Going on Red

by Lyn Gardner

  Kate bit her lip, trying not to giggle at a father’s power over his child. Brodie may have been a confident, swaggering woman at work or in the clubs she visited, but in Harrison Shaw’s house, she was his child…and children do what they’re told.

  Brodie’s shoulders fell, and letting out an audible breath, she motioned for Kate to follow her. “I’m sorry about this,” she said when they reached the door. “I forgot how stubborn he is.”

  “Imagine that,” Kate said, her grin finally reaching her face.

  “I’ll be right back,” Brodie said, opening the door.

  “Want some help?”

  “No, I got this. Won’t be but a minute. Take a look around if you’d like.”

  Left alone to admire her surroundings, Kate did just that. The entrance hall was spacious, with arched openings on both sides, and heading to the one on her right, she stepped into the formal dining room. Centered in the space was an oval, cherry table surrounded by eight chairs, their backs and seats upholstered in a mauve and ivory striped fabric. A small corner hutch stood in one corner, and a modest buffet ran along another wall, atop which were assorted photographs in frames of gold and silver. The setting sun streamed through the bay window, and the light reflected off the highly-polished oak floor as well as the crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the room.

  Making her way across the foyer, Kate walked into the lounge. Like the dining room, the front wall was filled with a bay window, and the orange hues of sunset flooded the room, adding to the warmth already existing. A built-in seat ran under the bay, its surface cushioned with several throw pillows tossed about, and Kate could easily imagine spending a rainy day snuggled under the window reading a book. The back wall held a set of French doors with sidelights to match, and with the heavy drapes pulled open, she could see a wee bit of the patio and gardens behind the house.

  The fireplace was just opposite the doorway, and to the left and right of the hearth, openings cut into the brick were filled with logs awaiting their demise. A thick, heavily-varnished slab of rough sawn lumber acted as the mantle and down its entire length were more family photographs.

  The furniture seemed to be a mixture of old and new, the finely striped fabric on the sofas appearing crisp while the two leather wingback chairs nearest the hearth were well worn. The area between the seating and the fireplace was open, with no coffee table to clog the space, and a thick, cream-colored shag rug covered the oak flooring between the couches.

  Kate returned her focus to the mantle. Curious as to which of the frames contained photos of Brodie, she went over and was about to bring one down to her level when Brodie returned.

  “Shall I show you the rest of the house?”

  Kate turned around, and her eyes flew open wide. Bookcases filled the walls on both sides of the doorway, and their shelves were lined with easily a few hundred books. “Wow, that’s a lot of books.”

  “My Dad is a big reader. Actually, we all are.”

  “I can see that,” Kate said, secretly wishing it would rain so she could enjoy one of the many classics before her.

  “Shall we?” Brodie said, gesturing for Kate to follow.

  “Yes, please.”

  A little further down the hall, Brodie stopped and opened a door. “The formal sitting room.”

  Kate looked inside, and she had to agree. It was indeed formal. Queen Anne furniture filled the room, and with tapestry upholstery, walnut details, and distinctive cabriole legs, it was elegant and stylish. “Very formal.”

  “Yes, it is,” Brodie said with a laugh. “We hardly ever used it unless Dad needed to sit us down and have a talk, as he would say. I think he was hoping because it’s so prim and proper in here, the mood would rub off on us.”

  “Did it?”

  “Do you really need to ask?” Brodie said with a chuckle. “Come on. I’ll show you where we’re staying.”

  Brodie led Kate back to the front of the house to grab the luggage she had left by the door. “We’re up there,” she said, looking toward the stairs.

  “All right.”

  As Kate began making her way up the stairs, Brodie let out a long breath. She was home. A place filled with memories of wrestling matches on the lounge floor and decorating for Christmas. A place where she had skinned her knees in the gardens, slid down the banister when her father wasn’t watching, and fell out of a tree…when he was. This is where she said her first prayer, cooked her first meal, and on one cold winter night, told her family she was gay. The memories made Brodie smile, yet as she watched Kate walk up the steps, her smile morphed into a leer.

