Okay, so she was mostly thinking about having sex again. Was she that shallow? How the hell should she know? She hadn't known she was a lesbian, after all.
Maybe she was all about sex. Sure, sitting here trying to think of ways not to go to a dance party that could be full of uninhibited nubile creatures, yes, she was a babe-trawling cougar. Right.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The days settled into an even rhythm for Laura. She'd moved out of her motel the day after Helen's birthday and spent Monday looking at household expenses and the specifics of the electrical improvements and then going with Helen to the kids' school to add her name to the authorized pick up list. Tuesday, at Helen's urging, she'd taken some personal time to unpack a little, putting the basic necessities in the bedroom in the house, which was next to Julie's and across the central atrium from Justin's. The rest of her things, including all the boxes, she'd settled in the apartment behind the garage. When she drove Helen to the airport late Tuesday night for her red-eye flight to New York, she hoped Helen couldn't hear the singing inside her. She knew it was temporary, but for a little while she thought she might be purely content and at peace.
Running the Baynor household wasn't as complicated as running a commercial kitchen with a staff, that was for sure. The same skills applied here, but she was used to anticipating the demands of the guests and thinking three days ahead. She needed to pay attention to detail, keep orderly track of the household expenses and make sure the schedule was always up to date. A lot of chauffeuring, to be sure, and it wasn't really in her realm of expertise to respond to impending disaster in the form of a missing button on a beloved blouse. But she managed. She knew better than anyone that the job was, overall, cushy. There were a lot of single moms who didn't have a lovely bedroom to themselves and a staff to take care of cleaning.
Saturday was a foggy autumn day, and she had spent the morning helping Julie drive in short stakes to mark out her organic herb garden. The landscaping supervisor, Mr. Ortega, with whom she was now on excellent terms, had agreed to procure the slats that Julie needed and had chattered cheerfully about the maintenance of an organic garden. His English and Julie's high school Spanish met somewhere in the middle. Justin had agreed to make dinner and was doing his best to imitate Remy the mouse chef while making ratatouille. She sliced bananas for roasting in cinnamon and sugar.
Her cell phone launched into the song she'd chosen for Helen's ring tone-"Nights on Broadway" had seemed an innocuous choice.
"How's it going? Curtain is in an hour here."
"It's started to drizzle, I think. Julie is hard at work on her garden and Justin thinks he's a cooking mouse. Hang on..." She dug in her pocket for the notebook she'd started using. "Ready for some questions?"
"Shoot."
"I found two different auto shops with invoices in the folder. The van's check engine light came on."
Helen told her which company to call and answered Laura's other questions on her short list. She also warned Helen that Julie was seeking permission to go on a weekend trip with family friends to a Lake Tahoe cabin early next month.
"The Flynns? Sure, she can go-I'll tell her when we talk."
"Wrapping it up, the building inspector is coming on Monday to look at the electrical. The supervisor is confident it'll pass, so I was going to have the drywall folks and painters come in ASAP to do the repairs and finish. While you're here I really need you to pick out the paint color, so I'm going to put the paint chips out on the desk so you can look. I'm sure you'll have an opinion about the difference between Baltic Sage, Stieglitz Grain and Linen Leather. I might forget to mention it tomorrow morning at the airport."
"I'll do that, I promise. Even if you did remember to tell me in the morning, there's a strong chance I wouldn't remember a word you said."
"I promise to be awake enough to drive. But more than that...no guarantees."
"Tell the kids I'm going to call."
"Will do. Call Justin first-Julie's outside. I'll warn her to expect you."
She'd no sooner called to Julie than Justin's phone was ringing. She listened to him describing his ratatouille to his mother, then answering questions about his schoolwork. Julie came bounding in from the damp outdoors, flushed and glowing. For the first time Laura could see that she resembled her mother-they had the same broad smile and moved with the same bounce when pleased. She was the fully developed color photograph compared to the washed-out, joyless girl she had met. And she knew that she was, in part, responsible for making Julie feel better. It was a very nice feeling.
