And that doesnât seem weird to you? Isabella frowned. Should it have seemed weird? She supposed it should. But when she thought about the fact that she looked exactly like Kristen Kringle, except for her hair colour, she simply felt nothing. It just... was. She shrugged stiffly. "Everyone has a double somewhere, right?" she said brightly. The thought of getting a DNA test was ridiculous, so she didn't even dignify it with a response.
The other woman explained they usually opened later, and Isabella turned to where she gestured at the stage. "Ah," she said, and she was about to apologise and leave, when the woman offered her a drink anyway, and headed to the bar. Isabella didn't often drink, but she followed the other woman there anyway and sat down. It was the polite thing to do. "Thank you," she said. "I'll have whatever you're having, if that's easier for you." She didn't want the other woman to go to the trouble of getting something for her when they weren't even open, and she wasn't fussy about what she drank. Edward had a much more refined taste than she did.
The woman said she'd have to ask her to leave if her name was Kristen, and Isabella laughed dutifully. "No, no, my name is Isabella," she replied. "So don't worry, you've still got a ghost-free bar."
Babs couldnât help the soft huff that left her lips. âYeah, well, thereâs doubles and thenâŚâ She glanced over at her again. She shrugged, giving a little a toss of her head so that her honey-blonde hair caught the light, falling over her shoulder in an artful tumble of strands. âBesides, Iâm one of a kind,â she said, neglecting to mention how strongly her own daughter resembled her. It was like Jim Gordonâs genes hadnât really even tried with her. Not that Babs was going to complain about that.Â
She took up another wine glass, slender fingers grasping the delicate stem as she set it on the bartop, pouring a glass of white wine. Babs put a napkin down in front of the woman and set the glass on it. She didnât bartend every night -- if she wasnât in her office, she would wander around the club, making sure everyone was happy and just socializing. It was one of her favorite things about her job, especially because it enabled her to bask in flirtation and adoration from her patrons. Which really only counted after the male curfew and it was just women. Who cared what men thought, anyway?
She was taking a sip of her wine when the woman said what her name was. Babs barely managed to avoid choking, swallowing a little harder than necessary. She tried to remember if Ed had ever told her Isabellaâs last name -- the Isabella that had been run over by a train, that is -- but she couldnât. âFunny, a friend of mine had an ex by that name,â she said. âYou kinda remind me of her, too.â The way an eggplant reminded people of an aubergine. âBarbara Kean,â she added, holding out her hand for the woman to shake. âI own the place.â



















