Accidental Love

by BL Miller

  "Trusting her or having sex with a woman?" Susan queried, turning and leaning against the ledge of the window.

  Ronnie shrugged. "Either…both…ah, never mind." She turned from the window and sat in her chair. "We both have work to do."

  "No, it's okay." The redhead said, pulling a chair around to sit on the same side of the desk as her sister. "Look, what I said earlier about being queer, I didn't mean…"

  "Forget it."

  "No. It's your life. I have no right to judge you. Lord knows, I've done things that I'm ashamed of."

  "No judgment in that statement, is there?" Ronnie said sarcastically, turning her chair slightly and pulling out the keyboard tray. "I guess it's okay to have an affair with your personal trainer but not with someone of the same sex, right?"

  "I didn't think you knew about André," Susan said hesitantly, wondering just how much her older sister knew.

  "Not much escapes me." She tapped her password in, changing the screen from the corporate logo to her personal desktop. "Look, I've learned my lesson, okay? I don't hang out in gay bars, cruise the softball fields, or have a parade of women going in and out of my bed."

  "You're also thirty three and not married, Ronnie. This is a business. We have to maintain a certain image."

  "And I do!" She rose and began pacing. "I always attend all the charitable functions with a good looking male escort. Don’t I? I've done nothing to upset the family's precious image."

  "What is it about a woman?" Susan stood to face her sister. "What is it? Really. Help me understand this, Sis. We grew up together. What happened?"

  "Susan, we're at work. Let's drop this, okay?"

  "Fine. The mysterious Rose Grayson stays on the payroll and insurance because you say so." The redhead was obviously miffed at the brusque tone. "Are there any other problems you're interested in or is she it?"

  "I am President, aren't I?" Ronnie scowled. "The whole Grayson thing isn't a big deal, Susan. You don't have to worry about seeing me leading the next gay pride parade either. Now can we talk about something else?" She stalked over to her desk and sat down. "Did you cosign any loans for Tommy?"

  "Why would Tommy need a cosigner? He's got plenty of money. He doesn't even own a home except for that cabin in the Adirondacks."

  "He defaulted on a loan that had my name forged on it as a cosigner."

  "It must be some kind of mistake."

  "No mistake. I'm going to have copies of the application sent over so I can compare it to my signature."

  "Maybe someone forged Tommy's name too."

  "Yeah, maybe. I'll find out after I get the papers. In the meantime I suggest you take a look at your bank records." She reached for the mouse and clicked open her link to the bank. "Oh, one more thing. I'm ordering an audit of Real Estate."

  "What? You're auditing Tommy's books?" Susan all but shrieked. "Do you know how that will look to him?"

  "Like I don't trust him. I don't." A quick typing of her account number and password and Ronnie was glancing at her recent transactions. The debit card that looked just like a Visa Platinum card was handy. All purchases were posted to her checking account within two days, making it easy for her to verify that her card was not compromised. She looked over the list, noting the familiar items like Tabitha's toys and Rose's bed. "You said yourself that you think something is wrong. Do you want me to find out what it is now, or do you want to wait until it blows up in the press?

  I thought you were worried about our image?"

  Susan bristled at the comment but reluctantly conceded that her sister was right. Trust was a big deal with the public image. The public remembered names and if they did not the nightly news would be more than happy to remind them. It was how scandals lasted so long in Albany. Thus far the Cartwrights had been lucky enough not to be involved in any publicly, no matter what it cost them privately. "All right," the younger sibling sighed. "I can't see where it would hurt anything if he's innocent." She headed for the door. "Ronnie?"

  "What?"

  "If he is, you had better give him an apology. And you'd better make sure Mother doesn't find out about it." The intercom buzzed, followed quickly by Laura's voice.

  "Rose on line one for you."

  Ronnie looked up to see her sister's eyes light up at the name. "Is this the mysterious Rose Grayson?"

  "Goodbye Susan." She picked up the receiver and pressed the button. "Hi…" There was no mistaking the change in Ronnie's voice. It became softer…gentler. There was a tenderness in it that was in direct contrast to her earlier tone. "Can you hang on for a minute?"

  "I'm going, I'm going. But this isn't the end of this conversation."

  "Susan!" she looked pointedly at the door. The redhead left, determined more than ever to solve the puzzle of her sister and Rose Grayson.

  "Hi. Sorry about that. Did you sleep well?" Ronnie said, settling down in her chair and resting her stockinged calves on the desk.

  "Very well. Maria said you wanted me to call."

  "Yeah…um…I guess I just wanted you to know that if you needed anything, let Maria know. She's going to stay there until I get home. She'll make you anything you want for breakfast, just ask her. Oh, and if there's anything you want her to pick up at the supermarket, just let her know that too."

  "I'm fine, but thanks. How's work going?"

  "Oh, just a typical day," Ronnie replied sarcastically. "It's a wonder I don't have an ulcer sometimes."

