Table of Contents
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
About the Author
Books Available from Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
No one travels this life alone.
Maggie Rae-McInnis is happy in her twelve-year relationship with Addison and renting out the rooms in their large home in the Hollywood Hills. Her one nagging fear is that her partner is not as happy as she is—and she is right. Addison is a hot mess. Though she loves Maggie, she feels something is missing. When she meets Victoria Fontaine, a confident, sexy, and manipulative younger woman, she is swept into something new, exciting, and a little dangerous.
Tess Rossini and Dusty Gardner, the couple’s closest friends and long-term tenants, face their own fears as they navigate the uncharted waters of love, and Eve Jacobs, newest arrival, finds herself on a path of self-discovery.
The love and friendship these women share make up the threads that weave together to form the unbreakable bonds that last a lifetime.
Threads of the Heart
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Threads of the Heart
© 2015 By Jeannie Levig. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-419-3
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: July 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Victoria Oldham and Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Gabrielle Pendergrast
Acknowledgments
As it says on the cover, no one travels this life alone, and when a lifelong dream is realized, there are many people to thank. So here goes.
My deepest love and gratitude to Jamie Sullivan Patterson for her unwavering belief in me in all ways, for standing by me through all the permutations of everything we’ve been to one another and what we share, and for being the best first/ideal reader any writer could hope for.
Immeasurable love and appreciation to Lisa Elzy Watson for loving me unconditionally and teaching me the only way life makes sense. You have changed me in so many ways and given me the gift of knowing who I am. Don’t think you’re done, though.
An enormous thank you to Craig Levig for showing me that first little ad from the local paper for a writers’ workshop so many years ago and encouraging me to attend and for your loving support as I began my journey in writing.
Heartfelt acknowledgement and gratitude to my children—Erik, Kelly, and Mindy Levig and Chris Dison—for your constant love and support and all that our family shares. I love you all so much.
Thank you to my circle, my spiritual family, for always loving me no matter what, for celebrating with me my successes, and for holding me steady when I stumble.
An enormous thank you to Sheila Calderwood who so very long ago when I was making my very first attempt at writing a novel plunking away on a typewriter—yes, it was electric, but still—helped me buy my first word processor. Thank you, Sheila, for believing in me as a writer.
Thank you to Debbie Bailey, my very first writing partner, for all those many hours at my dining room table as we each worked on our projects, all the plotting, all the trips down to Orange County RWA meetings, all those shared cups of coffee, all the laughter…all the memories.
And, of course, my deepest gratitude to everyone at Bold Strokes Books: to Radclyffe and Sandy Lowe for inviting me into the Bold Strokes family; to Sandy for being so generous and available with the answer to any question and help with any difficulty; to Victoria Oldham who made my first editing experience easy and fun with her patience, clarity, and humor; to Cindy Cresap for her immaculate copy editing and for all she’s done in moving my book through the production process; to Gabrielle Pendergrast for my fabulous cover; and to all the behind the scenes people who finish out the entire project. It is an honor to be counted among such a talented group of authors and to be a part of a team so dedicated to excellence in writing and publishing. Thank you all.
And finally, thank you to the readers who share this story with me. I hope you enjoy these characters as much as I do.
Dedication
To Kathryn Errecart
Sept. 4, 1925–Oct. 22, 2013
You lived a life of meaning that touched and profoundly influenced the lives of so many students.
Your legacy lives on in all of our accomplishments.
I love you, Mom.
Chapter One
1995
Maggie Rae-McInnis came through the kitchen doorway just in time to catch the full view of slender buttocks clad in a pair of red Jockeys for Her.
Dusty Gardner stood bent over, examining the contents of the refrigerator. As their longest-standing tenant and semi-exhibitionist, she had managed to make her cute little heinie a relatively familiar part of the decor, one that Maggie normally didn’t mind stealing a glimpse of from time to time. This morning, however, Maggie wanted it hidden until the guest she was expecting had come and gone.
“Dusty, luv.”
“Aye, me lady?” Dusty answered with the lilt she sometimes used to mimic Maggie’s Irish accent.
“Would you please go upstairs and cover yourself? We’re havin’ company.”
Baxter, Maggie’s three-year-old Rottweiler, nudged her hand with the ball he carried in his mouth, and she absently scratched his ear.
Dusty turned, a Tupperware container in one hand and a jar of mustard in the other. Her I Like Dyke T-shirt barely concealed her Jockeys, and her favorite baseball cap sat backward on her head, taming the morning wildness of her collar-length blond hair. “I’m covered.” Her ocean blue eyes shone with mischief. “All that’s showing are my legs.”
