Chapter 5 – Annabelle
Chapter Five
ANNABELLE
I’m going stir-crazy in this house. It’s so quiet it’s almost eerie.
Plus, the email I’d gotten from a woman by the name of Caroline Winthrop has given me anxiety.
I’d wondered if I should forward it to Wick.
It was an invite for a ladies' luncheon.
It was addressed to me, but as Annabelle Wickham.
It was pretty jarring to have someone address me that way.
I guess the word in the elite world of the wealthy is spreading. Is there a newsletter that goes out, or is it all word of mouth? I doubt that's a question I'll ever get the answer to. I'm not in that wealthy chain and never will be.
In my personal life, most people call me Belle.
Not that I have much of a personal life at the moment.
I don't want to bother Wick with this. He's clearly a very busy and important man, and these are things his wife needs to be doing.
I decide against reaching out to him and simply respond that I'd love to attend.
Maybe getting out will be good for me. I hope I can find a dress in my closet that will work.
Needing fresh air and human contact, even if at a distance, I shut my laptop and grab my things to go for a walk and maybe go back to the coffee shop. I grab my Kindle, tossing it into my purse.
I'm about to push the button for the elevator but pause, glancing down at myself.
Do I need to dress up to simply leave to go for a walk?
That may sound silly, but the stares and remarks are quite daunting around here.
Everyone else is dressed to the nines while I roam around in normal comfy clothes.
I risk it and hit the button. Thankfully when I step on, it's empty.
I find myself holding my breath as we pass each floor.
This is ridiculous, but the worry is real because when the elevator stops, my stomach sinks.
The doors slide open, and a man in a fancy suit steps on.
His eyes scan me from head to toe, and then he gives me a smirk, and I smile back, praying he doesn't make small talk.
My prayer crashes and burns before it can take flight.
“You're new?”
“I am.”
He holds his hand out. “I'm Nick.”
“Belle.” I shake his hand, and his hold lingers, making me feel awkward. The man, while handsome, could be my father.
“We should do coffee sometime.”
“Oh.” I didn’t expect him to say that. I thought he might ask how much I charge for cleaning, thinking I was new, as in a new staff member.
“It’s the neighborly thing to do.” His smile grows, and I am unsure whether this is the moment to mention that I’m married or if he genuinely wants to get to know me as a neighbor. His expression is kind, but I have never been great at reading people.
I really don’t want to say I’m married and have him look at me like I’ve lost my mind for thinking it was a date. It could also be one of those polite comments made when there are no real plans to meet up at all.
“Rain check?” I ask. If he is only being friendly, it might not be the worst thing to know another person in the building. To make friends.
“I'll hold you to that.” He winks at me as the door slides open, his hand gesturing for me to go first.
“Thank you,” I tell him, hurrying out of the building before I get myself tangled up in another conversation. I really should start taking the service elevator. It will save me from the uncomfortable elevator rides and the small talk.
The trek to the coffee shop isn't far. I should try out a new place, but I keep thinking about the eclairs I saw yesterday and want to try one.
Once inside, I order it and a hot chocolate.
I snag the same table as I had yesterday, slipping off my coat and pulling my Kindle out.
I settle in, enjoying the simple sounds of light chatter and laughter coming from the two employees behind the counter.
This feels normal. Not cold and lonely like my new place.
Wow, I'm really losing it if I have to go out to a coffee shop to feel less alone.
I pull up the cozy mystery I was reading as the bell over the door chimes and a tall man wearing a wool overcoat steps inside.
His eyes glance around the shop. He appears out of place.
This man shouldn't be picking up his own coffee.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that I’m not the only one that is watching him. The chatter suddenly seems a bit quieter. I try not to stare, but it’s almost impossible. It’s as though everything around me is happening in slow motion. My focus is solely on him, taking in all of his features.
His dark hair looks a bit disheveled, but it fits him perfectly. Even though he’s wearing an overcoat, it doesn’t hide how broad his shoulders are or the fact that he has an equally expensive suit on under it.
When his perusal of the coffee shop gets to me, he pauses, our eyes locking. I suck in a breath as we hold each other's stare, unable to look away.
“Your hot chocolate.” The barista breaks the spell I've fallen under.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
What is wrong with me? Am I that lonely? Never have I had this kind of reaction to a man, and as terrible as it is with me being a married woman and all, I don't want it to end.