The Monaco Mirror

2001

***

I had passed the boutique antique store many times and decided to go inside today.

A bell above the door notified the store owner someone had entered and greeted me.

“Please let me know if I can answer questions or show you anything. I’ll be over in the corner pricing some items if you need help.” Smiling, I said, “My name is Sabrina,” to which she replied, “I’m Rhonda Simpson, the shop proprietor.” We shook hands, and I began browsing.

My years as a criminal detective had created a detail monster in my head. I approached everything in a methodical manner, so my brain grasped the store layout and segmented it in under one minute. Finished perusing the glass figurines quadrant, I moved into the tableware and linens, lightly touching fabrics in passing. One table runner was exquisite, one hundred eight inches long, pale blue linen with gold appliques and scalloped edges. “This is lovely,” I called out to the shop owner.

Rhonda left her worktable and approached Sabrina. “I opened this shop six years ago. I have one up in Corday County, also. That is a very lovely piece you are admiring. It came from an estate sale of a wealthy woman who entertained and raised money for the library and the animal shelter.”

“How interesting. I want to purchase this. I’ve been looking for a runner for a large table for some time, and I know that when I see something I like, it is best to buy it rather than regret not buying it!” I wasn’t at all put off by the high price, knowing it was unique and had been lovingly used, as I would do.

“Okay, I will wrap it in tissue for you and put it by the register.” I nodded my agreement and continued shopping. Some small porcelain figures with the makers’ mark on them caught my eye, so I set them beside the register.

I found many elegant and beautiful items in the store, and with one quadrant to go through, I spotted the piéce de résistance. I couldn’t stop staring at the large mirror as I moved slowly closer and then examined it from several angles. “Rhonda, would you please take this off the wall so I can see it closer?” As Rhonda came forward, I was sure I saw an image in it that faded away.

“This mirror has an incredible story. It had been owned by the famous actress Grace Kelly; she took it to Monaco when she married the Prince.” Sabrina gave Rhonda an incredulous look. “It is true; I verified the story.”

“Why would it be here, in your shop, not Monaco?” I ran my fingers over the gilded edges of the mirror, frowning. Hearing no response, I looked up and saw Rhonda’s pursed lips above an enormous diamond on the hand gripping her chin.

“Prince Rainier and she danced in front of the mirror in her dressing room, and he couldn’t bear to see it without her reflection. Years later, it was sold at auction, and the new owner didn’t care for the wavy reflections in the mirror, so they brought it in here.”

“Wavy reflections? What do you mean?”

“If you look closely at yourself in the mirror, is it a clear reflection?”

I did as she asked. “Yes, it’s clear.” Rhonda shrugged. Then, as Rhonda moved past the mirror, her reflection became wavy, and a ghostly figure appeared near her shoulder in the reflection, fading quickly.

“I will help you get it off the wall, okay?” It was about three feet wide by five feet tall, heavy, and awkward to take down. My hands ran over the entire frame and found knicks but no cracks in the wood. “How much is this mirror?”

“Oh, Hon, it is very pricey. I don’t mean to be presumptuous…the Christies Auction House gave me a price range that is beyond regular incomes.”

“How much, Rhonda?”

“Eighteen thousand dollars.” Rhonda looked at her toes, then up to my face. I didn’t flinch. I knew it was outrageous, and she was testing me.

“I won’t pay that much. The story about Princess Grace does not make it more valuable, even if that were to be validated.” I held her gaze deliberately. “I will pay you three thousand two hundred dollars in cash.” I watched her eyes widen slightly and knew that she would accept my offer.

“Hon, that is way under market price. I couldn’t let it go for less than five thousand.”

“Rhonda, is this piece on consignment?” I knew she had paid too much when she denied that and wanted to recoup her loss. “My last and final offer, Rhonda, is cash for three thousand six hundred dollars.” I walked away so she could think about it, looking at some jewelry in a case near the lamps.

“Okay, sold.”

“What?” I called out. “I didn’t hear you; what did you say?” I wanted her to speak up to seal the deal.

“Yes, Hon, I will take your offer. Do you want it shipped?”

“No, let’s wrap it in bubble wrap and put it in my SUV parked out front. Please wrap it while I walk to the bank and get your cash. And Rhonda? Make sure that you wrap THIS piece. No bait and switch on me, all right?” She looked very offended, but did I care? NO! Something about the transaction was off; I hadn’t figured it out yet.

I withdrew four thousand dollars and returned to the store to find Rhonda still packaging the mirror; another customer had interrupted her packing.

“Hi, I guess you are the lucky customer who now owns that gorgeous mirror?” I nodded, smiling, and the woman congratulated me.

After we loaded it in my SUV, Rhonda asked how I would get it out of the vehicle when I got home; I told her it was no problem and drove off.

