’ friendship, too.

“I don’t know how long she’ll be staying with us, and frankly, I don’t think it matters! No, I don’t care that she doesn’t have a job, I don’t have a job and you proposed to me just fine!”

Oh.

Pearl tiptoed back up the stairs to her room and hid beneath her covers, and the tears finally came.

She had ruined everything.

She had hurt Scott, had broken their engagement and ruined Cecelia’s closest friendship. She had said cruel things to the Madame, even though she was only doing what her the government allowed of her, and had thrown away the job Cecelia had worked so hard to find for a girl as young as Pearl.

And now, because of all that, Pearl had become a burden to Cecelia and her fiancee.

Cecelia had promised that her fiancee would allow Pearl to live with them when they married, but that was only until Pearl herself was married. Now, her engagement was broken. And then Pearl had gone and quit her job, the only source of income she and Cecelia had now that her father was dead.

She had ruined everything.

Pearl curled into a ball beneath her covers, praying Cecelia wouldn’t hear her crying and try to comfort her. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve any of the things Cecelia had done for her.

She was a burden to Cecelia, a burden to Scott. She didn’t deserve their love.

Pearl cried, and Cecelia never came, and Pearl once again felt completely and utterly invisible.

Cecelia called the tax office before Pearl ever left her room the next morning.

The Madame wasn’t upset with Pearl, Cecelia said, only worried for her. Cecelia said that she wouldn’t get in trouble for removing paperwork from the premises, since it was returned in perfect condition.

Cecelia said she still had a job at the tax office, if she wanted it.

Pearl said she didn’t.

Elizabeth came by that evening with her little brother, leaving strawberry cake and a handwritten letter that Pearl didn’t have the heart to read. She and Cecelia ate the cake, and Pearl didn’t taste a thing.

Cecelia never told Pearl about the stressful phone call she’d had with her fiance the night before. Pearl asked if they had gotten any offers for the house, and Cecelia said they had, but when Pearl asked how much money had been offered, Cecelia’s answers were vague and unconvincing.

It became clear that Cecelia was lying to keep Pearl from worrying about their finances.

Pearl didn’t deserve it.

Cecelia left shortly after breakfast the next day to visit Justin. Pearl did her best to keep busy, cleaning the already spotless house from top to bottom and packing her belongings away into chests, ready to be moved. She wasn’t sure when or where she would be moving out, but it was good to be prepared.

And then Pearl sat on her bed, staring out her bedroom window at the town.

She had no job, no fiance. She was about to lose her home. She had nothing going for her.

Pearl had nothing.

What was she supposed to do?

The third day after her disastrous evening with Scott, Pearl waved off all Cecelia’s concerns for her and left home to visit Gem. It had been quite a while since she’d seen her friend, and Pearl really wanted to hear Gem’s opinion of all the goings-on. Cecelia’s words could only be trusted so far when she was so close to everything happening, and Pearl desperately needed an outsider perspective.

It took nearly an hour for Pearl to travel from their neighborhood to the business district, but Pearl took her time, enjoying the view from the trolley and pausing to smell flowers growing outside homes.

It was the first time she had felt peaceful since the parade, and Pearl enjoyed every moment of it.

Unfortunately, peace could only last so long.

It wasn’t uncommon for Martha’s Patisserie to be crowded full of customers on weekends or holidays, but for the shop to be so busy mid-week took Pearl entirely off guard. She could hear the voices from outside the shop, and she didn’t even have to step foot in the door to see that she’d have no space.

Pearl’s peaceful spirits began to sink. Over the heads of the crowd, she could see the flash of Gem’s red hair moving back and forth behind the counter, expertly tending to the overwhelming crowd.

There seemed little chance of Pearl making it past the other customers, and besides, what right did she have to pass them by? She wasn’t even here to buy anything. And to distract their best employee during a rush like this was unthinkable! She could always come back later, when the crowds had gone.

Pearl turned to leave, but her boot caught on the ankle of one of the gentlemen leaving the shop and she lost her balance, toppling over sideways. Pearl threw her arms out in the hopes of catching herself.

