Page 5 of Isabelle and the Beast

Dad

Did you make it up safely?

Me

Yep. It started snowing though. Totally weird. I’m waiting in a bedroom for dinner.

Dad

It was pouring rain when I was there. Glad you’re safe. Let me know when you’re on your way home.

Me

A knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” I call, setting my phone on the bed next to me.

An older woman walks in, her brown hair with streaks of gray in a loose, low bun. She’s short and looks like she’d give the best hugs, with lots of cushion. With a warm smile on her face, she says, “Welcome to Stone Castle, Miss Isabelle. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Brigette.”

Her smile is contagious, and I grin back at her. “Hi, Brigette. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I met your father when he was here before,” she says cheerfully. “I can see the similarities.”

“Can you? Most people say I look like my mother, but I don’t remember her. I’ve only seen a few pictures.”

Brigette’s mouth parts. “Oh, dear,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

I wave her off. “It’s fine. She died when I was two, so I don’t remember her.”

To be honest, I wish I remembered her. Even more, I wish my dad and sisters would talk about her. I’ve only heard a few stories from my dad’s friends who occasionally stop by to reminisce about the old times. But for some reason, my dad and sisters refuse to speak about her—ever.

“Can I help you get dressed for tonight?” Brigette asks brightly, drawing my attention back to her.

“Dressed?” I repeat, looking down at my clothes. “Why would I need to get dressed?”

“You don’t need to, I suppose.” She eyes my outfit suspiciously. “But there are many dresses to choose from here. I thought you might enjoy wearing something a little more…” She waves her fingers in the air and shimmies her shoulders.

I widen my eyes at her. “A little more what?”

“Fun!” She whisks into the room and opens the closet at the end of the room. It’s not like the tiny rack of clothes I have in LA. This is a full-onroomof clothes and shoes, with rows of racks.

“Whose clothes are these?” I ask, trying again to find out who this room belongs to.

“Miss Lily’s,” Brigette replies, her hands reverentially grazing the dresses. She looks back at me, her eyes narrow. “Although you’re quite a bit taller than her. Any dresses you want to wear would need to be altered.”

“I don’t need to alter Lily’s dresses.” I’d also like to add,Who the heck is Lily?But I hold back because everyone seems so secretive.

Brigette waves a hand at me. “It’s no problem. We have seamstresses available. They don’t have much work to do, now that Mr. Stone…” She cuts herself off, turning back to the dresses. “Well, you know.”

“No, I really don’t.”

She shrugs, still not facing me. “He tends to keep himself in more…casual wear these days.”

“Ah.” Honestly, I didn’t look much at his clothes, since I was so taken aback by the hair, beard, and scar, but now that she mentions it, I think he was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. Which is extra unusual, considering his former reputation as a snazzy dresser, even when going to Starbucks or the grocery store.

I wave Brigette off. “I don’t want to alter any of Lily’s dresses, since I’m barely staying a few more hours. It’s one dinner. I’m happy to stay in my current clothes.”

“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug. “Shall we at least do your hair?”

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