“Uh, I don’t think so, sir.”
The smile on his face grows. “No. I know you. You’re Scotty Hendricks, right? I’m not much of a hockey fan, but my wife lovesHendricks Unchecked.She’s always talking about your dimples.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Tell your wife thanks. My mom says the dimples are the only reason anyone keeps me around.”
“Do you want to go in there?” He gestures to the ballroom. “You want to watch her?”
More than anything on this planet.
I tip on my toes, trying not to sound so eager.
“I’d love to, but are you sure?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. You might end up being bombarded by a few of the dads…and the moms, but at least you’d be able to see your girl perform. She’s incredible.”
“She is.”
He opens the door, and I step inside. It’s definitely crossing a line, and I’m sure Laura will be furious if she catches me here, but I need to see her. Not just because I’m curious about this Princess Blanca version of her—though I am—but because I want to see her in her element.
It’s like someone cracked open a snow globe in here. Silver and blue are draped from wall to wall while fake snow covers the ground and tables. I slip past parents and a gift station until I spot a small stage with a throne-like chair waiting at the end. About twenty little girls in glittery dresses sit in a semicircle, and at the center of it all is Laura, or rather, Princess Blanca.
“Remember, little snow bunnies,” she says in a voice several octaves higher than her normal one, “a proper curtsy always includes eye contact.” She’s holding the edges of her dress up, letting it float in front of her as she demonstrates a perfect, if not overly exaggerated, bow. The girls attempt to copy. Some are more successful than others, and there’s a tiny redhead in the front row who keeps falling over, giggling every time.
I linger in the shadows, keeping myself out of Laura’s line of sight. I meant to hit the bar, really, but watching her like this…yeah, I can’t go anywhere now.
“Now, who would like to hear about the time I had to save Nibbles from the Ice Troll?”
The girls erupt in excited shouts, and Laura—Princess Blanca—laughs. It’s not her real laugh, though. I heard that once, briefly, when my horrible equipment joke landed. No, this laugh is smoother, rehearsed…yet it still pulls me in.
“Well,” she begins, settling on the throne, “it all started on the coldest day of winter…”
She starts her story, and the kids are instantly drawn in. So am I. Her voice rises and dips, along with her hands and her expressions bring every detail to life.
I’m in awe.
She’s in her element, confident, relaxed, and completely herself. This isn’t just a job to her. She’s performing, creating magic for these wide-eyed kids, and it’s…impressive as hell.
“And then,” she whispers, leaning forward as the children instinctively lean in too, “Nibbles did the bravest thing any snow fox has ever done.” She pauses dramatically, and I realize I'm holding my breath along with everyone else. “He tickled the Ice Troll's foot!”
The girls erupt in giggles, and Laura demonstrates the tickling motion, her fingers wiggling in the air. “The Ice Troll laughed so hard that all the icicles fell from his frozen beard!” She mimics things falling, her hands fluttering downward. “And do you know what happened then?”
“What?” the children chorus.
“The Ice Troll wasn't grumpy anymore! He was just lonely and needed a friend to make him laugh.” She smiles warmly. “Nibbles visits him every third Tuesday now for tea and snowball fights.”
There's a collective “Awww” from the group, and I find myself smiling too.
“And now,” Laura says, rising from her throne, “it's time for Princess Blanca's special snow song!”
A wave of cheers rises from the kids as Laura moves to the sound system near the wall. She presses a button, and delicate music sweeps through theballroom, warm and bright. She turns back to the semicircle of girls, inhales slowly and begins to sing.
The whole place shifts.
I freeze, completely unprepared forthat.
Her voice… is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. Soft and strong at the same time, it booms through the ballroom. Does she even need a microphone?
As the chorus starts, her polished princess act slips away, and that’s when I see her.