“Your legs aren’t what I noticed when I entered the room.” Maggie hoped her tone came off stern, in spite of her amusement.
“Hey, I can’t help it if you’re obsessed with the more alluring parts of the female anatomy.” Dusty padded on bare feet to the island in the center of the kitchen and added what she held to a small collection of containers already on the counter.
“Who’s obsessed with the female anatomy?” Addison sauntered in through the dining room entrance, the morning paper tucked under her arm. The co
rners of her lips—those full lips Maggie could never get enough of—curved upward in a hint of a smirk. Her dark brown hair, still damp from her shower, curled softly at her nape in that way that always made Maggie want to play with it.
“She is.” Dusty waved a jar of mayonnaise in Maggie’s direction.
“No one is.” Maggie blushed. Even after twelve years, she still sometimes felt like a tittering schoolgirl when Addison caught her by surprise. “I simply asked Dusty to go put somethin’ on.”
“What?” Addison pressed one hand to her heart and fanned herself with the other. “And cover up all the raw sex appeal that the bar babes go wild over? C’mon, Dusty, give us the stance. Show Maggie how you entice those sweet things.”
Playfully, Dusty leaned an elbow against the white tile and lowered her eyelids to partially veil a smoldering gaze. With her free hand, she picked up the jar of Grey Poupon and held it in front of her. “This is a Corona, of course.”
Maggie frowned. “Of course.”
Addison hissed and shuddered. “How could any healthy libido resist that?”
“Well, dawtie,” Maggie said, using the Irish endearment she saved for Addison alone. “If you’re so stimulated by it all, maybe the two of you should see if you can get somethin’ goin’.” She shot her a glance and raised an eyebrow.
Addison took a moment and studied Dusty, seeming to weigh her options. “Naw,” she said, dropping the newspaper onto the counter. “I prefer my women softer.” She crossed the lightwood floor and slipped her arms around Maggie’s waist. She nuzzled her neck.
Maggie smiled and let her body mold into the curves of Addison’s. “Ah, who do you think you’re foolin’? The biggest thing keepin’ the two of you apart is not bein’ able to decide who’d lead.”
“I would,” both women said in unison.
Maggie chuckled. “I rest my case.” She wiggled from Addison’s grasp and ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing what Addison had mussed. “Don’t think I was kiddin’ about puttin’ some clothes on, luv. She’ll be here any time.”
“Who’ll be here?” Dusty took two slices of bread from the loaf and laid them side by side.
“Eve Jacobs. She’s the niece of my friend Carolyn. She’ll be lookin’ at Della’s room.” Maggie opened the dishwasher and began emptying it.
Dusty snorted but remained focused on her sandwich. “Why would anyone want to look at Della’s room?”
“To rent it. Eve’s goin’ through a spot of trouble and needs a place to stay for a bit.”
“Della’s renting out her room?”
Maggie sighed. “No, I’m rentin’ out the room. I own the house, remember? Addison and I? Della moved out last week.”
“Della moved?” Dusty looked up. “Nobody told me. She didn’t even say good-bye.”
Maggie set the last glass in the cupboard and closed the cabinet door. “Darlin’, if you’re goin’ to be galavantin’ around with your girlfriends all week, you’re goin’ to be missin’ a few things here at home.”
“She could have left me a note or something.” Dusty plopped a spoonful of cold macaroni and cheese on top of ham slices, then reached for the peaches. “She’s always leaving me those damned little sticky notes about the toothpaste and stuff in the bathroom. She could have at least left me one that said good-bye.”
Maggie smiled. Dusty talked a tough game, but in reality she was as hard as a freshly baked muffin. “I’m sure she’ll be back to visit. She’s not movin’ to Kansas or anythin’.”
“Where did she go?” Dusty asked, still pouting.
“She moved in with Nat.” Addison sat down in the breakfast nook.
“Nat?”
Maggie nodded. “You know, Natalie? Nat?” she said, turning from the silverware drawer to study Dusty’s face for any sign of recognition. “The woman Della’s been datin’ for the past three months?” She couldn’t fathom how Dusty managed to even maneuver through traffic some days, she lived her life in such a state of oblivion. Sometimes, though, Maggie also suspected Dusty’s lack of awareness was simply an act.
“Oh, yeah. Nat.” Dusty scoffed. “That’s not a name. It’s a bug.”
Maggie pursed her lips and returned her attention to her task. “And you wonder why Della didn’t say good-bye to you.”
“Good morning, everyone.” Tess Rossini, the other tenant who shared their home, strolled into the kitchen with characteristic grace, the softness of her voice a contrast to whatever turmoil Dusty was causing at any given moment. Her deep olive complexion glowed against the pale blue of a button-up shirt, knotted at her waist, and her white cotton shorts. She wore her sleek, sable hair in a French braid that tucked under at the base of her neck.
