It was a job for which she was totally unsuited, Annabel had told herself. But it was also a better situation than she could have hoped for. She heard herself saying, "I'll give it a try."
Now, five days later, she found herself wishing—for at least the thousandth time—that she had a microcassette recorder and a good computer. Better yet, some state-of-the-art voice recognition software and a recordable CD drive. . .
Might as well wish for the moon, she told herself wryly. Come to think of it, astronauts had in fact gone to the moon—or would go to the moon—way before any of that other stuff became available.
It's 1906, she told herself. For now, just remember that and nothing else.
She became aware that Mrs. Noone had fallen silent. Looking up, she saw the woman staring intently at her.
"I-I'm sorry," Annabel stammered. "I'm afraid my mind wandered. What were you saying, Mrs. Noone?"
"Are you all right, my dear?"
"Yes, I'm fine, really. I'm sorry I got distracted."
Mrs. Noone laughed. "How could your mind not wander, a vital young woman such as yourself having to sit here all day in a dusty parlor listening to the maudlin reminiscences of an old woman?"
"Madam," Lucius said indignantly from the foyer, where he happened to be passing by, "the parlor is not dusty."
"I didn't mean it literally. All I meant is that young people need to get out and enjoy the fresh air. Don't you have some shopping you need to do?"
"There are a few things I need to pick up at the market," Lucius admitted grudgingly.
"Then why don't you have Annabel go and get them for you," Mrs. Noone suggested. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
"Not at all," Annabel said quickly, as she placed the notebook and pencil on the low table in front of the divan where she was sitting.
Lucius sniffed. "Very well. Come out to the kitchen with me, Miss Lowell, and, I shall give you a list, along with a note for that Italian bandit at the market, so that he will know you are my representative and not attempt to overcharge you."
Annabel looked at Mrs. Noone and said, "We'll get back to the work later."
"Certainly, my dear. Go along now."
Annabel followed Lucius to the kitchen, where he wrote out the shopping list and the note for the grocer in a neat, precise hand. Annabel took them and headed upstairs to fetch a hat before she went out.
Maybe she was getting into the spirit of the period, she thought. In her own time, the only hat she ever wore was her firefighter's helmet. In 1906, though, women always wore hats when they went out in public. Miss Mellisande Dupree had included several when she'd packed up the clothes and accessories and had them delivered to Cole's house. Annabel chose a straw boater with a bright blue ribbon that formed a band around it, hanging down in twin tails from the knot in the back. The hat went perfectly, she thought, with the blue walking dress she had put on that morning—without the corset. She had spent some of her time in the past week letting out the seams of the garments so that she could fit into them without resorting to that infernal whalebone contraption that was practically impossible to put on by oneself.
The morning fog had already burned off, leaving an absolutely gorgeous spring day in San Francisco. The air was so clear and the bay seemed so close that Annabel felt as if she could pick up a pebble from the sidewalk in front of the boardinghouse and throw it all the way into the blue-green water. She took a deep breath, relishing the fact that there was no pollution to drift over from Oakland.
She walked down the street to the cable car stop and had to wait only a few minutes before one of the cars came along. Lucius had given her detailed instructions on how to find the market on Columbus Avenue, never realizing it was only a few blocks away from where Annabel had lived for the past few years. She knew the area well and wasn't going to be in the least surprised if the building which housed the market was one that still existed in her time.
She swung up into the car and settled herself onto one of the empty seats for the steeply slanting ride down from Pacific Heights. As she did so, she thought about the last time she had ridden one of the cable cars.
Cole had been with her then.
She felt a pang of regret go through her. She had thought that they had parted on friendly enough terms, but since he'd left her at Mrs. Noone's house five days earlier, Annabel hadn't seen him or heard from him. It was as if he had washed his hands of her completely.
She knew Mrs. Noone had talked to him. The same day Annabel had agreed to help her with her memoirs, the elderly woman had called Cole on the telephone to let him know that he would not need to pay Annabel's room and board, at least for the time being. But he hadn't asked to speak to her. She had asked Mrs. Noone if he had, and the landlady had said, "No, I'm afraid not, dear."