Laurel and the cow both found themselves welcomed into the home and lives of Jack and his mother. "I didn't know I needed a cow," the woman told her quite honestly, taking her toddling son back into her open arms, "nor did I know I needed some help around the house. I suppose I now need both."

Jack's mother soon realized that Laurel was excellent with children. She didn't ask the young lady for any back story about herself—and she requested that she not ask anything about her or Jack or especially Jack's father—but she couldn't help but wonder where she came from. She did imagine a little scenario: she must've come from a ridiculously large family, maybe ten or twelve children, and she must've been the oldest and therefore a major caretaker for the younger children. Or perhaps she was an orphan who behaved as mother for the others… she couldn't have been very old, no older than sixteen. Jack's mother never asked Laurel about her past because she didn't want to run her off. She didn't ask for much money—only what she could afford to give—and she cooked, clean, took care of Jack and the cow (Milky White, named after its color, although not terribly creative). The cow stayed in the barn most nights, and Laurel tended to sleep in the hay loft with the cow. On especially cold nights Jack's mother allowed both Laurel and the cow to stay in the house, warm themselves by the fire, and avoid the chill that would certainly make everyone sick.

Although Jack's mother only planned on keeping Laurel around for a little while, she didn't realize how long she had been there until Jack was a year older and she started to notice the house deteriorating around them all. The floors were starting to go slack, and the bricks on the chimney were crumbling around the corners. She had even seen a few mice darting in the shadows. And she was really starting to miss Jack's father. She was somewhat of a hermit since he left her; of course, she also had Laurel to run errands for her. Laurel loved going into town, especially when it meant going to get bread. Every Monday she insisted on going to get bread. Jack's mother didn't know why the bread was so important: maybe it was a family member she was meeting.

Per her usual, Laurel primped herself for her Monday trip into town. She braided her hair again and tied it back with a piece of frayed ribbon. Maybe today he'll wrap the bread up in parchment and twine, she thought, then I wouldn't have to buy ribbon. Her dress from the kind old woman in the woods was getting very old but since it was the only one she had that fit she didn't want to sell it. All she had was her mother's nightgown as a change of clothes, and that was not worth selling for anything. Laurel didn't want to ask Jack's mother for more money or any money—she had used the money that she had given her to get groceries and a blanket last time, and it would be a long amount of time before she would have enough to get anything else.

Jack's mother, with Jack in tow, walked into the barn to find her sitting in the loft. "Laurel, are you in here?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Laurel called as she climbed down the ladder. She curtsied to her mistress and then the grabby child latched onto her hip. "What can I do for you today, ma'am? A trip into town for groceries, or any other errand? I don't mind."

Jack's mother shook her head. "A loaf of bread, as always… it never hurts." The part of the conversation she was dreading was coming up; there was never an easy way to tell someone hardly more than a child this kind of information. "I have no idea how we'll pay for it. I actually… don't know how I'll pay anything." Laurel looked confused but not truly phased. Jack's mother took her son back. "I haven't paid you in weeks, months even. I don't think I can pay you anything."

"Oh." A new dress can wait, Laurel told herself, you don't need anything new anyways. What matters is that you're alive and you're doing alright. "Well, a roof over my head is payment enough. I can't thank you enough for that, ma'am."

"That's what makes this difficult." Jack's mother gestured for Laurel to sit down on the milking stool. "Without Jack's father around I can't afford to keep the barn… or you." She watched the light drain from Laurel's eyes. It was not something that brought her pleasure; she was hardly more than a child, quite possibly young enough to have been her own daughter. "In town there must be a shop that needs help. You're an excellent seamstress and maid and you're great with children. There must be someone who can use your services: someone who can pay you."

Choking back tears, Laurel spoke quickly. "I'll be out of your hair just as soon as I gather my things." She climbed back up the ladder and grabbed her bag, tossing the nightgown in it and not bothering to clean out the hay. "I'll go into town and—I'll find a place. Don't you worry about me."

"You can stay another night, if you need to." Jack's mother offered. "At least stay for dinner, or wait until Jack goes to sleep."

"I'd rather not drag this out, ma'am." She realized she was leaving just as quickly as she'd left everywhere else. She was leaving another child with no explanation. "Jack's too young to remember me, and if I don't make it into town before nightfall I won't find a place to stay until tomorrow." Now it was Jack's mother to look concerned. "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me, but I must find my next place."

Without another word, Laurel walked out of the barn and down the path toward the town and maybe a new opportunity.

