by Laura Kenyon
“Oh, I’ve been waiting all day for these cuddles,” she sighed, sweeping the baby to her chest and tapping his itty-bitty nose. He let out a merry squeak, pushed his bottom lip out with his tongue, and flailed all his appendages at once. “Someone should seriously bottle this feeling up and pour it into the world’s water supply. There’d be instant peace on earth. Honestly. How can anyone hold a grudge with a bundle of innocence like this in their arms?”
Belle knotted the top of her hospital gown—a paper-thin pink thing with more laces than she knew what to do with—and slithered off the bed. “Do you really think Hazel played me?” she asked, struggling not to hover.
Rapunzel made a tiny noise, possibly a pop of laughter. Then she flashed a look that left absolutely no question. “Unless you left something out of that panicked, twelve-minute voicemail,” she said, cooing the words while swaying back and forth and making faces at Rye, “would you even believe me if I said no?”
Belle frowned and hoisted up the duffel—or at least tried to. She nearly toppled over from the weight but somehow managed to pitch it onto a threadbare floral armchair by the window. What the heck was in there, foundation stones salvaged from the fire?
“Ugh,” she groaned. “I just didn’t know what to do. She was threatening to let Donner’s curse stand, and I didn’t want her to know about Rye. She didn’t buy the whole Angus-has-bigger-plans story, and Ruby must have kept her situation from her for a reason.”
“Yeah,” Rapunzel half-snorted. “The reason being pride and ego. Can you honestly tell me you trust Ruby after everything she put you through? I’m still having a hard time following her lead on all this. That woman always has an angle and she’d do anything to protect her perfect fairy image.”
Belle rolled her eyes. She’d heard Rapunzel’s anti-Ruby speech a million times already. “Well, whatever the case, I was about to tell Hazel all about Ruby’s powers when—”
“When she played you.”
Belle pursed her lips but knew she had no leg to stand on. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed likely that Hazel had bluffed her way to recruiting Belle as Donner’s most steadfast defender. But selling her soul was worth it to keep Rye safely beneath her wing for as long as possible.
“Anyway,” she said, aching to change the subject. “How are you doing with the Grethel thing? And the Ethan thing? Are you guys … still together?”
A few beats went by with no response.
“Please. Don’t hold back just because you think I’m dealing with worse,” Belle said. “I don’t have a monopoly on bad days, and the last thing I want is everyone feeling sorry for me.”
Rapunzel either didn’t agree or was too busy playing with Rye to answer. He was batting at her nose the way a cat would bat at a ball of yarn. After a few seconds, he let out a series of sounds that were a step above crying but not formed enough to be considered babbling.
Belle hung back and blinked a few times, as if trying to capture the image on a mental camera. In isolation, it was a perfect moment—her best friend rocking side to side with her new baby in her arms. The two of them socializing in the hospital where she’d just given birth. Her baby staring up at his future godmother with eyes the size of bottle caps, struggling to say “hello” but not quite sure how to work the mechanics of his mouth.
Yes, in isolation, it was perfect. Belle just had to avoid the urge to zoom out. She returned her focus to the duffel.
“What’s in the bag?” she asked, already pulling back the zipper.
Rapunzel continued rocking and, with a sugary voice better suited to a nursery rhyme, listed everything Belle had been craving since she regained consciousness almost forty hours ago: socks that didn’t bunch up around her heel; soap that actually lathered; soft cotton T-shirts; yoga pants; fresh underwear; a hair dryer; peppermint toothpaste; a bundle of design magazines so she could start mentally rebuilding the Phoenix; and even a jumble of nursing bras, still on their hangers.
“Wow. This look complicated,” she said, surveying one of the bras. She’d never seen so many straps and hooks on a piece of lingerie—minus the time she had to borrow Rapunzel’s negligee. “And you actually set foot in a maternity store? I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, that was an adventure,” Rapunzel said. “Just promise me that if you don’t like any, you’ll give them away. I never want to set foot in one of those places again.”
