by Rose Pressey
Chapter Five
At some point I must have dozed off, because I woke to find Annabelle gazing down at me with a horrified expression on her face. Morning sun streamed in through the kitchen windows.
“You left the back door open?”
“I did?” I wiped the drool from my chin, then rubbed the crick in my neck.
“Yes, you did. Don’t ever do that.” She wiggled her index finger at me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I saluted.
I wouldn’t make a very good night security guard. If not for Annabelle, I probably would have slept all morning.
“This place gives me the creeps. No matter how many times I come over here.” She clutched her arms around her chest. “What’s going on now? Is he still here?” She peered over my shoulder.
I nodded as I pushed to my feet. “Yes, he’s still here. I think I heard him stirring around.” Or had I dreamt that?
“Well, I hope he hurries up and gets out of here so I can stop worrying about you. I can’t handle this stress.” She let out a deep breath. “I don’t think I can ever have children. I’d never be able to keep it together. The first time little Bobbie fell on the playground I’d lose my mind.”
“I think you’d do just fine.” I patted her on the back.
“You look like hell,” Annabelle said as she placed her purse on the counter. “Have you been down here all night?”
I attempted to smooth my frazzled hair. “So I took a little nap at the kitchen counter. Big deal.”
She clucked her tongue. “Well, I can’t say I blame you for wanting to be close to the door in case you needed to make a quick escape.”
I shook my head. “Just let me run upstairs and change my clothes. I don’t want my guest to think I’m a slob.”
Annabelle frowned. “Please don’t leave me alone for very long. I’ll have nightmares tonight.”
“I’ll be back before you can say old, creepy manor.”
She didn’t return my laughter.
Once I’d made the trip back up those ridiculously steep stairs, I hurried to my room, grabbed a shirt and jeans from my closet and jumped into them. My clothing consisted of every color in the rainbow—I’d avoided black since the age of twelve. No need to add fuel to the witchy fire. I brushed on a dab of mascara and ran the comb through my hair.
I wanted to sneak up to the third floor and see if Nicolas’s door was shut, but I knew Annabelle would lose it if I left her too long. I rushed down the stairs, across the library and parlor, then back into the kitchen. If I whipped up some pancakes and tossed some flour onto my face to make it look as though I’d been hard at work for hours, he’d never know I had slept in a faceplant on the counter all night like some kind of crazy woman. I wondered if he knew how easy it was to make pancakes? I’d add a few strawberries on top to make them look gourmet.
Annabelle studied me when I returned to the kitchen. “You don’t want him to go, do you? You’ve got the hots for a stranger? You like this guy, don’t you?”
Trust Annabelle to cut to the chase.
“He’s not so much a stranger any more. He’s been here for several hours and we chatted when I showed him to his room last night. Nicolas was very friendly. Maybe a little strange, but in a good way.” I wasn’t quite sure why I was defending him. Maybe I was defending myself.
She threw up her hands. “Nicolas? Oh well, then he’s a friend already, practically family. Nothing to worry about.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be checking out soon. In the meantime, I have to make pancakes for him.” I grabbed the ingredients and poured them into a large bowl.
Annabelle coughed. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m making pancakes.” I waved the spatula through the air.
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea? I could run out to the bakery and pick up some pastries.”
I threw the towel at her. “You sit down and talk to me while I cook. And we won’t discuss my cooking skills.”
“Hallie, your pancakes always look more like round cardboard disks than breakfast food. Maybe if you pour on the syrup he won’t know the difference.”
“That’s not being a supportive friend.” I glared.
She pulled out a stool and sat down. “So what did you talk about? Did you find out what he does? Why’s he in Enchantment Pointe?”
Annabelle had extremely selective hearing.
“He said he’s traveling to New Haven on business.”
“Sounds suspicious to me.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Oh, Annabelle. Why on earth does it sound suspicious? It sounds entirely reasonable.” I placed a pancake on her plate.
She shrugged as she poured maple syrup on top. “If you say so.”
“I thought you didn’t like my pancakes.” I pointed with the spatula.
“It’s better than having to cook myself,” she said, then shoved a forkful in her mouth. She made a face while she chewed.
I swatted her with the towel again.
“Is he coming down for breakfast?” She pointed with her fork.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I figured I should be ready just in case. I guess he didn’t get much sleep.”
Annabelle stood and pulled a tube of lipstick from her pocket. She marched over to me and popped off the lid. With one sweep, she smudged the soft pink color over my bottom lip.
“Rub your lips together.” She mimicked the motion.
“What the heck are you doing?” I stepped back.
“In case he comes down. You’re going to scare the man away. I might recommend that as the most sensible course of action, but the way you talk, I don’t think you want that to happen.” She gestured with the lipstick. “You said he was gorgeous. In case he turns out not to be a freak-psycho-murderer, you’ll want to look your best.”
“Well, after last night, I’ve set the bar pretty low.”
She clucked her tongue. “First impressions… they’re a bitch.”
A loud knock echoed, followed by the booming doorbell ringing out. We both froze on the spot. If Annabelle was in my kitchen, then who in the heck was at the front door? My mother would never be out at that time of the morning.