“I mean it. In fact, I’d like to do something special to thank you.”
Amanda swallowed painfully. “It’s not necessary. I’m only doing my job.”
“I know. But you’re doing it remarkably well and I would love to do something to thank you. Please let me.”
Joyce placed a hand on Amanda’s shoulder, making her overwhelmingly aware of the three or four inches Joyce had over her own five feet five. She was also powerfully aware of their proximity. A part of her wanted to run, but a less familiar part of her took over as she answered, “Okay. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, next weekend is the opening of the Bangor State Fair. Have you heard about it?”
“I’ve seen signs at the grocery store,” Amanda admitted, panicking at the thought of the crowd an event such as this one might attract.
“I thought it might be fun. What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Amanda replied, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. Joyce gently squeezed her shoulder, forcing her to lock eyes with her.
“I’d love to take you to the fair. Please let me.”
Amanda couldn’t help but acquiesce.
“Okay. I’ll go,” she agreed with a smile she hoped didn’t betray any of the anxiety she was feeling.
When Isabelle came back with Dingo’s antibiotics, Joyce dropped the hand that had been resting on Amanda’s shoulder. Amanda’s anxiety instantly skyrocketed. It was as if Joyce’s hand, somehow, had been containing it and now that it was gone it was going through the roof. Amanda wanted to renege, to say she couldn’t go to the fair after all. But it was too late. Isabelle was back in the room and saying something now would be…awkward.
Joyce picked up Dingo and headed toward the door. “Thank you, Amanda. I’ll call you later this week. To schedule Dingo’s next appointment,” she added with a mischievous wink.
* * *
Later that evening Amanda sat on her balcony looking over the Kenduskeag Stream, fiddling with her cell phone and watching people walk and bike the trail that started almost right next to her building. It was one of the main reasons she’d chosen her condo, that and the proximity of the University of Maine Museum of Art and several restaurants and cafés she rarely frequented but made her neighborhood pleasant nonetheless.
She’d decided to call and cancel the trip to the fair, but she couldn’t muster up the courage to dial the number she’d gotten from Dingo’s file. As much as she wanted to spend time with Joyce, Amanda didn’t think she could face the crowd there.
She’d avoided crowds for as long as she could remember. They made her so anxious she’d concluded she suffered from mild agoraphobia. Since she was capable of confronting her fear when she was obligated to, like when she had to go to professional conventions, she’d never sought treatment for her condition. Even as a kid, however, she’d always hated fairs. Fortunately, her mother hadn’t found the time or money to take her often. She recalled two or three times, all nightmares. She might have enjoyed the fair if she could have stayed around the animals, but her mother and her boyfriend du jour always insisted on playing games instead or taking rides she had no inclination for whatsoever.
She couldn’t go to the fair with Joyce. What if she had a panic attack in her company? What kind of impression would that give her? She couldn’t risk it.
Amanda dialed the first five digits of Joyce’s phone number with temporarily found bravery before she set the phone down on the table. Then again, what if Joyce took her cancellation of their plans as definite disinterest and didn’t ask her to do anything else? Was that a risk she was willing to take? Probably not. Absolutely not.
She sighed and emptied her glass of iced tea in one large gulp. All right, big baby. If you can find the guts to go to a convention with a bunch of boring veterinarians, you can find the guts to go to the fair with the most fascinating woman you’ve ever met. That’s an order, Carter.
Chapter Nine
The following Saturday Joyce woke up late—hallelujah—and spent time in the yard with Dingo. She couldn’t let him exercise as much as he wanted to, but she was relieved that he could put more weight on his bandaged leg. She couldn’t help but smile as she ate her toast and drank her coffee. It wasn’t only because of Dingo. Today was the day she was taking Amanda to the fair. She was both excited and nervous at the thought of spending time with the young woman outside of the veterinary clinic. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked forward to doing something or going somewhere with another person. Since Evelyn’s death she’d taken the most pleasure in activities she could plan and do by herself. This enthusiasm for going to the fair with Amanda was new and welcome. Even the sun was back after a few days of rain, apparently wanting to take part in this unfamiliar ferment.
