Tinderella (2 page)

Regards, Pearce
.

Pearce, right, she had forgotten that was his name. Cyndi slipped a Cynderella Cleaners notepad out of her bag and wrote back.

I'm glad you enjoyed the bread. Today I've brought some cookies. I hope you like them as well. I'm afraid I could never take advantage and use your kitchen, but thank you so much for the offer. It is a spectacular space though, a real cook's kitchen!

 
Many Thanks
,
Cynderella

She left the entire notepad on the counter. It never hurt to advertise.

As she finished cleaning her phone chirped. Checking the display, she saw it was Gooch. Sliding her finger along the screen she answered it. "Hey, just finishing up, what's happening?"

I've decided how we're going to change your life, baby. Come over tonight, for dinner, I'll cook, and we'll talk."

"By I'll cook, you mean you'll do the ordering?" Gooch's kitchen failures were legendary.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean, dinner at 6, let's get a wiggle on."

Cyndi smiled to herself, her life would be so boring without Gooch's harebrained schemes, she could hardly wait to hear what this was about.
 

***************

PEARCE

"So, Pearce," said Leo, leaning on the gleaming mahogany bar "here's the thing--Tinder, you sign up for Tinder. And then you put up a profile and you get to go, well kinda like window shopping for women."

"And while I'm doing this, they'll be window shopping for men?" Pearce asked as he sipped his whiskey.

"Yeah, and if someone passes on you, you'll never know, but if they like you and you like them, it's a match," Leo punctuated the air with a red drink stirrer as he talked.
 

"So what happens if it's a match?"

"You know, dinner, drinks, a little of this, a little of that."

"Okay, Leo, how is this different from window shopping for them at a bar, they don't know when I've passed on them there, either."

"But this is better, you get a taste of their personality without having to buy them anything, no fuss, no muss, you match up, chat 'em up and hook-up, plus, so many more to choose from. The whole city at your disposal. It's perfect."

"Dude, you are so cheap, you know that? I'm not doing this. But thanks, really."

"You should, you so totally should. It's great, we're all using it."

"And yet here you are out with me."

"Not for long man, not for long. I have one lined up for after dinner drinks."

"You're not even buying her dinner? You are a cheap bastard, Leo, you know that?"

"Eh, so I've been told. Let's get something to eat, join me?"

"No, honestly it's been a long day, the old man is on the warpath, he wants me there in the morning to talk about acquisition targets, I'm out of here."

"You sure?" Leo asked, but Pearce just nodded as he grabbed his trench coat off the barstool.
 

"I'm out of here, let me know how your pretend date goes," he shouted over his shoulder as he swung through the glass double doors and walked into the cool damp night. He was happy for the trench as he slid it on over his suit. He hadn't been lying, his dad really did want him at the office first thing. He had targets for take-overs on the brain and he wanted to hash it out with Pearce and the rest of the senior staff.

He had no idea why his father was including him. He had never, once, ever, taken Pearce's advice on anything to do with acquisitions and he seemed unlikely to start now. The only one he really listened to was Pearce's mom, Jane. He had a fierce respect for anything she said.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Pearce at work, he did, and Pearce had a whole division that he ran, and he did it well. But his heart wasn't in the business, and his father knew it, and so he left him with limited powers. It was weird, but it worked for them, and his father was just glad Pearce hadn't pursued other passions. Now if he could get the guy off his back about grandkids, life would be almost perfect.
 

Pearce strolled to his building and nodded to the doorman on the way in. "Hiya Bill, what's happening?"

"Cleaning day Mr. King, It looked like she had cookies with her today."

"Thanks, Bill. I'll bring you one," he replied with a wink.

"She's quite the baker," Bill smiled "Christmas she knocks herself out, we all get some cookies and bread then."

"It's funny, I've never met her, but she cooks and cleans for me. Life in the 21st century I guess, right?"

"Yes sir, I guess so. In the old days we had to meet someone and slip a ring on their finger before we got cooking and cleaning."

"Well, good thing it's not the old days, or I wouldn't have a baked goods dealer, right?"

"Yes, sir. Here's the elevator now, have a good night."

Pearce slid his keycard in the elevator and rode to the penthouse, then swiped again for entrance to his apartment. Once inside he went straight to the kitchen and checked out the cookies and the note from Cyndi. He often wondered about her, in his head she was in her 50's, had her hair in a bun, rough hands from cleaning and cooking and washing up.

In reality he had no idea, but he figured it would take a woman that long to learn to make baked goods this divine.
 

He moaned aloud as he bit into the cookie, just sweet enough, delicate, tasted a bit like almonds. It was heavenly, as always. It was crazy that he looked forward to this all week. Maybe Leo was right, he needed a date.

He sat on the couch and downloaded the Tinder thing, time to give it a go he supposed. This really wasn't his style he thought as he searched his laptop for a picture of himself to use. Finally he settled on one from the company Christmas party, where he must have been laughing at a joke. Then he settled in to answer the profile questions. Stupid Leo, where was he when you needed him?

"So, tell me again. I don't get it. Someone is trying to buy out a one woman cleaning business?"

"Yes, and as your accountant I have to suggest you at least take the offer seriously. What is your long-term plan? Clean until you can't clean anymore?"

"Jerry, I'm barely thirty..."

"Thirty-two," Jerry interrupted.

Cyndi glanced up, "Right, thrity-two, thank you for the reminder," she rolled her eyes at him "but it's not like I'm sixty-five and peering down the barrel of retirement."

