by Jae
There was a flurry of activity, and then a small brown and white dog came dashing in. It made the rounds, stopping to greet each of the guests in turn.
Frankie chuckled. “Brandy’s the welcoming committee. She just loves company. I suspect she is the other reason why Barb and Clare don’t want to move. They have a big yard with lots of room for Brandy to run and play. Clare has a veggie garden out there as well.”
Brandy made it to me and put her paws on my knees.
“Hello, there, little one.” I scratched behind her ears. She wagged her tail enthusiastically in response. I leaned back in my chair and patted my lap. “Wanna come up?”
Apparently, she did, because I soon had a lapful of wriggling puppy planting doggy kisses all over my face. The paper napkin came in very useful.
Clare poked her head around the corner. “Brandy! You get down right this minute!”
Brandy cast a sheepish glance in her mistress’s direction and slunk off my lap.
Clare shook her head. “Sorry, Edie. I guess she really liked you, but we don’t usually let her get up on guests’ laps.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I didn’t really mind. I love dogs.”
Frankie laughed. “Apparently, the feeling is mutual.”
A writer’s life could be a solitary one. Especially if said writer was single. Having a pet would be good for me—I mentally patted my expanding waistline—in more ways than one.
Dinner was announced, and Frankie did her vanishing act again. She returned a few minutes later with a plateful of food for me.
Barb was close behind her with a TV table, which she set in front of me. She grinned in Frankie’s direction. “Is she behaving herself?”
Frankie growled at her. “Don’t I always?”
Barb scratched her chin. “Well, let me see now…” She winked at me, then headed back to the kitchen.
“I take it you two are good friends,” I said as I tucked into the salad.
“Oh, yeah, we’ve known each other for years. Even though we worked for two different departments, we managed to get together at shared functions.”
“So what kind of work do you do?”
“I was a cop. Retired now. Have been for the last year. Decided it was time to hang up my shield.”
“And you are one of Clare’s orphans too?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately.” She concentrated on the turkey on her plate for a few minutes. “So, what’s your story? How do you know Clare and Barb?”
I started on the baked salmon. “I don’t really know Barb. Chatted with her once in a while on Facebook, but that’s the extent of it. She’s quite a character, though.”
“She certainly is.”
“I met Clare when I asked online for beta readers to go through the book I was working on at the time. We became friends and have kept in touch ever since. I was delighted to discover that we live in the same town.”
“Oh, so you’re a writer?”
“Yes.”
“What do you write?”
“Fiction. Mostly paranormal, with a bit of romance thrown in for good measure.”
“A bit of romance is always nice.”
“I suppose so. Haven’t had much experience with it lately.”
She arched her eyebrows but didn’t pursue the matter.
The wounds left behind when my partner of twenty-five years dumped me were still a bit raw. By the same token, I didn’t ask how she became one of Clare’s orphans. That felt too much like forced intimacy.
It became too noisy for us to carry on a conversation at that point. Clare wheeled into the living room, with Barb close behind her. She parked in front of the Christmas tree and waited until she had our attention.
“Ladies, those of you who’ve never been here before aren’t familiar with this part of the evening. You each brought an unwrapped gift to the party. We put them in a box, and Barb is going to pass it around so you can each take one. I’m going to read a story to you, and you will pass your gift to the left or to the right when I say the words ‘left’ or ‘right.’ When the story is over, whatever gift you’re holding is the prize that you take home.”
Frankie murmured, “This should be fun.”
I had to smile. I hadn’t played this game in years. It would indeed be fun. When the box came my way, I closed my eyes and reached inside. I almost burst out laughing when I retrieved a ceramic plaque showing a large coffee cup. The words Shhh and Almost were written at different levels on the cup. At the very bottom it said, You may speak now.
I needed a cup like that. I glanced sideways to see what Frankie’s prize might be.
She had a large black apron with the words The Real Boss written across the bib portion. She grinned back at me. “I’m not giving this up.”
I showed her the plaque I had. “I’m not giving this up either.”
Clare clapped her hands. “Okay, folks, here we go.” She cleared her throat and started reading. “I’m a person who always likes things done right. I write notes to my wife to make sure things get done right. One day, I wrote a note to my wife, asking her to deliver some cookies to Ellen Wright’s home. My wife left the house right before nine Friday morning, with Ellen Wright’s cookies. Right before she left, I made her take the cellular phone in case she got lost. She did, right about nine-thirty. She called me and said she was lost and she was sure I did not write the directions down right…”
By the time Clare finished reading the story, my sides ached from laughing so hard. I wiped tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. Frankie wasn’t in much better shape. Of course, I wasn’t holding the plaque I wanted, and she didn’t have her apron either. Fortunately, Clare wasn’t finished yet.
“I can see some of you were hoping for the prize you started out with. If you like, you can offer to trade with whoever has it.”
