Snow White's Mirror
Page 10
“I’ve seen the mine,” she said, “It’s just a mine. There’s no mirror hidden in there.” She pressed down the memories of crawling through those dark, narrow tunnels. She shuddered.
Uncle’s face registered shock. And something else. Admiration?
“When was this?” he asked.
Billie ignored the question. She’d held on to the secret for too long. “It’s a small operation. She works the mine herself and makes enough to support her modest needs. As far as why she wants to keep the claim, it’s filled with this beautiful turquoise that even Copper Queen Consolidated views as worthless. They toss theirs in with the slag.”
“That’s because it is worthless. What matters is the copper and the small amounts of gold and silver.” He shook his head in disbelief. “See? She has no idea the value of her mine. If I were her, I’d sell it to Queen Consolidated and be out of here. But no, she likes her trinkets.” He pinched his fingers together as if holding up a piece of imaginary jewelry.
Billie decided not to tell him anything more about the beautiful cave. He might appreciate its beauty for a moment, but not if it stood in the way of mining out the minerals.
When Billie didn’t answer, he plowed on. “I’m going to get in there one way or another. I’d rather have your help, so no one gets hurt.”
“You mean caught.” Billie frowned. “You wouldn’t physically hurt her, would you?”
“No. How could you think that?”
Billie raised her hands, palms up toward her uncle. How could she not think it?
“I meant hurt feelings,” he said. “You know how family feuds can get started over the smallest misunderstandings. I’d rather keep this business with the mirror quiet so it doesn’t spread any further than this out-of-the-way place.”
It was one thing to ask Lou to sell, but quite another to sneak around her to get what they wanted. The plan didn’t sit right with her.
“Lou doesn’t know what’s best for her,” said Uncle Dale. “In the end, we can help her. You know that’s true. What I need you to do is keep Lou busy.”
“How?” Billie crossed her arms. She did want to help Lou out of that strange shack that made ghost sounds when the wind blew. And definitely, for sure, no one should live with an outhouse in this day and age.
“Buy her supper at the hotel. She seemed to enjoy her lunch out. Get her used to decent meals and comfortable chairs, and maybe she’ll agree to sell her place so she can get out of that falling-down shack.”
“Oh, I’ve got something better than dinner,” Billie said, thinking about the tickets. “But what are you going to do while I’m showing my cousin the finer things in life?”
“Poke around.” He held up his hands. “That’s it. See what she’s got back in there. Look for a vault, or a dusty mirror covered in cobwebs. Wouldn’t that be a find if I struck gold the first time in?”
“And if you find nothing, then would you be satisfied and we could leave?”
Her uncle was going to press on until he exhausted all possibilities, so if she helped hurry things along, it might actually be better for everyone.
“Sure, sure, but the only place it could be is back there. And when I find it, I’ll polish it up like Aladdin’s lamp and make a wish.”
“Do you really think that’s how the mirror works?” Billie said. There were so many things she’d wish for. One in particular. “You think we can wish for things like medicine for Mom?”
“The evil queen loved that mirror for a reason. Until we find it, it’s all speculation, but I doubt that its only use is to tell who is the fairest in the land. What good would a mirror like that be?”
Uncle Dale had a point. The queen could look into any mirror to see how beautiful she was. A magic mirror that only pointed out beauty would either fuel jealousy or feed the ego, since only one person could be the fairest of all. Who’d want a mirror like that?
Billie had enough problems comparing herself to her friends. Holly had the beautiful shiny hair that poofed out brilliantly in the Gibson girl way. Jane’s eyes were large and fawn-like; she looked as if she were wearing makeup from the moment she woke, but she wasn’t. And Suzanne had the shapely figure that drew the boys’ attention like no other.
Imagine a mirror that told you all the critical things you already knew about your appearance. Or, worse, pointed out what you had missed. A mirror like that should be destroyed because every day you would be held up to a standard you couldn’t achieve.
“I still think the easiest way is to just ask her outright,” Billie said. “If she denies it, I can tell her I don’t believe she doesn’t know anything about the mirror and ask her to show it to me.”
Uncle’s eyes about popped out of his head. “No, no. Don’t even joke about playin’ our best card. Tread delicately, like your expensive finishing school taught you. This has been a carefully guarded secret for years. There’s no telling how many people have lost their lives by either protecting it or trying to get to it. Play the fool until you have reason to act differently.”
Billie nodded. She’d continue to fool everyone around her until she figured who was after what and why.
Chapter 16
Billie was used to playing her role in society and with her friends. As the daughter of Chester Bergmann, mining magnate, she knew her part.
A Bergmann knew how to dress, what to say, and who to say it to. A Bergmann never rushed but maintained an air of confidence at all times. A Bergmann was a perfect example of a young lady.
Even her closest friends were fooled.
Billie knew what a Bergmann was all about, but she barely knew the first thing about who Wilhelmina was. She’d always felt the disconnect but brushed over it with all the parties and busyness at school. Being out West where no one had expectations of her, she didn’t know quite how to act.
She paused on her trek up the mountain to Lou’s shack to look down on the town of Bisbee.
