Free Tea Cups & Tiger Claws by Timothy Patrick

very fair bargain,” said the boy, with a hint of mock despair in his voice.
    “It’s very fair, more than fair, just ask any girl who’s teaching a boy a lesson. Lillie Logan put Edwin Meely, on her card 5 times when she caught Desmond flirting with Eugenia Wyler behind a pillar next to the coatroom.”
    “Yes , but this isn’t flirting. My father does business with her family, and I was told to dance with her. If I back out now, whole economies might fail. Do you want to be responsible for that?”
    “Will I go in to the history books?”
    “Yes , Right next to Mata Hari.”
    “Billy Newfield!” she said with a shriek. “You are a beast!”
    Billy Newfield. Now she knew. She knew what she already knew. That’s what the day had been about anyhow. She knew her sisters had it good. Now she knew how good, and she didn’t care. She’d seen the big gate and the guard who got paid to say “howdy.” She’d driven up a driveway long enough to be on a map. She’d seen the fairytale house surrounded by fairytale trees. And now she’d seen her sister, dressed like Clara Bow, flirting with Billy Newfield. She’d taken the plunge and it felt good because now there would be no more nightmares where imagination takes the bit into its teeth and drags her through a never ending chain of enchanted castles, always home to magnificent beauties named Judith and Abigail, always perfect, but never quite perfect enough to satisfy a gnawing suspicion that the full extent of her sisters’ glory has yet to be discovered; when given free rein and the whip of a tormented soul, jealous imagination can run forever. But now she knew. She slew imagination in favor of bleak reality and found it more to her liking.
    Yes, she’d taken the plunge. Or had she? Maybe it was more of a cautious dip. After all, she still hadn’t gotten a good look at them, especially Billy Newfield, and that seemed a shame, considering how far she’d come.
    After turning in place, she slowly tilted her head past the corner of the house, but didn’t see anything except the walkway which led down to the bridge. She took a step into the opening and saw Billy Newfield’s right arm resting on the armrest of the bench. She took another step and saw the rest of him, from the back. He sat upright, polite, dignified, left arm still draped behind her on the back of the bench. Her sister eagerly leaned toward him. She stabbed the air with her finger and jabbered away. He tried to say something. She slapped his leg playfully but then let her hand rest on his leg. He took her hand into his and then leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. She kissed him back and then looked around to make sure they hadn’t been seen. Dorthea ducked back behind the playhouse.
    He ’d kissed her. Unbelievable. But what choice did he have? She did everything to get that kiss just short of hanging an “open for business” sign around her neck. Dorthea had seen enough. She crept back along the front of the playhouse, muttering about sluts and hussies, until she got to the steps of the porch. All she had to do now was peek around the far end of the porch to see when her sister turned her head away and then run up and out of the clearing.
    She climbed the first step, but then something above caught her eye. It was a placard hanging from the wall that overhung the front porch. She stepped back onto the walkway and looked at it. With fancy woodworked edges and a glossy white background, it said “Judith’s House” in a flowing purple painted script. She stepped back again, looked at the next house to her right, and saw the same type of placard over the steps, but this one said “Abigail’s House.” Naturally wondering who the third house belonged to, since the duchess had never had kids of her own and had never adopted any others besides Judith and Abigail, she crept over to it, taking care not to be seen through the gaps between the houses, and found another placard, which simply