It was time to stretch my legs and wander around a bit. I stopped to admire or chuckle over other people’s prizes. My search paid off when I spotted the plaque set to one side on a table. I pounced and offered the bronze candlesticks I’d ended up with in exchange. The woman eyed the candlesticks with obvious longing and eventually handed over the plaque. She admitted, she never drank coffee herself.
Frankie stooped to kiss an elfin blonde woman on the cheek. As she straightened, clutching the apron, she caught sight of me. She smiled and shook her head. When she came close enough to be heard, she said, “What a butch won’t do to get a prize.”
“Hmm. Yes, you did seem to be suffering a great hardship there.”
“Oh, it was dreadful.” She looked around at the doorway leading into the dining room. “Damn, no mistletoe in sight, or I would see who else I could kiss.” She winked at me. “In the spirit of the season, of course.”
“Oh, of course.”
She linked her arm through mine and steered me in the direction of our chairs.
We were halfway there when the redhead who’d stared at Frankie earlier cut in front of us. She ignored me as she ran a manicured finger along the unbuttoned front of Frankie’s shirt. “So,” she said with a purr, “Handsome, I’m bored. Why don’t we make our own fun somewhere else? You live just around the corner.”
Frankie blew out a long breath. “Marilyn, we’ve had this conversation before. You already know my answer. Let’s not go through it again.”
Marilyn glanced my way. Her lip curled. “You could do so much better than this old hag. I could show you a real good time, Frankie, darling.”
I tightened my grip on my cane, wanting to slap her smirking face. Instead, I moved away before I lost it in front of these strangers. Marilyn’s words rang in my ears. She sounded so much like my ex when she’d hurled similar words at me before she took off with a woman twenty years younger than I. I headed for the front door, eager
to put as much distance between me and her as possible. I almost made it when Frankie appeared in front of me.
“Don’t let her spoil your evening, Edie. For what it’s worth, I’d rather be here with you.”
Behind me, Clare tore a strip off Marilyn. “You just wore out your welcome here. Get your coat and leave right now.”
Frankie and I moved out of the way as Marilyn yanked her coat off a hanger in the closet and slammed out the front door.
Clare wheeled into the foyer. “Please don’t leave, Edie. I’d be heartbroken if you let that woman spoil your evening. She’s just jealous.”
I couldn’t imagine why anyone would be jealous of me. All I really wanted to do right then was find someplace to hide the tears that threatened to fall.
Frankie took my hand. “Edie. Please stay.”
I blinked to clear my vision.
“Besides,” Clare added, “you can’t leave until you have some of my famous fruitcake. I will be hurt if you don’t try at least one piece.”
I plastered a smile on my face and swallowed my injured pride. “Well, what are we standing around out here for? Lead on, McDuff.”
Shortly, I found myself ensconced in a comfy chair, a plate of dark fruitcake on a folding table in front of me. Thankfully, Clare didn’t use marzipan on her cakes. My mother used it all the time, and I would carefully pry it off and bury the evidence in the garbage can. I took up my fork and sampled a piece of the fruitcake. “Oh Clare, this is awesome. I don’t suppose you’d share your recipe? I haven’t tasted anything this good in years.”
“Sorry, sweetie.” She laughed. “That recipe has been in my family for generations. If you want more of it, you’ll just have to come visit us again.” The smile vanished. “I can promise you one thing: Marilyn will never darken our door again. She didn’t just insult you. She insulted almost everyone here tonight. I’m probably the youngest woman here, and I’m fifty-three.”
That bit of news startled me, and I almost dropped my fork. I would have guessed Clare to be in her forties perhaps, but no more than that.
“Now, enjoy the rest of your dessert.” She patted my hand. “There’s more where that came from. I might even be persuaded to send some home with you.”
She wheeled back into the kitchen, leaving Frankie and me pretty much on our own. Just about everyone else had left. Not because of Marilyn, I hoped.
I waited until Frankie finished her queen-size portion of cake and then asked, “Just out of curiosity, is there history between you and Marilyn?”
“Oh, hell no. She’s definitely not my type. Told her so on more than one occasion. She thinks she’s the Goddess’s gift to butches and can’t imagine why I would turn her down.”
I let that sink in for a moment. “So what is your type?”
She sat back in her chair and looked off into the distance. Finally, she turned to me. “Someone like you.”
Oh. Now what did I say to that? Several flip remarks came to mind. I dismissed them and simply said, “Now, why would you want someone like me?”
She held up her hand, her eyes filled with warmth.
I fell silent.
She shook her head and smiled. “I know where you were going with that, Edie. You walk with a cane. I have a hip that gives me trouble at times. So you’re losing the battle with gravity. So am I.”
I glanced at the red tank top underneath her open shirt. “I doubt you have gone from 44 D to 44 long.”
She choked on the piece of cake she just put in her mouth.
I thumped her on the back and handed her my glass of milk.
When Frankie could speak, she mopped her face with her napkin and gasped. “You might warn a person before you come out with remarks like that.”
“Sorry about that. I put mouth into action before putting brain in gear.”
“You certainly did. Bad girl.”
