City Kitty and Country Mouse

by Alyssa Linn Palmer

  “Hi, can I help you?” A receptionist peers over the high desk, smiling.

  “I’m here to see Ms. Kerr,” I say, reminding myself to smile. I feel completely out of place here, in my jeans, T-shirt, and work boots. Everything’s clean and tidy, but it’s not anywhere near fancy enough.

  “Just let me call and make sure she’s available.” The receptionist taps her headset and then speaks a few words and listens. She taps the headset again and then looks back at me. “I’ll take you back.”

  “Thanks.”

  I follow the receptionist through a maze of hallways, which I’m sure I’ll get lost in on my way back. Everything looks the same. Gray and white and splashes of arty color here and there. We arrive at a desk, and I recognize Cindy. She’s one of my best customers. It’s easy to smile at her, and she smiles back warmly. I feel a bit more at ease.

  “Hi, Luce,” she says. “Kitty mentioned you were going to be here. Although I think she mentioned that you’d call.”

  “I completely forgot,” I admit sheepishly. I never forget these things.

  “No worries. It’ll be a good surprise for her.” Cindy checks her computer. “She’s in the office, and she’s free. Let me just pop in and make sure she’s not stuck on a phone call.” She rises from her desk and turns, opening a door just a few steps behind her. She sticks her head into the office, and I can hear her talking to Kitty, although I can’t really make out the words.

  My stomach roils with nerves. I take a deep breath. She’s just a new customer. No big deal.

  Cindy moves back and gestures for me to enter. “She’s all yours.”

  I can feel the heat on my cheeks and can only hope that Cindy hasn’t noticed, but by her smile, I think she has. I shift my grip on the cardboard and walk through the open door. Kitty is sitting at a substantial, though minimalist, desk, files stacked on either side of a large blotter. It’s almost classic lawyer or, at least, what I think of what a lawyer’s desk might look like. A laptop computer sits to one side, its screen glowing.

  Kitty rises with a smile, and I suck in a quiet breath. Her skirt suit is much like the day before, but this one has a dark royal blue jacket with a black skirt, and there’s something about that color that brings out her eyes and flatters her skin tone and dark hair. Utterly delectable, even more than the blackberries.

  “You are a saint for bringing this,” she says, rounding the desk. “Do you take plastic, or do you need cash?”

  “Whichever you like.” I’ve brought my payment system and it’s all set up, but cash is easier still. Kitty moves to a side table and picks up her purse, simple black leather with a long cross-body strap, and digs into it, pulling out a slim wallet. She takes a card from it. I glance around, trying to decide where to set the box, settling on one of the visitor’s chairs. She meets me in a few steps, and I take out my phone and the little square payment machine. She leans over my shoulder slightly and watches as I type in her order and get things ready. Then I hand her the machine and she taps her card.

  “That was so easy.”

  “I love new tech.” I know I’m blushing again. I’m geeky and just can’t help myself as I go into a bit of a spiel about the payment system and how easy it is…And how easy it is to get lost in her gaze. I don’t want to be anywhere else but looking at those cool blue eyes. I catch myself and cut myself off before I can get too far into it. “I don’t want to bore you.”

  “I’m not bored.” Kitty smiles again. “I just never expected that farmers would have this kind of tech.”

  “Greenhouses are pretty high tech these days.” She can’t help being a city girl, it seems. I wonder if she’s even been to a farm. Probably not. I imagine her in jeans and a T-shirt, or maybe even coveralls. Coveralls with nothing on underneath. Oh, my.

  “I’d love to see them, see how it’s done,” Kitty says.

  “And I’d love to show you.”

  “You would?” Kitty leans closer, and her tongue comes out to run over her bottom lip. I don’t think it’s purposeful, but what it does to me…A slight tremor runs through me.

  “There’s greenhouses and fields, and we have kittens in the barn, along with a couple of pigs and a horse.”

  “It sounds amazing.” She seems almost wistful now, not flirty. A quick change that I’m not sure of.