As it turned out, someone else would catch her, instead.

One hand wrapped firmly around Pearl’s upper arm, keeping her from falling. Another hand held her at her stomach for just a moment, keeping her upright, before vanishing out of understandable politeness.

Pearl righted herself and immediately felt flushed. “Thank you so much!”

Pearl’s savior let go of her arm and smiled, and as she gazed at him, an odd sense of calm washed over Pearl. The man was as tall as she was – and that was saying something – with hair as white as the lily of the valley that Pearl had sewn into her handkerchiefs. His smile was so bright and genuine that his eyes creased at the corners, and his suit was far more casual than what most men in town wore.

In just that one moment, he struck Pearl as a humble man.

“I’m just glad you’re alright, falling when you’re tall really sucks,” the man said.

It was so normal, so casual. Pearl couldn’t help but laugh.

“It really does, doesn’t it?”

The man gestured toward the crowded shop, one eyebrow raised. “Were you trying to get in? I saw you turn around, if there’s something you need, maybe I can help?”

Pearl stared, feeling lost for words. There was something she needed, but she’d been determined not to bother any of the other customers or the employees, Gem included. She could always come again.

But something in the man’s eyes made Pearl feel as if she should at least try.

So she took his arm, and the two of them stepped into the sea of people together.

Pearl had expected them to push their way through, weaving through tiny gaps between customers, but no one ever seemed to touch them. Customers on their way out stepped politely around Pearl and even the most boisterous of customers stopped their flailing as soon as Pearl was within arm’s reach.

It was as if she were some kind of untouchable celebrity, yet no one seemed to actually see her.

Before she knew it, Pearl was at the front counter, and the man who had led her there had vanished.

“Pearl!"

Gem’s voice flew over the chaos loud and clear. Pearl searched for her red hair and caught Gem only a few feet away, tying a bow around a cake box. Gem handed the box to a customer and smiled. It was a genuine smile, but a tired one, and as soon as the box was gone she made a beeline for Pearl.

“C’mon, I need a break. They can handle things for now,” Gem said, pulling Pearl into the back.

They ended up seated on their usual crates in the storage room, Gem splayed out against the wall with a sigh. The yelling of the customers and employees at the front of the shop could still be heard.

“I swear, we announce one sale and the whole damn town has to be here! No one needs this much cake! And it’s not even that good of a sale!” Gem fumed.

Gem went on for a bit about her boss and the dreadful sale she had announced. Just as she seemed to be calming down from the chaos, one of the kitchen boys poked his head into the room, asking about one of the recipes. Gem answered with little compassion, and the boy vanished.

“So, how have things been? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Gem said, smiling fondly.

Pearl returned her smile, even as the question made her stomach twist and turn. She had no clue how to tell Gem everything that had happened. What should she start with? What details should she give?

Pearl took a deep breath. Another kitchen boy appeared, looking frightened.

“What is it now?!” Gem spat.

“The macaroons have burned,” the boy said, almost quaking. “Someone forgot to set a timer.”

Gem groaned, and Pearl could see the stress lines returning to her face. Gem’s gaze slid from the boy to Pearl, and Pearl allowed herself to give up on getting the opinions she’d wanted.

“Go. I can always come back later,” Pearl said.

Gem looked at her for a long moment, clearly torn. Pearl simply smiled.

Gem vanished with the kitchen boy, and Pearl began the journey home.

She made it all the way to the edge of her neighborhood before she started to fall apart.

As soon as Pearl began to cry, a weariness came over her so strong that she paused in the middle of the street, unable to lift her feet. Every bone in her body felt immeasurably heavy, as if there were a weight she had been carrying, and yet suddenly she had no more strength to continue on.

The thought never occurred to Pearl to try and hide her tears. She simply stood motionless in the street, quietly crying, until she heard footsteps behind her and scrambled to wipe her face clean.

“Are you alright?”

Pearl turned, and found herself facing a large woman a head shorter than her. Was she a woman? Her hair was as red as Gem’s, if a little darker, thrown all about her head in loose curls. She was wearing an intricate green men’s suit that somehow showed off her curves better than a dress might have.

