by Jove Belle
Beth was sitting on the edge of the patio, knees curled up to her chest, head down. She rocked in place as she talked on her cell phone. A telltale curl of smoke rose into the air in front of her.
Sam crossed the room to the open sliding glass door. She paused when she heard Beth’s voice.
“Denmar, I need your help.” Beth sniffled.
Was Beth still plotting to return to Vegas? Frustration and irritation grew in Sam’s chest, and she took a deep breath. She’d thought they were making progress, her and Beth. It stung to realize she’d misunderstood.
“Don’t do this. Please,” Beth whispered, a desperate plaintive quality to her voice. “You promised—” Beth stopped abruptly, then muttered, “Asshole.” She dropped her phone in her lap, and her shoulders shook. She cried quietly, a muted sob.
Sam sighed, her stomach clenching. Whatever Beth was trying to plan with Denmar couldn’t be a good idea, but there was no way Beth was ready to hear that and there was no way she was going to share it with her. She tapped the glass before sliding the door open. The patio was small, just a few steps from the door to the edge. Eventually, she planned to extend it. The view was spectacular, and she wanted to spend as much of her future as possible enjoying it. She didn’t speak as she approached Beth and stood at her side. After a moment, she lowered herself to sit next to Beth.
The cigarette was burnt down to the filter with a long, precarious ash barely hanging on. Sam gently plucked it from Beth’s fingers and crushed it out on the cement edge of the patio. Then she wrapped her daughter into a hug and held her. Sam rubbed her back and held her tight and made all the comforting noises that meant nothing, but also meant everything at the same time.
Eventually, Beth quieted. She pulled away and wiped at her eyes with her hands. Black mascara streaked her face, and she looked like a tragic, sad panda as she drew in a heavy breath. She released it with a shuddering sigh and said, “Thanks, Mom.”
“You want to tell me about it?” Sam asked, keeping her voice as soft and gentle as possible.
“Hey, Karen. You were right. The place was easy to find,” a man said, interrupting the moment.
Beth’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No. I’m okay.” She abruptly stood and brushed off her jeans. She stuffed her phone into her pocket and said, “I should get back to work.”
Sam nodded and didn’t push. She followed Beth inside and introduced herself. “Hi. You must be Alan.”
“I am. And you’re obviously Sam.” He smiled.
“Nice to meet you.” Sam held up her paint-speckled hands. “I’d shake your hand, but...”
“No worries. Karen said you need some work done. I’d like to give you a bid. Do you have time to walk me through now? Or should we make an appointment for another time?”
“Sure. Let me give you the tour. Beth, do you want to come with?”
Beth pointed at the wall. “I’m good.”
“Yes, you are,” Sam said, trying to be reassuring.
Beth rolled her eyes. “Mom...” Her face flushed pink, but she also smiled.
“What about you?” Sam asked Karen.
“I can stay with Beth. Paint a wall. Or something.”
“You don’t want to go with us?” Sam asked, surprised.
Karen shrugged. “Beth looks like maybe she needs me more.”
“Fair enough. Beth, teach her that ‘v’ thing or something.”
Alan picked up his clipboard with a smile and followed Sam.
As she crossed the office, Sam glanced back at Beth. She was back at her wall, her face serious and contemplative. Maybe Karen would convince her to talk, but Sam doubted it. Beth looked as if she’d put away whatever bothered her, at least for now. Sam tried to do the same as she led Alan on his tour of the Queen.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, after stopping for coffee on the way from Karen’s to the Queen, Sam stood at the kitchen counter, sipping and reviewing her list for the day. The technician was scheduled to set up the internet and phone, the storage pod should arrive sometime after noon, and the insurance adjuster damn well needed to call her back. She’d turned in the form, along with all her supporting documentation two days ago. She’d give the guy until noon. If she hadn’t heard by then, she’d call him again.
“What’s your plan for today?” she asked Beth.