  “Let me know when you’d want to visit.” I know I sound too professional, but I just can’t let myself open up. It’s too risky. She might not be a lesbian. She might not be into me even if she is. I’d rather not have anything than risk alienating this compelling woman. Even if I have had fantasies about her and me and blackberries and a lot of sex.

  “Kitty, your two thirty is here. I have him waiting, and you have a few minutes yet, but I thought you should know.” Cindy pops her head around the door. “I’ve given him a coffee too.”

  Kitty’s gaze breaks from mine, darts to the door. “Thanks, Cindy.” She looks back to me, and we’re close enough that one step would put us to touching. Her gaze is searching, thoughtful.

  “Are you serious? About visiting, that is?” Her voice is lower, uncertain.

  I squeeze her fingers, cool and delicate under my calloused hand, and to my surprise, she squeezes back, but doesn’t let go. “Of course I am.”

  She smiles then, a truly radiant smile. “One day. Soon.”

  “Soon,” I repeat. What I really want is a set time, the certainty, but I won’t push. Where we’re touching is warm, and getting warmer, and it feels so right. She squeezes my fingers again, then loosens her touch, dropping my hand.

  “I wish I had more time,” she says. She rubs her eyes. “A curse and a blessing, this job.”

  “I’ll leave you to it,” I say, backing up a step. A very reluctant step.

  * * *

  Cindy takes the berries after Lucy leaves, and she promises to stash them somewhere safe while I finish up my next client. Even as he enters, I can still smell the sweetness of the berries, and the slightly warm, dusty sweet smell of Lucy. Is that even a thing? Most women I’ve been with have smelled like whatever their favorite body wash was, or whatever perfume they’ve just put on. Lucy, on the other hand, doesn’t carry any of those scents.

  When I go to visit her farm, I can find out for sure.

  I check my calendar quickly, knowing my next client is waiting. My time is almost fully blocked off for the next few weeks, as solid as it could be without having me work 24/7. A hint of fatigue courses through me, but I straighten and then rise to my feet. Another three hours and I can head home early, and tuck into a good dinner, and some blackberries for dessert. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll go to bed early. Early of course meaning any time before one in the morning.

  The partnership is in sight, soon.

  I’m not that one who is going to quit to have kids, or quit to find herself or quit because she can’t handle it. I’ve seen too many others quit, especially at this firm. I’m going to be the one to tough it out. I know I can handle it.

  Chapter Five

  The thought of blackberries is what’s kept me going several days running. Tasting those berries after work these past few evenings has kept my life from feeling utterly crazy. And tonight is no different. Once I’m in my apartment, my shoes kicked off, my laptop left in my bag so I can ignore it for a full day, I head straight for the fridge. It’s Friday night and I’m supposed to be having drinks with some coworkers, but I fibbed about an appointment and bowed out. I rarely do that, but I feel like I haven’t had a moment to myself in ages. As long as my boss doesn’t find out, I’m golden.

  A bit of dread settles in my stomach and I will it away, opening the fridge door and grabbing the last punnet of blackberries. There are still some strawberries and raspberries, but there are eight blackberries left. I sigh. I’m going to need to pace myself, but tonight, I’ll be out of blackberries.

  Lucy’s card is on my fridge, stuck up by a magnet of an octopus, one my mother bought me when she was on a trip to the west coa
st. I should call Lucy, but I hesitate. Would it seem over the top to be needing more blackberries now? I mean, she gave me three punnets of them, and it’s only been just over three days. That’s sad, isn’t it?

  I pop a blackberry into my mouth and turn away from the fridge. I take a glass from the cabinet and pour myself a small glass of white wine. Not much, because I’m a total lightweight, but just enough to give me a bit of a buzz. I need to come down from all the work, get into a different mindset.

  My phone vibrates on the countertop. My work phone.

  “Fuck.”

  I rarely swear, but at the moment, the last thing I want to hear about is more work. But still, I pick up the phone and look at the caller ID.

  It’s my boss.

