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“Belle,” she corrected.
“Of course, Ma’am.”
Belle looked back at Chandler in confusion.
“Antonia, Belle is going to insist on you calling her Belle.”
“Okay. I’ll call her Belle, Ma’am.”
“She calls you ‘Ma’am?’” Belle asked.
“Why don’t we tackle who calls whom what another time, and you give her your coat so she can hang it up for you?”
“Okay. Weird. I can hang up my own coat.” Belle removed her coat and handed it to Antonia. “Thank you, though.”
“No problem, Belle.”
That made Belle smile a little.
“I wasn’t sure what you ate, so I hope whatever we’re having tonight is okay for you,” Chandler said.
“I eat pretty much anything.”
“And that will be stopping soon,” Catalina said as she approached from the living room.
“Sorry?”
“You’ll be on a diet from here on out. I’ll have Chandler’s nutritionist meet with you tomorrow and discuss it.”
“You have a nutritionist?” Belle asked her.
“You know how life was at the program?”
“Yeah.”
“Pretty much the same here.”
“Got it,” Belle said. “Okay. Well, I’m here, so maybe we can eat whatever grilled chicken and steamed veggies you made?”
Chandler smiled and nodded in the direction of the formal dining room. Catalina talked non-stop during dinner. She went on and on about the schedule and training and the dedication that it was going to take to make this work. Belle, for her part, smiled and nodded, but it was easy for Chandler to see that it was all forced. When Catalina finally excused herself for the night, after complaining, yet again, that they’d lost a day of training because Belle couldn’t get here until the evening, Chandler looked over at Belle, who was sitting next to her at the long twelve-person table.
“Do you want to maybe see the rink before I show you the apartment?”
“Yeah? Can we?”
“Let’s go,” Chandler said.
After they had their coats on, she walked Belle outside and over to the rink, where she unlocked the door and let her go in first. Chandler flipped the several light switches next to the door and waited.
“Wow! God, this is really all yours?”
“Dad had it built, yeah.”
“And you don’t have to wait for six-year-olds to finish their birthday parties so that you can skate on it solo?” Belle asked.
“No, I don’t. No six-year-olds here. Well, Antonia has a five-year-old and an eight-year-old. They skate here sometimes. David, our chef, has a ten-year-old boy. He had a birthday party here a few years ago. But he isn’t into skating, really. He’s more into baseball now. The maids have kids, too. There’s–”
“Chandler?”
