Beauty and the Wolf

by Bridget Essex

  This is not a system of time-telling that I’m familiar with, but I’ve watched Mr. Cheese eat, and he’s a pretty speedy nibbler, so...

  “All right,” I say, and I fall into step beside the kid. “I’ll walk you there. Sound good?” My mind’s wheels are already spinning. If I walk Rex to this kid's house, then maybe they can play together for a little while, and I'll be able to try to get to the bottom of where the hell Betty is before coming back to pick him up. The plan forms quickly, and it’s as weak as wet paper, but it's the best I’ve got.

  However, Rex is no longer on board.

  “Actually, you don’t have to walk with me, Pretty.” He waves the air dismissively. “I come from a long line of carnivores. Nobody would bother me. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “A long line of carnivores?” I laugh. “Not a single vegetarian in your midst?”

  He blinks at me, staring at my face as if I just told him that I’m part-moose.

  “Ants says not to use that swear,” he says quietly. “It’s a really bad swear, Pretty.”

  “What?” I think back over my words. “Vegetarian is a swear word?” I ask incredulously, and he clamps his hands over his ears, a stricken expression on his face.

  Mr. Cheese stares at me sadly, as if I should have known better.

  O...kay.

  This family is a little weird.

  “Rex, I...can’t tell if you’re joking or not, but I'm leaning toward not,” I say slowly, and then, when he doesn't respond, I shrug my shoulders and nod. “Listen, I'm going to walk you to your friend's house, because—carnivore or not, buddy—there are some bad people in this world. Not to mention reckless drivers. And Jordan told me to watch you.”

  “He’s not very good at watching me,” says Rex, agreeing, and then we both head out of Grim Tower together, walking side by side, Mr. Cheese riding Rex’s head as if he’s headed into battle.

  “It’s great that you already have friends in town,” I say conversationally.

  “I made them last night,” Rex says, kicking at a stone. “It was after my bedtime, but Mom was sleeping, and Ants said it was okay.”

  The sky is drizzling lightly, but it’s not cold. In fact, I welcome the drizzle, because if I look damp now, it’ll just be because of the weather, not because I’m wearing yesterday’s soggy clothes.

  As we walk, we talk a little, but Rex is hellbent on getting to his friends' place pretty quickly. Within a few blocks, the not-so-great part of Paris lies behind us, and we enter the ritzy side of town. Not that we have a truly “ritzy” side, but this little section, known as the Pines, is where the more expensive, upscale condos are.

  This is also where Andrew lives. I wrinkle my nose and try to remember which building he calls home, but I can’t call up the name.

  Rex is making a beeline now toward the farthest condo of the development. It’s not so much a development, really; Paris is about two hundred years old, and these condos were built within existing brick structures that were created during the Victorian era. It’s a beautiful place, with manicured gardens and charming, cobblestoned streets. If Andrew didn’t live here, I’d probably have better feelings toward it—but since he does, I tend to avoid it like the plague.

  Rex marches up the front steps of the house and immediately opens the front door. I trot to catch up with him—the little guy is fast—and I follow him into the building.

  “This is where your friend lives?” I ask, and he doesn’t even look up at me, just shakes his head enthusiastically.

  “Friends. Yeah.”

  “Sorry, friends,” I say, with a little grin, but he doesn’t appear to notice that I’ve corrected myself.

  He stares up at the doorbell beside the door to the first condo; he can’t quite reach it, and he glances at me with pleading eyes.

  I ring the doorbell, and from within the condo comes a very pretty, chiming sound.

  “Just a minute!” calls a voice from within.

  What’s really weird is that I recognize that voice. I stiffen, gape, my lips parting...

  And, within moments, Betty answers the door.

  Betty and I stare at one another in shock for a long moment. She just had a shower—her blonde hair is drawn up into a dripping bun on the top of her head, and droplets of water slide down her neck. She’s wearing a pink dress: it’s not quite the right size, too big in the shoulders, and it makes her look a little smaller than she really is. But that could be the effect of the events of the last few days, too.

  “Betty...” I breathe, blinking at her.

  At the same moment, perfectly in sync, we step forward and hug each other tightly—so tightly that Betty makes a little gasp, and then she laughs, actually laughs out loud.

