“First of all, don’t sneak up on me like that. I might have killed you. And second of all, it’s best to prep her early.”
“No need.” He turned to Ellie. “You’re gonna be the heartbreaker, aren’t you? Little boys won’t know what hit ’em.” She clapped her hands in total agreement.
“Or little girls. You never know.” I held up the frozen fish sticks. “We weren’t expecting you for another hour. I’ve been slaving away over dinner.”
“I can see that. Game was called for rain.” Ellie made a beeline for her father who, as the coach, was dressed in a blue baseball uniform of his own. Travis scooped her up and kissed her cheek nineteen times, which only made her giggle. “Berta took Tim the Champion home and I’m here for the munchkin.” He turned to her. “You and Aunt Maggie go out on the town?”
“We did,” I told him. “She’s the consummate socialite.”
“Reminds me of a certain blonde from high school.”
I stared at him blandly. “I have no idea who you’re referencing.”
“Yes, you do. You were just captivated by her on your TV screen.”
“Pshhhh,” I said, drawing the sound out extra long. “Captivated or merely tolerating? Because there’s a distinct difference.”
“You’re mad at her. Would have called that, but I say this as a happily married and very content man—”
“It’s cruel to brag about your sex life, Trav,” I said, whispering the word “sex” for the benefit of the toddler.
“Courtney’s looking hot. Smokin’.”
“She’s always been very pretty. That hasn’t changed.”
“Yeah, but this is other-level hot. I don’t know what she’s been doing since last we saw her, but—”
“Okay, I get it. I get it,” I said, holding up my hand like a traffic cop. “Yes, she’s hot. Just don’t regale me with the details.”
“Given the way you were looking at that TV, Beringer, I don’t think I have to. Why don’t you take her out on the town? See if you can find that old spark.”
I scoffed, because for him, it really was just that simple. “I think there’s a little more to it than that. And Courtney and I will definitely not be going out.”
“All right. Be a girl if you want. Gotta take this one home.”
“She still needs dinner.”
“Then I’ll rustle her up some grub.” He strolled to the door and I followed him, kissing Ellie’s cheek.
“Night night, kiddo.”
“Night night,” she said in her tiny voice. My hand moved to my warmed heart.
“Hey, Maggie,” Travis said. “I didn’t mean to act like your feelings don’t matter or whatever. I just think Courtney is a cool chick. And I also think you’re a cool chick, so—”
“I know, Travis. You mean well.”
“You sound like my wife.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me. Now get out of here, and knock your son in his head from his Aunt Maggie. Remind him I’m taking him to the movies next weekend.”
“Will do.”
Once Travis, Ellie, and Ellie’s entourage of stuffed animals had left the building, I turned back to my empty cottage and pondered whether I’d heat the fish sticks after all or maybe settle for a sensible salad.
My life was thrilling.
Chapter Seventeen
We need to work on being more exciting.
That was the text I sent to Melanie as I dressed for work. I knew she’d be up because her claim to fame at the salon was her early-morning appointment slots, which were known to go like hotcakes with the elderly crowd. As the only out lesbians in our age group in a fifteen-mile radius, Melanie and I relied on each other for sojourns to the wider world in search of a social outlet. We’d found little successes here and there. We were dedicated members of a lesbian book club that met two towns over. We’d also made the occasional trek to a lesbian bar on the outskirts of Santa Barbara. For me, it was a good time out. I’d met a couple of women over the years, had my fun, but stayed on the perimeter of anything resembling an entanglement.
Best decision ever.
No drama. No headaches.
Just two people sharing an evening on occasion, with no messy strings to slice and dice them with later.
Melanie was different, though. She was looking for the love of her life and had come away with some decent candidates. Just not “the one” quite yet. The fact that she’d mellowed into an actual human over the past few years had certainly helped her cause.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I locked the door to the cottage. I checked the readout to find a text from Melanie.
What are you talking about? We have book club next week.
This served as an excellent reminder that I needed to read that damn book. Something about a very lonely well. Regardless, it looked depressing. I typed back.
This weekend. You. Me. Dancing.
I was a horrible dancer but had mastered the art of the head bob to roaring success.
You’re on. It’s been too long!
Perfect, I thought as I descended the steps with Ernie. While I’d planned to drive him down to the big house, he lumbered off into the fields instead. He had an adventurous spirit, a trait I admired. “Have a good day,” I yelled to him. The spring in his step seemed to amplify at the sound of my voice. “Be kind to others!”
I was in a good mood, and there was no denying it. I didn’t even mind the consult with Courtney scheduled for that morning. I blared some Stones on the short drive to work and arrived at my office feeling like a rock star, not a woman who’d eaten fish sticks alone the night before. New leaf time, people.
I took my spot at my desk, returned a couple of phone calls for a listing I’d just landed, all the while bopping along to the song in my head.
“Looks like you’re having a fun morning,” Courtney said as she entered.
“What can I say? I love my job.”
She smiled warmly. “Then I’ve come to the right place.”