After she finished her breakfast Joyce took Dingo back inside where he lay on his dog bed while she showered and got dressed. She then installed Dingo in his crate with one of his favorite toys, a rubber ball that she filled with treats. It would keep him busy for hours. She didn’t like leaving him in his crate every time she went out, but she understood it was the best way to keep him safe. Besides, three nights of ignoring his whining had been enough to cure him of his separation anxiety and he seemed to find his crate a lot more pleasurable now. For the past few nights, he’d whimpered for barely a minute or two before falling asleep, which allowed her to sleep soundly as well. It was a small miracle she was very grateful for. She couldn’t wait to thank Amanda in person for her help. She was going to have to, unfortunately. She was almost ready to leave when Barbara arrived unannounced with a bottle of sparkling wine.
“Do you have orange juice? It’s time for mimosas.”
“Of course I have orange juice, Barb, but are we celebrating something? It’s kind of early to start drinking,” Joyce answered as she closed the door behind her sister and followed her into the kitchen. It was a few minutes past noon and Joyce was due to pick up Amanda in an hour to go to the state fair. She’d planned on going to return books at the library beforehand but that could wait, she decided as she grabbed two champagne flutes out of the cupboard.
“That’s why I thought of mimosas, dear sister. Mimosas were invented to give women an excuse to drink as early as they want. And this woman wants a drink,” Barbara concluded as she raised a hand over her head and pointed to herself with her index finger.
“If you say so,” Joyce said with a chuckle. She reached for the orange juice in the fridge and poured some in the champagne flutes while Barbara opened the sparkling wine. “So, not exactly celebrating, then?”
“That’s too much juice in my glass, Joy,” Barbara said with a wink before she continued. “We could celebrate the fact that Heather dumped Sloane last night if you want.”
Joyce carefully transferred some orange juice from one glass to the other, thinking she’d be happy to drink more juice than wine. “Sloane?”
“Sloane, yes. The specter my daughter has been dating for a month.” Barbara filled the rest of their glasses with wine. “But that’s right. You didn’t get to meet her, did you?”
“No, I didn’t. I haven’t seen Heather for a while, actually. What happened?”
“Oh, same old story. Heather got tired of her. She says Sloane got too possessive and didn’t challenge her enough. Blah, blah, blah, same crap, different girl.”
“That’s too bad,” Joyce offered, relieved that she didn’t have time to meet this young woman. Not that she would have let herself get attached. She’d learned a long time ago that the women in Heather’s life were like clouds passing over their heads. “And what did you tell Heather?”
“Same thing I always tell her. You can’t expect an empty brain to challenge you, child.” Barbara handed a glass to Joyce and held her own in front of her to propose a toast. “To Sloane. May her broken heart heal quickly and may her brain keep wandering aimlessly!”
“To Sloane,” Joyce said as they solemnly clanked their glasses together before she bur
st out laughing. She didn’t want to make fun of the poor girl she didn’t even know, but she couldn’t resist her sister’s humor.
“Did you ever think maybe she picks women who don’t challenge her because she’s scared she’ll end up with someone like you?” Joyce was shocked at her own question. It was one that had been burning her lips for years, but she’d never dared to let it out before. She expected Barbara to protest but instead her sister focused on the orange liquid in her glass. The silence was so uncomfortable she felt compelled to explain, “I mean, you have to admit you’re very opinionated. Your opinions have a big influence on Heather even though they often clash with her own ideas. Maybe she doesn’t want more ideas to fight against in her life. Maybe. That’s just a thought I had.”
Barbara finally met Joyce’s gaze again and huffed. “If that’s the case, she needs to get over it. She’s old enough to stand up for herself, after all. I stood up to our mother, didn’t I?” Joyce nodded in agreement, biting her tongue to make sure she wouldn’t comment about the spineless man Barbara had chosen for a husband. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced Heather was simply following in her mother’s footsteps.