  God, it’s been so long since I last heard my friend laugh...

  Tears are standing in my eyes when I take a step back, still gripping her by the shoulders. Rex seizes this opportunity to slip past the both of us and run down the hallway, toward what looks to be a living room.

  “Betty... What are you doing here?” I breathe out, right before Betty’s kids come careening into sight, colliding with Rex. Now they’re squishing him into a big hug. Beth, the oldest, hangs around his neck as if he’s a life preserver. The youngest, Jerry, is crawling after the rest of them, hooting with baby happiness.

  Rex kneels down and lets Mr. Cheese crawl down his arm, angling him toward the baby. But Mr. Cheese takes one quick look at the infant and hightails it back up Rex’s arm, burrowing behind his shirt collar.

  Smart move, little mouse. Jerry shrieks with delight, and Rex sits patiently on the floor, allowing the tiny child to search his pockets for the mouse.

  “So, wait—you guys know Rex?” I ask, and Amy—the five-year-old—jumps up and down, her skirt flaring around her chubby little legs.

  “He’s our best friend!”

  “Since when?” I ask, and Rex stares up at me as if I can’t keep two things in my head at once.

  “I told you, Pretty. I met them last night!”

  “Right...” Clearly in over my head, I glance at Betty, and she smiles at me with a little shrug.

  “Do you want some coffee, Bella?”

  “God, yes.” I follow after her, taking in the artwork hanging on the walls: they’re all generic images of flowers and animals, along with a few reproductions of classic works. At the end of the hallway, Mona Lisa gives me her infamous, enigmatic smile.

  Betty leads me to the kitchen; it's sleek and modern with a sparkly quartz countertop. I know pretty much everything in the kitchen is brand new because there are still manufacturer stickers on the appliances, and that fresh wood smell wafts from the cabinets as Betty opens the nearest one to take out a box of coffee filters. She has to remove the plastic from the plug before she uses the coffeemaker.

  I seat myself on one of the stools beneath the counter overhang and place my chin on my hands, watching my friend move around a kitchen she’s unfamiliar with.

  “Betty, what the hell happened yesterday?” I blurt out.

  She takes ground coffee out of another cupboard and glances at me with a raised brow. “Little pitchers...” She winks as some of the kids go racing past.

  “Come on. You’re killing me.” I smile, amazed. She seems more like herself now than she has in any recent memory.

  She looks happy. Content.

  And it’s wonderful.

  “Okay, okay. Where to begin?” Betty sighs, leaning against the counter as she waits for the coffee to brew. “Well, last night was pretty strange. We were all set up in the barn... I mean, not set up. We were just...there. And it was cold and dark and terrible. God, I think I cried more yesterday than I ever have before.” Her voice drops low, and she regards me with haunted eyes. “I didn’t want the kids to see me like that. I wanted to be strong for them, and I was—at first. But once we got in the barn, and all of my kids were lying on top of me, trying to keep warm... I just lost it, Bella.”

  “Oh, honey,
” I whisper, rising to my feet and moving around the counter. I hug my friend again, and she hugs me back. A moment later, when she draws away, there are tears falling from her eyes; she's crying, but she doesn’t make a single sound. I realize, then: she learned to cry silently so that her kids wouldn’t hear her, wouldn't know she was sad.

  I've never witnessed anything more heartbreaking.

  Betty takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes, offering me a weak, watery smile. “Anyway, I was resigned to it. Of course I didn’t plan to live in the barn long-term. I thought that maybe we could hitchhike to a town with a women’s shelter.” She pauses, tilts her head. “I was going to ask Pam if she could drive us to a shelter, but she didn’t pick up when I called. And then my phone was turned off.” She shrugs uneasily. “So we were all curled up together in the barn, and I was almost asleep when I saw a flashlight beam—and there, all of the sudden, was Grim.”

  “G-Grim?” My eyes feel as if they're going to pop out of my head, I'm so shocked. I take a step back and stare at her, perplexed. “As in...Mel Grim?”

  “She likes to be called Grim, doesn’t she?” asks Betty worriedly.

  “Yeah, she does—but...Grim? She came to the barn?”