  Until Kate had removed her raincoat, Brodie only knew she was wearing an olive green dress that reached Kate’s knees, and it had a neckline that didn’t plunge nearly far enough. After Harrison took Kate’s coat, Brodie tried her best not to stare at the knit sheath dress, but now she could…and she did.

  In clubs, Brodie had seen the same style worn by others, and usually, it was shrink-wrapped to their bodies, leaving nothing to the imagination, but Brodie’s imagination was now working overtime. Kate was wearing the dress as intended, the soft, stretchy fabric hinting at the curves underneath without flaunting their delicious existence, and Brodie unconsciously licked her lips.

  Halfway up the stairs, Kate stopped on the landing and looked through the prismatic bevels of the leaded glass window, curious to see if Harrison had more gardens behind the house. Brodie stopped one step away and unable to resist the temptation, she swung one of the suitcases and hit Kate squarely on her bottom. “Keep moving, woman. Plenty of time for sightseeing later.”

  Kate playfully squinted at Brodie before dashing up the rest of the stairs. With her hands on her hips, she tapped her foot and waited for Brodie to catch up. “Took you long enough.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t know I was going to be a pack mule this weekend. What the hell did you bring anyway? The entire clothing department of Harrods?"

  “If you remember, I didn’t really have much time to plan,” Kate said, keeping her voice low. “I just ran home and grabbed a little of everything.”

  “Feels like you grabbed a lot of everything.”

  “Fine,” Kate said, holding out her hand. “Give it to me. I’ll carry it.”

  “Oh, sure, make me fetch the bags, carry them up the bloody stairs, and now that I’ve done all the work, you want to help. I don’t think so,” Brodie said, her face brightening as she held Kate’s suitcase at arm’s length. “What would my father say?”

  Kate’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Okay, fine,” she said, looking around. “Which way then?”

  “Last door on the right.”

  Kate knew that tastes change over time, so she wasn’t sure what to expect as she made her way to Brodie’s childhood room. Although Brodie’s flat and office were both filled with modern décor, Kate doubted she’d find the same sterile whites, muted grays, and stylish blacks, and when Kate opened the door, she found she was right...and in a big way.

  Decorated in everything Waverly, the room was bright, festive, and ultra-feminine. The walls were baby blue and trimmed with glossy white woodwork, and the bed, sitting catty-corner in the room, was covered by a thick quilt displaying a bold print of blue, green, and mauve flowers. Decreasing in size, six pillows with ruffled edges were propped against the white iron headboard, and lace doilies protected the nightstands from the small, elegant crystal lamps atop each. The drapes were flowery with ruffled edges to match the pillows, and a white carpet with baby blue stripes covered the floor.

  Kate’s eyes sparkled with humor as she turned to Brodie. “Where’s your doll collection?”

  “What the fuck is this?” Brodie said, dropping the luggage.

  “Quite the little lady back then—eh?”

  “In your dreams,” Brodie said with a huff. “Trust me. My room never looked like this.”

  Kate let out a laugh. “Um…loo?”

  “Oh, sorry,” Brodie said, tipping her head in the dire
ction of the door in the corner of the room. “Through there.”

  “Your own private bathroom? I’m impressed.”

  “I was the only girl in a house full of men. Dad decided I needed my privacy before a certain issue began to arise.”

  “Good point.”

  “He thought so.”

  While Kate used the facilities, Brodie looked around the space that used to be her room and scratched her head. Gone was the old squeaky bed with its lumpy mattress and plaid duvet. Gone was the tall dresser that once stood in the corner, its surface scratched from years of use, and gone were the sketches that once covered the walls. Drawn on paper of every size and color, her designs of imagined homes and rooms had been taken down and replaced by watercolors of lakes and seashores, hung on walls now covered with white paneling.