Out here in this boomtown with its false fronts and barroom deals, not everything was as it seemed. The town gave her the freedom to experiment with being herself.
Winn gave her that freedom to be herself. He seemed to know exactly when she was about to act falsely, and he challenged her on it.
But now Uncle was asking her to play a role she wasn’t sure she wanted to play. Or ought to play. They didn’t know if the mirror was real, or if it was, that they could get the answers they needed to help Billie’s mom. Still, if there was a chance, it was worth finding out.
A trickle of sweat dripped down her back. Ugh. The heat. Her shirtwaist and long skirt were not meant for this kind of activity. Her pretty, but cumbersome, outfit was meant to stroll down the boardwalk, sit in the parlor drinking tea, or attend a lecture. She glanced around to make sure she was alone before hefting her skirts up above her knees. Not exactly cool, but at least it allowed the air to circulate around her legs.
When Billie spotted the cabin, she saw Cousin Lou outside, sitting in the shade like she had been waiting for Billie to hoof it up the mountain.
“Let me guess. Your uncle sent you to find out about the watch.”
Billie stopped and dropped her skirt back over her knees. “Nothing like that,” she said. It was much worse.
“I’ve got an extra ticket to the play tonight and thought you might like to come. I’d rather not go by myself and seeing as you don’t have a telephone up here, I had to walk all this way.” Billie wiped the sweat off her brow, only slightly self-aware that the telephone comment was unnecessary. While the Copper Queen Hotel had plans to install a switchboard soon, her own home in Boston was not yet connected.
“Wouldn’t happen to have any iced tea, would you?” Billie asked.
“Got tea, but it ain’t iced.” Lou pointed into the shack.
“Right.” Billie went in and poured herself a glass. The curtains were closed, making the room dark, but she still surreptitiously looked around for the watch and the mirror. Neither were lying out in the open.
“I know it. I am the one who lives here, remember?”
“A wonderful modern convenience.” Billie drank deeply of the tepid tea, and then made a face. “Would change your life.”
Lou burst out laughing. She slapped her knee. “I don’t know what to make of you, girl. Can’t believe we’re related.”
Billie straightened her back. “Distantly.” She wasn’t partial to the idea of being related to Lou, either.
“Don’t go all high and mighty on me,” Lou said. “I’m not making fun. Just pointing out the differences. World would be a boring place if we were all the same, now wouldn’t it?”
“Does that mean you’ll go to the Opera House with me?”
Lou looked out over the distant mountains. “Never been. Don’t see why I should go now.”
“That’s the very reason you should go. Ever been to a play? At all?”
Lou shook her head.
“I won’t take no for an answer.” Even if Billie didn’t have ulterior motives, she had to get Lou to the play just so she could experience it. “You must come. If you don’t like it, you can say no out of a place of knowing you don’t like it instead of being afraid to go.”
“Who said I was afraid?”
Billie took in Lou’s silly school-girl braids, her miner’s uniform, and her isolated existence. She supposed that Lou was afraid of a lot of things. Not coyotes and scorpions, but people.
“I’m guessing you haven’t tried too many new things since you were little. You’ve grown up in body, but you’ve not had enough experiences.”
“Shows what you know—nothing.” Lou stood and disappeared inside the cabin.
Billie followed her, banging into the edge of the table in the darkness. “You should let some light in here.” She made a move to open the curtain hiding the pretty oval window near the bed.
“Stop. Leave it. I like it dark in here.”
Billie turned, and then deposited her glass in the sink. “Thank you for your hospitality. Guess I’ll go by myself. Or try to talk a random boy into going with me.”
Lou’s eyebrow arched. “Which random boy? Careful about the men out this way. They’re not used to a pretty city girl like you.”
Billie, sensing an opportunity, replied, “I’ll find the wildest one I can, just to see if I can tame him with a little culture.”
Lou pursed her lips. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“No chaperone. No one to tell me not to.”
“Fine. I’ll go this one time. Get you off my back. When do we have to leave?”
Billie grinned. “As soon as we get you ready.” She was more thrilled with the victory of introducing Lou to some culture than with accomplishing her mission to clear out the cabin for Uncle to snoop. Besides, she had an idea. “Do you have anything…” she was going to say ‘nice to wear’ but feared that would come out wrong. “Fancier for a night in town?”
Lou examined her clothes. “What’s wrong with this? If it’s good enough for the daytime crowd, it’s good enough for the evening folks. They’re the same people.”
Billie bit her lip instead of commenting. She was pretty sure the daytime crowd would not be offended if Cousin Lou wore a different look now and then. “Have you got a mirror?” she asked, innocently, though feeling anything but.
“Nope.”
“Are you sure? Maybe one you’ve forgotten about? One tucked away somewhere for safe keeping?” She looked around, wondering where Lou could hide a mirror.
“No, I don’t have need of a mirror,” Lou said, more annoyance creeping into her voice.
Billie let it go. It was possible Lou didn’t know about the mirror. That cousin she’d said helped with the claim might know more about it. Lou did say he came from Germany. What if he took the mirror with him when he left?
