But I think the original was quite hard-boiled, too. Aren’t all fairy tales? “Get in there and fess up, you little hoodlums.” Vanessa shoved Henry and Gina toward the door of the Gingerbread House. “And quit sniveling, Gina. I know you’re faking.” Gina leveled a cold laser stare at her stepmother. And quit sniveling. It hadn’t taken the bitch long to figure her out, Gina reflected. The fake crying had only worked for about a month or so. Henry had had the same luck with his stomachaches. Except Gina knew those were real. That red-headed she-devil could give anyone a stomachache. A bell, shaped like a heart, tinkled innocently as Vanessa flung the door open and pushed the children inside the candy shop. The blowsy bleached-blond owner, Brenda Pritchard, ambled through the beaded curtains from the kitchen and squinted at them. “Can I help you?” Her voice was light and thin. Gina thought it was a nice contrast to the heavy, thick goodies in the glass cases, Brenda’s heavy, thick body, and her heavy, thick glasses.