The setting sun cast odd shadows across the woman’s face, but Pearl could still see her concern.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Pearl replied. Her voice cracked on each word.

The woman held her gaze for a long moment. It was the same kind of look Gem had given Pearl many, many times- the look that said she didn’t believe a word Pearl said, but didn’t want to say so.

“Are you sure?” the woman asked, quiet and gentle.

Pearl simply nodded, gave a polite bow, and continued on her way.

The thought crossed her mind that she had been incredibly rude, but Pearl didn’t turn back. She didn’t want to be a burden on even one more person, especially when said person was a total stranger.

She was already far too much of a burden. She didn’t deserve anyone else’s sympathy.

Something moved in her periphery.

At first, Pearl assumed it was the woman, insistent on knowing if she were truly alright. But when Pearl turned to look, she instead found a large, brown dog by her side, its thick fur caked in dust. Pearl held out a hand to the dog and it pushed its face into it willingly, licking her fingers.

Pearl gave a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in years. “Why, hello there!”

The dog’s entire butt began to sway with the force of its tail wagging back and forth, and Pearl couldn’t help a giggle. She ran her hand over the dog’s neck and it pressed its body into her side.

“Aw, look at you! You’re so friendly!”

Pearl stepped off to the side of the road and sat crossed legged on the curb, allowing the dog to throw itself into her lap. She held it close to her chest, rubbing its stomach with one hand and scratching the underside of its chin with the other, and the dog showed its delight by kissing her face relentlessly.

The dog was clearly a stray, with no collar to claim it, but she had a hard time believing it wasn’t being cared for by someone. Its fluffy coat was dusty but not matted, and it certainly wasn’t starving.

Pearl knew there were any number of local strays who were fed by families or businesses; people who loved the dogs and looked after them, even if they might not invite them into their homes. Those strays who were looked after by the locals were often incredibly friendly and protective of the locals in their territory, as if in return for the care they received. Those strays were beloved by the locals.

This dog was likely no different, and for a moment, Pearl wondered what its life might be like.

Sure, it may not have a permanent home, but it had the freedom to wander the town as it liked, meeting new people and gaining their love. It could stop by any number of shops, gaining little treats. It could chase ducks at the park and play with children in the street as it liked, beloved by all.

“You must have it pretty good, eh?” Pearl said, “Go anywhere you want, whenever you want, no one to tell you what to do or how to do it. No one expects anything of you, do they?”

The dog peered up at her, silent and unmoving, as if it were listening. Pearl felt her chest tighten.

“Must be nice,” she whispered, to herself more than anything.

The dog climbed out of her lap and took off down the street, off to its next destination. Pearl sat on the curb for a long while, looking out at the deepening shadows, when she heard footsteps again.

This time, it was the woman she had seen before.

Pearl didn’t have the heart to fake another smile, but she didn’t need to- she didn’t even get the chance to open her mouth before the woman’s hand settled on her shoulder, and Pearl began to feel faint.

“You might not like this at first, but you’ll understand eventually,” the woman said.

Pearl’s vision swirled and she collapsed backwards onto the sidewalk. Panic struck her; she was unable to move a muscle, and she couldn’t feel the sidewalk beneath her. She could sense the woman hovering over her as Pearl’s vision slowly returned to normal and her body finally began to respond.

And then, before Pearl could even ask what had happened, the woman was gone.

Pearl rolled onto her side to get her hands underneath herself, and pushed herself up.

Immediately Pearl could tell that something was wrong. Her clothes were suddenly pooling around her like bedsheets, too large for her body, and she still couldn’t feel the sidewalk beneath her hands the way she thought she should. The world felt somehow louder, the previously gentle breeze now roaring, yet she didn’t feel cold in the slightest. Something had changed. Something was wrong.

Pearl stood as carefully as she could from within her heaps of clothing, and peered into the window of a nearby shop, searching for her own reflection. Even in the dim light, she could see the problem.

She was a dog.