Belle rolled her eyes and tore the tag off the yoga pants. Then she leaned against the bed and threaded both legs through at once. She instantly felt her humanity return—along with some warmth, a little mobility, and a smidgen of self-respect.
“Only you could look at a maternity store and see something wicked,” she said, even though there was a time when she thought the same thing—for completely different reasons. “I think they’re some of the happiest places in the world. If we can’t rebuild the Phoenix for some reason, maybe that should be my Plan B. Everyone’s so hopeful and full of life in those places. They know something amazing is coming—even those who went through hell to get there.”
“I didn’t say they’re evil. They just scare the crap out of me.” Rapunzel’s hand flew up to her mouth as she looked at Rye. “Sorry, they scare the flowers out of me.”
“Why?” Belle asked before spotting a turquoise bag deep inside the duffel. She recognized the color immediately. It was from her absolute favorite baby store in the whole world.
“Why?” Rapunzel repeated, her tone mystified. “Because if I ever tie a bow under my breasts, I don’t want it to be because I no longer have a waist.”
Belle laughed, snatched up the bag, and scurried over to the bed with it. “What if that’s what Ethan wants?” she asked before pouring its contents all over the sheets. A jumble of baby socks and pajama suits and pocketsize sweatshirts tumbled out. “Oh my gosh these are adorable!”
“Those are just a few things I picked up,” Rapunzel said, nose-diving into the change of subject. “Royalty or not, he needs a few things that actually fit him. The teething rings are all made of food grade silicone. And I thought the three-month stuff looked a little small, so I went with six.”
“Oh they’re perfect!” Belle screeched, her hands shaking from overexcitement. It was like Christmas morning—only better. For days, her poor little munchkin had been forced to wear the same undersized kimono shirt, white knit booties, and striped skull cap. Kirsten had been kind enough to bring in some six-month onesies, but attempting to slide that delicate little head through the neck hole nearly gave Belle a nervous breakdown. Plus, with no baby shower, no birth announcements, and no recollection of even going into labor, this was the first “normal” new mom moment she’d had. “They’re just perfect!” she said again, holding up a tiny orange fleece pinned to miniature cargo pants. She threw her arms around Rapunzel and then began explaining each item to her baby. “And bigger is better anyway. Gives him time to grow into them.”
And there it was. The zoom. Belle wasn’t having a normal moment with her normal child right now. Her newborn baby wasn’t just unusually plump. He didn’t just so happen to tip a tier on the standard clothing size chart. He’d developed at an unnatural rate because he’d been cursed, and no one knew how that would play out. No one knew when the slightly baggy six-month clothes would be bursting at the seams—in three months or in three days?
“Can I hold him for a sec?” she asked, spreading the outfit on the bed and turning her back to it. Carefully, she slid her fingers beneath the warm bundle of flesh, shifted him into her arms, and wilted over him like a day lily at twilight.
“You’re right,” Belle said, smiling as Rye’s tiny, warm, baby body melted into her, breathed with her, clung to her because—for no reason other than instinct—he knew she would love and protect him. “There is absolutely no better feeling than this.”
“Sit,” Rapunzel commanded, clearing the duffel from the armchair and patting the cushion. “Be a mom. I’ll put this stuff away.”
> Belle thanked her, but preferred to stand and sway. “He likes it when we dance,” she said, gravitating toward the window while singing him to sleep. She was finally starting to feel at ease again, when Rapunzel pulled out a beautiful polka dot dress that had “going home outfit” written all over it. The sight slapped her across the face.
As much as she missed Beast and Gray and the great outdoors, the last thing she wanted to think about was leaving Marestam General—not before someone broke Rye’s curse or Angus was in jail or she had one magical ring on her finger and another in Tantalise. But in reality, Dr. Frolick only had so many strings he could pull, Snow was already putting finishing touches on her nursery, and Hazel was expecting her to cartwheel out the front door as soon as possible.
“Beast is doing well,” Rapunzel said, nudging her friend back to reality. “But he definitely misses you.”
