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The tap at the window made her drop the flour.
The kitchen had just stopped echoing the boots of the Cards marching outside as they rounded the corner. But just as she let her guard down, let her shoulders relax, this sharp sound startled her.
The bag fell from her hands, and the kitchen went up in a white, powdery cloud with a crinkle of the brown paper bag hitting the stone tile of the basement and the whoomph of the contents exploding into the air and settling on the counters, the pans, and her wild ginger hair. Renee, however, froze, ignoring the fact that her freshly-polished pans were now covered in white powder.
It couldn’t be… Had she drawn the curtains? Or had the Cards finally figured out that she wasn’t obeying the Queen’s orders?
Screek. Screek. Screek. The sound of three claw scratches against the glass.
She sighed, and then coughed as some of the flour drifted into her lungs. Still coughing, she made her way to the window and adjusted her hair, trying to make herself as presentable as she could after having caused a minor blizzard.
She nudged the window open a crack, and all she could see was a grin as wide as the gap, a toothy xylophone of a smile that could only belong to one creature in Wonderland…
“Chesh, I’m busy.” Renee tried her best to look indignant. But she still felt a smile creeping up the side of her face. The prankster cat was exactly who she needed right now.
“Oh, but clearly not, my dear, for you haven’t even begun to clean up the mess you just made. That is what will make you busy,” the cat replied. Before she could stop him the smile slid into the tiny gap between the sill and the window and there he was. Standing on her floury floor was none other than the Cheshire Cat, purple-striped tail and all. He carefully stepped through the flour, squinting his eyes with disgust and shaking each paw off as he went.
Renee put her hands on her hips and bent down, narrowing her eyes at him. “Cheshire, I thought we talked about breaking and entering, did we not? It’s not polite.” But by then, the irritation was merely a facade, and Chesh’s mischievous grin grew.
“Well, yes, my dear sweet child, we did, but I’ve only done the entering, I don’t believe I’ve done any breaking…at least, not yet.” The cat narrowed his yellow eyes right back, and somehow that impossible grin got wider and wider as he floated his head up to meet her gaze.
Don’t look, don’t look, she told herself. Renee’s eyes darted to the dark corner where the pale blue cookie jar was tucked, dusted with newly fallen flour.
“Aha!” the cat purred, and quick as a flash he accordioned over to the jar. “And here I thought the Cards had burned them all to a crisp. Some holdouts, perhaps?”
“Cheshire Cat, how rude can you possibly be?” Renee let out a high giggle before cringing, knowing that he would see right through her. She leaped to the other side of the kitchen and tried to playfully grab his tail to pull him away, but when he turned to look at her, his grin was no longer playful. His eyebrows seemed to draw together slightly, almost as if the carefree cat was worried about her. But that couldn’t be.
“These are fresh-baked, aren’t they, my dear Renee?” His eyes began to dance, and Renee realized that he had lifted the lid, and a curl of steam rose from the cookie jar, bringing with it a soft aroma of sugar and love. Her grip on the cat’s tail tightened.
“But that would be impossible,” the violet feline continued, “because the Queen of Hearts herself bade you stop your baking lest you cause any more damage to the kingdom. You destroyed the poor White Rabbit’s house?”
“Actually, it was that girl who did it,” Renee muttered. Curse that interloper, Alice. If it weren’t for her stealing that cookie, Renee would be busy baking cakes and other delicacies for the Queen of Hearts’ Ruby Jubilee that afternoon. Renee had been thrown out of the castle kitchen in disgrace when her sugar cookies had led to the destruction of the Queen’s most trusted messenger’s home.
She remembered the whispering in the kitchen, all the stolen glances as she was summoned to the throne room. Whisperings about how the girl called Alice had grown and grown the moment she had bitten into a cookie given to the White Rabbit. Her arms had gone through the windows, and her head up the chimney.
“Well, that’s the technicality, I suppose, but it was your little confection that did it,” Cheshire replied. “And interrupting is not very polite either.” His yellow eyes hardened as he turned his face upside down, the smile turning into a frown, though it was still a smile, just the wrong way round.
“And the Queen bade you stop…on penalty of beheading, did she not? Because your secret ingredient was so…volatile?”
Renee’s heart stopped, her joking smile fading. “Chesh, you wouldn’t…” The murderous look on Her Highness’ face was still burned into her mind.
“Oh, I wouldn’t, child, but anyone else would, so you’re lucky it was I who found you out.” Suddenly the cat’s uncharacteristic look of concern was evident, brows knit tightly, his smile turning down at the edges.