  Of course it is. Even Cindy knew that I needed downtime tonight. She’s the only one who knows that my appointment really wasn’t an appointment. The phone keeps vibrating in my hand, and I can’t decide if I want to pick up the call or not. I should, since it is my boss, yet I just…In another moment, the decision is made for me, as the buzzing stops.

  My chest feels tight, my palms clammy. I try to take a deep breath, try to remind myself that it’s not a bad thing my boss has called.

  Within moments, the voicemail blinks. I can’t ignore that, not even if I wanted to. It’d drive me bonkers to have to keep looking at the little icon, and the blinking light. I dial in.

  “Kitty, it’s Jack. I was hoping to catch you as the rest of my team went home sick with food poisoning. They’re working on a file for a top client of mine, and the agreements were to be signed Monday. Please call me immediately.”

  The message ends, and I delete it.

  I should call him. I know I should. I pick up another blackberry. The juice bursts over my tongue, and I close my eyes. When I open them again, I’m still holding my work phone. Dammit. I can’t not call. My boss knows me too well, well enough that if I don’t call, he’ll be certain I’m dead, or close to it. And he’s counting on me. He knows I can do the work. And I know that helping out like this is what will get me to partner.

  I sigh, looking between the blackberries and my phone.

  So much for any rest.

  I call.

  * * *

  I get home sometime after midnight. I’m too tired to bother checking the clock. Jack was so pleased when I showed up and saved his bacon. And it’s no wonder. The file was a disorganized mass of papers, and I’m surprised I was able to sort it out.

  “Kitty, you are a lifesaver,” Jack said as he’d sailed out the door. “Email me the finished agreement, and I’ll look it over before Monday.”

  And I did as instructed. All I want to do now is sleep. But I go back into the kitchen for a glass of water and hear a bit of buzzing.

  Buzzing?

  I flip on the light and see the blackberries out on the counter, and the rising fruit flies. It’s been warm in the building and I left my kitchen window open…and forgot to put the berries in the fridge.

  My heart sinks. I might be able to wash them off, but they’re definitely now overripe and soft, and getting softer. They were on the cusp earlier. As much as I want them still, the flies put me right off. I chuck the berries into the compost, tie off the bag, and trudge back downstairs to throw the bag into the bin. When I get back upstairs, I head straight for bed, stopping only to brush my teeth and strip down.

  When I finally sleep, I dream of blackberries.

  * * *

  I pour myself a second cup of coffee, since I’ve finished my morning chores. It’s just about ten o’clock, and the heat of the day hasn’t quite hit and the porch is pleasantly warm, the sun shining on the weathered boards. I head for my usual chair and settle in, stretching out my legs, curling my bare toes against the wood. There’s no moment more perfect than this.

  One of Alice’s dogs, a mutt mix that looks sort of like a golden Labrador, bounds up the stairs, jumping up. I lift my coffee away from her reach but scratch her behind her ears so that she lolls her tongue in bliss. Goldie, so named for her coat, is a sweet thing. She rarely leaves Alice’s side. I look out over the yard and spot Alice moving slowly toward the house. Thought so.

  Goldie leaves me and goes bounding down the stairs, racing back out to Alice, who laughs and pets her once more. Then Goldie races back up again to me. I laugh too. She’s the silliest dog.

  “I’m hoping she’ll wear herself out,” Alice calls as she comes closer. “One day, maybe she’ll even decide to sleep in.”

  “She’ll need a few more years first.” Goldie is only about a year and a half old and still acts like a puppy. She leans up against my knees in a doggy hug, and I scratch her behind her ears again. It’s like having my own dog, almost. I wouldn’t mind, but with the farm and looking after Mama, I know I don’t really have time.

  Alice comes up the stairs and sits in the chair next to me. She pats down a few loose hairs from her bun.

  “Sorry to leave you in the lurch these few days,” she said, again somewhat breathless. “I’m more myself now. Finally.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say automatically. “We’ve been selling well. I think we may have a new delivery client.” I tell her about Kitty, but only the basics. Still, I feel my cheeks warm.

  “She sounds lovely,” Alice says, leaning back in her chair. “Cindy has brought us several newbies.” She grins. “But none seem to have made an impression on you until now.” Her eyes twinkle. “I wonder why that is?”

