It was funny, though. She’d come to Florence to feel closer to her aunt on the anniversary of her death, and there was no place she felt closer than right here. But she had no reason to stay.
Evelyn waited as she put her shoes back on and then accompanied her onto the porch, where Robin drew back in dismay at the sight of the rain. It was falling much harder now, and in every direction as the wind whipped it into swirls. Of course her coat was inside her car. She was going to get soaked just running there.
“Well, this is getting nasty,” Evelyn said. “I think the storm is going to hit full strength a little earlier than they said. Where are you staying, by the way? At the Dunes?”
Robin shivered as a gust blew cold spray straight under the porch roof and into their faces. “That’s where I was supposed to stay. But they lost my reservation.”
“On Christmas Eve? Oh, for heaven’s sake. You know, that whole ‘lost your reservation’ thing is a crock. They didn’t lose it. They never entered it in the database in the first place, or else they did but then forgot to save the record. That’s the only way something like this can happen. So where are they putting you up instead?”
“They’re not. The manager gave me the numbers of a couple of other hotels in Florence, and I was just going to call them when I found Jackie.”
Evelyn stared at her wide-eyed, then shook her head. “Okay, that’s not going to happen. You’re staying here.”
“But your Christmas—”
“Would be one I’d remember forever as the year I threw a Good Samaritan out in a storm because I wanted to keep to my own tradition. That’s not going to happen either.” She looked out at the wind and gave one nod. “Here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to put your car in my garage so it’s safe from the storm. It’s one thing to be parked on a nice big patch of asphalt when the winds hit ninety, and something else to be right under the trees. Then you’re going to join me for dinner—which I warn you will be light, because I don’t cook on Christmas—and maybe an after-dinner drink. And then you’re going to sleep in my best room and enjoy this storm with a full view of the ocean.”
“I…” Robin closed her mouth at the look on Evelyn’s face and wondered why she was even trying to object. “I would be delighted.”
“Better.” Evelyn smiled. “I take it you remember where the garage is?”
“Around that side of the house, unless you moved it.”
“No, it’s still there. I’ll go through and open it up for you.” She looked askance at Robin’s clothes. “Where is your coat?”
“In the car. It wasn’t raining this hard when I got here.”
Evelyn ducked back into the mudroom and reappeared an instant later with a raincoat. “Here, borrow mine. Otherwise you’d be soaked to the skin before you got your car door open.”
It was a little large for her, but fine for the purpose. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now shoo.”
Robin ran through the rain and broke speed records getting into her car, but still wasn’t quick enough to keep out an astonishing amount of water that now dripped off the inside of her door. She blew out a breath and started the engine, then smiled. “‘Shoo,’ she says. Like I’m a cat. This is your idea of a joke, isn’t it, Aunt Jackie?”
Her wheels crunched over the gravel as she drove slowly around the house, and even at that speed the wipers could hardly clear the water off the windshield. She was devoutly glad to not be driving back down the twisty cliffside highway through weather like this.
The warm light of the garage beckoned to her, and she rolled into the empty space next to a red Honda CRV. Evelyn stood near the back wall, motioning her forward and then holding up a hand. Robin stopped, set the brake, and stepped out. Puddles were already forming beneath her car.
“Wow,” she said. “I didn’t know that much water could fall out of the sky in such a short time.”
Evelyn laughed. “Well, you said you wanted to experience a winter storm. You picked a good one.”
Robin left her shoes and the dripping coat in the mini-mudroom space Evelyn had built by her inner garage door, then followed her back into the house and up the stairs, this time with her overnight bag on her shoulder. They went to the room directly over the dining area, the one that hadn’t existed when Aunt Jackie had lived here. Or rather, it had, but then it was two tiny bedrooms that had been used for storage. Knocking out the wall between them had transformed the space, and even though that solution had never occurred to Aunt Jackie, Robin knew she would have loved it.
“Fresh towels are in the bathroom,” Evelyn said, pointing to a door that would once have led into the hall. “The comforter is goose down, but if you’re allergic, I can bring up a hypoallergenic one instead.”
“No, I love down comforters. I live under one at home.”
“Good. The notebook on the desk is full of information you won’t need, since you know the area, but the wifi password is on the first page. And that’s it, I think. I’ll leave you here to get comfortable. Come to the kitchen whenever you’re ready. Dinner is going to be reheated leftovers, so there’s no prep time. I’ll just pop it in when you join me.” She bustled out the door, leaving Robin in the silence of a room that could have been anywhere, so unfamiliar was it.
Except for one thing. She walked up to the watercolor that hung over the desk and ran her finger along the frame, smiling at the stylized signature in the bottom right corner.
“She put your paintings back. You’re still here, and everyone who comes to stay gets to know a little bit of you. There’s something so right about that.”
A ghostly touch brushed the back of her knee.
“Gaah!” The yelp that came out of her throat was embarrassingly high, as was the involuntary leap that propelled her into the edge of the desk. She bounced off and turned, her hand pressed against her hammering heart.