They heard a yodel coming from upstairs. Joyce remembered Dingo was in his crate and cringed. Poor little brat. Barbara grimaced as she did every time she heard Dingo yodel.
“Oh my god. That sound’s unbearable. I don’t know how you do it. Where’s the little sack of germs anyway?”
“He’s in his crate in my bedroom upstairs. I was about to leave the house when you arrived.”
“And where were you going dressed like that?” Barbara asked as she gave Joyce the familiar, judgmental once-over.
Joyce looked down at her clean dark blue jeans and sleeveless white blouse. She fixed the turquoise silk scarf around her neck and the understated silver bracelet on her wrist. She was satisfied with her look. It was on the casual side, perhaps, but it wasn’t as if she was wearing sweats. Her attire might have contrasted with Barbara’s white designer suit and array of jewelry, but the question Joyce didn’t dare to ask was where her sister was going that justified wearing a two-thousand-dollar suit anyway. “I’m going to the fair, Barb. What else am I supposed to wear?” she answered before she sighed with annoyance.
“The fair?” Barbara raised an eyebrow and laughed condescendingly. “Oh Baby Sis, aren’t we a little old for that? I hope you weren’t expecting me to go with you because…”
“I wasn’t,” Joyce interrupted with an abrupt, defensive tone. “If you must know everything I’m going with a new friend: Dingo’s vet. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m making an effort to do all kinds of things these days. Just because you don’t like something or Evelyn wouldn’t have liked it doesn’t mean I have to dislike it too.”
“You’re going to the fair with Doctor Perry?” Joyce was disheartened by her sister’s choice to completely ignore her call for independence, yet couldn’t help but join her in laughter when she stopped to imagine herself going to the fair with Doctor Perry. He was a nice guy, but she’d never been able to get more than two words out of him during her first visits at the clinic with Dingo. He was beyond awkward. She and Barbara had often discussed Doctor Perry’s lack of social skills since they’d sat together with him on a charity committee a few years ago.
“No, not Doctor Perry. I’m going with Dingo’s new vet, Amanda Carter,” she said as she wiped a tear of laughter at the corner of her eye.
“Oh, a female vet. And so the plot thickens,” Barbara said with a teasing wink. “Now I understand why you’re willing to go to the stinky fair. Trying to impress a woman, huh? It’s about time, if you ask me. But now obviously you have to tell me everything you know about this Amanda Carter. Spill it out.” Barbara emptied her glass and refilled it with sparkling wine, not bothering with the orange juice and the mimosa excuse this time.
“It’s not like that, silly. She’s way too young for one thing. I’m simply grateful for what she’s done for me and Dingo and I wanted to do something nice to thank her. She’s new in town and doesn’t know anyone so I’m hoping we can become friends.”
“Friends? You’re really expecting me to buy that? You can tell me you know. Evelyn was a wonderful woman and we were close, but she wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your lesbian life. And neither do I.”
Joyce was moved by Barbara’s declaration. She’d thought Barbara would be opposed to her dating anyone else and she was relieved to know that wouldn’t be the case. Dating Amanda, however, was not her intention. “I swear, Barb,” Joyce insisted as she felt her face heat up and she loosened the scarf around her neck. “She’s at least twenty years younger than I am, for god’s sake. I just want to offer my friendship. She’s a fascinating person and I want to get to know her better, but as a friend.”
“Okay, I believe you. If she’s as young as you say she is it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to want more anyway. Friendship is already a little weird if you ask me.”
“Well, I’m not asking you.”
“Is she gay?”
“I don’t know,” Joyce said as she was forced to admit to herself that although her intuition told her Amanda was a lesbian, she truly didn’t know for sure.
“Well, try to find out, will you? If she is we could try to match her with Heather. She’s about her age, isn’t she?”
“She is,” Joyce confirmed regretfully. The thought of Amanda with Heather made her stomach tighten for some reason. Heather was her niece, but she was also a heartbreaker. The last thing she wanted was to cause Amanda any pain.