“Have a seat.” See? This was going well already. Look how professional I could be. She settled into the chair across from me, looking a lot less businesslike today. Jeans, a black and maroon striped V-neck, and she’d worn her hair down. “So you’re looking for a rental,” I began.
“Right. Something modern. One or two bedrooms. The part of town is less important, but they’d have to be willing to agree to a month-to-month, just because my plans are so up in the air.”
“Gotcha.” I went to work on my computer, pulling up the listings I knew would fit her profile. “While there are more than a few contenders, I’ve got three that might really work for you.”
“Great. Can we see them?”
“Oh.” I paused. “You want to go today?”
“No time like the present.” She raised a shoulder. “I took the morning off.”
“Okay. No problem. Let me make a few calls.” While I did that, Courtney stood and perused the office, picking up knickknacks and setting them back down again. The whole practice had me a little distracted. I hung up from my first call and she turned to me.
“No Beatles memorabilia.”
“Nope,” I said distantly, and began dialing again.
“How come?”
“That was years ago.” The metaphor was larger than the Beatles, and the meaning didn’t seem lost on Courtney. I saw the shift behind her eyes as she turned away from me.
“It definitely was,” she said. The office felt smaller now and the air heavier. I focused on the small task of dialing the phone, though my eyes followed Courtney’s progress as she took in the rest of the space. I couldn’t help but see it through her eyes and somehow wished it were sleeker, more pulled together color-wise. Was I trying to impress her with my success? If so, what was that about? Old habits.
“It’s perfect,” she said of my office, once I’d booked the final showing. “Very you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She held my gaze for a beat past comfortable, and I remembered how the different blues of her eyes swirled together in a startlingly attractive combo. I heard Travis’s voice in my head. She’s looking hot, Beringer. I shook it off like a parka in the summer sun. Not gonna happen.
“Shall we go?” I asked.
“Yep. I’ll drive. You navigate.”
I wasn’t going to argue.
The Mercedes we climbed into was an updated version of the one I’d once known her to drive, though this new one had all the fancy bells and whistles designed to impress. Soft leather interior, fancy cameras, and a large touch screen probably capable of launching us into space with the stroke of a button.
“Nice car,” I said to fill the silence.
She kept her eyes on the road. “It gets me there.”
“I’d say it more than gets you there.” The sentence came with judgment, and I had no idea why I was being judgmental about a stupid car. Courtney had done nothing to deserve it. Well, nothing today. If she’d picked up on my tone, she’d didn’t show it.
“Oh, wow. When did they rebuild the town library?” she asked, gesturing to the new two-story structure with a playground off to the side.
“Last year. Mrs. Rolando retired, and a fund-raising big shot took her place. It’s been great for the library, though. Tons of new after-school programs. Reading challenges.”
She passed me a melancholy smile. “That makes me happy and sad. I adored Mrs. Rolando. I’d hang out there for hours during the hot summer months.”
“You like her because she used to let you sketch the patrons through the stacks.”
She held up a finger. “As long as I promised to read a book a week. There was payment involved, and I followed through.”
“I guess Mrs. Rolando was pretty shrewd herself. Turn left up here.”
We pulled into a modest two-story, set back from the street a bit. Quaint. Charming. And with a considerable amount of space between the house and its two neighbors. With any luck, it’d be a home run and Courtney and I could go back to our regularly scheduled lives, shelving this uncomfortable trip down memory lane.
She looked up at it through the windshield. “Unacceptable. I can’t live here.”
I followed her gaze. “Why is that?”
“There’s no red door.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Come on.”
I let us in and followed behind a few steps as Courtney moved about the house. I generally tried to give each client room to explore and get a feel for each place before offering too much insight or information. Courtney was giving me very little in the way of signals, however, and I had no idea whether it was a home run or not. Regardless, I thought the place was perfect for her, and I did have at least some knowledge to draw from.
“Well,” I asked, when she finished the initial walk-through.
“It’s really charming. I like that the kitchen is open to the rest of the living room.”
“All new finishes, too. Top-of-the-line appliances.”
She made a circle through the living room. “Something’s missing, though.”
I cocked my head, ready to make a note. “And what is that?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m just not connecting to the space.”
“It’s a temporary situation, though, right?” That was Realtor code for this is good enough for what you need, but Courtney didn’t seem to care.
She winced as if there were an annoying pebble in her shoe. “It’s important to me that it be the right fit, you know? Even if it’s short term. Can we see the others?”
I nodded, ready to do my job if it killed me. And in this case, it might. “Of course. Let’s head to the second house.” Only that one wasn’t friendly enough. It could also do for more natural light, according to Courtney.
“This is fun,” she said, as we drove to the third and final house on our list. “I’m a little jealous that you get to do this all the time.”
“It is fun. Especially when you find the house, which I’m guessing is about to happen to us in three, two, one. Welcome home.” We arrived at a petite but stylish garden home with a Spanish tiled roof and off-white exterior. Courtney hopped out of the car eagerly, bolstering my already good feeling about the house. My hopes and dreams were shattered when she went on to criticize the small master, insisting that she needed more space.