“Wall.” Beth studied the blank space intently, clearly seeing something Sam couldn’t.
“What is it going to be?”
Beth half-smiled. “You’ll see.”
“Hmm.” Sam drank her coffee faster than normal. Her list didn’t include time for her to savor it.
“What about you?” Beth pulled her hair into a ponytail and slipped on an oversized men’s dress shirt that she liked to wear when she painted. It was covered with splotches of color.
“This morning, I paint.” Sam finished her coffee and pushed up her sleeves.
It was their third morning in Bitterroot, and Sam was stuck in some sort of hellish limbo. Everything hinged on the insurance. She couldn’t start work until she hired the contractor, and she couldn’t hire the contractor until she heard from the insurance company. Until then, her only option was to continue cleaning and hope that beneath the grime was the dream property she’d thought she’d purchased.
“We really need to get to the school today,” Sam said on her way to her bedroom. They’d finished priming the walls in the living room and kitchen.
Beth’s shoulders stiffened. “Sure.”
New schools sucked. Sam remembered that much, but they were unavoidable. For her, she’d switched schools every few years when her dad had gotten new orders. It had been a part of her childhood routine, as inevitable as homework and afternoon chores.
Sam made good progress with the primer, covering the walls and leaving the corners and edges for last. When she finished the last wall, she wrapped the roller in plastic wrap to keep the paint fresh until she moved into Beth’s room.
“Mom,” Beth called from the front room.
Sam stretched the muscles in her back, neck, and shoulders. It was definitely time for a break. “What’s up?”
“That guy is here.”
That guy? After she figured out what that meant, she’d review basic manners with Beth. As she entered the living room, she shot Beth a look. The effect was lost on Beth as she stood with her back to Sam, staring intently at the wall, paintbrush in hand.
The guy turned out to be Alan, construction bid in hand. “Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I thought you’d prefer to get this sooner rather than later.”
Sam wiped her hands on her jeans on her way to the kitchen where Alan stood. He handed her a thick manila folder.
“Thanks.”
Alan shifted from one foot to the other, but didn’t move toward the exit. He darted a glance at Sam and then said, “So, what’s the deal with you and Karen?”
Sam smiled, a reflex born of years of responding to seemingly innocent questions from hotel guests in Vegas. “What do you mean?”
He met her gaze, his eyes overly sincere and curious. “She said you’re single, but I saw you guys kissing.”
Sam shrugged. “I like to kiss her.”
“But you’re single?”
Sam nodded slowly. “Yes.” This was interesting. Sure, she and Karen agreed that whatever they were doing together, it was casual and definitely held no romantic promises. No strings beyond the entanglements of friendship. But that didn’t mean she was ready to jump into someone else’s bed, regardless of how bulgy his biceps were.
“Can I take you out for dinner?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
Beth laughed, a sharp, short bark, followed by a muffled snicker. “Is he asking you on a date?”
“Yes,” Sam looked at Beth.
Alan smiled wide. “Awesome. Saturday?”
What the hell? Sam retraced their conversation, trying to figure out when it had gone completely off the rails. When she’d said yes to
Beth, Alan must have thought she was answering him. There was no graceful way to back out now.
Sam nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
Alan smiled. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up here at six.”
After he left, Beth finally turned to face Sam and said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“What was I supposed to say?” Sam threw up her hands in frustration.
“How about ‘no’?”
“Why? You date. Why can’t I? Is there an age limit?”
“No, of course not. But what about Karen?”
“What about her? Karen and I are friends. Nothing more.” The words felt false as Sam said them.
“Really?” Beth arched an eyebrow. “Just friends.”
Her face flushed with heat. “Yes.”
Beth sighed and shook her head. “That’s messed up, Mom.” She turned to face the wall once more.
“Beth.” Sam pushed her hands through her hair. Things with Karen were simple, easy, and fun. Somehow, with a few words, Alan and Beth had made it decidedly more complicated. “It’s not like that.”
“Like what?” Beth asked, her tone guarded and far too mature.
