by Liz McMullen
Desiree was deeply touched by the gesture. She was raised in the States from the time she was in junior high school, but she grew up in Paris. Oddly, instead of feeling like an exotic flower, which was often the awe she experienced from those who had never been to her country, at the Orchard Inn she felt truly at home. Though, if she was having high tea with her mother and her sycophants, she would be unable to enjoy the delicacies. Mother took every opportunity to criticize what she called a Rubenesque figure. It took Desiree a great deal of time to reject the notion she was fat, and she had no desire to look sickly like her mother or the debutantes she grew up with.
“Thank you, Mason, and to be honest, I feel better at home here than I ever did in France.” Desiree’s eyes grew wide at her admission, and she wanted to suck those words right back into her mouth.
But Mason didn’t pry. He presented her with a lavender cake on a china plate that complemented, rather than clashed with, the pastry. She took a bite and had to hold back the moan that wanted to escape. Often fondant was tasteless and stiff, valued more for the decorative qualities than for its flavor. That was not the case with this confection. It melted in her mouth. The cake itself was so light, it left a shimmer of pleasure in her rather than the cloying heaviness that often follows a rich dessert. “This is delightful. You’ve missed your calling.”
“That is kind of you to say. Baking in my family is a way of making our guests feel at home. Do you take milk with your tea, or would you prefer lemon?”
“Milk with one sugar please.”
Mason used a pretty silver spoon to add the sugar cube to the steaming brew.
“I can see why guests might never want to leave. Do any of them threaten to move in?” Desiree asked with a coy smile. She was truly enjoying his company, so much so she forgot that she was on an interview.
Mason seemed to sense her shift in focus. “Part of working here is knowing that this is a home rather than a place of business. I can tell that you will fit right in, especially when it comes to your project.”
“My project?” Desiree asked, not quite following his logic.
“I’m planning on refurbishing some of the rooms, and I know we have plenty of furnishings hiding up in the attic and the basement. Even the barn behind my personal residence has a treasure trove of objects that would be perfect for our guests.”
That did it. If sugarplums weren’t dancing in her head before, they surely were now. Pinch me, somebody, this has to be a dream.
Mason smiled deeply, showing off a charming set of dimples. He seemed to feed off her enthusiasm. “I’d like you to take pictures of the things you find, catalog them, and create a database. There are so many things to account for that, without some structure, you could find yourself overwhelmed.”
Desiree agreed but was up for the challenge. “That could be a lot of fun. Do you have a digital camera? If not, I can take photos with my iPhone.”
“In the interest of privacy, I will provide you a camera that has a video function. I figure you can take stills as well as video. It will be easier to locate items if you have them in context.”
“I completely understand, and I promise to be discreet.”
“Kat is a great judge of character and winning her over is quite a feat.” He smiled to soften the fact they had spoken of her in her absence. “I have faith in you.”
Desiree mustered up a convincing smile. “Thank you.” It was always disconcerting when people knew her through the eyes of another. She could never be sure what secrets had been shared. At the same time, she trusted Kat would never betray a confidence. She was more protective and watchful than a mama bear.
“Would you like more tea?”
Desiree looked down, not realizing she’d even had a sip, let alone finished it. “No, thank you, it was delicious.” Her mind returned to happier thoughts, including exploring the attic and barn. “I can’t wait to get started, that is if you’ve decided to hire me.”
Mason chuckled. “I can tell you want to dig right in. Unfortunately, guests will be arriving soon, and I’d like to be with you on the first visits to our storage spaces. That way I can give you the lay of the land. I’m glad you took the time to visit with me today. I look forward to getting to know you better and seeing my home from a fresh perspective.”
Desiree knew she had to be glowing like New York’s Rockefeller Center during Christmas, and she didn’t even attempt for casual. “It’s an honor, truly.”
“Of course, dear. Kat was right to recommend you to me.” Mason stood and guided her to the front door. “Why don’t you go home and e-mail me your schedule. Then we can plan your visits.”