“Great. Find out if she’s gay then. Can you imagine? A veterinarian would be such a nice change from all of Heather’s past girlfriends. I’m sure if she met someone like that she’d finally settle in. And I’d finally stop worrying so much about her.” Barbara’s plea touched Joyce. She wasn’t convinced Amanda and Heather would make such a good match but there was no point in voicing her opinion yet.
“Okay, I’ll try to find out. But I’m warning you, it won’t be easy. Amanda is reserved. Not exactly an open book, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t doubt it, but I also know how good you are at extracting information when you really want to.” Barbara emptied her glass again and grabbed her purse from the counter.
“I’ll try, that’s all I can promise.” Joyce followed her sister to the front door.
“And that’s all I want. Now let me get out of your hair so you can get to your mission.” They shared air kisses and she opened the door for Barbara, who started walking to her Mercedes and added without turning around, “Have fun with the smelly cows and have a greasy hot dog for me!”
Chapter Ten
Joyce stopped her Subaru Forester in front of Amanda’s building on Franklin Street. She looked at her surroundings with nostalgia. She’d smiled to herself when Amanda had given her the address earlier that week. Franklin Street represented so much for her. She didn’t have time to get lost in her memories, however, as Amanda climbed in the passenger seat and greeted her timidly. “Hi. Have you been waiting for long?”
“I just got here actually. Hello,” Joyce replied as she studied Amanda for a few seconds. She wore jeans and a light gray T-shirt with a darker gray, long, loose-knit sweater over it. It was the first time Joyce had seen her wearing anything other than scrubs and a lab coat, and she thought that although the relaxed layered look suited her, it made her look even younger. If it wasn’t for her dark-framed glasses and familiar ponytail, Joyce might not even have recognized her. “I love this neighborhood. You know I worked across the street from your building for nearly thirty years?”
“At the bank?”
“Mhm. I was in marketing. That’s where the corporate offices are located,” she said as she pointed to the old building. “I haven’t been back to Franklin Street since I retired over a year ago.”
“Get out, you’re retired? You don’t look old enough to be retired.”
“Well, I’m a young retiree,” Joyce offered with a grin, trying to make Amanda relax a little. She seemed extremely nervous, constantly fidgeting with the strap of her messenger bag and unable to hold Joyce’s gaze.
“I hope I didn’t force you to face bad memories. I could have met you somewhere else, you know.”
“Don’t be silly,” Joyce protested as she placed a hand on Amanda’s arm, successfully making her meet her gaze at last. “I have fond memories of this place, actually. I do come to the neighborhood often, but I tend to stick to Central Street. I go to the museum or to the Bagel Café? Have you ever been?”
“A few times. To both places.”
“A New Yorker would never call what they make at the Café a real bagel, but they do make a delicious breakfast. Maybe we could go some time.”
“Maybe.”
“You’ve chosen a lovely neighborhood. You must be happy here.”
“I can’t complain. But my favorite part is the walking and biking trail by the water.”
“I see,” Joyce said with a smile.
“Maybe we can go there some time too. I mean, maybe. If you want to.” Amanda lowered her eyes to her messenger bag again and a dark blush covered her cheeks.
Joyce, whose hand was still resting on Amanda’s arm, squeezed gently to reassure her companion. “I’d love to,” she said sincerely. A walk with Amanda sounded lovely. “But today let’s start with the state fair. Are you ready? You do know it’s close to eighty degrees out there, right?” she asked as she patted the thick sleeve covering Amanda’s arm.
Amanda laughed. “I know, but I’m often cold when other people are hot. So layers are a smart choice more than a fashion statement.”
“Okay then, let’s go.” Joyce couldn’t help but notice Amanda became even more nervous as she put both her hands back on the steering wheel and drove away from Franklin Street. The young woman clutched her messenger bag and clenched her teeth. Joyce hoped she wouldn’t be in that state of mind all afternoon. She wanted to share a nice moment with Amanda, not torture her.
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