“I hope she won’t fall.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Hud says, not looking at her. Looking at me. I see that in every mirror and even when I look at him straight on.
My third sister sits beside us on the couch. Keeping the closest eye. She looks the most worried, the most suspicious of Hud Hudson. She can’t deny that he’s beautiful, of course. We all think that. He’s a detective of Beauty, after all, isn’t he? Or a beautiful detective. Either way. And how he’s looking at us right now, with such intensity, such I want to get to the bottom of you. Even my most suspicious sister concedes it’s entrancing. But we’ve always liked a bit of distance, haven’t we, Sisters? Arm’s length is best. Not that we don’t have desire. We are human, after all, aren’t we? Just that in our bodies, something is sealed up, closed like the CLOSED sign I used to put in the shop door at night. Something is holding itself away as if behind glass, isn’t that right, Sisters? In the mirrors, my sisters smile. Exactly.
Meanwhile, Hud’s staring at us like he doesn’t know where to begin.
“May we offer you a drink?” I ask him.
“God yes,” he whispers. “Please.”
I pour some of Mother’s cognac for him, myself, and my sister on the couch. He and I raise glasses, but my sister leaves hers where it is. Doesn’t trust Hud at all. I don’t like this, she whispered again and again on the ride home. And I told her shhh, even though Hud didn’t seem to hear, and her mouth stayed pursed in that secret smile. It was in the rearview mirror only that I saw her mouth moving, that her eyes were wild with just how much she didn’t like this.
“If you don’t mind, Belle, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” he says now. And then he pulls out a pen and a small notepad from his pocket. Clicks the pen.
My heart begins to thud in my chest. “Questions?”
“For our records is all.”
In the mirrors, I see my sisters stiffen. They don’t like this for me.
“What’s your name?”
“Belle.”
“What is your full name?”
Nothing comes. Only one of those blanks. Is there a word that should come after Belle? Feels like there should be one, one that never felt like mine. Alien. Heavy on my tongue, a strange-shaped stone. Looks like “night” but means “light” is a phrase that suddenly appears in my mind. But it means nothing. So maybe this is a trick question?
“Belle,” I say. I watch him scribble on his pad.
“What about your father?”
A slanted eye of gold winking on my wrist, watching me. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“What’s your mother’s full name?”
My sisters and I smile at one another in the mirror. That’s an easy one. “Mother.”
Furious scribbling with his pen. “And where do you live?”
I gesture out the window at the blue sky, whose brightness hurts my eyes. “Eden. Obviously.”
“Where were you born?”
In my mind, I see a wretched island wreathed by a slushy river the color of Hud Hudson’s eyes. That can’t be right. “Here.”
“Where do you work?”
“At Belle of the Ball. A dress shop. You know that.”
“Your name isn’t Mirabelle Nour and you don’t live and work in the Plateau area of Montreal, Canada? At a shop called Damsels in This Dress?”
“In Distress? That sounds awful.”
“What about Montreal?”
“I’ve heard it’s pretty there but very cold. Too cold for me.”
“So you grew up here? And you’ve never lived or worked anywhere else?”
“That’s right.” Along the wall of glass, my sisters nod encouragingly. They love my answers so far.
“Where is your mother now, Belle?”
“Not sure, to be honest.”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“Happened to her?”
“That she died?”
And I have to laugh. Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to be the detective of Beauty? He should really have his facts straight. “She was just here.”
“Where? Show me.”
“No.” For one, Mother isn’t in the mirrors at the moment. Just me and Hud in the glass—and my sisters of course, smiling a little more sadly now.
“Belle, listen. You’re in grave danger, do you understand? You’ve fallen into the hands of some very evil people.”