"No, you're right, you're not. It's just, what's your plan? If you take this offer, you can sell out of the business, have a nice little nest egg for yourself and, I don't know, go work for some nice company for the next 20 years and then retire."

"Jerry! Have you not been paying attention? I'm a corporate refugee. I don't want to work for some nice company, or a horrible one either. In fact, by definition I think they're all horrible. So...no. The answer is no."

"But..."

"And another thing, why does anyone even want to consider buying a modestly successful cleaning company run by one woman and her cat?"

"Your cat?"

"Yes, my cat, she's got a very important job, she's on the board."

"Really?"

"No, not really, she's a cat."

"Oh, ok, because I was wondering..."

"Yes, Jerry, I know you were. I haven't actually got a cat. You're very literal, has anyone ever mentioned that? Forget it, can we continue looking over the books here, I have an appointment."

"An appointment," he arched one eyebrow,"it's after 6 in the evening, what appointment?"

"A date, with Gooch."

"What's a Gooch?"

"Oh my God, she's my best friend, can we just continue here?"

"Right, well actually I think we're done, although I have to tell you they were quite insistent about the acquisition and I don't think they'll go away."

"Why, why does anyone want to by my little tiny company in this great big city? I'm nothing, really, what do they want? The car? Is that it, is he a collector?"

"No," he laughed " I know you love that thing, but I'm certain it's not the car. if I had to guess, I'd say he was buying up a whole lot of little services like yours in order to keep them off the streets. I'm guessing he's coming in with his own big company and he wants to create a need. Cleaning is a very lucrative business you know, it can't be outsourced overseas, robots probably won't be doing it. I'm guessing he's
 
clearing the decks so he can own the market."

Cyndi sat back as though she'd been punched. Really, someone was trying to buy her business?
 
But...it was hers. She couldn't imagine anyone else owning it. On the other hand...

"What's the offer?"

Jerry slid a piece of paper toward her, and she glanced at it.

That was a big number. Not big enough to retire forever, but it would give her some breathing room. On the other hand...she just couldn't. "Ok, no, but thanks."
 

"Really because that's not a bad offer, do you mean no, or no for now?"

"Why? I mean why can't I mean no, just plain old no?"

"I don't know, you might change your mind is all."

"Well, it's not enough to retire on, so I'd still have to work. I'm not going to work for someone else, so I'd need another business, and this is the one I'd start. So, no."

"Just think about it, you'd be ok for a while, then, yes you'd have to work, but," he ran his hands through what was left of his hair "you'd have a certain measure of freedom if you invested this and, well isn't that what you want? Some freedom?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. Wait! I have freedom. I don't think this is what I want," she said waving the paper at him

"I'm gonna hang on to the original and here you take this copy, you have some time."

"But I'm going to say no....I think."

"Have fun tonight, thanks for stopping by. I have everything I need for your taxes, talk soon."

"Thanks, Jerry. See ya later," she said as she left the office and headed to her car. There were some little kids gathered around it when she got to the parking lot.
 

"What do you think it is?" asked one.

"A giant...um I dunno, a squash?" said another.

"No, it's a pumpkin," said the first.

"A pumpkin is a squash," said a tall wiry kid with curly hair.
 

"Hi, can I help you?" asked Cyndi.

"Is this your ride?"

"Yep, it is."

"What happened to it?"

"I had it painted like that, it wasn't an accident," she said smiling," I always wanted to be Cinderella when I was growing up, but as it turns out, that sort of thing doesn't just happen. Life is a do-it-yourself job apparently. You have to make it happen. So I painted my car."

"Did you find your prince yet?"

"No, no I haven't. Is one of you up for the job? Got a spare crown lying around you might want to give me?"

"Nah, we like your car though."

"Thanks."

Life really is a do-it-yourself job, she thought to herself as she slid the VW into gear and backed out of the spot. No two ways about that. Well, she had her career, her friends, now she just needed to nail down that lifetime partner thing and she'd be all set she thought as she set off to meet Gooch.

*******

"I thought you were cooking?' Cyndi said sliding into the booth at the address Gooch had texted her a few minutes earlier.

"I changed my mind, order an appetizer. On me. Just as good as if I cooked. Better even!"

"Great, thanks," Cyndi rolled her eyes, "so what's your big plan?"

"So, here's the thing," Gooch said. "You need a date..."

"I don't need a date..." Cyndi hissed so no one in the bar would hear. "I would like to meet someone, yes, but, you make me sound so pathetic.

"Oooookay, bad choice of words, you want a date. You'd like to meet some nice men."

"One nice man would do."

"Right, well, remember when you said you were going to be a slut?"

"Shhhhhh..." Cyndi shushed her friend as she looked around. She could feel the blushing start in her chest and spread up her face. Did sluts blush, she wondered idly.

"It's okay," Gooch said, looking around at the retro space. The brick walls did nothing for the acoustics, "trust me, no one can hear us, settle down. Now here's the thing, you're right. I mean, fixating on relationships just scares them off. And it limits your pool of candidates. You need to look at this differently. Like a slut would, you need to see that every contact isn't meant to be forever, evaluate them differently. How much fun would they be for a night, or two, but not necessarily every night for eternity."

"Where will that get me exactly?"

"Well, for one, it will get you laid. Which will probably improve your mood..."

"What's wrong with my mood?" she hissed as she grabbed her friend by the shirt.