  "I wish there was something I could do to make it better for you," Rose said sincerely.

  You already do, the dark-haired woman thought to herself. "I'm fine. Tell you what. You up for seafood tonight?"

  "Sounds great."

  "Good. I'll have Maria whip us up something nice." The light on line two began flashing. "I think I'd better get back to work, I just wanted to check up on you."

  "Okay, I'm glad you did."

  "Um…you know if you want to you can call later."

  "Oh. Okay, well maybe after lunch? I don't want to bother you."

  "Sure. After lunch would be fine. I don't think I'm going to stay all day anyway."

  "All right…well…I guess I'll talk to you later then?"

  "Okay Rose. You relax and do what the nurse tells you."

  "Bye."

  "Bye." Ronnie listened to the click and then the dial tone for a few seconds before pressing line two. "This is Veronica Cartwright." Her voice, once again, pure business.

  ************************

  Ronnie was surprised to see the kitchen light on when she returned home, until she remembered she had asked Maria to stay until she got there. She and Rose had spoken briefly in the early afternoon but a meeting had cut that call short. Now, finally home, she was looking forward to spending the rest of the evening with the blonde woman. She hung her coat up in the closet and kicked her shoes off before walking into the office.

  "Hi!" Rose greeted enthusiastically, a huge smile coming over her face.

  "Hi yourself." She turned her attention to Maria, who was picking up the cards that she and the young woman had been playing. "Thanks for staying so late."

  "I didn't mind a bit. She's better at rummy than you are," the housekeeper remarked, drawing a smile from Rose. "I can stay late tomorrow too if you need me to."

  Ronnie's first response was to say it would not be necessary but upon reflection of what had transpired today at the office and what was going to happen once Tommy found out about the audit, she reconsidered her answer. "Actually, I think I may have to take you up on that. Perhaps you could come in later so you don't have to work so long. I can make my own breakfast."

  "Make your own breakfast and dirty every piece of cookware in my kitchen," Maria snorted. "I'll be here at seven like I always am. The only night I can't stay late is Thursday. Carrie and Monica will worry if they don't see me there by six thirty."

  "Bingo night," Ronnie explained to her houseguest. "Well, since you're here now anyway, why don't you stay and join us for dinner? I'm
sure you made more than enough."

  The older woman chuckled. "You know your mother would have a fit if she found out."

  "Why? Doesn't her mother like you?" Rose asked, her curious expression turning to a selfconscious frown when Maria gave a short laugh and shook her head.

  "Mrs. Cartwright likes me just fine, child. But it is considered bad form to share a meal with the hired help."

  "Oh," the young woman murmured, embarrassment tinting her face. She wondered if her friend's mother would disapprove of her as well.

  "But my mother doesn't decide who I dine with," Ronnie said firmly. "Now do you think you'd like to eat in the dining room or in here?"

  "Um…wherever you want is fine."

  "I'll set some places at the table. It will take only a few minutes to heat everything up," Maria said, excusing herself from the room.

  "Thanks," Ronnie said as the older woman brushed past her. Now alone with Rose, the persona she had kept in place all day long faded. Her shoulders slumped, her stockinged feet protested being stood on, and the headache she had been fighting made its presence known with full force. She crossed the room and all but flopped into her leather chair. "What a day." She lifted her left leg up, bracing it over her right knee, and began rubbing her aching foot.

  "Did you confront Tommy?"

  "No. He never showed up," Ronnie sighed. "I ordered an audit."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah. It's not going to be a pretty sight when he finds out." She began rubbing her foot with more force, using both hands to knead the sore muscles. "On top of that, I had a mountain of paperwork to get through. Laura took off halfway through the day."

  "Laura?"

  "My secretary," she clarified.

  "Oh, she must have been the one that answered the phone when I called."

  "Yeah, that's her." Ronnie reversed the position of her legs and began massaging her right foot.

  "Oh great," she scowled, looking at the rapidly growing run moving up her leg. "You know, someone should be able to figure out a way to make pantyhose so they don't run the instant you put them on." She stood up, smoothing the dark gray skirt. "I'm going to run up and change. By then I'm sure dinner will be ready." Her eyes fell on the stringy strands of hair surrounding Rose's face. "After dinner I think we'll wash your hair."

  "How are we going to do that? I can't take a shower."

  "I've got an idea."

  *******************

  After changing into her sweats and sneakers, Ronnie grabbed a set of keys and headed across the snow-covered driveway to the garage. The original building had been torn down three years ago to make room for her idea of what a true garage should be. Capable of holding four cars comfortably, the garage sported multiple rows of fluorescent lights and a separate alarm system. The back half of the garage served as a storage place. Entering through the door on the side, Ronnie quickly walked over to the control panel and deactivated the alarm.

