Hiya Readers
This has been a long time coming. After publishing this book as part of the Kingdom of Glass & Ashes box set, I decided to revamp the story a bit. So if you read it in Cinderella set, it has been greatly expanded and rebuilt.
Because of this, if you would like an updated version of the book, simply email your proof of purchase (a screenshot of your receipt or of the box set in your ebook library) and your Kindle email to deardana@dlpitchford.com, and I will send the updated version of Stilettos & Stardust straight to your Kindle. (If you purchased the box set during its initial wide run, make sure to include that in your email, and I’ll send you the epub instead.)
I’m still finishing up the final edits, so this isn’t available on retailers yet, but how can I wait to share?
So, without further ado, if you haven’t read the book yet or if you want to see the updated the version, you can read the first chapter below…
xoxo Dana
Chapter One
Noah
The plaque at the base of the sapling says, In memory of Dr. Genevieve Barton, National Hero. The city placed it here in the city park less than a week after it happened. Less than a week after you went away.
For good, this time.
The little memorial service was a big deal for Tourmaline, but I suppose having an astronaut who’s gone on three NASA missions is monumental for a tiny town in Maine.
A light dusting of snow coats the faded grass, and I settle on the wooden bench nearest the tree. The cold permeates my jeans, but it doesn’t bother me.
Nothing bothers me anymore.
“Hey, Mom…”
I’ve come here every day for the past five weeks, since the day they installed the plaque and this poor white ash sapling. But I’m the only one.
Dad hasn’t visited you since the memorial service.
“They posted it this afternoon.” I lean back against the bench and tug my phone from inside my coat. “Let’s look at it together.”
Two months ago, after a month-long series of emails deliberating the matter, I finally submitted my online application to Archer Collins University, the best science and engineering college on the East Coast. Maybe in all of the U.S.
Today is December 20th—the day the Admissions Office posts acceptance information to the potential students’ accounts.
The page loads slowly—hundreds of prospective students are probably checking their results—and I wait before scrolling down.
Mr. Noah Barton,
Congratulations! You have been accepted to the esteemed Archer Collins University—
The rest doesn’t really matter, does it?
My eyes dart back to the plaque under the tree, and I turn off my screen. “That’s it, then. I got accepted.” My foot taps the frozen ground, and I unlock my phone again to scan the rest of the page.
Everything is simple and straightforward: Here in my Archer Collins account, I will receive notifications about financial assistance and fill out the roommate survey. They invite me to revisit the school, and my ACT and SAT scores, along with my GPA, mean I can apply for their Trustee Scholarship.
But it’s hard to be excited.
Attending Archer Collins has been my dream since fifth grade, when you took me to the Josiah Archer–sponsored space exhibit in Portland. You showed off astrolabes and telescopes, space suits and satellite images, and even a 3D model of the International Space Station. You told me all about your latest mission—where you worked and slept—using that model.
Two months ago, the acceptance to Archer Collins would’ve been the most exciting thing to happen to me.
Now, I don’t know if I want to attend.
I tug my coat tighter. Temps turned uncharacteristically cold mid-November. Now that it’s December, the high is only in the teens. We’ll have more snow and ice after sunset. We may even have a white Christmas.
“You were supposed to be home for the holidays this year, Mom.”
Instead, your sapling looks particularly sad: only four feet tall with five main branches and no leaves.
Not that you being away for special events is irregular. Most of my childhood was spent waiting for you to come home. Between ASCAN training, mission training, working as a flight controller, assisting with engineering, and the months spent on the ISS, family came second.
“I know holidays were never important to you, but you promised.” My voice cracks. “You’re not supposed to break your promises, Mom.”
The snow is thicker when I arrive home. The storm that wasn’t supposed to arrive till close to midnight is already dropping flakes. The sun hasn’t even set yet.
But worst of all, there’s a black sedan in the driveway.
I park my bike in the garage and close the garage door before heading inside the house. Shoes, slick with snow and grime, stay in the mudroom, and I pad through the house in a pair of well-worn, cotton socks. The hardwood floor feels warm after being outside.
Voices stream from the kitchen, and I hover by the doorway, out of sight.
“How was your flight?” Dad’s voice is a deep baritone—as deep and thick as you’d expect from a man of his stature. “Didn’t expect you till tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well…”
That’s Cliff, home from college for the holidays. I’m impressed he bothered. Last year, he went to Hawaii with one of his girlfriends.
Yes, one of. He usually has a few women in tow.
“Booked the flight six months ago. How’s the string bean doing? He up in his room on his computer again?”
His words almost make me wonder if he cares.
“I—” Dad falters. “He wasn’t here when I got home.”
Cliff snorts. “Oh, does he finally have a social life? That’d be a first.”
I slump against the wall.
He has a point. The closest thing to a friend I’ve ever had was Mom.