Jackie the cat crouched on the floor, ears back and eyes wide.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” Robin began to laugh. “Looks like I scared you, too. Well, you deserved it. You should know better than to sneak up on a slightly freaked-out person. I’m halfway to thinking you’re my aunt, you know.”
She knelt and held out her hand, and Jackie’s ears came back up. A moment later Robin was petting a purring, squirming cat. She checked the open door, saw no sign of Evelyn, and bent down to put her lips near Jackie’s head.
“Are you?” she whispered.
Jackie gave no sign of understanding, merely bumping her head against a hand that was not petting her fast enough. Robin resumed proper petting speed, relieved and a little disappointed.
* * *
Evelyn chuckled when Robin appeared in her kitchen twenty minutes later, arms full of cat. “I see she couldn’t resist your lure.”
“Is an open bag a lure?” Robin set Jackie on the floor. “I came out of the bathroom and found her in my overnight bag.”
“It’s one of her favorite things, yes. But she has an uncanny ability to know when she’s not wanted. People who don’t like cats barely even see her. Those who do can hardly get rid of her.” She opened the oven door and slid a covered casserole dish inside. “I hope you like pork loin and roasted winter vegetables.”
“Are you kidding? I’d pay twelve dollars a plate to have it in Bend.”
“My presentation might be not be up to restaurant standards, but it tasted great yesterday. Have a seat. I’m having red wine with dinner; is that good for you, or would you like something else?”
Robin looked at the table, artistically prepared with two place settings, and gave up on offering to help. “Red sounds perfect. How did you get so much done in twenty minutes?”
“I run a B&B. Lots of practice.”
Dinner was a pleasant affair, with excellent food and easy conversation. Robin learned that Evelyn was just two years older than she, went to school at Stanford, had been part of a successful Internet startup in Silicon Valley—which ex
plained the cash she’d poured into the house—and that most of her relatives were in the San Francisco area. Their tradition was for a big family event on Thanksgiving, while Christmas was a quieter holiday. For Evelyn, Christmas had become a mini-vacation, in which she accepted neither guests nor invitations. It was her time to be alone.
“And before you start feeling guilty,” she said with apparent telepathy, “remember that until a few hours ago I thought I really would be alone this year. I was sure Jackie was dead. So having both her and her savior in my kitchen is a gift.”
“Savior of cats,” Robin mused. “Not something I’d expected to put on my CV, but who knows, maybe it’ll give me an edge the next time I go job hunting.”
“It certainly would with me.”
Her tone of voice made Robin wonder if she should be reading something into that statement, but Evelyn was occupied with topping off their water glasses and gave no indication that she’d intended a double meaning. With a mental shrug, Robin set it aside and asked how she’d gotten from Silicon Valley to a house on the edge of an Oregon coastal cliff, whereupon she received an education in the huge pressures, ridiculous work hours, and burnout rates for Silicon Valley employees. She couldn’t relate, having never had a job that took over her life that way, but could certainly see how calling all of her own shots in a quiet, rural environment would have appealed to Evelyn after that.
They conversed long after the last bite had been taken, and when Evelyn finally rose to clear the table, Robin insisted on being allowed to help with the washing up. It was an odd sort of déjà vu, standing at her aunt’s kitchen sink and washing dishes, except of course the sink wasn’t the same and neither were the cupboards or counters. She shot a glance at Evelyn, who was drying the casserole dish, and smiled to herself. Aunt Jackie would have liked her.
The kitchen was spic and span in no time, and Robin happily followed Evelyn’s suggestion that they take the rest of the wine into the living room. She tried to focus on their conversation but couldn’t keep her eyes off the large picture window, where the porch light illuminated the front yard and nearby forest. The storm wasn’t supposed to hit full strength for another hour, but it looked as if things were really rocking out there as the trees lashed back and forth and the rain blew horizontally.
“I always thought Aunt Jackie was exaggerating about that,” she said in wonder.
“About what?”
“Rain falling sideways. It really does.”
“Oh, yes. Quite a pain when you’re trying to put groceries in your car. There’s no way to keep the water out. And if you park with your door facing the wind, sometimes you can’t get it open. You have to wait for a moment between gusts. If you park the other way, you risk getting the door ripped right out of your hand.” Evelyn pointed. “Look at the reflection of the room. Can you see it moving?”
Moving? What did she mean by that? The reflection wasn’t—
A gust hit, and Robin gasped at the sight of the window bowing inward. “Holy shit! Is that normal?”
“It is. Don’t worry; it won’t break. Two years ago we had gusts up to a hundred and nine, and all of the windows held. Of course, if a tree limb comes flying in, I can’t make any promises.”
“This is amazing.” Robin set her wineglass down and walked up to the window, resting her fingers on it as she watched the furious weather. “There is nothing like this on my side of the mountains. I mean, we get some awesome thunderstorms, but they blow in and out and they’re very localized. This thing is beating up the entire coastline.”
“And it will last all night.”
“Which is more than my ex could manage.” Robin clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that. That was the wine, I swear.”
Evelyn looked like she was trying hard not to crack up. “It’s all right; we seem to have that in common.”
“What, a mouth that moves without engaging the brain? I don’t think you have that problem.”