  As Kate washed her hands, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and let out a long breath. Within minutes of their arrival, their plans had been changed by a man as headstrong as the daughter he had produced. Even though the thought of sleeping alongside Brodie in a bed large enough for lovers but too small for friends made Kate’s palms sweat, the fact Harrison Shaw had clearly accepted his daughter’s lifestyle warmed Kate’s heart. He had welcomed her partner into his house with open arms, and in that instant, she knew she could do this. For the weekend, Kate would leave her doubts, concerns, and inhibitions behind and become Brodie’s partner in almost every sense of the word, because whether she cared to admit it or not, it wasn’t a ruse…and it wasn’t a lie.

  Kate came out of the bathroom, and seeing Brodie sitting on the bed, Kate went over and plopped down next to her. Glancing over her shoulder at the full-size bed, Kate said, “At least it’s not a single.”

  Brodie dropped her chin to her chest. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “Do you snore?”

  “No,” Brodie said, shooting Kate a look.

  “Do you talk in your sleep?”

  “Not that I’ve been told.”

  “Do you steal sheets or pillows?”

  “Never. That’s just rude.”

  “Then we should get along just fine,” Kate said, patting Brodie on the leg.

  “Are you sure?”

  Melted by Brodie’s compassion toward the situation, the last shred of Kate’s anxiety dissolved, and her features softened as her face eased into a grin. “Absolutely,” she said, and leaning over, she kissed Brodie lightly on the cheek. It was chaste. It was simple. It was friendly. It was not.

  Kate couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move. With her eyes closed, for a split-second, she became lost in the softness of Brodie’s skin. The smell of her cologne and shampoo invaded Kate’s senses, and like an aphrodisiac, it swirled through her mind and her body before settling squarely between her legs.

  The sensual throb brought Kate to her senses, and she scrambled off the bed. Unable to look at Brodie, she went across the room, grabbed her suitcase, and then tossed it on the bed. “Maybe we should unpack before things get wrinkled.”

  Brodie slowly opened her eyes. Having clutched the duvet when Kate’s lips touched her skin, Brodie relaxed her hands and allowed the blood to return. One platonic peck on the cheek had sent a shockwave of desire through her body, and while she knew pretending to be in love with Kate would be easy, not being able to consummate it would be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  Brodie drew in a deep breath. She got to her feet, and grabbing her case, she began putting things away, never once looking in Kate’s direction. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but until her blood cooled and the pulsing in her core subsided, it was the safest option.

  A few minutes of silence passed before Kate looked up and said the first thing that came to mind. “I like the bathroom, by the way.”

  “No doubt due to the use of doors,” Brodie said as she hung a shirt in the closet.

  It was said without thinking. Just a random thought blurted out by a woman still annoyed by her uncooperative hormones, but it was enough to ease the tension, and when Brodie heard Kate snicker, she did, too.

  “By the way, you forgot to mention your first name’s actually Broderick. Your parents set on a boy?”

  “No,” Brodie said, placing her empty suitcase off to the side. “My dad’s father died a few weeks before I was born. Since the doctors had already warned my mother against having any more children, my parents decided to give me his name to carry it on. I’ve always been called Brodie though unless, as you saw, Dad wants to drive home a point.”

  Kate sunk onto the edge of the bed. “You know, I thought we did all right in the car, but there’s still so much I don’t know about you. I mean, up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even know your first name, for Christ’s sake.”

  “But you know it now, and you didn’t even flinch when Dad said it.”

  “I suppose,” Kate said quietly.

  Brodie frowned and going over to the bed, she knelt by Kate. “Look, how about this? If you get into trouble, call me…call me darling or sweetheart, and that’ll be my clue to come to your rescue. All right?”

  Kate hesitated for a second. “Okay. That should work.”

  “Good,” Brodie said, standing straight. “But you really needn’t worry. Once the grandkids get here, Dad won’t even know we’re around. Now, come on. Let’s go see if he needs any help, and then I’ll finish the tour.”