“Well, this is the last house I’d lined up for us.”
“So what’s the next step?”
I went into professional mode. “I set up some more showings and we revisit this soon.”
“Perfect. When can we go?”
“Give me a couple of days to make the arrangements. There’s also a pocket listing on the outside of town I could probably get us into if I pulled enough strings.”
She bit her lip. “I like the sound of that. In the meantime, let me buy you lunch to say thanks.”
“Can’t,” I said automatically. “I have an afternoon appointment to prep for.”
She stared at me. “You have an appointment this afternoon?”
“I do.”
“It’s a little early in the day for lying, don’t you think?”
I scoffed. “You don’t know I’m lying. I have no reason to lie.”
“Except you are, because you’re scratching your head each time you say it. It’s what you do when you lie. You’re horrible at it. Always have been.”
I drove my hands to my sides and balled my fists to hide any and all evidence. I’d forgotten about the head-scratching thing. Damn it! I really needed to work on that and maybe try to lie more for practice.
“Come on,” Courtney said. “We can catch up.”
Right there was the problem. See, I was in the business of self-preservation, and sitting across a table from the “really hot” Courtney Carrington didn’t lend itself to that plan. I’d already caught and chastised myself for staring, because there was something about the way her clothes fit that made me a little bit warm. I was going to hell.
“What are you afraid of?” she asked. “That we’ll actually get along? We always did, you know.”
“I’m not afraid of anything. It’s just…weird.” There. I’d said it. “We don’t need to hang out together to find you a rental.”
“It’s not weird if we don’t make it weird. Have a harmless lunch with me.” She raised an eyebrow in playful challenge, and because I’m competitive I caved.
“Fine. But I have less than an hour. Thirty minutes is more like it. I’d be surprised if anywhere could get us in and out that quickly.”
“Luckily, Rene likes you.”
I sighed and forced my most laid-back smile. Totally breezy, that was me. “The café it is.”
The Berry Good Café, as always, smelled fantastic. BLTs, burgers, and the best fried chicken ever had the place bustling with lunch crowd fans. I followed Courtney to a booth and heard a shriek, turning to see Rene herself racing over to our table. “Am I hallucinating or is that Courtney Carrington patronizing my establishment?”
“Your eyes are not deceiving you. Hi!” Courtney stood and hugged Rene warmly.
Rene shrieked again and I winced. “I saw you on the news, young lady, but needed to lay eyes on you myself to believe it was actually true. And it is! Welcome home!”
“Thank you.”
With hands on her hips, Rene shook her head, giving Courtney the once-over. “More beautiful than ever. You’re getting a free slice of chocolate cake. No arguments.” She turned to me and then looked back to Courtney. “It’s like a time machine, you two sitting here in my café.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” I said evenly.
Almost as if she didn’t hear me, Rene clasped her hands together in celebration. “This must be my lucky day or something. You’re getting cake, too, Maggie! It’s a chocolate cake kind of lunch.”
I held up a hand. “Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“It most certainly is,” Ren
e said, fussing at me. “Don’t kill my fun. I rarely have any at my age. I lost my boyfriend to a hussy with a mustache and a D cup.” Courtney widened her eyes at me and I held up my hands in acquiescence.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
We placed our order and I sat back in the booth, because now what? I wished there were some sort of guidebook for navigating the waters of an ex-girlfriend who’d once ripped your heart out, never looked back, and then somehow managed to get you to have lunch with her.
“So how have you been?” Courtney said finally.
I laughed at the breadth of the question, and once she heard it out loud, she did, too.
“Okay. So, that was lame.”
“I’ve been fine,” I told her anyway. “No major complaints. In fact, life is grand.”
“I was happy to see that you pursued the whole real estate thing. I knew you’d be great at it.”
“And when did you hear about my chosen career path?” I asked, hating myself for wanting to know if she’d been paying attention.
She closed her eyes briefly. “Not until I got back into town, actually.”
Oh, so she hadn’t thought about me at all. Wonderful. Not at all ego slamming. I sipped from my water glass. “I guess you’ve been busy.”
“Yeah.”
We glanced around the restaurant, each pretending to be ultra interested in the décor, the other patrons. I swallowed back my discomfort and refocused. “Congratulations on the whole vice president thing.” The news had come the year prior, splashed all over town and Facebook.
She sat a little taller. “Thank you. It wasn’t an easily won position.”
“Why is that?”
She seemed to choose her words. “I think the board wanted to make sure I was ready and wasn’t riding on the Carrington name. Plus, my father, in his last year, didn’t exactly champion my cause.”
“Shocker.” It seemed I still carried my basket of bitter. “I take it you two didn’t mend any fences before he passed.”
“No, and I have mixed emotions about that. Sometimes I wish we had. He wasn’t a good person, but he was my father, you know?” She had that distant look in her eyes again, and I was jolted back to a time when it would have made me hurt for her. Hurt with her.
Strawberry Summer Page 20