Renee smiled nervously. “Not getting sentimental, are you?”
“Well of course, who will make my tuna melts if your head is on a pike on the castle gates?” Cheshire said matter-of-factly, grinning once more.
“Well, I’m going to keep baking no matter what you say, Cheshire. I’ll figure it out.”
Cheshire closed one eye, then the other, flipping back the right way round. “I’m glad you said that, my dear.”
Renee pulled back slightly. “You…are?”
“Yes, because the Hatter wants to see you.”
The Hatter, she thought. The most feared troublemaker in Wonderland.
“Well, if it’s the Hatter, then how can I refuse?” Renee replied, a knot forming in her stomach.
Ignoring the kitchen still dusted with white, Renee shook out her hair and carefully hung up her apron on its hook in the corner. To her surprise, Cheshire settled onto her shoulder, as if this was something they did every day.
He tilted his head at her, his smile becoming wry. “I won’t get my tuna melts if the Hatter works his mischief on you, either, you know.”
Renee chuckled, in spite of her nervousness.
But it was going to be a long day.
The Mad Hattery and Tea Room was crammed into a shadowy corner of the village square. The doors, one a rhombus and the other a triangle, were warped, giving potential customers a peek into the shop even when they were closed. Their teal paint with orange polka dots was peeling, revealing chipped and dented wood beneath. The windows, with their bright orange frames, were mismatched on either side of the doorframe; one was too tall, and the other too short. The building itself seemed to be mad, tipped on its side, with a single, rickety set of stairs leading up to the second story. What had been the tearoom now sat precariously above the Hattery, empty of March Hares since the long-eared fellow had sold it years ago.
Renee slowly opened the door, sticking her head inside. The door made a sickened creak before the top hinge broke and it fell lopsided. Chesh yowled at the cacophony and vanished, quick as a flash. Renee yanked her hand back from the handle and looked around furtively to see if anyone had seen. It seemed no one had, so she turned to go inside to find herself nose-to-nose with a waistcoated figure, hat pulled down low over his eyes. The Hatter smirked, and beckoned her inside with one finger before turning and walking deeper into the shop.
Renee looked around, wondering if she should go through with this or not. She saw the branches of the decorative tree rustle, and a pair of topaz eyes peeked out from the leafy darkness.
“Do come with me, won’t you?” Renee whispered, meeting Cheshire’s gaze. “Who knows what sort of mischief he’s capable of.”
One eye closed slowly in a wink, then the other, then both, and then the eyes of her friend vanished. Renee sighed. Nothing to do about it, but maybe, perhaps, the hypnotic purple Persian was on her side. She walked through the now-slanting door, past the rows of hats. There were tall feathered hats, short hard hats, velvety bowler hats, hats so wide you had to hold them on with pins. The shelves were dusty, however, and the once-vibrant paint on the walls appeared to be peeling.
Renee picked up a cerulean bonnet, and on the price tag wasn’t a coin amount but “Must get Hatter out of one social event per month.” One of the strings, however, was missing, and its stitches uneven. An emerald top hat with a missing top said “Must help the Hatter with growing more tea leaves for March Hare.” Renee shook her head with a smile. She’d once had to pay the baker with hairpins, the seamstress with her latest dream.
“Now now,” came a voice from deeper in the shop, “there is always time to browse the merchandise, but that time is simply not now.”
Renee put down the hat she was holding and followed the voice into what seemed to be a sewing room, beneath the set of crooked stairs that led to the tea shop. The worktable was in disarray, with half-finished hats sitting in every corner. Renee edged into the room, looking for the source of the voice. She noticed a tall, skinny silhouette in the shadows behind the door. It was wrapped in an elegant green waistcoat, with an impressive green top hat pulled down low over its face. Perhaps the Hatter was expanding his business?
The room appeared to be empty of Hatters, until the mannequin shot toward her. Renee yelped with surprise and fell back into the sewing table, knocking needles and spools of thread askew.
“Ah! My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the Hatter. He whipped off his hat, revealing a shock of brown hair sticking up at all ends. He clawed through his hair for a moment, looking at a mirror placed in the corner, but just as quickly gave up with a wry smile, as if they shared a private joke.
Renee tried to make her lips twitch upward in a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Why is it that you’ve asked me here?” she said. She balanced herself on a small stool at the sewing desk.
The Hatter grinned. “I’m so glad you asked. I have a proposition for you.” But then he busied himself tidying up the needles on the ground.