  “Yeah. She just appeared out of nowhere, said that she'd heard I was in need of help. And then she told me that she’d recently bought this condo building and was looking for someone to stay here to let the maintenance men in, and then to handle the tenants later. She wanted to give me a job. Said I would be really helping her out,” she tells me softly, searching my face. “She's very kind, Bella.”

  “Yeah,” I manage, flabbergasted. “She is.”

  “It all happened so fast. She drove us here right away, and an hour or two later, she came back to check on us and brought Rex by to meet the kids.” Betty’s smile is big, genuine, and she hugs me tightly again before getting some mugs out of the cupboard. “Sorry, everything in here is brand new.” She peels a sticker off of the bottom of the mug and rinses it quickly in the kitchen sink. “I’m still finding my way around the place.”

  I’m only half-listening to her now, because I’m thinking about last night. I’m thinking about Grim...

  And wondering what on earth is going on.

  Grim’s a generous person, sure, but heading out in the middle of the night—in a storm—to track down a homeless woman and her kids and take them to a safe, warm place... That’s outside of the bounds of normal generosity. Even the townsfolk weren't willing to do that, and they've known—and loved—Betty for her whole life.

  Grim must have driven Betty and her kids to the condo while I was still making my way to the barn. But then...why did she come back to the barn? It doesn't make sense...

  Betty tugs at the collar of her dress and shrugs, glancing at me with shining eyes. “I feel calm for the first time in so long, Bella. The kids are safe.”

  And then there are tears in my eyes, too. I’ve been so worried, so stressed, and now I know that Betty is going to be okay, no longer a victim of Andrew's spiteful whims.

  And...I know who to thank for that, too. Grim saw how distressed I was about Betty's situation, and then she did something about it. Like, immediately. Why she kept it a secret from me, though, is another matter...

  “Rex gets along so well with the kids,” says Betty, her smile deepening as she watches Rex playing tag. “Grim told me that he doesn’t have any friends here,” she goes on, lowering her voice, “but we didn’t ask the kids to become friends; it just happened really organically.” She takes a jug of milk out of the fridge. “The sugar’s by your elbow,” she says, nodding toward a little box of sugar packets. I pick it up and hand it to her, but my actions are automatic, unthinking.

  “Grim just said...someone told her you needed help?” I ask, and Betty nods, a little perplexed.

  “That’s the weird thing. She wouldn’t tell me who it was, and I was too tired to pursue it, but I'd like to know who talked to her about us, because... I mean, that person saved us.” She regards me with a soft but shrewd expression. “Was it you, Bella?”

  I shrug. I don’t know.

  I don’t know anything for sure.

  “Anyway, the job offer sounded too good to be true, but I know you trusted her. So I decided to trust her, too. And, I mean, I didn’t have much of a choice—” She’s watching me as she pours the coffee, and a little of it dribbles down the side of the new mug.

  “No, no, you were right to trust her,” I say quickly. I realize that my expression probably isn’t one of radiant joy right now, and it should be. I’m just deeply confused.

  I spread my hands, smiling gently. “I’m so relieved that you’re okay, that the kids are okay. When I couldn't get in touch with you last night...” Closing my eyes, I shake my head and clear my throat. “The thing is, Betty... Me and Grim...” I exhale a long breath as I try to figure out how to phrase this. “I mean, we saw one another last night. She knew I was incredibly worried about you. I hitchhiked out to the barn to try and find you, and I couldn’t. You weren't there. And then I...I ran into her in the woods.”

  “Oh, she went back to get my phone. She came by with it last night—that's when she brought Rex—but it had gotten too wet. I don’t think it’s savable.” Betty cocks her head as she hands me my cup of coffee. “So...you were the one who told her about us.” Her smile widens when I take the cup from her, appreciatively inhaling the steam. “Ah, I know that look, Bella.”

  “What look?” I glance up at her in surprise, and then I groan—her smile has transformed into a mischievous one. “What look?” I repeat, raising a brow.

  “You like her.”

  I take a sip of the too-hot coffee, promptly scalding the roof of my mouth. Still, I gulp it down, wincing; at least that gives me an excuse not to talk for a moment.