It was why she'd agreed to stay, to be part of the family. No, not to be part of the family, she told herself. To help the family, and remember your place, she scolded. You're an employee. Valued and respected, but you're not family. And being a house manager-cum-nanny-cum-personal chef-basically, a mom who gets paid-is not what you quit working in kitchens to do, remember?
She didn't want to spend a lot of time figuring out why she'd been repeating that to herself for the last several days. And later, finding it difficult to fall asleep, she told herself that it was the awareness of the impending buzz of the alarm clock that made her restless. She had to wake at five, check the flight status and hop in the car to pick up Helen. It was so early. That's why she couldn't sleep.
Even with a Thermos of coffee, courtesy of the wonderful timer on the coffeemaker, she regretted the lost sleep as she drove to SFO. The roads were wet from outright rain, but the showers were supposed to end by midmorning. She'd take a nap later. After all, once she got Helen home safely, she was off duty until Tuesday morning. She should get back to hunting down vineyards and food artisans and exploring and…not hang around wondering if she could help make breakfast. That was something someone who was part of the family would do. And she wasn't…
As much as her thoughts were going round and round in circles, they stopped in their tracks when she saw the weary set to Helen's shoulders as she emerged from the security entrance. She wanted to hug her close, tell her a warm bed was waiting and kiss away the tired lines.
God in heaven, she was in trouble. Big trouble.
It wasn't until she saw Laura just past the security exit that Helen realized how much she hadn't enjoyed being met by Grace. That must be the reason for the rush of gratitude and sheer gladness she felt to see Laura's kind smile. She looked tired and Helen realized she hadn't seen Laura anything but bright-eyed and ready to tackle any culinary task. Well, except when she'd been kissing her girlfriend in her car. She was willing to bet Laura was a fantastic girlfriend. Considerate, thoughtful…
"Thank you for being here. It was a dreadful flight, so much turbulence." She took the travel mug from Laura, hoping it wasn't coffee-she'd had plenty of caffeine on the plane once they'd stopped bouncing up and down over the Great Plains. She didn't want to hurt Laura's feelings by refusing something she'd prepared. "What's this?"
"A cure for airports. Lemon herb tea with cinnamon and lavender. It's supposed to be refreshing to your parched sinuses, ward off germs, settle the tummy and refresh the palate after lots of coffee. No caffeine."
Touched by how dead-on accurate the tea was for what ailed her, she cracked the top and sniffed. "Oh, that smells marvelous." It had cooled during the drive and she took a healthy sip. "I feel better already."
They talked quietly in fits and starts. There was nothing for her to worry about, Helen thought. She was in safe, sure hands. Her children were fine-they sounded so lively and happy on the phone. She couldn't wait to hug them both. In the dark she was glad that the rush of tears didn't need to be explained. She couldn't explain it to herself. With Laura there she felt as if she could finally relax, for the first time in sixteen years. When she went back to New York Karolina would arrive on Thursday and maybe with some face-to-face time, in familiar places, she could put some words to her trepidations. She was trying so hard to listen, but her heart wasn't sending messages she could understand.
She bid Laura a good night when
they reached home, even though the sky was showing signs of lightening. Relaxed and drowsy, she was distractedly aware of Laura's footsteps behind hers on the stairs. If anything happened Laura would be there. She could sleep at last.
"You look pretty good for a Wednesday." Cass pointed out a table in the back of their favorite coffee bistro. "I'll get the poison. I don't know where Laura gets your heavenly coffee, but I am deeply, deeply envious."
Helen oozed into the chair, tired from the flight, but otherwise feeling pretty darned good. She knew she ought to make Laura take personal time, and had told her it was okay to sleep in her apartment on the nights Helen was home-to which Laura had invoked the specter of global warming. It was wasteful, she had said firmly, to heat the entire apartment for a few nights a week now that the weather had turned chilly and damp.