Chapter 17
Billie didn’t know what to expect from a play being performed in an out-of-the-way mining town. In Boston, she was used to the best touring groups, and the local talent was equally as good. But Bisbee was a growing town, and a prosperous one at that.
A decent line had formed outside the Opera House. Billie scanned the crowd and approved of how nicely folks dressed up for the occasion. The ladies wore their silk evening gowns, or their finest pigeon blouses and flared skirts, while the men donned waistcoats and ties and their tallest bowler hats. Beside her, Lou fidgeted. She’d changed out of her dirty dungarees into the only skirt she owned. But despite Billie’s best efforts, Lou still wore a plaid shirt.
After the fourth person walked by giving them a pointed look, Billie whispered, “Do people always stare at you?”
Lou frowned. “They’re not staring because of my stature, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She gripped her skirt. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into wearing this getup. Now they’ll all expect me to dress proper when I come to town. Never gonna happen. This was a one-time deal.”
Billie turned away and smiled. Not if she had anything to say about it.
Soon, they entered the Opera House. It was pleasingly stylish with its velvet curtains draped across the stage and the filigrees decorating the pillars. Evidence of the copper mine was all around in the electric lights illuminating the stage and the seating area. This was a thoroughly modern venue.
An usher led them to their seats, center, near the orchestra pit. Again, Billie was impressed. Matron hadn’t skimped on the seats. She glanced at Lou to gauge her reaction. Did she realize how good these seats were? It might spoil her for any other location in the theater if she ever came again.
Lou grunted as she settled in and examined the interior. “Not bad looking in here,” she said.
Again, Billie hid her smile. She didn’t want to scare Lou off with too much encouragement.
“Father always said a mining town in its third stage was the best town to live in. The initial tent city with zero sanitation was necessary, but to be avoided. The second stage, according to him, was the first wave of the boomtown with buildings slapped together, false fronts pretending the town was more advanced than it really was.” Billie nodded toward the lit stage. “And once a town has decided to stick around, solid brick buildings, proper sanitation, and now, electric lights, well, that is the best time to move into town. Everything is new and shiny and offers the latest conveniences. We can all feel as rich as Rockefeller.”
“Rockefeller. The wealthiest man alive, but also the most unhappy.”
“Never met him. Do you find fault with everyone?”
Lou started to answer, then stopped. Instead, she grunted. Then the lights dimmed and the orchestra made its opening note.
A ghost appeared onstage. Billie gasped. She’d seen Shakespeare and Dickens and Schiller, and while all were impressive, none had conjured up a ghost.
“How do they do that?” she whispered.
“A trick. It’s a reflection,” Lou said.
Billie tilted her head. “A reflection on what? I don’t see anything.”
“That’s the beauty of it. The glass is right in front of us so we don’t see it for what it is. It’s called Pepper’s Ghost.”
“How do you know about Pepper’s Ghost?” she whispered.
“I read.”
“Shhh!” someone said behind Billie.
She and Lou stopped talking, but Billie didn’t stop trying to figure out how the trick worked. At intermission, when the lights went up, she studied the stage.
“Still don’t see it,” she said as she followed Lou out to the lobby.
“That’s the point. They don’t want you to see it. You’re supposed to enjoy the show the way it was meant.”
“You come to one show, and now you’re the expert?” Billie was
teasing, but Lou grew silent when the front doors opened and Matron entered, jewels at her throat glittering. Spotting a couple, Matron waved and joined them near the punch table.
Billie heard her ask about the first act.
“There’s the lady who gave us the tickets,” Billie whispered. “Do you know her?”
Lou stiffened. “If I had known the tickets came from her I never would have agreed.” She pivoted dramatically—for Cousin Lou—and went back inside the theater. If it had been one of Billie’s friends to make that move, Billie would have called it a deliberate snub, but this was cousin Lou, the one who didn’t care one whit what anyone thought of her.
Billie stood, torn between going after Lou and approaching Matron to thank her for her kindness.
Matron made the decision for her when she caught Billie’s eye and waved her over. The woman then excused herself from the couple she was talking to and met her halfway.
“How wonderful for you to make it tonight. You look positively radiant. What did you think of my beauty salon?”
Billie smiled, thinking back to the scalp massage and deliciously aromatic hair treatment Miss Brooks had given her, not to mention the facial and manicure. “I was treated like a princess.”
Something flickered across Matron’s face. Had she misspoken?
Whatever the fleeting emotion, it was quickly captured into a smile. “I’m pleased. My girls are the very best at bringing the beauty out in even the most common girl.” Matron reached up and tucked a loose strand of Billie’s hair into the curl cascading over her shoulder.
Billie tried to mask her own confusion. Was Matron implying she was common?
“You should bring your cousin with you next time. I see you managed to get her out of her dungarees. That’s a victory.”
“I’d be glad to try,” Billie said. “You wouldn’t know it, but she has the most beautiful cheek bones if she’d stop scowling long enough for anyone to notice.” Billie’s voice faded off. She shouldn’t be talking badly about Lou. Lou lived up in the mountains in a mining shack all by herself. She didn’t care about hair salons and theaters, but she came anyway so they could spend time together. Lou was making an effort. No ulterior motives, unlike herself.