“Whatever you think Karen and I have together, we don’t.” She eased her way closer, but left a few feet between them.
“So you’re not fucking?”
“Beth, language,” Sam scolded sharply.
“Don’t change the subject. I know you have been, so why would you act like it’s nothing?”
“It’s not nothing.” Sam paused, trying to order her thoughts in a way that might make sense to Beth. “But it’s not what you want it to be, either.”
“But it could be.” Beth whipped around, her face drawn tight with anguish. “She’s good for you. Good for us. I like her.”
“That’s good. Karen isn’t going to disappear if I go to dinner with Alan.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, Beth.” Sam stopped trying to convince her and instead pulled her into a hug. At first, Beth resisted, holding her body stiff and unforgiving. Then, with a sob, she collapsed into Sam’s embrace.
“I just... It doesn’t suck having her around.”
Sam held her, stroked her hair, and made soft sounds meant to be comforting. How had they gone from Beth up early, excited to work on her mural, to this?
Eventually, Beth calmed. She pulled away, sucked in a deep breath, and swiped her hand over her nose with a sniff. “I’m okay.”
“What was that about? Can you tell me?” Sam reached out for Beth, then withdrew her hand. Beth had already shrunk back into herself.
Beth shook her head, tight, quick motions that hurt Sam with their finality.
“Nothing. I’m fine. What’s the bid say?”
Sam forced herself to smile. “Right. The bid.” She’d forgotten all about the envelope still in her hand. She slipped the document out and stared, shocked by the total at the bottom of the page: $712,394.63. No wonder Alan wanted to take her out to dinner.
“Jesus, is that for real?” Beth tapped the bid sheet just below the sum.
Sam glanced at her daughter and nodded, then returned her focus to the page. She couldn’t stop looking at it. Seven hundred and twelve thousand, plus change. More than half the expense went to labor. She read through the itemized list carefully and everything seemed in order. Nothing was exaggerated or blown out of proportion. It just added up in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She set the paper on the counter and sighed.
“Thank God for the insurance, huh?” Beth returned to her wall. Images had started to take shape, a face here, birds in flight there, but Sam still couldn’t visualize the final product.
“Yeah, the insurance...” She glanced at the time. Another thirty minutes, and then she’d call. “For now, though, why don’t you clean your brushes? Karen will be here any minute with lunch.”
“Mmm-kay.” Beth added another broad swipe of paint. Sam left her to it. Eventually she’d get hungry enough to stop.
Rather than return to her cleaning, Sam reviewed the construction bid more closely. It included windows, doors, carpet, insulation, paint, sheetrock—all of it necessary, and all expensive. A few minutes later, a paper bag labeled Bitterroot Deli dropped onto the counter in front of her. Karen and lunch had just arrived. She looked up.
“Hi.” Yesterday, she would have greeted Karen with a kiss, in keeping with the new, fun physical component of their relationship. But now she felt weird about it. She smiled invitingly and waited to see what Karen would do.
“Hey,” Karen said with an easy, sexy smile, followed by a light kiss on the mouth that quickly grew into more.
“Why the hell did you tell Alan that Mom is single?” Beth interrupted, her timing, as always, impeccable.
Karen gave her one last fleeting kiss and squeezed her hand before stepping away. As she pulled sandwiches from the bag, she said, “Because she is single, Beth.”
“He asked her out to dinner,” Beth said, her voice flat and heavy.
“He did?” Karen glanced up.
“Yeah. And she accepted.”
This time Karen looked at Sam. “You did?”
Sam shrugged. “Not on purpose.”
“He’s a nice guy. You’ll like him.” Karen peeled the parchment paper away from one sandwich and offered it to Sam. “Turkey and provolone with spinach, tomato, and cucumber, as requested.”
“Thanks.” Sam wanted to kiss Karen again as a reward for lunch and that gorgeous smile that she kept sharing. She settled for taking a big bite of sandwich instead.