She hadn't argued the point because when a new house manager was found, things would be different. Besides, it felt so good to come down the stairs and find Laura already there. It wasn't just the creature comforts being met-though oatmeal already made or eggs already whipped and ready for scrambling were certainly lovely to find. It was also having the company, someone to talk to. Grace had been anything but warm, for the most part, but in the past there had been several nannies who had also enjoyed that quiet morning time to quietly chat and look at the paper. Laura was more up-to-date on events in other parts of the world than she was, and she knew many cities from the inside. It made conversation intriguing. She couldn't remember when she'd felt this good. Well, except after being with Karolina.
Cass arrived back with two steaming mugs. "All's well at home, I take it?"
"It is. You were right-I fell in the gravy. I feel guilty that I've not made any real progress finding a permanent house manager because Laura is so great."
"She's a nice person to be around, though I wish she didn't feel that she had to try so hard. Like she's always making up for some lack."
"Do you think so?" She sipped her coffee and grimaced. "I am getting spoiled. I thought this tasted good a month ago."
"At first I thought Laura was one of the few genuine what-you-see-is-what-you-get people I've ever met. Most of her is right on the surface. But after a couple of days I started to realize that there's a whole piece of herself she's got locked down and I bet only a really special woman will ever get to see it."
Helen cocked her head speculatively. "She has a girlfriend, you know."
"She does? I didn't think so." Cass wrinkled her brow. "But why tell me? I'm not interested in a three thousand mile thing. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't put up with my spoiled ways one little bit. I'd be on the receiving end of calm, cool, collected explanations as to why I was not going to get my way all the time. I just can't have that." She grinned. "She's way too grown-up for me."
"Sorry, you sounded besotted."
"I'm in love with her coffee. And truly, I could watch her rub butter on a chicken for hours. Those wonderful hands…"
Helen laughed. "I kind of know what you mean. She's got great hands, and now as opposed to two months ago, that has taken on a completely different perspective for me."
Cass gave a knowing laugh. "You are a total lesbian, just so you know."
Helen stuck out her tongue.
"Put that where it counts." Cass gave her a sunny smile over the top of her coffee cup.
"Why do you think she doesn't have a girlfriend? I saw them together in Woodside."
"Long blond hair, probably wears a size zero?"
Helen nodded.
"Laura said that was an ex."
"They didn't look like exes when I saw them."
"I gathered it had ended recently and not well."
"Oh." Laura didn't have a girlfriend? She'd taken the lack of mention as just how private a person Laura was. She didn't have a girlfriend? Were lesbians stupid or something? She was an amazing catch. Creative and gifted, solid and dependable-not to make her sound like a blender, because she was also attractive. Sexy, actually, with the right curves, smooth skin and a smile that said everything would be okay, and such lively intelligence in her dark eyes. And Cass was right about her hands.
"Earth to Helen! You want to come back to this planet? I just asked when what's-her-name arrives. I want to meet her."
"After the show Friday night, I guess." She hadn't really been intending to introduce Karolina to anyone yet. It still felt so new and fragile. "If she's willing. She might want to keep me all to herself, you know."
Cass pursed her lips, looking amused. "I can well imagine."
"You are a pushy woman, Cassidy Winters."
"I never got anything I wanted by being demure and subtle. Have you?"
"Not once."
They clinked their mugs and parted ways shortly thereafter, leaving Helen to make the long walk to the theater on her own. She usually welcomed it but the wind was sharp, and her ears were feeling half frostbitten by the time she arrived. It was blessedly warm backstage, thank goodness.
Nancy met her almost at the door, her face lined with all the worries of a producer. "Glad you made it back again. All your domestic affairs in order? Because I need to talk to you."
That didn't sound good. "What's up?"
"Neil is leaving us early-and his understudy is serviceable as…an understudy not a headliner, so we have to put out a call."
"You need me for readings or something? Sure-Thursday, Friday and Saturday mornings can be opened up."
They had reached her dressing room, and Nancy gestured for Helen to precede her. "Probably, but I have a different concern."
