It was then, as she checked the clock, that Kate noticed that something was out of place. There, on the windowsill, sat a book with a sticky note upon it. Sunbeams played on gold lettering.

“READ ME,” it said.

A stubborn denial locked Kate’s limbs. She recognized that book. Of all the books in all the world, it was the one she’d recognize anywhere. And she wasn’t interested in reading it ever again. With a single bound, she was on her feet, ready to throw the book back into the garbage where it belonged—her best guess was that Emily or someone heard about her night and snuck in to make her feel better, a losing proposition—but then something hanging over her front door halted her stomping.

Her heart clenched. She gasped.

The Belle dress. The one she’d never gotten to wear after staying with Michael after he’d broken his leg, with its green velvet and perfect bustle, hung from a satin hanger over the lip of her door, complete with a corset, stockings and those shoes she’d always wanted to steal. Makeup and a curling iron, along with a plastic box of bobby pins and hair ties sat on her kitchen counter. Tacked to the dress waited another note, this time reading, “WEAR ME.”

She had to be dreaming. She had to be.

Her fingers reached out to brush the lush material of the gown. It ran like water beneath her skin. Quickly, as if afraid someone would come in and take it from her, she held it up to her body and rushed to examine herself in the bathroom mirror. Yep. Definitely a dream. The Belle dress for the festival stopped fitting after her growth spurt in junior year of high school.

No. It wasn’t a dream. If it was, she would have woken up by now. She didn’t know who had gifted her this dress, but if the festival was closing and all its assets sold, she was going to get one good Christmas Day use out of this gown. Even if she hated the book from which it came—which she did—it was too beautiful to pass up. Her practiced hands flew through the motions of dressing and preparing herself. Years and years of helping Belles fit themselves in the fabric guided her until she looked the part. Victorian curls framed her face, crowned by a halo of holly, a customary feature of Belle’s costume. Bright red lipstick brought some color to her otherwise pale skin. A red and gold brooch glowed at the base of her throat, pinned to the lace collar of her gown.