“No, an ex that didn’t satisfy. Although you’re right; I don’t have the other problem.” Evelyn lifted her glass in a toast and drank, a wickedly teasing smile on her lips.
Robin found that smile immensely attractive and was suddenly very curious about the gender of Evelyn’s ex. She picked up the bottle, refilled their glasses, and sat back in her chair. “How does someone as forthright as you end up with an ex that doesn’t satisfy? I’d have thought you’d give him the boot after the first time.”
“Because it didn’t happen the first time. Or the second, or the third. It started happening after we’d tangled up our lives together, and getting them separated again looked like too much work.” Evelyn gave her another one of those smiles. “And I know you’re fishing. You set off my gaydar in the kitchen, when you didn’t want me to see you crying.”
“Seriously? Wait a minute, you apologized for crying when we met. You said you weren’t normally like that.”
“I’m not. And if you had functioning gaydar, yours would have gone off then.”
“My gaydar works perfectly well, thank you very much.”
“Really? Then why did you ask me about my fictional male ex?”
“Because I was trying to be discreet!”
Evelyn laughed. “I’ve only known you for a couple of hours, but it seems to me that you trying to be discreet is like an elephant trying to tiptoe.”
“You’re hilarious. And since when is not wanting to be seen crying a surefire sign of lesbianism?”
“It’s not, but it’s often a pretty good indicator of a soft butch or chapstick lesbian.”
“You’re making this up.”
“So you’re not gay, then?”
“Of course I am!”
“Good to know.”
“You—” Robin blew out a breath. “Why do I feel like a door just slammed somewhere behind me?”
“Because you’re not seeing clearly. You should be feeling like a door just opened.”
Exasperation initially kept Robin from realizing what had just been said, but then she caught on. She stared at Evelyn, a tingle going down her spine.
“I’m not very good at talking in circles,” she said. “Could you just tell me—in a purely hypothetical situation, of course—whether or not you’d slap me if I came over there and tried to kiss you?”
Evelyn gave her a long, unreadable look. “Not.”
“Not what?…oh.” The smile that came onto her face was involuntary and could not be wiped off. “Well, in that case…”
She stood up and took a step toward Evelyn’s chair. Her heel landed on something that wasn’t the area rug, and an ear-splitting yowl made her jump half a foot in the air. When she came down she scrambled for balance, her heart pounding. “Gaah! Jackie!”
Evelyn had her head down and was pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb, her shoulders shaking. For a moment Robin was torn between outrage at being laughed at and horror at having stepped on the cat right in front of her owner. Then the comedy of the situation sank in, and she had to laugh. “Okay, that moment is lost. I’m going to see if Jackie hates me.”
She found Jackie sulking in the mudroom and carefully crouched down a respectful distance away. “I’m sorry, Jackie, really. Humans are stupid and Evelyn’s right; I’m like an elephant. Are you okay?”
The air moved beside her and then Evelyn was there, kneeling on the floor. “Jackie, come here. She didn’t mean it.”
Jackie ignored Robin and ran straight up to Evelyn, accepting the caresses that were her due. Evelyn rubbed her cheeks and ran a hand down her tail. “Still intact, I see. Robin thinks she’s an elephant because I said something that really wasn’t very kind, and I probably ought to apologize. Do you think she understands that I was just playing with her?”
Robin wasn’t sure whether she was expected to respond, but Evelyn kept talking.
“She doesn’t know me very well yet, so she doesn’t realize that I only tease people I like. And I like her quite a
lot, so thank you for bringing her home. I’m still pretty upset with you for taking a week to hike down to Florence and find her, but if you feel that strongly about it, then she must be something special. Of course, I already knew that when she took the time to bring you home. And I’ve really enjoyed her company this evening. So you should forgive her, and I should apologize to her, and then maybe we can get back to the part where she was just about to kiss me.”
Robin slipped a hand under her chin, gently bringing her head up, and took a moment to look into beautiful blue eyes. Then she closed the distance between them. Evelyn’s lips were just as soft as they looked, and when a hand slipped around the back of her neck, she forgot the cat, forgot that they were kneeling on the mudroom floor, forgot the storm and everything else. There was only so much her brain could handle, and right now the feel of Evelyn’s lips and wandering hands were taking up all of her mental powers.
When they finally separated, she rested their foreheads together and whispered, “Apology accepted. Though it wasn’t really necessary.”
“I think it was,” Evelyn said. “But you accepted it very graciously.”
“Maybe I could keep accepting it someplace more comfortable than the floor?”
Evelyn chuckled. “No, the apology is done. Anything else I might offer is going to be in a different category. But I don’t want to do that on the floor, either.” She pushed herself back and stood, holding out a hand and pulling Robin up with surprising strength.
“Wait,” Robin said. “I’m not taking a step until I know where Jackie is.”
“Good policy.” They looked around and found Jackie sitting by the Christmas tree, batting at a loose ribbon.
“Is that why you have a shoes-off policy in your house? I thought it was to save the flooring, but now I think it might be to save Jackie.”
“Initially it was the first, but if you’re going to be around in the future, it will definitely be the second.”
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