  “Admit it,” says Betty, waggling her finger at my face. “Are you guys dating?”

  “Dating? No. No, no... That’s not what...um...”

  Betty toes out a stool and starts to crow with laughter as she sits down. “So you’re sleeping together?”

  I offer her a pained smile. “No, not that, either.” I sigh and plunk myself down on a stool, threading my fingers through the handle of the warm mug of coffee.

  And then, fortified by caffeine, I tell her—in awkward stops and starts—about what happened between Grim and me last night. By the time I've finished the story, Betty isn't laughing anymore. Sympathy is very apparent on her face, and her blonde brow is furrowed in shared pain.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” she tells me, reaching across the counter to take my closest hand and squeeze it. “I...I don’t know what to make of her behavior with you. I think you're right; she was probably hurt in the past. Seems like...like she’s worried about you getting too close to her.”

  I slouch miserably on my stool and nod. “Yeah. It's just... She’s gone to an awful lot of unnecessary trouble. Giving me a job. Helping you out, too. She’s a really good person: I think she would have put you up in this condo, regardless, but I wonder if I played some small role in her decision to do it.”

  Betty smiles. “A big role, more likely.”

  I bite my lip and frown. “But why didn't she tell me that she fixed your situation? Why keep it a secret?” I rake a hand back through my hair in frustration. “Son of a biscuit, it makes no sense!”

  Betty suddenly looks worried, chewing at her pinkie nail. “She actually mentioned that she didn’t want people knowing that it was her who put my family here.” She shrugs slightly. “But I think it was okay to tell you—don't you think?”

  I’m immediately nodding. Betty looks so tired when she’s worried. She’s been through enough hardship without bearing the burden of my woman trouble, too.

  If this can even be called woman trouble. I have no idea what's going on.

  I shake my head to clear my thoughts and then take another sip of coffee; it only burns my mouth a little now, which is a marked improvement.

  Why d
idn’t Grim want me to know that she had helped Betty? I’ll have to figure that particular riddle out myself. It’s wrong to drag Betty into it.

  So I drag her into something else, instead.

  “Betty, I’m so happy that you’re okay, and I plan to celebrate a lot with you later—I’ll bring pizza or something, promise. But, right now, I’ve got to a friendship to fix.” I slide off of the stool and chug down the rest of the coffee, wincing at the pain as the hot liquid slides down my throat. But, hey, at least I feel a little more awake now.

  Betty stares at me, her furrowed brow asking a silent question.

  “I haven’t had a chance to tell you.” I wring my hands nervously, thinking of the inevitable confrontation to come. “Pam and me? We had a fight—a big one. And now that I know you’re okay, I want to go and make up with her. Or...try to, anyway.”

  Betty’s face darkens with concern. “A fight? That’s not like you two—”

  “I know. Tell me about it. Nothing in my life is predictable anymore.”

  As I'm speaking, Betty stares down at the counter, tapping her fingernails on the quartz. She seems to be considering whether or not she should speak, her expressions shifting between worry and confusion. “Bella...” She cringes. “Oh, I don’t know if I should say anything about this.”

  I laugh uncomfortably. “Well, when you start out with a phrase like that, you’ve got to finish what you started.” My stomach tightens into anxious knots as I stare at my friend.

  She glances at me, her eyes full of indecision. Finally, she draws in a deep breath, says, “Honestly, Bella, I wanted to tell you, but...” She chews at her pinkie nail again as she searches for the right words. “Pam has been acting kind of...well, weird lately. To me.”

  I frown, sitting down. “What do you mean?”

  “It started when I was fired.” Betty shakes her head and sighs heavily. “She started to treat me differently.”

  “Pam?” I’m incredulous, and Betty... Well, Betty just looks miserable, sitting on the stool stiffly, her eyes clouded, distant.

  I lick my lips—they're suddenly too dry—and I try to speak calmly, but it just comes out as a shout: “I just... I need to know that we’re on the same page here. Our friend, Pam, who we’ve known since we were children...” I’m aware that my voice is getting progressively louder, and I try to tone it down when one of the kids, Beth, peeks around the corner to make sure things are okay. “That Pam is treating you differently? Like...how?”