Chapter 2 Andie
“We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it.”
–Andrew, The Breakfast Club (1985)
Hours later, Andie glanced up from her cleaning, using the back of her rubber-gloved hand to swipe the wisps of hair from her sweaty forehead.
Instead of rot and mildew, the scent of lemon-fresh cleaner filled the kitchen.
She’d been scrubbing and disinfecting for several hours, and she needed a break.
Now that she was paying attention, her body ached, and not just from her cleaning efforts.
She checked her phone again. Two more hours until she expected Dylan’s call.
After another trip to their apartment to fill her car with plants, her old dishes, her original bedding and linens from storage, and some groceries she’d bought last weekend, she had enough for a fresh start.
Peeling off her yellow work gloves, she draped them over the edge of the now spotless stainless-steel sink where she stood.
She prodded the sore patch on her cheek, the tender bruise reminding her why she was moving.
She shuddered. Dylan would be furious to find her missing and no dinner prepared.
When he called, he would yell. While she was dreading the call and feared talking to him, she wanted the satisfaction of saying their relationship was over.
After one conversation, he could deal with her lawyer.
For the tenth time during the last twenty-four hours, she wished she hadn’t moved across the country for a man she barely knew and a shot at stability.
She’d married him and had to deal with the consequences.
Still, the Seattle area had its charm, and with no family, she had no reason to return to the East Coast.
At least she had a decent job.
Andie huffed out a breath and stretched with a wince, surveying her handiwork as she rotated her hips and shoulders.
Every surface gleamed, and the grimy kitchen floor had proved to be an attractive off-white linoleum—older and worn but still serviceable.
She’d worked hard today. Perhaps she should get outside and go for a walk to loosen her tight muscles.
She peeked out the kitchen window with its repurposed yellow curtains.
Inside now had a cheerful look, contrasting with the gray sky outside—layers of billowing clouds, often the case in the Pacific Northwest in spring.
Still, it wasn’t raining right now. Exercise and fresh air would do her good.
Plus, she’d better be able to determine if she’d eradicated the stench in her house if she left and came back.
She grabbed her lilac-colored, waterproof jacket and stepped out. At the sidewalk, she turned left, past the gorgeous white house, and strode down the walkway, excited to explore the neighborhood. While lots of the homes were beautiful, the castle-feel of the house next door made it her favorite.
Andie walked for an hour before turning back toward her new place, a spring in her step after discovering trails in a nearby park where she could run another day.
The rain had held off, but dark clouds were rolling in, so she picked up her pace.
Her hood blew off twice as the wind gusted while the trees along the boulevard swayed in the strong breeze.
Just before she turned up the path to her rental, an unexpected voice interrupted her return.
“Hello. You must be Jake and Susan’s new tenant.”
Andie spun. She’d been lost in her own world and missed the slim older woman standing near the blushing pink, dark purple, and sunny yellow tulips of the house next door to hers.
She had dark brown eyes which flashed with interest and a cheerful smile.
Two thick braids, one over each shoulder, adorned her long gray hair.
She reminded Andie of an elderly Anne of Green Gables—from her favorite childhood story.
Andie’s tense feeling leached away, and her shoulders dropped. Not Dylan.
“I was curious when I saw your hatchback out front this morning,” the woman said. “There hasn’t been anyone living in that place for three or four months.” That explained the musty, rotten smell. The woman stepped forward. “My name’s Andie.”
On the sidewalk, Andie did a double take, her eyebrows shooting upward.
“Nice to meet you.” She tried to match the other woman’s smile and manner.
“Surprisingly, my name is also Andie. My mother was enamored with an 80s movie star named Molly Ringwald who played a girl named Andie who loved pink in the movie Pretty In Pink. I think my mom hoped I’d love pink too.
It was her favorite color.” Andie clamped her lips shut.
Her deceased mother had been on her mind a lot today.
Why had she volunteered so much unnecessary information to a stranger?
It just proved she was off her game—usually, she was more careful.
There was something familiar about the other woman which set her at ease, but over-sharing was a common error Andie used to make when she’d been younger.