…later that day…

Boyd looked out the window and waited for his visitor. Every time she came to visit she had little tips to improve his bread, and occasionally offered ideas to make other things. His bread continued to get better, and the old hag next door sometimes came to sample his improving cooking.

He watched the town around him get busier as the sun rose higher in the sky. His visitor hadn't come yet, and he hadn't heard the coo of the little boy that came with her who always watched the fire in amazement.

Maybe she forgot, or the rain is causing her to be late. He paced. Not like anyone else comes to get bread on Mondays.

Disheveled and a little frazzled, he saw his visitor bounding down the street. He looked into a shiny pan in the storeroom to make sure there was no soot of flour on his face. He took off his apron and hung it up on a hook, waiting by the door. "Did you shave for this visitor?" The hag next door teased him, bending crookedly over a large walking stick. "Must be love, boy. I hear wedding bells." He ignored her words as nonsense.

Laurel came into the room and threw her bag on the ground, closing the door behind herself. She didn't say anything, just sat on the stool by the fire. "You know, usually customers come in to get bread, not sit by the fire." He joked, expecting a snarky reaction from her. She sat quiet. "You're not going to make jokes about how young I look without my beard? You usually do. Or try some of this scrap bread! It's harder than stones, and it's black all the way through… I didn't remember that I put it in until I smelled the smoke." She didn't even look at him. "Are you alright, Laurel?"

"I've nowhere to go." She said quietly. It was finally sinking in. He looked at her slightly reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Boyd thought he had a brilliant idea. "You can stay with me."

"With you? I have no money to pay for a room, and I've no job to make money."

"You don't need a job to stay with me." Boyd's offer, though sincere, was not satisfying to her.

"What do you see me being, a housewife? I will not sit idly by and watch you burn through loaves of bread like you do. And I will not be an unmarried housewife, thank you."

Boyd had an answer to every little rebuttal she could think of. "Then marry me. Isn't that simple?" Though he was serious as the grave, she did not believe a word he said. Her laughing made him believe it was anything but simple. "You have nowhere else to go, and I have no one here with me. I see nothing more convenient."

"I am not marrying out of necessity or convenience, no." Laurel said adamantly. "And if you think that little of me I don't know why I even bothered coming here—I thought you'd understand that I lost my job with Jack's mother—you're worse than Rachel and the—" Laurel stopped before she gave too much away. She had told no one about her past so that she wouldn't start to miss her home.

Before Boyd could ask her any questions, a family charged into his bakery. A tall and wealthy looking brunette with two brown-headed daughters, and a poorer looking man with a daughter of his own… they didn't look exactly like a family, more like two small families who coincidentally came in together. Laurel took charge when the five came in. "Hello, how may I help you all?"

"We need a wedding cake." The woman insisted. "We're getting married in three days time." She gestured to the man. "A big cake, money doesn't matter."

Boyd sassed back at the woman. "I don't do cakes."

Seeing the scorn on the woman's face Laurel backpedaled a little. "What he means is that he isn't in charge of cakes. I am. And I'm more than willing to do a cake; how much will you pay?"

"How much do you ask?" The man asked, holding his little girl close to him. She was probably about ten years old, fair and thin, but not seeming too similar to her terribly beautiful future stepsisters.

"Eight gold pieces seems reasonable." Laurel thought out loud. "You two did say you needed a big cake, did you not?" The woman nodded and the man pulled out a small bag. "I will have it finished and here for you to pick up that Saturday, don't you worry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Baker." The man's little girl said, offering a smile to Laurel before she walked out. Laurel saw a bit of herself in this little girl, the grief of losing a mother perhaps, but a type of sadness she couldn't forget even if she tried.

The woman and her daughters hurried out but the man came back in for his daughter who just stayed and started at Laurel for a few more seconds. "Come along, Ella, don't be rude." The man and his daughter were gone, and Laurel realized what she had done.

"Oh, Boyd, I'm so sorry, I didn't even ask—"

Boyd saw this as a golden opportunity. "You can bake cakes! You can be in charge of sweets, I can make bread. And you can make money! I've got extra space in this house—it's a double bed, but the room has plenty of space for two. You won't have to worry anymore, Laurel. This house is your house now too."

The old hag watched from the frosted window at the two sharing a pleasant embrace. It was all falling into place so well.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry this has taken me so long to update! I hope to update as soon as possible, but please keep reviewing. This chapter we met Cinderella, and who knows what will happen next? Let me know what you think!