  Alice, of course, knows my preferences, but we’ve never really spoken about my personal life before. I don’t know how she could sense my interest like that so easily. I like Kitty, I do. But I didn’t say anything, and pink cheeks shouldn’t be enough of an indication. I sigh.

  “She’s nice.”

  “Just nice?”

  “There’s something about her. I’m not sure what it is.” I shrug, feeling a bit helpless, unable to define what I’m feeling.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure out why.” Alice smiles. “You’ll have to introduce me.”

  “It might happen,” I say. “She’s interested in seeing the farm.”

  “Now that,” Alice says, “is promising. When?”

  “I don’t know. She’s pretty busy, a high-powered lawyer type.”

  “Interesting,” Alice says. She looks out over the greenhouses, her gaze in the middle distance. She’s thinking, I can tell. What she’s thinking about, though, I have no idea. It’s not the first time a client has been curious about the farm, about how we do things. Mostly they come, take a brief look around, a short tour, and then it’s back to their clean city life, away from the dirt and bugs and hard labor. Would Kitty do that? I really have no idea. She looks like a city girl, in her skirt suits and heels. She’s so carefully made up that I wonder if she’s ever gotten her hands dirty, let her hair down. Metaphorically, of course, since her hair was down her back, dark and shiny. She’s so put together, so unlike me.

  “Where’d your mind go?” Alice asks. She’s looking at me now, not out at the farm.

  I shrug. “The usual place.”

  “Ah.” She nods. “Stop talking yourself down.”

  She does know me. It’s occasionally unnerving, but now, I’m glad she does. I don’t want to have to explain it in detail, if I even could.

  “You could use a pep talk,” Alice remarks. “You’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and just because she’s a city kid and you’re a country kid, that doesn’t mean it’s an insurmountable obstacle. If it even is one.”

  Kid. Yeah, Alice has known me since I was a little girl. She was the first person to come see my mother when she arrived from China, even though she knew no Cantonese and my mother no English. She’s my rock.

  “City kids don’t usually like to stay out here,” I reply. That’s been my experience. Usually the farm kids head to the city, and that’s it.

  “Never say never.” Alice rises to her feet. “I’ll go say hello to your mother, and then I’ll come out to the
greenhouse. I know you’ve had a lot to do these past few days, and I can help you catch up.”

  “I’ll be there,” I say. I lift my coffee cup to my lips and drain the rest. The greenhouse beckons, and I set the cup down on the porch by my chair. I’ll pick it up later.

  * * *

  I wake with my alarm, but I really just want to sleep. It’s Saturday, though, so I hit the snooze button. And again, when the alarm kicks back in. I don’t technically have to work today, but I know there will always be something waiting for me. I crawl out of bed and head straight into the bathroom, splashing my face. The cool water makes me feel slightly more alive, but I’m still dragging. Coffee might help. I walk through to the kitchen and see my phone on the counter where I left it last night after chucking out the blackberries.

  Damn.

  I’m craving those blackberries. There’s nothing quite like them. I grab a punnet of strawberries from the fridge, but honestly, they’re just not the same. Still delicious, of course. I grab several, then put the punnet back, close the fridge door.

  Lucy’s card, Country Mouse Farms, is right in front of my nose.

  She did say to call.

  It’s Saturday.

  I take down her card, turn it over in my fingers. Should I? I check the clock. It’s still early, almost eight. I can’t call her yet.

  I go back to the bedroom and change into my workout gear, grabbing my sneakers. I’ll go for a run, and that will get my energy up, get me feeling a bit more human. And then, when I get back, I’ll call.

  When I get back, the first thing I do is grab my phone and Lucy’s card, but before I can dial the number, I pause. Nervousness makes my stomach churn, and my palms are sweaty. What am I doing? Does she really want me to visit? Am I just being rude, trying to invite myself? I remember my mother’s admonishment when I was younger, not to invite myself over just because I wanted to do something. It’s kept me from doing quite a bit, but I’ve never wanted to be an imposition.