Mrs. White designs us a logo and Mr. White has it printed onto a Plexiglass plaque that we hang on the door: Bells and Pearls, Tailoring and Design
Iknock again on the red door, smiling ruefully. Our own door had been red for years before we realized that hey, there’s such a thing as paint, and it is now a sensible gray. But there’s something relentlessly cheerful about the red that makes me grin.
I’m no longer grinning when Pearlie opens the door and that’s mainly because my mouth has fallen open in shock. Pearlie looks… well, like a ballet girl. Her hair is down and lightly curled, her blue eyes are magnified with mascara, and her cheeks and lips are a delicate rose. She’s wearing a light blue cotton dress and soft pink ballet flats.
She looks really pretty and nothing like Pearlie.
“Help me,” she says, before I have a chance to say hi. “Please, Bella Rena, save me.”
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