“Absolutely, and thank you for your hospitality. I look forward to working with you.”
“Before long, we’ll be family.”
Often Americans were overly familiar with strangers, but Desiree could tell that he truly meant to welcome her into his family and his home. She couldn’t wait to thank Kat.
They exchanged good-byes, and like clockwork, two car doors opened and closed. Somehow, Mason managed to time things perfectly, giving them time to visit and ending the meeting in a way that felt natural, while allowing him time to welcome the newest guests in the manner they were accustomed to.
Desiree sat in the car for a moment watching an older couple embrace Mason like a family happy being reunited. She always longed for that, to feel truly at home. She had a feeling that is what this place would become to her.
This turned out to be a good day after all. Even seeing her mother again wouldn’t put a dent in this high. She had the feeling she had finally arrived and couldn’t wait to see what life would bring her way.
Chapter Nine
Mount Holyoke College Library
Desiree drove a good ten minutes before she realized she’d forgotten to turn on the radio. She twisted the knob, pleased when “Hyperballad” rolled like ocean waves through her stereo system. On the surface, Bjork’s lyrics were quite disturbing, but there was something about the driving electronic beat that made Desiree’s blood race. She wondered if Rowan liked Bjork. Desiree’s eyes opened wider. She pushed the unwelcome thought from her mind and focused on the road in time to avoid flattening the swarm of cross-country runners. She couldn’t imagine subjecting her body to the track team but had to admire their dogged determination.
As luck would have it, she found a spot in the visitor’s lot by the library. It wasn’t quite cold yet, but there weren’t a lot of parking options on campus. She grabbed her book bag, glad that some part of her brain was working after her confrontation with her mother.
She could study a few hours and reward herself with a trip to The Broken Arrow. She needed to do something to release the stress from this bizarre day. Meeting Rowan, confronting her mother, and the prospect of truly satisfying work was enough to set any normal person off balance.
Desiree managed to get through the gauntlet of the computer center and the all-too-cozy reading nooks without more than a few passing waves. She was grateful since she had never mastered the ability to politely shut down a conversation with classmates. She adored them and could be ensnared for hours.
It wasn’t until the doors to the Stacks elevator closed that she let out a sigh of relief, though she regretted the immediate stench of stale air the moment she inhaled. The ancient fan did nothing to dissipate the rank smell, and of course, she was trapped for few long moments. The elevator advanced at a snail’s pace to the fifth floor and her secluded carrel.
Most people chose carrels close to the books for their area of study, and her nook wasn’t exactly hers either. Only seniors got carrels of their own. Thankfully the shelves above the desk were empty, and she proceeded to move into the area, unpacking her books, binders, and five-subject notebooks.
She sat for a moment to enjoy the stillness and the quiet. Her special place had a lovely window framed with ivy from the outside, and the pane actually worked so she could open it when the overzealous radiators went wild
during the winter.
She tucked into reading for her class on Plato and lost herself in The Republic. It always struck her as odd that an Athenian would organize the ideal way of life in the same manner as the Spartans—a warlike people. Desiree laughed at the thought of Plato wielding anything more imposing than a quill.
It was dark outside, had been for hours. Night came early during the fall. She checked her watch to see how much time she had left. “Seven. Damn, I think I should pack up and see if Suzie’s up for going out.”
“Talking to yourself?” Rowan asked. Her voice was soft, but Desiree jumped out of her skin anyway.
“Holy shit!” Her heart was beating so hard, she was afraid it was going to mutiny and escape her throat.
Rowan leaned against the wall, giving Desiree a moment to collect herself.
Desiree’s hand was over her heart, and she took a deep breath before asking, “Are you following me?” Part of her was exhilarated by the idea, and the other was appalled by the hint of flirtation in her own voice.
“Not unless Professor Cosgrove is in on it.”
Desiree couldn’t follow her meaning.