“That’s it? You guys are clearly into one another, yet you’re totally fine with her dating that guy?”
Karen inhaled slowly and looked at Sam. “Do you want to handle this?”
Sam swallowed hard, forcing down her sandwich before she was ready. She took a deep swig of water and then said, “I already tried. She doesn’t believe me.”
“Has anything changed with you?” Karen asked.
“Nope. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great. Awesome. Exactly what I needed. But it doesn’t end with happily ever after.”
Karen’s smile returned. “Yeah, exactly. I couldn’t have said it better.” Karen unwrapped another sandwich and held it out toward Beth. “Come join us.”
Beth huffed. “Not until you answer my question.” Despite her protest, Beth started to wrap her brushes in plastic wrap.
“It’s like your mom said. We’re friends.” Karen formed her words carefully, as though she was afraid she might spook Beth if she said the wrong thing. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”
Arms crossed over her chest, Beth gave Karen a hard look. “Try again.”
Sam continued to eat. It kept her from interrupting the conversation.
“Squirt, I love you, but you’re asking me to explain or justify something that isn’t really your business. What your mom and I get up to is between me and her, no one else.”
“I’m not exactly a stranger. I don’t understand why you’d encourage someone else to ask her out.”
“Because they are both my friends. Alan is a good guy. If they hit it off, he’ll be good to her.”
“But—”
“Beth, that’s enough.” Sam finally stepped in. It was okay for Beth to ask some questions, but they were just going around in circles today. “Come eat your lunch. Or don’t. But no more questions.”
“Fine.” Beth crossed to the island that separated the living room and kitchen, grabbed her sandwich, and stomped to her room. She slammed the door behind her.
“It’s sweet, really,” Karen said casually. “I didn’t think she’d notice, let alone care.”
“I suppose.” Sam finished her sandwich. “But she doesn’t want to discuss her sex life with me, so she shouldn’t expect me to discuss mine with her.”
Karen choked and then coughed. “Her sex life? She’s only fifteen.”
“Mmm.” Thinking about Beth as a sexually active person made Sam’s ey
e twitch, but she wasn’t so naïve as to think it wasn’t possible. Regardless of what Sam would like to think, odds were Beth had already had sex. And odds were, it was probably with Denmar. Thank God she’d talked to her about consent and condoms. If only they’d had more conversations along those lines.
“Did she tell you that?”
“No. We’ve talked more since arriving here than we did during the last three years in Vegas. But not about that. Though we’ve had talks about sex in general.”
Karen gave her a one-armed hug. “Sorry.”
“But this does bring us, you and me, to a crossroads.” Sam had been dreading this conversation. Not because Karen would hold it against her. She wouldn’t. But Sam really liked having sex with her. Once the words were out, that would be over. “We should probably stop having sex.”
“Really?” Karen twirled a strand of Sam’s hair around her finger. “But I really like having sex with you.”
“Yeah.” Sam tilted her head, effectively lengthening the column of her neck. Sure, she just said they should stop having sex, but Karen was touching her hair, barely brushing against her throat, in just the right way.
Karen dipped her head, and the heat of her breath brought goose bumps to the surface of Sam’s neck. “Are you sure?” She chuckled and placed a gentle kiss just below Sam’s ear.
Sam shivered, gave herself a moment to enjoy the sensation, and then stepped away. “I’m sure.” Intellectually she was, anyway. Her body, however, really wanted her to move back into the warmth of Karen’s presence.
“Well, that sucks. But I get it.” Karen took a bite of her sandwich and the lettuce crunched loudly.
Sam’s phone rang, cutting off her response. “Hold that thought.”
The number on her display screen didn’t have an assigned name, so it was, more than likely, someone she didn’t know. Considering how many outstanding messages she had, she took that to be a good sign. She pushed the button to answer. “This is Sam.”
“Hello,” the caller identified himself as an employee from the insurance company. “I’m calling about your insurance claim.”