Jerry came home on time and helped me hang the mirror in the large library in our house. We centered it on the wall across from the white floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases. My large collection of books from antique stores and my extended family’s libraries reflected in the mirror. 

“It is gorgeous on that wall, Rina! What a find. You don’t believe the story about Princess Grace, though, do you?” He was hugging me against his chest, looking down, and I shook my head no.

“Not really. I guess it could be true, but it certainly wouldn’t make the mirror cost what she wanted. She said it gave wavy reflections. Do you see wavy reflections?”

I watched Jerry study the reflections of the books in the vintage piece. “It looks clear except near the edges. We could check the state of the frame. It might need reinforcing or something.”

Ain’t Too Proud To Beg by the Temptations began playing through the house speakers. “Dance with me, Babe!” I grinned as he grabbed me and swung me around, our stocking feet sliding on the shiny, dark hardwoods. We shook our shoulders in time to the music, our hips got going, and then he pulled me into a waltz stance, and we covered the entire floor. When the speakers crooned out, “My Girl,” we slowed down, moving to the beat while Jerry sang the words low in my ear.

As we swung past the gilded mirror, I distinctly saw a blond woman in a white low-cut dress standing on the other side of the room, a reflection in the mirror. I blinked, and it was gone.

“What’s wrong, Babe?” Jerry asked. “You are shivering. Let me get you your favorite sweater.” He let go of me and bounded up the stairs to our bedroom, sliding down the railing on his way back, the sweater hooked on his head.

I laughed as he trotted from the stairs to my side, the sweater still atop his head. “You are crazy, Jerry! When we were little, my grandma yelled at us for sliding down the banister, and here you are, a grown man doing it. Six foot three and two hundred twenty pounds! We better make sure you didn’t crack that railing!” I hit him on the chest, but he pulled me back in close, laying the sweater across my shoulders.

After dinner, we watched the Grace Kelly and James Stewart movie Rear Window, which happened weirdly to be on Turner Classic Movies. “She was so gorgeous. What a story with her marrying a Prince, huh?” Jerry grinned at me.

“You are MY prince,” I told him and gave him a deep, juicy kiss, making him want more. He picked me up and stomped up the stairs noisily.

“Your prince is having trouble carrying the princess upstairs. Does my love need to drop some pounds?” I pummeled his back hard, laughing; I weigh one hundred twenty-four pounds, and my football linebacker-sized boyfriend can easily cart me a mile!

***

I heard faint music and mumbling, but Jerry was asleep beside me. I didn’t want to wake him, so I sneaked down the stairs, following the sounds. I gasped upon entering the library. A blond woman was dancing by herself to a waltz by Frederic Chopin, the Minute Waltz. I heard her humming as she swept alone across the floor in her white gown. I could see through her and watched my books appear through her midsection, the staircase shimmering through her legs. She didn’t notice me, and my racing heart slowed as I watched her graceful dancing. A horn honked outside, and the spell was broken. No music, no dancers, just empty hardwood floors gleaming in the moonlight through the glass of the French doors. I didn’t know if I had been dreaming and sat down in the wing-back chair to think.

“Rina? Where are you?” I heard Jerry calling me.

“In the library, Sweetheart. I’ll be up in a sec.”

I didn’t know what to think as I snuggled up to him, cold from my barefoot excursion.

***

Jerry smiled at me at our early Sunday breakfast and took my hand across the table. “Why were you in the library last night?”

“I heard music, so I went down to see if Alexa was activated.” I could feel his eyes boring into me.

“Please, Baby, do not wander around when you hear noises. Wake me. We are on the neighborhood's outskirts, and it might have been a prowler.”

“Oh, Jerry, I know. I was PULLED downstairs. You slept so soundly; I didn’t want to wake you. No, I was told not to wake you in my thoughts! There was a woman waltzing, but then a car honked, and she disappeared. Was I dreaming?”

“Who told you not to wake me? What are you talking about?”

I tried to explain, but he wasn’t buying any of it. “You were dreaming. Now I have to watch you for sleepwalking too. You are a problem, my Sweet, high-maintenance!” He kissed me. Jerry’s kisses calmed me, but now, anxiety was swarming my belly, making me feel ill.

I became more anxious when Jerry said he was leaving Tuesday on business. I wanted to go with him but couldn’t. Tuesday evening arrived, and I peeked into the library, waiting for the blond woman. I didn’t want to see her; however, I didn’t want to be surprised. Jerry had made me promise I would lock all the doors and windows and call Ryan, his best friend, if I needed anything. Ryan lived two blocks away, and I had no intention of phoning Ryan if I saw a waltzing woman.

I think I’ll read in the library until bedtime. I began my re-read of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir and pulled a coverlet over my knees, sipping a cup of chamomile tea.