“He does?” she asked, accidentally jerking her arms. A pair of heavy eyelids bounced apart. She stroked Rye’s cheek with her thumb and watched them slowly droop together again, then gave Rapunzel a look advising her that they had a sleepy baby in their midst. Carefully, she crossed the room and laid him into the bassinet, silently wishing he had something nicer to sleep in. Then she dimmed the lights a bit (as if he hadn’t just fallen asleep in full fluorescence), and returned to hear how her other child—her furry, gigantic, crazy child—was doing.
“I miss Beast too,” she said, opening herself wide open to Rapunzel’s ridicule. “I know being a pet owner isn’t really your style, but I really appreciate you taking him in. Knowing he’s in a familiar place makes this a little easier. You didn’t happen to take any pictures, did you?”
As expected, Belle received a dramatic head dip and a long, slanted stare that essentially said, Really? Did you seriously just ask me that? But then Rapunzel’s lips curled up on the sides and she removed a phone from the front of her tight, coral slacks.
“There might be a few,” she said as a huge, silver snout popped up on the screen.
Belle snapped it up and beamed at a picture of Beast curled up on his old bed—the first one she’d ever bought. It was comically small for him now, but she kept that thought to herself as Rapunzel began narrating. In less than one day, Beast had evidently gone shopping on Fifth Avenue; played catch in Capitol Park; whittled a giant tree branch down to chips; feasted on a human-grade rib eye steak; and maybe, judging by the sheets and the speed with which the photo disappeared, slept in Rapunzel’s bed. Seeing this did more for Belle’s morale than any medicine ever could have. She’d been picturing the poor guy moping around Rapunzel’s apartment with his head down and tail between his legs, wondering what happened to all the trees.
“Ethan said he was very popular in midtown,” Rapunzel said. “I think he knew it too, the way he pranced along with his tail high like a flagpole and his head up. Do people usually stop you to tell you how beautiful he is?”
Belle laughed. “All the time. He’s a good-looking puppy. Sweet too. People who like dogs can see that.”
Rapunzel shrugged and looked away—away from the knowing smirk spreading across Belle’s face.
“By the way,” Belle said, ready to debunk the whole pet-aversion thing once and for all, “where’s Beast sleeping during his stay at—”
“Ugh!” Rapunzel said, shoving her hands into her monstrous canvas purse. “I knew you saw it. Yes, I let him sleep on my bed this morning. It was a one-time thing. I was lonely and he just looked so pathetic—curled up on that booster that’s half his size now, with those puppy dog eyes and—” She paused and pulled out two manila folders. “Well, it’s not like he understands what’s going on so…”
“So you wanted to take care of him as best as you could,” Belle finished her thought, trying to keep her satisfaction to a manageable level. “Maybe there is some maternal instinct in you after all.”
Rapunzel rapped the folders on the bedside table and deposited them next to Belle’s phone. “Don’t even think it.”
If Belle’s smile stretched any wider, it would probably have torn her face in two. But then a word spiraled back at her: lonely. “Wait,” she said. “Why were you lonely? I thought you said Ethan was still around.”
Rapunzel let out another grunt, then began fishing through her bag for something else.
“There’s wine in the closet if you’re looking for booze. Compliments of Hazel the Terrible.”
But Rapunzel shook her head and pulled out a pen instead. She dropped it on top of the papers.
“You need to sign these for the insurance company.”
“Already?”
“Yes, already. High profile case like ours means publicity for them so I think they want to move as quickly—and generously—as possible, which is fine by me. The sooner we get these in, the sooner we can put all of this behind us and rebuild. We are rebuilding, right?”
Belle looked up. Their eyes locked for a split second that felt somehow heavy. That hadn’t even been a question . . . until it was phrased as one.
She fumbled for her words. “I mean, I thought so. Do you not want to?”
“Heck yeah, I want to!” Rapunzel hollered, then immediately slapped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes grew wide as a coughing sound emanated from the bassinet. They both froze and waited for another sound, but none came. Finally, when the coast appeared to be clear, Rapunzel peeled her fingers from her face and whispered, “Of course I do. I already have a bunch of inquiries from businesses that want to help. And we need this, remember?”
