by Riley Scott
“Good morning,” she called out, before she could see who was on the other side of the counter. “Sorry, I was in the back making today’s bakery items.”
“Not a problem.” Dominique’s gentle words calmed her and she smiled—the first genuine smile aimed at someone else to grace her lips in days. Her heartbeat quickened, and her mood lightened in an instant as she rounded the corner to the front, her feet moving at twice their normal pace.
“I’m glad it’s you. I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“I got in late last night. It’s time for my monthly check in—just a routine thing we’re trying out in places affected by…er…this kind of thing—so I wanted to come and check in. And I’m glad, too.” Dominique’s smile grew. “What were you making back there?”
“Has it really been a month?” Amelia shook her head, even though she could see the date flashing in red in her mind. “Of course it has,” she said waving her hand in the air. “To answer your question, I made muffins.” She glanced down at the countertop, as she remembered the weirdness of her behavior. Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed even though Dominique had no way of knowing. “Just some blueberry muffins,” she added. “Sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.” She shrugged, knocking over the display of paper coffee cups in front of her. “Just like that.” She scrambled to pick them up. To her surprise, Dominique leaned over the countertop to help her. When Dominique’s hand brushed her own, she giggled. Again with the giggling! She had to get a grip on whatever was happening in her mind before she would make good company for anyone—let alone make a good business owner.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, wishing she could erase all of her erratic behavior since Dominique had walked into the shop.
“Stop apologizing,” Dominique said, laughter ringing through the air. “It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to stop in and see how you were doing, and maybe grab some coffee or something to eat. You always have tasty things here.”
“You like them?” Her voice was too chipper, too excited at the thought that Dominique of all people liked her pastries. She cleared her throat. “I’m glad to hear that,” she added before Dominique could answer. “What are you in the mood for today?”
“Could I trouble you for a little conversation and one of those muffins?”
“Yes to both,” she said, wanting nothing more than to shirk all of her day’s responsibilities and sit on the couch next to Dominique, filling her in on everything she was feeling, as well as listening to the adventures of Dominique’s day. It had become something she looked forward to every couple of days. Lately it had been via telephone or Skype, since a non-profit’s budget didn’t really allow for extended stays away from home. Over the course of their conversations, she had learned so much about herself, about life, about this whole “fight for equality” thing she had always brushed under the table. Most importantly, she had learned the importance of connecting with someone—truly connecting, be it for friendship or any sort of bond. She smiled as she walked back toward the kitchen. She would have gladly taken a phone call or Skype call, but this was special. This was a treat, and she was going to take advantage of it.
“One muffin coming right up!” she said, cheerily making her way to the couch where Dominique had already taken a seat. “Tell me all about life in Austin.” Amelia took a seat. “I want to hear about those things. I want to hear about the work you’re doing. We can get to me and things around here later.”
Dominique smiled but questions danced in her eyes. “I’m fine, I promise,” Amelia said. “I just want to talk about something else for a change. All I ever do is talk about—or talk around—what happened here. I want something new for a day. Talk to me. Spill it about the ‘big city’ life.” She added air quotes and nodded expectantly.
“Fine,” Dominique said, letting out a mock sigh. “I’ll fill you in on my weird life, even though we talked about it just a couple of days ago. Things in Austin are just fine. They’re busy. Around the office, we are worried about things down here. It seems like they’re still stalling the case but you know that. We’re just worried it’ll go south and the good ol’ boy system will win out. That’s mainly my work life.”
Amelia frowned and Dominique held her hands up. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to stop there. I was just letting you know you probably don’t want to ask about work. You know about work. Other than that, I talked to you two days ago. Not much has changed, although I did have some sushi that was out-of-this-world amazing last night.”
“With a girl?” Amelia squeaked the question, unsure why the inquiry made her stomach flip flop.
“Yes.” Dominique nodded, taking a bite of the muffin. “This is delicious, by the way.” Amelia fought to keep her expression neutral while she waited for details of the sushi date. “And no…not in that way,” Dominique said, raising an eyebrow in Amelia’s direction. “Just a girl who is my friend. We’ve been friends since college.”
“Is there a girl in that way?” Amelia pulled her legs up onto the couch, crossing them beneath her, excited to have something that felt fresh. She gazed into Dominique’s eyes, transfixed. She watched them flutter and felt almost as if she was a kid at a slumber party fighting sleep and engaging in gossip. As Dominique chewed the bite of muffin in her mouth, Amelia’s mind went crazy. What if there was a girl? Would that mean this—whatever this was—would come to a halt? Would that mean Amelia didn’t hold a special place in Dominique’s life anymore? Did she even hold a special place now? The questions were childish at best, but she couldn’t wait for Dominique to answer. She felt her foot tapping on the couch and grabbed it with her hand to make it stop.