I must have dozed. The waltz music played softly, and the ghostly dancer, her reflection in the mirror, the edges of her body wavy, was a gauzy apparition. She paused and approached the mirror, smoothing her hair. She jerked back suddenly; I saw what had startled her. It was my reflection, my face staring at her. I wore her dress; my black hair was pulled back in a tight bun with a tiara on it. My neck was encircled with a glittering gold and diamond necklace sprinkling diamonds over my bosom, one large diamond touching the cleavage. My green eyes gleamed out like emeralds.

The apparition plopped hard onto the hardwood floor, weeping. I looked from the vision in the mirror to the apparition on the floor.

“I’m not sleepwalking now,” I thought. “Was I?” I decided to speak, testing if I was awake.

“Who are you?” I said aloud. She didn’t look at me; I believed she was in a different plane of existence and didn’t hear me. I repeated my question and walked toward her. 

Suddenly, she began keening loudly, then whispering. “It was the mirror, my love. It was the mirror. I realized it was haunted once we hung it in the palace, but you wouldn’t let me get rid of it.”

She sobbed loudly as she looked at my visage in the mirror.

I realized then that I resembled her a bit: my eyes and mouth, the thickness of my hair, although it is black, not blond.

She continued her whispering: “I had the mirror in the back of the car when we crashed, my love. Did you know that? I looked up and saw the reflection of the ghost and veered. The ghost haunted me from the golden-framed mirror the whole time it hung in our home.”

Then, the apparition paused her ramblings.

I gasped as the reflection rippled slowly, and the Prince appeared behind my face in the mirror. His face was so sad that I felt tears dripping from my eyes. His look broke my heart.

***

“Rina, where are you? I’m home!” Jerry kicked off his shoes as he came through the back door. He hadn’t seen Sabrina in the garden, and she wasn’t in the kitchen. There were no clean dishes on the rack, which he found odd. He called down into the basement where the washer was, with no answer, and looked out the side window but didn’t see her. Puzzled, he continued wandering through the 1925 mansion, taking the back staircase to the second floor. Sabrina wasn’t in their bedroom or her sewing room. He slid down the banister since she wasn’t there to yell at him. Whooping like a kid as he landed on the main floor, Jerry headed toward the library but stopped when he felt a sharp pain in his foot.

He saw a jagged glass shard embedded in his arch. “Shit!” he howled, backing up and then sitting on the bottom step. He removed the bloody sock and slowly inched the glass out of his foot, blood rushing to the surface. Jerry put his other sock on the injured foot to stench some bleeding until he could get it bandaged. 

“Rina! Rina, are you hiding?” He yelled out. He saw shattered glass as he hopped on the uninjured foot toward the downstairs bathroom.

Oh no, no, she was home alone. Was there a prowler? He phoned Ryan, who said he hadn’t heard from her during the week; he came immediately to help Jerry.

***

Sabrina was found dead in the library, her throat bloody under the expensive necklace. The huge diamond was now lying loose in her cleavage. Her body was in rigor mortis on top of the broken gilt mirror. In her hand was an old piece of paper with dried blood drops that had turned brown.

***

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Summerton. She seems to have been deceased for some days. There is no evidence of any break-in. We think the mirror fell on her, and she tried to get up but couldn’t. The necklace was tight around her neck, which cut off her air; the scratch marks show she tried to pull it off. I was told it was okay to give you this note that was in her hand.” The coroner and the police clerk stood off to one side while Ryan consoled Jerry.

Jerry finally opened the note but let Ryan read it to him. “Whoever owns this mirror will be cursed to die in strange circumstances. I curse all who burned me and my sisters as witches. The curse can only be broken if the mirror is destroyed. Its charms protect it.”

Jerry and Ryan visited Rhonda and confronted her about the curse on the mirror. 

“Ah, notes are often hidden in objects and never discovered. I had a feeling about this mirror.”

“You owned the mirror before Sabrina! Why didn’t you die?” Jerry shouted.

“There are witches in my family. Perhaps I was protected. I tried to price the mirror so she wouldn’t buy it, but she insisted.”

Ryan stopped Jerry before his friend’s balled-up fists could harm the shopkeeper.

***

Jerry stripped the house of all their belongings and sold it. He donated all the money to the Equality Now charity.

He threw the mirror shards into the glass recycle bin and burned the frame.

Jerry and Ryan then boated out into the Bay, where Jerry burned the note, and they watched as its ashes fell into the salt water and disintegrated.

Upon returning to the house, they watched the recycling truck take the discarded glass, happy to know it would be crushed and recycled back into a thousand glass things.

***

2053

Stories of wavy reflections and strange deaths with broken glass continued through the years.

Residents believe the witch's curse still prevails.