I started to smile, then changed my mind. I still couldn’t shake the memory of Marilyn’s words and the pain they had caused. After a glance at my cake, I pushed it aside, my appetite gone.
“Clare will be hurt if you don’t finish that fruitcake,” Frankie said.
“I can always take it home. Speaking of which, I should be heading home soon before the bar scene lets out.”
Barb stuck her head around the doorway. Her face was flushed, and snow clung to the shoulders of her jacket. “You might want to rethink that notion. I was just out shoveling the sidewalk again. It’s snowing like it means business, and the weather forecast is saying we are in for a major storm. I don’t know which car is yours, but there are five of them out there parked bumper to bumper. I could dig you out, but you still won’t be going anywhere until they move.”
Oh great. I followed her to the front door and looked out into the night. Visibility was almost zero. I couldn’t see past the row of cars lined up. I wasn’t even sure which white blob was mine.
“Sorry,” Barb said. “Wish I could do more.”
I wandered back to the kitchen and just stood there, weighing my options. They were few and far between. Calling a cab was out of the question. They would be so busy I could walk the five miles between here and my place before a cab would make it here in this weather.
“I’d offer you our spare bedroom, but we use it for storage,” Clare said. “We do have a fold-down couch if that helps.” She smiled. “You might have to put up with Brandy trying to keep you warm, though. In the meantime, why don’t you have a cup of coffee and sit and visit with Frankie?”
I could think of worse ways to pass the time. After shooing Brandy down, I reclaimed my chair. She promptly lay down at my feet, her head on my shoe. I bent and patted her head. She wagged her tail as she tried to lick my hand. I gave her another pat and sat back up.
Frankie wandered in and sat next to me. “I’ve just been informed that I am not allowed to walk home in that mess. So, it looks as though we are both staying here tonight. Do you think you could handle sharing that hide-a-bed? I’d take one of the chairs, but my hip would be killing me by morning.” She chuckled. “I’m sure Brandy will make an excellent chaperone.”
I had to smile at that idea.
She was silent for a moment. “I was wondering…would you be interested in spending some time with me later on? You know…the usual. Coffee, the occasional dinner. Things like that.”
As much as part of me wanted to say yes, I shook my head. “Thanks, but the way I reacted to the hurtful things Marilyn said makes me think I’m not ready to be with someone else just yet.”
Frankie laid her hand over mine. “That’s all right. I’m not asking for more than friendship right now. But it’s a good place to start. Will you at least consider my offer?”
I’m sure I must have given a good impression of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car as I struggled with conflicting emotions. Fear was at the top of the list. After my ex left me high and dry, I swore I would never let anyone hurt me again. Opening myself up to someone new in my life was too scary. Time for an exit, stage left. “I’m going to give Clare and Barb a hand with the cleaning-up. It’s the least I can do.”
As I rose to leave, Frankie caught my hand. “Wait up. I’m coming with you.”
Thankfully, Clare didn’t turn down my offer to help.
I put my cane to one side, leaned against the sink, and tackled the dishes.
Frankie was put to work tidying the dining room. Barb packed up leftovers and put them in the freezer or in the fridge. Several boxes were put to one side for Frankie and me to take home. That would be a treat. All I had for a Christmas dinner was a turkey roast that would probably still be in my freezer next year. I hadn’t decorated. There wasn’t much point just for myself.
Through the pass-through between the kitchen and the dining room I watched Frankie a
s she helped Barb take the leaves out of the big table and stack them in the corner. I could see why Marilyn was attracted to her. With a smile that could melt the coldest heart, those blue eyes, and that close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair, Frankie was handsome.
Frankie chose that moment to glance my way, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to be with a woman as kind and as attentive as she was.
With the kitchen cleaned up and nothing much left to do, it was time to get ready to turn in for the night. I wasn’t looking forward to sharing the hide-a-bed, but there weren’t too many alternatives.
Barb showed up with sweatpants and a couple of T-shirts draped over her arm. “Here you go, you two. There’s extra toothbrushes in the bathroom if you need them. See you in the morning.”
Once Barb headed off, we divided the clothing between us. Frankie smiled. “After you.”
When I finished my usual bedtime routine and pulled on the sleepwear Barb had provided, I looked in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Neither of my hosts were tiny women. The T-shirt was two sizes too big, and even after I rolled up the cuffs on the sweatpants, I still looked like a kid playing dress-up. I smothered a giggle, gathered up my clothes, and headed for the makeshift sleeping quarters.
Fortunately, Frankie was too preoccupied cuddling Brandy to notice my night attire. Or maybe she was just too polite to laugh at my comical appearance.
I was snuggled under the blankets, with Brandy curled up at the foot of the bed when Frankie joined me a short while later. Even though the bed was made for two people, I noticed a sizeable gap between us. I muttered a sleepy “good night” and got an equally sleepy reply.
Of course, in spite of my fatigue I lay there wide-awake, unable to relax. It had been a long time since I had shared a bed with anyone, even under these innocent circumstances.