“I’m collecting books for him. Apparently, interlibrary loan is too slow for him, so I have to hunt for books all over the five college libraries. Mount Holyoke is my home turf, but I live in Northampton.”
She could tell Rowan was being sincere, so she relaxed a bit more. “Is he your advisor?”
“No, but he works for the department and hired me as a research assistant. I think he chose me because I was…” Rowan struggled to find the most diplomatic term. “I think it’s because I am older and more grounded than most of his students. I’m a calm foil to his intensity. He’s actually a very nice guy.”
Desiree looked closer at Rowan; she wasn’t old by any stretch of the imagination. “Are you an FP?”
“Frances Perkins Scholar? Guilty as charged.” A shadow crossed Rowan’s face but was quickly repressed. “I had to support myself, so it took me a long time to finish community college. I’m lucky Mount Holyoke accepted my transfer. It’s like threading the eye of a needle for someone like me.”
It was subtle at first, but as Rowan continued, she recognized the New York accent. Rowan probably didn’t even notice that talking about the past had brought out the home in her voice. Desiree found the rich flavor appealing. She had always felt at home in New York City. “I’m sure you deserved it.”
“That’s kind of you to say.”
Either Rowan was on her best behavior or she was trying to impress her. The thought made Desiree smile. She allowed herself to enjoy that feeling for a moment, letting the candle burn.
Rowan returned the gesture.
The smile was guileless, but it still raised Desiree’s temperature. She hoped the dim lighting would mask her growing blush. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
Rowan nodded as if she expected the dismissal. That hurt. Resignation like that didn’t grow overnight. Rowan was a kind woman. She deserved someone who could appreciate what she had to offer, not make her shrink away to appease her.
“It was good to see you again.” Rowan’s smile was sad around the edges.
Desiree forced her own smile. “Likewise.” She returned to her carrel and picked up The Republic to close off the connection. Rowan’s boots echoed through the empty stacks.
She wanted to go after Rowan, to apologize. Desiree gripped the book tightly and just barely stood her ground. She closed her book when the elevator engaged and moved purposefully, taking the stairs at a mild pace so she wouldn’t bump into Rowan. Replaying their final moments, the pain and resignation she’d put on Rowan’s face cut Desiree deeper than she thought possible. “I’m sorry.” Her whisper echoed in the empty staircase.
Chapter Ten
Porter Hall
“So?” Suzie was practically bouncing out of her seat, which was kind of hard to do considering it was made of wood and had absolutely no padding.
Desiree knew exactly what her roommate was asking, but decided to play with her a bit. “I actually got quite a bit of reading done with absolutely no distractions.” She put on a campy dreamy-eyed expression as she continued, “It was pure bliss.”
“Pure bliss my ass, and stop toying with my emotions.” Suzie’s fierce look of consternation was quite adorable. Her jagged rocker hairdo was the perfect visual expression of her frustration.
Even the feathered edges were alive with electricity, yet still, Desiree continued her campaign. She’d rather play games and make believe everything was all right than feel the echo of rejecting Rowan
“Mason was charming. If it was possible, I would have started in on the attic at that very moment, but he was expecting guests. It would have been impolite to stay.” Desiree calmly unpacked her bag, gently reshelving items that could have easily stayed in the bag just to press Suzie’s buttons.
Suzie narrowed her unusual eyes. They were a shade of blue so light they were nearly colorless, with the exception of the rim of indigo framing her irises. Suzie changed her tack. “The Wicked Witch of L’Ouest.” Her spot-on imitation of her mother’s French accent made Desiree snort.
“Was she here when you got home?” Desiree couldn’t imagine what that conversation would be like, and was happy to discover Suzie hadn’t been ensnared by her mother.
“Her perfume. I smelled it when I walked in. Then checked around for bloodstains.” Suzie smirked, but there was concern behind her snarkiness.
“Unfortunately, it did nearly come to blows.” Desiree shuddered, feeling her mother’s claw-like grip on her shoulder. She touched the tender spot where sharp nails had dug in. “I’m probably going to bruise,” she said to herself, forgetting her fierce audience of one.