She’d learned better. Most people weren’t interested in the truth when they asked questions.
They wanted polite, generic answers, like, “fine,” “okay,” or, “I’m great. How are you?” They all meant nothing.
“Two Andies. What a coincidence,” said the older woman with another friendly smile, not seeming to notice Andie’s mistake.
“I’ve never met another woman Andie. Most are boys or men.
My husband always makes up different names for me, saying Andie must be a nickname. Right now, he calls me Andromeda.”
“It will be odd to hear my own name, even inside my head,” the younger Andie said. She bit her lip. “Would it be strange for me to call you by a reverse nickname, too?” Was her request weird? She held her breath, waiting.
Her new neighbor smiled. “I’d love it. Why don’t you call me Andrea? I’ve always liked that one.” She half-turned toward her house. “Say, it’s about teatime. Could I interest you in a cup?” When Andie hesitated, the older woman tilted her head. “I’d love the company.”
Though a classic introvert, Andie wanted a fresh start with new expectations. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know her new neighbor. The woman seemed harmless. Plus, if Dylan called, being with someone was an acceptable reason to let it go to voicemail. Anything to delay the inevitable argument.
“That would be nice, thanks.” Andie would stay long enough that perhaps Dylan would calm down enough to have an actual conversation. Her chest tightened. What would he say after he found her note and wedding ring on the kitchen table?
On cue, her phone vibrated in her pocket, and her throat constricted.
She snuck a peek. His name lit up her screen.
Her lungs squeezed all the air outward, leaving her short of breath.
She should have guessed he’d leave the office early today, with flowers to buy.
He might have to pick up his tuxedo too with the fancy dinner they were supposed to attend tomorrow.
With a clenched jaw, she jammed her phone deep into her jacket pocket and strode along the sidewalk until she came to a gate in the white picket fence.
Andrea opened it and led the way toward the lovely house next door. Andie’s phone buzzed again. A glance showed a barrage of texts from Dylan. She opened the first, and it knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled.
“Andie. What are you doing across town in Redmond?” She could have kicked herself.
So forgetful not to have turned off location sharing.
With shaking hands, she deactivated the app from her phone, hoping it wasn’t too late.
Maybe he wouldn’t realize this was where she was staying.
She shoved her phone into her pocket as her neighbor entered the white house.
Bright hues decorated the interior; a rainbow of colored glass was set near the windows, and jewel tones on accent walls added personality to the open-concept main-level rooms. Tall windows looked out over the stunning gardens.
This place, especially with the turret at the back, was like a traditional castle, though more modest.
“Come, have a seat. We can sit in here.” Andrea put a kettle on the stove and bustled around the kitchen preparing loose-leaf tea in a china teapot covered in delicate pink and bright yellow flowers.
She removed two different floral teacups and saucers from a cupboard and set them on the counter.
One was covered in lilacs and violets with tiny yellow flowers, while the second had blue forget-me-nots.
“I love an excuse to use my wedding china.” She shot another smile at Andie, who perched on her chair at the small round table, her hands in her lap.
“Most people choose dishes of all one pattern. I chose eight different pairs of beautiful cups. If I have company, I mix and match.”
Andie was about to comment on the teacups when several packages, each with five $100 Visa gift cards, caught her eye. Together, they must be worth several thousand dollars. Why would her neighbor need so many? She tried to get a more accurate count.
Noticing her interest, Andrea said, “I know that looks like a lot of gift cards. I got a voicemail yesterday from an old friend’s daughter, asking for help. She was specific about what she needed. It’s just a loan for a month until she sells her house and gets some cash.”
Andie frowned and bit her lip. At first glance, the cards appeared to be worth close to five thousand dollars.
She’d heard of AI scams of this type, but was unsure if she should interfere.
Though they weren’t friends, her new neighbor seemed like a nice person.
“Um. Did you speak to your friend after you got the message? To confirm it was from her?”
The kettle whistled as steam billowed out of the spout. Andrea poured the water into her teapot on the counter. When she returned her attention to Andie, she wore a frown.