  A quick flip of the switch and the four bays were bathed in a sea of white light. The first bay housed a car hidden by a canvas cover. Distracted for a moment, Ronnie walked to the back of the car and pulled back the cover. The white vanity plate sported the Statue of Liberty on the left side and blue letters announcing the car as "Rons Toy". She pulled the cover back more to reveal the gas cap with the familiar mustang logo. "Soon," she promised herself. Her prized muscle car had been painstakingly restored and the harsh salt of Albany winters meant that it had to stay in hibernation until the flowers started to bloom again. Her fingers trailed over the deep blue metallic paint and her mind drifted back to when she had first bought the car.

  It was her senior year at Dartmouth. While she liked the Audi that her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday, she found herself always looking at the weathered Mustang that one of her sorority sisters' boyfriend owned. The paint had been chipped away, surface rust was the dominant color, but when the pedal was put to the floor, the car could blow the doors off anything put up against it. When Ronnie had asked her father for permission to withdraw enough money to buy one for herself, Richard Cartwright adamantly refused, citing that she had a perfectly good car and that the Ford was far too dangerous a vehicle. Ronnie was undaunted, however, and saved her allowance for the entire semester until she could afford to buy it on her own. She drove it home on spring break, much to the dismay of her parents. Her father called it a pile of junk and her mother insisted that she would only get herself killed in that 'death trap'. They tried offers of a new Mustang, threats of financial cut-off, even the old 'ladies of proper upbringing don't drive muscle cars', but none of it worked. By the end of the week all they had accomplished was to make Ronnie even more determined to keep and restore her blue speed demon. Although it was no longer her primary car, she still took it out for a spin occasionally and, the metallic blue beauty was still her favorite.

  A slight chill went through her, pulling Ronnie from memory lane and back to the present. She replaced the cover over her Mustang and walked into the next bay. The red Porsche sat there. It was the first time she had seen it since the accident. The fourth bay was where she kept the Jeep and thus far she had made it a point not to go near the sports car. Now she slowly walked around the car, blue eyes taking in all the repairs. Green tape surrounded the edges of the new windshield, no doubt to allow the new rubber sealant to set. The hood, grill, bumper, and front right quarter panel were all gone, the dull gray metal chassis standing out in stark contrast to the rest of the vehicle. A rolling toolbox sat against the wall, evidence of Hans' visits. Ronnie turned away from the car and leaned her hands against the toolbox while she fought to keep her stomach in check. She knew right then that she would never be able to drive the Porsche again. She bit down the resurgence of guilt and took deliberate steps toward the storage room door, all the while telling herself everything would work out, that Rose would completely recover, the damage she had caused could be repaired. She tried three different keys in the deadbolt until she found the right one and stepped into the darkness of the storage area.

  It took Ronnie a minute to find the light switch. When she did, she found what she was looking for immediately. In the corner, under a pile of drop cloths was a five gallon work bucket that once held quick-dry concrete. She took it to the work sink nearby and cleaned it thoroughly until the milky white water ran clear. Her task accomplished, Ronnie returned to the house.

  *******************

  "So what did you think of that last question?"

  "I still say it was too easy. Everyone knows even numbered interstates run east-west and the odd ones run north-south," Rose replied, adjusting the pillow behind her head. Maria had left a few minutes before and they were now relaxing in the office.

  "If everyone knows that, why do so many people get lost when they go traveling?" the older woman replied, leaning back in her chair and setting her bare feet up on the edge of the bed near Rose's left hip. Since the winter months were upon them and Ronnie had no reason to wear open toed shoes, she did not bother to get pedicures as often as she usually did. In the process of wiggling her toes, a nail scratched against the one next to it. "Well, no wonder I'm ripping up all my pantyhose. I guess it's time to call for a pedicure." She saw a faraway look take over the young woman's face. "What?" she asked softly. "Share with me."

  "You were talking about a pedicure and I was remembering when I was thirteen." Seeing the expectant look on the chiseled face of her companion, Rose continued. "The State found a foster family for me for a few weeks and they had a girl right around my age. Stacey loved having me around because I was a willing guinea pig for her to practice cosmetology on. She loved to play with nail polish. She had rows and rows of bottles on her dresser in every color you can imagine." Rose absently reached down and put her fingers on Ronnie's toes. "Well, one night we got in a mood. We painted every nail a different color. I can remember that on my toes it went from plum to avocado to this hideous purple to…" As she spoke, her forefinger brushed across ea
ch of the long nails of the bare foot. "The funny thing is that we were up past our bedtime and we didn't have time to remove it. We went to school the next day and when we went to take a shower after gym class everyone saw our toes." She chuckled. "It really was funny. I mean, between the two of us there were twenty different colors on our feet. After that, Stacey deliberately wore different shades of polish on her fingers. That was the last time I polished my toenails."

  Ronnie looked at her quizzically, then rose and went to the foot of the bed. Within seconds the oversized socks were removed to reveal Rose's toes. "When was the last time someone gave you a pedicure?"

  "That was it, if you could call that a pedicure. I just use clippers to keep them short now. Ow, easy."