Belle recognized an urgency in her tone that usually preceded a pep talk, but she was in no mood for a lecture on forward progress and inner strength and not letting Donner win the war.
“Of course we do,” Belle said, flipping through the first folder. She nodded, scribbled her signature a few times, and handed it back to Rapunzel. Then she picked up the next one. It was significantly thicker. “This too?”
Rapunzel grinned, probably because she’d dodged the question about Ethan for a second time. “No, that’s homework.”
“Homework?”
“Well, I figured we could use the fire as an opportunity to fix some of the things we did wrong last time.”
Belle frowned. “Did wrong? What do you mean? I loved everything about the Phoenix. It was perfect. I mean, sure, if we’d had an unlimited budget I might have separated the main house and added a few honeymoon cottages. Maybe used more low maintenance materials, or … but, come on, overall I think it was just perfect. I mean it. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Rapunzel gave a slanted, devious smirk. “Just open the file.”
She shrugged and laid it on the rolling serving table on which she’d enjoyed her blueberry pancake breakfast, chicken salad lunch, crusted salmon dinner, and chocolate brownie dessert—all accompanied by gelatin in various shades of green. On the top of the pile sat an email from a contractor in downtown Riverfell. Belle skimmed through the first few lines about sympathy and loyalty and “supporting the people worth supporting.” Then she froze.
I’d consider it an honor if you’d allow us to help rebuild the Phoenix at cost.
She read it three more times before looking up. “At cost?”
Rapunzel smiled. “That’s what it says. There are a ton of others just like it. For plumbing, landscaping, carpentry, design, catering, you name it. Even people who want to make gift bags for future guests.”
“Really?” Belle dropped onto the edge of her bed and began flipping through the papers. She saw a few names she recognized: Regian Roofing, Majestic Electric, Twelve Brothers Remodeling, Always and Forever. She looked up. “Isn’t Always and Forever run by the woman who did Cindy’s birthday party? Kimberly … Kimberly Epson?”
Rapunzel’s smile plummeted. She must have misheard her.
“You remember,” she tried again, plucking the message out to give her partner a better look. “This is the woman who made that beautiful bracelet for Cindy out of her mother’s old jewelry. And
organized that whole party. Aaron had nothing but fantastic things to say about her.”
Rapunzel stared blankly back at her, then reached for the paper. “Oh yeah,” she said.
“Well, I’m sure her heart is in the right place, but what’s a jewelry designer gonna do—bedazzle the concierge desk?” She let out a nervous laugh. “No, I’ll just send out a reply thanking her but—”
“No!” Belle said, pulling the paper back. “I admire the heck out of that woman. I can’t remember seeing Cindy so happy. It was as if she got her mother back somehow. And you know who else Kim Epson is, don’t you?”
Rapunzel’s shoulders jumped. Her green eyes widened. She glanced from Belle to the window and back again. Then she shook her head. “What do you mean who else she is?”
Belle squinted and studied the floor, as if trying to dig deep into her memory. “Kim Epson,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You know, the Epson family.” Rapunzel’s face was blank. “Her sister was murdered by that horrible serial-killing husband.” She leaned in and lowered her voice even further, as if her words could somehow affect Rye’s dreams. “You know, Blue Beardsley. I think she was number three. Karen Epson. They had a son, too. Poor kid. Can you imagine?”
Belle watched as a strange look drifted over her friend’s face. Confusion, probably, though it bore a strong resemblance to relief. Rapunzel held her tongue for a few seconds, then said she vaguely remembered hearing something about that. “It’s a horrible story,” she added, her tone oddly cool for such a serious subject. “But look at that pile. We can’t take everyone up on their offer. Too many cooks in the kitchen and all.” She reached for the paper again, but Belle deflected her hand and shook her head.
“I completely agree,” she said, stowing Kimberly Epson’s letter safely back in the folder and approaching the window. It must have just started raining, because while the headlights and marque signs below gave off a fuzzy glow, the streets were still bustling. “But we might need her help designing chandeliers, or planning our second grand opening. Now would you please stop being so elusive and tell me what’s going on with you and Ethan? I’m pretty emotionally invested in your relationship so…”