“That bitch!” Suzie snarled.
Desiree jumped a bit, her friend’s vitriol anchoring her in the here and now. “Slow your roll, sparky, it’s not what you think.”
Suzie did not seem convinced or fooled. She rocked on her heels like a prizefighter waiting to swing. Desiree started to shake, the stress of that moment returning in a rush. She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help it. Suzie was by her side in time to wipe away her tears before they spattered her shirt.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to shout at you.” Suzie pulled her into a hug.
Desiree relaxed into it, her friend’s curves perfect for hugging. Her warm embrace made Desiree feel safe and loved in a way she never had growing up. A sweet pat on her head from her distant father didn’t count.
“Thanks,” Desiree choked out. “She just…” Desiree tried to take a deep breath, but it would not fit down her tight throat, and she was afraid if she let go, she’d never stop sobbing.
Suzie guided her over to the window seat, then held her close. Desiree was finally calming down when a firm rap on the door startled her.
Suzie looked toward the door, ready for battle. Desiree gripped her arm. She whispered, “No.”
The knocking started again, but this time, it was playful. The taps started at the top of the door all the way to the bottom.
“Who’s making that racket?” Suzie barked in a voice a saloon madam would be proud of.
“Well, you didn’t answer at first, so I had to knock down the door,” Jodeci replied.
That was it—Desiree lost it. Not normal laughter, no, Desiree had the full-on giggles when the dashing marauder entered the room. She hiccupped a snort and laughed harder. “Jeez, Jodeci, did you raid Danny Zuko’s wardrobe?”
When Jodeci broke into “You’re the One That I Want” from Grease, Desiree lost her composure. Leather pants, tight white shirt, and thick mussed hair…Jodeci was hotter than Danny ever was.
Someone crashed into Jodeci from behind. “Hey, I thought we agreed on ‘Greased Lightning’!”
Violet Woodward was heart-stoppingly handsome. Same outfit, but on her, it had a completely different effect. She was shorter than Jodeci but far more potent. Her dark ebony skin was flawless
and her white-blond buzz cut gave her an edge. She was so muscular she could reduce professional bodybuilders to tears.
“Jennifer let you out of the house dressed like that?” Suzie asked, more amused than protective at the moment, and for that Desiree was grateful. Suzie in full-battle mode was terrifying. Thankfully her favorite shield-maiden was more sass than anything else.
“Oh, this?” Violet laid that tough-guy mystique even thicker, flexing her already bulging biceps as she crossed her arms.
“Hey, take it down a notch.” Jodeci slapped her friend on the shoulder. They shared tough-guy looks, then turned their attention back to their mixed audience.
Desiree was tearing, and her stomach hurt from laughing so hard. “Priceless.” She gasped a bit, then tried to center herself. “What’s with the digs?”
Jodeci urged Violet into the room, then closed the door. “We’re bar backing at The Crooked Arrow. We get more tips when we rock a theme.”
Desiree looked closer. Even though both women could pass for greasers, the clothing actually fit their personalities without appearing costumey. “I didn’t know they tipped bar backs.”
“The bartenders tip us at the end of the night.” Jodeci turned her intense gaze in Desiree’s direction. Her black hair and even darker eyes were smoldering, but she knew it was not for her or even Suzie. When Jodeci was feeling sexy, she was a walking orgasm.
“You should come with us,” Jodeci said, her voice rumbling.
Desiree’s mind fluttered in all sorts of inappropriate directions, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish. She wasn’t usually susceptible to her friend’s butch-on-tap looks and it was disorienting.
“You should tell her,” Violet teased. “That’ll save some time and we can get going. Jennifer’s going to be there early and I want to see her before I start my shift.”
Suzie took the bait first. “I don’t like colluding butches. What are you two up to?” She was rocking on the balls of her feet again, but this time, it was more about being scooped than mounting an offense.