“Oh, please, let me.” Renee threw herself to the ground beside him and began helping him tidy up.
“It’s no bother to me, please, you’re a guest.”
“True, but I made this mess,” Renee replied. “And I have a feeling you’re stalling.”
The Hatter cackled. “Stalling? Whatever would I do that for?”
“Because you’ve forgotten what you wanted to say.”
The Hatter stiffened, hackles raising.
“Most of your hats are incomplete in some way,” Renee went on. “Almost as if you forgot to finish them. Your shop is falling into disarray, your sewing room is a disaster…”
She turned to see the Hatter glaring at her, having stopped picking up loose needles and pins. “How… perceptive of you.”
Renee gulped, fighting the urge to hug herself. It seemed she had hit a little too close to home.
“If you must know, I’ve had a curse put on me.” The Hatter stood, leaving the pins.
Renee, not wanting to have her back turned on him, stood as well. “A curse?” She tried to act nonchalant, but everyone knew the Hatter had fallen from grace. He wasn’t as threatening as he’d been for so many years, the crime lord of Wonderland.
“Yes, a curse–– do you not remember the trial?”
Renee did remember, though she had been very small when it happened. The Hatter, finally caught, was cursed. No one in the public knew what the curse had been, but the Queen of Hearts thought beheading was too merciful for a menace like him.
“The Queen had me cursed so that I would never be able to scheme again,” the Hatter explained. “Once I’m halfway through a plan, of any kind, from schemes to hats, I forget. The pieces don’t fit, or go missing. People… leave me.”
The Hatter cast his eyes toward the spiraling staircase leading up to the tea room.
Renee followed his gaze. “Whatever did happen to the March Hare?” she asked. “He sold the tearoom rather abruptly.”
The Hatter snapped his head around to face her. “Do not speak that name,” he said, his words dripping with venom.
Renee flinched, and she heard a low growl coming from the hat racks. But curious to a fault, she just had to push on. “He left right after your trial, did he not?”
The Hatter’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “That no-good traitor ratted me out to the Queen. It would have been our greatest feat ever…getting rid of that witch on the throne.”
Renee leaned forward. “What was your scheme?” she asked.
The Hatter’s eyes lit up, the malice being replaced with the mania that gave him his name. “It was going to be bold, dramatic…” His eyes lit up more and more with each word.
“But how?” Renee asked again.
The Hatter smirked. “I had the Vorpal Sword.”
Renee gasped softly. “Not the sword that killed the Jabberwock with a single blow?”
The Hatter nodded. “The one and only.” His hands twitched as though they held it in that very moment. “I was going to steal into her chambers at midnight, and then wham!” He brought down the imaginary sword on an imaginary neck.
Renee jumped, drawing a laugh out of the Hatter.
“We were going to place the head on the castle gates, just like she does to those unfortunate enough to draw her displeasure.”
Renee smirked. “A final taste of her own medicine.”
The Hatter nodded eagerly. “Exactly so!”
“But what happened?”
The Hatter laughed again, bitterness tinging his voice. “He always was a coward. He was scared we would fail, so he betrayed me to the Queen in exchange for keeping his head.” He almost looked sad.
“He did leave town rather fast.”
“He tried to assist me with the shop at first, but I refused. He was just guilty for betraying me. But why should I accept help from a traitor?” He turned up his nose.
“Pride can be a dangerous thing.” Renee recalled how proud she was of the cookies she had given to the rabbit. So proud that she had lied when he asked if she’d gotten all the kinks out of the recipe. She was sure she had.
“Yes, it can be,” the Hatter agreed. “But, as for why I called you here…I want revenge on the Queen, and I know you can help me.”
“I quit baking, Hatter. Under penalty of beheading, remember?”
“I beg to differ.” A corner of the Hatter’s mouth turned upward in a wry half-smile.
Renee stiffened. “How did…?”
The Hatter looked smug. “I have eyes… everywhere.” Renee followed his gaze to a familiar pair of yellow eyes hiding up near the ceiling. She met Cheshire’s eyes, glittering with––that couldn’t be guilt, could it?–– before the eyes disappeared.
The Hatter cleared his throat. Startled, Renee turned back to him.
“Help me get revenge on the queen, and I’ll give you the old tearoom as a bakery.”
“Hatter, I can’t kill her. I don’t even know what this magic is capable of!”
“Well, my dear, you’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“And if I fail?” Renee shuddered.
“Well, we’ll both be beheaded, of course. And if you refuse, I suppose I’ll have no choice but to report you. Perhaps I’ll even get my curse lifted.”