For a long minute, Dad doesn’t say anything. “Ethan has leave this holiday. He and Meredith are getting in tonight, staying through New Year’s.”
“Nice.” Cliff moves with the conversation without hesitation. “So everyone’s gonna be together this year.”
Not everyone.
But neither of them will say that.
We were all supposed to spend Christmas and New Year’s together. During the day, we would celebrate, and at night, Mom and I would climb onto the roof and she’d tell me about her months away while we looked through her telescope.
“Any idea where you want to eat dinner? All five of us can go out once Ethan and Meredith get in.”
Cliff chuckles. “We celebrating something?”
“It’s not every day I get my three boys together anymore.”
The last time Ethan and Cliff came home was right after the accident, but they didn’t stay long. They both had important things to do—football games to play, a Marine Raiders assessment prep course to complete. Apparently, our mother dying wasn’t a good enough reason to stay.
“I could go for a good lobster roll.” Cliff’s tone is noncommittal. “The seafood in Oklahoma leaves something to be desired.”
Dad’s laughter echoes through the kitchen, and there’s shuffling—someone walking. “We can go to Pearl’s. I’ll get ready. Ethan should be here in the next thirty minutes.”
I step back into the dark pantry before Dad passes on his way upstairs, but Cliff stays in the kitchen.
Hesitant, I linger in the silent pantry, not wanting to draw attention to myself. After a moment, I edge forward and poke my head out.
“Why’re you hiding, String Bean?”
I jump, clutching the door frame for support, and turn. “Ethan?” I clear my throat. “I wasn’t hiding.”
In the hallway, Ethan stands, thick blue coat unzipped and spread open, hands slung in his front pockets, his tanned olive forehead crinkled with curiosity. “You were hanging out in the pantry with no light on for…no reason?”
I cross my arms. “I have a reason, thanks.”
“And it is?”
“None of your business.”
Ethan snorts. “Sure you have a reason, kid.” He tugs me against his side and drags me into the kitchen. “Come on, String Bean. I want a beer.”
When we enter, Cliff looks up, thick dark-brown hair plastered to his forehead, and grins. “There you two are. What took you so damn long?”
I slink out of Ethan’s grip, and he doesn’t notice.
Instead, he crosses the room to punch Cliff in the arm, then yank him into a half hug. A man-hug.
“A beer sounds like a great idea,” Cliff says when they separate. He opens the fridge and pulls out a couple cans. “You want one, String Bean?”
My nose twists up into a sneer. “I’m seventeen. In what world would I be drinking alcohol?”
Cliff snorts as he hands Ethan the second can. “True.”
“But that has nothing to do with your age,” Ethan adds. “I drank my first beer at fifteen, little bro. You’re the anomaly.”
Cliff doesn’t bother holding back his laughter. “That’s the damn truth.”
Honestly, I’m impressed Ethan knows the word anomaly.
I look away. “As far as I’m concerned, not requiring alcohol to have a good time is a good thing.”
But Cliff sends me a derisive smirk. “I can definitely have a good time without alcohol, don’t you worry about that.”
I cringe. “I don’t need to know about your personal life.”
Ethan pops the tab on the cheap beer and takes a long gulp. “Right, wouldn’t want to upset the virgin.”
“You probably get off plenty with that stupid microscope anyway.”
I scoff. “Cliff, it’s a telescope—for looking at faraway things in space.” I turn to sift through the cabinets—we may be going out for dinner, but I need to occupy my hands, a distraction. “Microscopes are for looking at tiny things up close.”
“Like your dick,” Ethan says through his laughter.
Cliff too laughs.
Unbelievable.
Only six weeks after the accident, and they’re carrying on as if nothing changed. Doesn’t matter that our mother is gone. All that matters is making stupid penis jokes and getting drunk. They’re exactly the same.
Does her death even bother them? Do they miss her?
My stomach convulses, and I snap the cupboard shut. I’ve already lost my appetite, and we haven’t left for dinner.
“Oh, hey, man…” Cliff cocks his head. “Where’s Meredith? She settling in?”
Ethan sets his beer on the island. “Nah, she’s not coming.”
“Damn, really?” Then, Cliff snorts. “Well, at least I won’t have to listen to you humping at 2 a.m.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.
But Ethan’s face is grim.
“Everything alright?” I inch closer. “Did you two break up?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t get emotional on me, String Bean. It’s not a big deal. I’d rather have a few beers tonight if it’s all the same to you.”
“Whatever.” I nudge between them to reach the hallway. “I’m gonna get ready.”
On my way upstairs, I pass Dad, now in gray slacks and a Polo shirt. I hurry past him to the second floor and the safety of my bedroom.
I can’t stand to be in the same room as them for another minute. Not right now.
Dinner’s going to be fun.