The door closed, Helen turned to face Nancy, who looked slightly ill. "What's the bad news?" Her brain was spinning with possibilities.
"I don't want to have this conversation, believe me. Neil was supposed to stay through January, but he wants out now and he has an early termination option that I didn't think he'd use because of the penalty."
"Let me guess." She didn't bother to hide her bitterness. "You may be skewing to a lower age demographic in a new male lead. And that means you need an appropriate demographically compatible female lead."
"Only if we cast someone a great deal younger than Neil. But I wanted to be upfront about it."
"That's great. For years I've been telling myself that I was making too much of turning fifty, that everything would be fine. Fifty for not even a month and I'm being kicked to the curb?"
"Be honest, Helen. Could you really play opposite a twenty-eight-year old?"
"That young?" Helen felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. "Has it occurred to anyone that the script only works with mature leads? That they have life histories that make them closing in on forty, if not older?"
"It has. We're not idiots." Nancy glared back. "Do you think this is easy?"
"What difference does that make, whether you find this easy or not? I'm supposed to pity you? You're still working either way."
"And you might be as well. I was only trying to do the right thing and give you a heads-up. That obviously didn't go so well." Nancy flounced out of the room, leaving Helen staring at the door in dismay.
She shouldn't be upset-this was the theater. This was the way things worked, and always had. She just didn't need the worry right now. There was so much else to worry about. Except home. Home was safe and okay and fine, because Laura was there.
And for a moment, before she tried to turn her reeling mind to the night's performance and the Broadway elixir that was her joy, she let herself feel how much she wished she were at home.
"You were wonderful," Karolina murmured. She was standing just close enough that Helen swore she could feel her body heat, but not so close that anyone would give them a second glance. The press of bodies backstage was pretty bad. It seemed the Broadway bloggers had gotten a hold of the rumor that Neil was moving on to another production.
"Thank you." Her own assessment was that she'd been distracted and dropped three cues. "Your flight was okay? The train was fine?"
"Yes, and I checked my bag at Marriott down the street. I didn't want to be conspicuous rolling around with a suitcase."
Grateful for Karolina's forethought, Helen still wanted to be sure she hadn't misunderstood. "Just your bag, right? You're…staying with me?"
"That was my plan. We can reclaim my suitcase any time." Her gaze dropped briefly to Helen's lips, then she put a little more space between them. "It's very hard to behave."
"I have to get out of this gear."
"I forgot you were you-after about five minutes or so. You weren't Helen at all."
"Thank you, really. That's quite a compliment. Did it bother you?"
Karolina lowered her voice further. "I kept thinking how many women you are, all at once."
Helen spotted a prominent Times critic headed her direction. She really didn't feel like answering questions about her own future right now. "Will you be all right if I abandon you for a few minutes. Time to change."
Safely escaped to her dressing room, she stripped off Moxie's clothes and the wig, then quickly scrubbed her face clean. Please, she pleaded, no hot flashes now. The frequency seemed to have abated-who knew? Maybe finally having some very good sex had boosted her estrogen. Regardless, she wanted to get into her street clothes as quickly as possible.
The dresser, who had seen her in just about every stage of undress at one time or another, knocked and claimed the clothes. "Who lit a fire under you?"
"Just trying to get decent." She buttoned her blouse. "I have a friend from out of town I don't want to leave out there with the wolves."
"There are a lot of wolves tonight. Neil has us all in an uproar. I heard they are thinking they can get Justin Timberlake."
"Great," Helen said. "Miley Cyrus can have my part."
She wished for a wig that would simulate her normal hair, not sure what Karolina would make of her sleek Prada bucket hat tied down with a violet silk scarf. She'd gotten a little bit lazy, she told herself, with the long, successful run. She wasn't used to having to play the part of the blithely optimistic stage star who wasn't concerned with the petty day-to-day realities of roles and casting. It was what the critics and bloggers wanted to see and she'd long since learned that if you gave an audience what they expected, they didn't look behind the curtain for the frightened actress desperately praying she didn't look her age.
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