An outraged yowl came from the shadows beneath the rafters. Cheshire materialized on the brim of the Hatter’s hat, lashing his tail, fury in his yellow eyes. “You swore you wouldn’t!” He looked at
Renee, sadness and guilt definitively on his face.
The Hatter grabbed Cheshire by the scruff, but not before Cheshire shredded the brim of his hat. Then Cheshire wriggled free and disappeared, tail fluffed in panic. The Hatter took off his hat and cradled it sadly, as if it were an injured child.
Renee felt her heart sink. The one confidant she thought she had wasn’t so secretive after all. And now she had no choice. But at this point, she had nothing to lose. And everything to gain. She extended her hand, making the Hatter look up.
“I agree to your terms.”
The Hatter gave her a toothy grin. “Delightful.”
Renee paced the kitchen. “What am I going to do?” she asked the thin air, wondering if Cheshire could hear her. She could use a friend right now, regardless of what had happened. She had an inkling that the Hatter might have dirt on Cheshire as well. “If I do this and I fail, I’m going to lose my head. But if I refuse, I’m going to lose my head anyway!” She pulled at her hair, desperately trying to think of a plan.
Then she remembered her cookie recipe. “If sugar and love made Alice grow tall…I wonder what would happen if I used spice and hate?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” A purring voice flowed through the gap under the window.
Renee’s face lit up. “Chesh!” She couldn’t help it. She opened the window a little more, but then she remembered, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m still mad at you,” she said, crossing her arms, “but I would rather have you than no one.”
The cat smiled, though it was small and sheepish. “But of course. No one wishes to be alone.” He slunk through the gap and settled on the still-floury counter, his twitching tail cleaning an arc in the white powder.
His ears were flat, but his yellow eyes met hers with no humor in sight. “I want to make it up to you,” he said. “Tell me how and I shall do anything I can.”
Renee was taken aback, but controlled her expression, setting her mouth into a hard, thin line. “Why?” Was this another one of his tricks?
“Because you are my friend,” Cheshire replied, “and…I enjoy your company above any other in Wonderland.” He couldn’t seem to meet her eyes, almost as if he was expecting a rejection, crouching low.
She should turn him away, as the Hatter had the Hare.
But she wasn’t like the Hatter, Renee realized. She was better than he. While he just gave up and chose to stew for years in his hatred, giving up on what he loved, she would never stop pushing forward. In that moment, Renee refused to follow the Hatter’s path. She would not give up on baking… or her friend.
Renee’s eyes softened, and she smiled at Chesh warmly. Taking her tall white baker’s hat from the hook on the wall, she plopped it on the cat’s head.
It slid down over his eyes, and Chesh pushed it up with one paw, tilting his head so far that the hat almost fell off. “What’s this for?”
“The best way you can help me is by assisting me with these,” Renee replied, gesturing to the ingredients carefully set out on the countertop.
Cheshire nodded, a small, determined smile appearing. His eyes clouded with relief. “Then assistance you shall have.”
Renee grinned back. “Grab that mixing bowl, Chesh. We have work to do!”
It was easy to put hatred into the cookies. Renee saw red as she sifted the flour and cinnamon. She beat the eggs into submission. She slammed the dough onto the cookie pan. With each action came hatred for the Hatter, who was blackmailing her, for the Queen, who was taking away her dream. She was so distracted, she didn’t see Chesh slinking away.
When the cookies left the oven, the enticing aroma of spices greeted her.
“Now we just have to get into the banquet,” Renee said to herself.
When there was no reply, she felt her heart skip a beat. “Chesh?” she asked.
Tap tap tap.
She sighed with relief as she turned to see Cheshire at the window, a large wad of black fabric between his fangs.
“If you’re going to do that, you’ll need a disguise,” Chesh said, and he spat out a cumbersome black dress.
Renee shook her head with a smile, knowing better than to ask where he had gotten the official uniform of a palace server.
When they reached the servant entrance of the palace, Cheshire floated so that he could look Renee right in the eye. “My dear, I think it is best if I do the talking.”
Renee frowned, adjusting the ever-so-slightly-too-big uniform, trying to smooth the wrinkles. The white lace bonnet wasn’t much better. Renee’s auburn hair threatened every moment to escape its confines. But when she heard Cheshire, she looked up to meet his gaze and narrowed her eyes.
“And why’s that?” she asked. “I think I can take care of myself, thank you.”