  ***

  “What can we do to help?” Brodie said as they returned to the kitchen.

  “Well, I’ve got dinner under control, so why don’t you go to the cellar and bring up a few bottles of wine,” Harrison said as he stood at the sink peeling potatoes.

  “Consider it done.” Brodie went to a door in the corner of the room and disappeared down a set of steps.

  Kate was about to ask if she could lend a hand when someone pounded on the front door, the sound causing both of the people in the kitchen to jump.

  Harrison let out a loud guffaw and looked over at Kate. “That would be James. The boy never remembers his key. Could you be a love and get that?”

  “Sure thing.” Kate trotted to the entry and pulled open the door, smiling at the tall, lanky fellow whose arms were filled with bags. “Hiya.”

  James scrunched up his face. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Kate. You must be James,” Kate said, stepping back so he could come inside.

  “You’re a bit young for my dad, don’t you think?” James said, giving Kate a quick once over.

  Surprised by his assumption, Kate’s mouth dropped open, but before she could think of something to say, Brodie chimed in from the kitchen.

  “Yes, but she’s not too young for me.”

  James looked past Kate, and when he saw his sister standing in the doorway, he dropped the bags and rushed over. “Christ, it’s good to see you,” he said, wrapping his arms around Brodie. “It’s been like forever.”

  “It’s only been a few months,” Brodie said, returning the hug. “And I missed you, too.”

  James released his grip on his sister, smiling back at her for a moment before he glanced over at the attractive woman still standing by the door. “Wait,” he said, looking back at Brodie. “Did I hear you right?”

  Brodie waved Kate over. “James, I’d like you to meet my partner, Kate.”

  As if he was watching a tennis match, James looked slowly back and forth between the two women several times before finding his words. “Partner? Really?” he squeaked. “You mean she’s a…I mean…you and she are…”

  Kate didn’t know what bothered her more. James not believing she could possibly be Brodie’s partner or the ridiculous questions he was asking. Deciding it was a tie, Kate tapped him on the shoulder. “To answer your questions,” she said, staring him square in the eye. “Yes, I’m her partner. Yes, I am, and yes, we are.”

  Having witnessed Kate’s temper before, Brodie knew the warning signs, and it was all she could do not to burst out laughing. Kate’s backbone was rigid, and
her chin was high, and if looks could kill, poor James would have been on his way to the morgue.

  Brodie slipped her hand in Kate’s as she grinned at her brother. “So…any more questions?”

  Chapter Ten

  “I’ve got a question,” Brodie said as she pulled the cork from a bottle of Cabernet.

  “And what would that be, my dear,” Harrison said, raising his eyes.

  “What in the hell happened to my bedroom?”

  After their somewhat awkward introduction was remedied when James stuttered and stammered his way through an apology, Kate and James shook hands and started again. With Brodie volunteering to help in the kitchen, they were put in charge of the appetizers. Given strict orders from the elder Shaw that all breakables and sweets were to be put out of his grandson’s reach, James was just placing the remaining bowls of candy on the mantle when his father’s laughter rang out. “It sounds like someone’s having fun,” he said, handing Kate one last framed photo while he rearranged a few others.

  “I’ve always heard that’s what family get-togethers are all about,” Kate said as she glanced at the photo. Appearing to have been taken on the back of a boat, three teenagers were sitting with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and the gaiety on their faces was instantly contagious.

  “I see you like that one, too,” James said, seeing Kate’s smile.

  “That’s Brodie in the middle—right?”

  James snapped back his head. “I would have thought you’d have seen that one before. It’s one of Brodie’s favorites, and I know she has a copy.”

  Kate’s expression froze as if dipped in liquid nitrogen. “Oh…um…well…um…she has so many. I must have just overlooked this one.”

  “That’s odd. I’m sure Brodie has it hanging—”

  “Dad said since everyone is staying here tonight, the bar is officially open,” Brodie said, walking into the room carrying a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Giving James the beer, she handed Kate the Cabernet.