Shortly after they left, a petite woman with fine, delicate features entered the cabin. She could have been my mother’s age, but she was strikingly beautiful with porcelain skin, white blond hair in a chic bob and sharp blue eyes. She couldn’t have been much more than five feet tall yet she carried herself as if she were someone of importance. In a way, her confidence seemed almost a front given how fine-featured her small pointed face was, like a china doll’s. I could tell already her face was going to be deceiving.
“Hello, darling,” she said to Reinhardt. “I see you’ve brought our daughter home.”
She looked over at me slumped down in my seat and frowned at Reinhardt. “She looks like an underfed chicken.” A wrinkle formed between her shapely brows.
“Rosalind,” Reinhardt smiled brightly as he embraced her and kissed her tenderly. “I’ve missed you. I’m afraid our Ruby,” he paused and looked to me my belt still fastened as I slumped in the seat, “is under the weather.”
“I can see that.” Rosalind gave him another disapproving look before coming over to where I was seated. She crouched down to evaluate me. “No worries, darling,” she said. Her black leather pants and jacket, like mine, creaked when she bent down. I wondered why we needed to be dressed the same. This was getting stranger by the minute.