Cheshire narrowed his eyes right back. “Well, because you have no friends in the palace, and I have not a single enemy in Wonderland.”
But before their argument could continue, the ten of hearts poked his head out of the door. “Oi! You there! Why aren’t you in the castle?”
Cheshire immediately smiled. “Ten, my old friend. How have you been?” he purred. “This one is new. She just got a bit turned ‘round on the way to the courtyard.” He waved a paw at the tray of cookies in Renee’s hands.
Renee waited for the card to yell for the other guards, but he only smiled at Cheshire. “Ah, that’ll happen with the new ones. Since you’re already invited, could you escort her? You certainly know your way around.” Ten smirked.
Cheshire returned the expression, and the card waved them in the door.
“How did you do that?” Renee hissed as soon as Ten was out of earshot.
Chesh only chuckled. “Like I said, my dear, I have no enemies in Wonderland. Only friends. Many, many friends.”
With his careful direction, Renee soon found herself in the courtyard. Red and black silk banners adorned with hearts were stretched between the rose trees, their sterile white petals gleaming in the sunlight. The Queen herself was on a makeshift dias in the gazebo, lounging on her throne beneath the filigree awning. Bakers were lining up, shyly offering her their treats. Keeping her head down, Renee carefully edged over to the dessert table that seemed to stretch half the courtyard––The Queen certainly loved her sweets. There were wobbly lemon tarts, dusted finely with powdered sugar. Adorable petit fours decorated with white roses and hearts sat on a lace doily. Renee smiled, looking at the beautiful craftsmanship, and placed her tray of cookies down next to the other treats.
But it was Cheshire who was the one to give the cookies to the Queen. After all, Renee couldn’t be seen with baked goods, after her last few fiascos, and the Queen would certainly recognize her face.
As he approached, Renee could hear the Queen’s shrill voice echoing across the courtyard. “Are these…chocolate? I tire of chocolate sweets! Off with her head!”
The Cards dragged off a panicked-looking baker who had been unfortunate enough to bake some chocolate hazelnut croissants.
“A cookie, my queen?” Cheshire asked as he reached the throne.
The Queen stiffened. “Daring to interrupt me? Off with your––” The Queen of Hearts paused, seeing that it was the infamous Cheshire Cat that wished to speak with her. Her frown turned into a smirk. “Cheshire Cat, delightful. These will surely be better. Of what kind are they?” she asked.
“Snickerdoodles, my queen.”
She grinned. “So long as they aren’t from that dreadful baker, I’ll eat anything that isn’t chocolate,” the Queen of Hearts guffawed. Her black and red dress poofed up and down like a parachute. Renee, over by the buffet, glowered to herself. Good riddance, witch.
“Of course not, my queen.” Cheshire gave a little bow, and lifted the platter higher in deference.
Renee watched as the Queen of Hearts took a bite. The Queen chuckled greedily, then shoved the whole thing into her gaping maw of a mouth. Then another, and another, until the plate was nearly empty.
With each one, Renee got more and more nervous. Why weren’t they working? It worked almost right away for Alice!
“Ohoho, these are good.” As the Queen lifted the last cookie to her lips, she caught Renee’s eye. Renee inadvertently glanced at the cookie, then back at the Queen, before quickly looking away.
“You lying little––!” the Queen howled, grabbing at Cheshire, but he disappeared before she could get him. Then, she pointed at Renee. “Guards! Off with her head!”
That was it. This was the end. Renee was seized, and she struggled helplessly against the guards’ strong grip. She was surprised at how strong they were, considering they were only made of paper.
Then the Queen let out another shriek.
Everyone turned to see the Queen becoming enveloped in her dress. It was one size too big, two, three…Suddenly, she was under it like a child in a collapsing tent. Then like a dog under a blanket.
And then… the dress fell flat.
One of the guards rushed over and lifted it. “She’s gone!” he said with a gasp.
Renee and Cheshire shared a grin as the subjects cheered, and the King himself even smiled.
Things were going to change in Wonderland.
“There you are, one key to a dysfunctional tearoom.” The Hatter tossed Renee a beat-up old key with a filigree top.
Renee looked at the key in her hand with a smile. “An elegant key for a not-so-elegant place.”
“Well, I’m sure you can fix that.”
Cheshire appeared on the top of Renee’s head, bending over to grin at her.
Renee rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “As can you, as my baker’s assistant.”
“And that is so!” the cat agreed.
“So, let’s get to work!” Renee walked up the stairs and shut the door behind her.
It was going to be a long day.