One bit at a time. That's all it would take. It didn't matter that she technically wasn't supposed to use kitchen scissors, or that she hadn't even run a towel through her freshly-washed hair. It didn't matter that the long, wet hair clinging to the sides of her face and soaking through her tee shirt made her look like the little ghost girl from that horror movie she'd forced Donald to watch in high school.

It didn't matter how long it would take, how hard it would be to keep her focus. She needed it gone. So Della stared herself down in the mirror and made the first cut.

Her hands shook so much that only an inch or so came off of the very ends. It was probably pretty choppy, but she didn't look down. Her reflection seemed to shift, just slightly. If someone had asked, she couldn't describe what the change was. It was somewhere around her browbone that was a little off.

"You look different," she said.

"I mean, it's been awhile."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

She wasn't sure at what point her breathing had sped up.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Stop it!"

It didn't even register that she'd shouted until she heard footsteps coming down the hallway outside the bathroom. Her head whipped away from the mirror and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

Please don't notice, please be wearing headphones, please just be some weird animal one of the kids brought in -

"Della?"

A weird British animal one of the kids brought in.

Mrs. Beakley cracked the door open and peered in.

Della sighed. "Hey, Mrs. B."

"Hello," she said, stepping inside cautiously. "Is everything alright in here?"

"Hm?"

Beakley narrowed her eyes.

"Oh! Yeah, no, everything's fine." She scrambled to her feet and slipped on the sizable puddle of water she'd left. She caught herself on the sink and started wringing out her hair. Beakley hopefully wouldn't clock the way she stared directly at the drain, or at least wouldn't think anything of it.

Beakley picked up the open pair of scissors off the floor. "Have these been washed?"

Della stood up and held her palm against the side of her face to block the mirror. "Are - are you supposed to wash scissors?"

Beakley sighed and closed them before taking two towels off of the rack on the wall. She handed one to Della and draped the other over the mirror.

"Dry the floor," she said. "I'll be back."

Della wiped up as much as she could until the towel was soaked through, then hung it over the edge of the bathtub. With her reflection out of sight, she pulled her bangs in front of her eyes and held the hair between two of her fingers at different points until Beakley returned with a smaller, funny-looking pair of scissors and a handful of hair clips.

"How short do you want it?"

Della sighed. "I don't care. I just want this gone." She pulled at the ends of her hair, squeezing a bit more water onto the floor.

"Very well," said Beakley as she knelt down and gathered up most of Della's hair in her fist.

Della's eyes widened for a brief moment as Beakley methodically started to cut from the bottom of her hand.

Oh. Alright.

Della rubbed her arm and looked down at her lap. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Face forward," said Beakley. "I doubt anyone in the house is asleep. There's been a lot of excitement."

Della did as she was told. "Well, I put the boys to bed a few hours ago," she said with a smirk. "They should be out by now."

"Hopefully," Beakley said as she finished cutting the first section of hair and separated the rest into a top and bottom layer. "But it's hard to make a child go to sleep, even at their age." She twisted the top layer, secured it to the top of Della's head with a few clips, and started to trim the bottom.

Della shrugged. "Call it beginner's luck." She looked back as best she could while keeping her head in the same position. "When did you learn how to cut hair?"

"I've been cutting Webby's hair since she was two years old."

"Oh, yeah," said Della. "Your granddaughter! She's a sweet kid."

"She is," Beakley said with a nod as she let down the top layer of hair and started evening all of it out. "Your boys are, too. Most of the time."

"Sure they are! Look who they grew up around. I mean, not that Scrooge is the biggest softie, but we could always tell when we brought it out of him. I'm guessing Donald and the kids took care of that while I was gone."

Beakley didn't respond.

"You know, you were kind of a legend to me when I was a kid," said Della as Beakley trimmed her bangs to proportion. Della mimicked a movie trailer announcer. "All elusive, calculating, kicking butt, saving the world."

"How is this length?" Beakley asked, flipping Della's hair over her shoulders so she could see.

Della's eyes widened. "That's...wow. Yeah, that's perfect."

"Good," said Beakley, and set her tools aside. She took a brush and dustpan from the corner and started to clean up.

"Don't get me wrong, you still totally kick butt. I just never thought of you as a housekeeper. Or a hairdresser, or a grandma . I never even knew you had -" She looked over and saw Beakley frown and shut her eyes for a moment.

"We've both missed quite a lot, dear," she said, sweeping up the hair on the floor as if they'd said nothing of importance.

"...I'm sorry," said Della.

"No need to be. It's just what's been handed to us."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You should try to rest," said Beakley, emptying the dustpan into the trash and collecting the wet towel from the tub. "If you need more privacy while you acclimate, you might try your brother's houseboat."

"No," Della said sharply, though she instantly regretted it and forced a laugh. "No, I-I'm plenty acclimated, don't you worry."

"If you say so," Beakley said. She gathered up the scissors and hair clips and started on her way.

"Mrs. B?"

Beakley looked back over her shoulder just as she was going out the door.

Della combed her fingers through her hair and smiled. "Thank you."

Beakley smiled softly back and gave a nod. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

Once Beakley was gone, Della stood up and took a breath. The house was full of family, and in this room, it was only her.