“Hey, Tess.” Addison looked up from the paper. “Sleep good?”
“Mm-hmm.” Tess made her way to the coffee maker and retrieved a cup from the mug tree beside it.
Dusty offered her a sly smile but said nothing, then slapped the top piece of bread onto the layer of peaches she had added to her creation.
“That’s disgusting.” Addison glanced at the dripping sandwich before returning to the day’s headlines.
“Hey, it’s a fully balanced meal all in one bite.”
Tess smiled and filled her cup with the spiced butter rum blend Maggie had brewed. Her eyes shimmered with the illusive peace that, over the past year, had little by little begun to replace the pain and fear that once haunted them.
Maggie had suspected for some time that this gradual change had something to do with Dusty but had chosen to mind her own affairs. She leaned against the edge of the counter and watched the three women dearest to her go about their activities.
Tess added creamer to her coffee while Dusty returned everything she had dragged out to its proper place in the refrigerator—something it had taken Maggie two years to get her to do. Addison sat peeling an orange from the fruit bowl on the table while she continued to peruse the newspaper.
The scene seemed ordinary enough, but it was one that warmed Maggie’s heart.
The room for rent had come and gone to various individuals in diverse stages of transition over the years, but the four of them had remained constant for quite some time. Dusty had been with Maggie and Addison for five years, using their home as a haven in her otherwise wild and unsettled life. Tess had lived there for three, ever since the loss of her partner in a car accident. They were a good mix. They were family.
“So, Dusty, tell me about your latest conquest.” Addison’s voice brought Maggie back to the present. “I’m sure I have some catching up to do. I haven’t talked to you in two days.”
Dusty laughed. “Oh, you’re way behind.” She plopped her sandwich onto a plate and strode to the table. “Wait’ll you hear about the looker I picked up the other night. She was almost more woman than I knew what to do with.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“I said almost.” Dusty grinned. “She loved my Harley, too. Was on the back in a heartbeat.”
“Hold on.” Maggie held up a hand. “Before you get all wrapped up in your escapades, you get upstairs and get dressed like I asked you to.” She wagged a finger at Dusty to punctuate her order.
Dusty winked. “Anything for you, Maggie Mae. I’ll tell you about it when I get back,” she said to Addison before she trotted out of the room.
Maggie listened to the heavy footsteps as Dusty took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. “That girl.” She shook her head, but her fondness for Dusty softened her. “She’s thirty-two, and do you think she’ll ever settle down?” She filled two mugs with coffee and crossed the kitchen to set one in front of Addison.
“Oh, someday I’m sure she’ll find what she’s looking for.”
“And what do you suppose that is?”
“Someone just like you to melt her heart.” Addison leaned back in her chair and grasped Maggie’s hips.
She gazed up at her, and Maggie saw the gold flecks in her green eyes reflect the mornin
g sunlight. “You think so, do you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Maggie leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across Addison’s lips. “You do a pretty good job of meltin’ a heart yourself, dawtie.”
The moment shattered with the thunder of Dusty’s return trek down the stairs, and Maggie straightened. She turned to find Tess, still at the counter, watching them with an expression Maggie knew was a reminiscence of her own days gone by.
Tess hadn’t yet recovered from the loss of her partner and the life they had shared. To make matters even more difficult, her lover’s disapproving parents had swooped in after the funeral and claimed everything in their daughter’s name, including the house in which she and Tess had lived. Tess had been left with very little evidence of her past life and love.
Although Maggie could sympathize, she didn’t pretend to comprehend the true depth of the wound Tess had been left with. All Maggie could do was be there as her friend.
“Tess, would you like to join me on the patio for coffee? Spare yourself the details of Dusty’s wanderin’s?”
“That sounds nice. I have to return a phone call from last night, though. It’ll only take a minute. Quick, save yourself,” she added as Dusty bounded back into the room. “I’ll be out shortly.”
The only difference in Dusty’s attire was the addition of a pair of miniscule cut-off jeans. Oh well, Maggie thought with resignation. All she had said was cover yourself.
As she opened the sliding glass door and stepped out into the sunshine, Baxter close at her heels, she heard the eagerness in Addison’s voice.
“Let’s hear about your little date.”
She pulled the door closed behind her, the barricade of glass muffling Dusty’s answer. She wondered briefly about Addison’s recent increased interest in their younger housemate’s promiscuity and casual—at best—relationships. A twinge of something rippled through the back of her mind. Uneasiness? Suspicion?
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