“There isn’t,” Dominique finally said, wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “At least, not right now. You never know what the future holds, and from my experience, lesbians don’t tend to stay single for too long. At least, I never really did until recently.”
“You can’t just leave it at that,” Amelia urged. “Tell me more.”
“I had a messy break-up about a year ago. Since then, I’ve taken some time to focus on myself and my career. I’ve focused a lot of attention on what I need in life. It’s been good. One of these days, I’ll try my hand in the dating game again.”
“What’s your type?”
Dominique straightened her shoulders and held her breath for a second before laughing. “Where are all these questions coming from?”
“Curiosity…or maybe just a need to know more. I don’t know.” She was talking at rapid speed again and she fought to control her words. “I guess I want to know more. I don’t know that much about dating women, and I think I’d like to try at some point. Maybe. Down the road. Not now. I don’t know what I want. I want lesbian gossip. Before Chloe, I always felt alone. And then I wasn’t alone…and then I was. Now you’re here too. So I’m not alone again, and I want to ask you the questions I never had a chance to ask anyone else.”
“That’s understandable,” Dominique said, relaxing back onto the couch and taking another bite of her muffin. “Why don’t we start slow? Let’s just talk about the basics. Are you a lesbian? Are you bi? I know we’ve talked about it and you weren’t really sure. Are you saying you’re a lesbian?”
“I am,” Amelia said, letting out a sigh of relief. “I’ve never admitted that to anyone. I always just told Chloe that I liked girls too, never that it was my only option. I mean, I finally said it to myself the other day, and of course I’ve done things that make it fairly obvious. But I’ve come to terms with it. That’s who I am.”
“I’m proud of you.” Dominique placed a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. The slight touch felt like electricity, and Amelia sucked in a sharp breath.
“Thanks,” she managed, even though it felt like the world was moving beneath her. “I know now, more than ever, it’s important to be who I am—even if that’s scary. I know that I have to figure out the rest. And I will, in time. For now, I’m admitting that to me and to you. And the
rest will fall into place.”
Dominique nodded. “You’re making great progress, just in the time I’ve known you.”
“You’ve helped a lot in that. You’ve made me feel comfortable. Thank you.”
Dominique leaned in for a hug and Amelia caught the scent of berries in her perfume. Her body tingled as she pulled Dominique closer. She wasn’t sure what it was she was feeling, but it had to be wrong. They were here for Chloe—not for anything else. She pulled away from the hug, right as the door chimed.
She jumped up as if she had been caught and scurried behind the counter. Her face fell as she saw Bill Stanton remove his hat.
“Morning, Amelia,” he said, stepping up to the counter. He glanced toward the couch and she watched his face change.
As he locked eyes with Dominique, the air in the room seemed colder. Tension was palpable. Amelia furrowed her brow and he sighed. “I was hoping you and I could talk a minute. But I can come back.” He worked to keep his voice low, but Dominique was already gathering her things and heading for the door.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Stanton,” she said as she reached for the door handle. “I’ll see you later, Amy.”
Amelia shot a questioning look and Dominique held her hand up to her face like a phone, mouthing, “Call me.” Amelia nodded and waved, still confused. She turned her attention back to Bill.
“Good morning, Mr. Stanton,” she said, offering him a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”
“What was she doing here?” he asked, no longer interested in whatever had brought him in here.
“She’s a friend of mine,” Amelia said, her tongue tripping over the words. “She came into town to help with things after what happened, and she and I kept in touch.”
“Hmm.” He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, turning his attention to the menu behind Amelia on the wall. “It’s pretty quiet in here today, isn’t it?” he asked, not looking away from the menu.
“It is today,” she said with a shrug. “I think everyone is at work. And most of my regulars have already been in and out. I don’t expect too many interruptions.”
“Good.”
“Would you like a coffee? On the house.”
“You don’t have to do that.” His words were devoid of emotion, and she wished she could break through that wall. It was the same one his daughter had often put up. “I’m a paying customer. You’ve done enough by the coffee and pastries you brought over to the house.”
“I insist,” she said. “Anything you like.”
“Black and strong, please,” he said, reaching for his wallet despite her earlier statement.
She shook her head and he finally made eye contact, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he added putting his wallet back into his back pocket.
She nodded and poured the coffee. It was the same way Chloe had always taken it. She reminisced and felt a soft smile tug at the corners of her mouth. They were quite a bit alike, those two. Behind her, Bill took a seat on the barstool next to the counter. When she handed him the cup of coffee, he placed his hand over hers. “Is it okay if I sit here and maybe talk to you a bit?”
“Of course,” she said, pulling up the stool she kept behind the counter so they were eye to eye. “I’d enjoy that. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I want to get to what I originally came in here for in a minute. But first things first, I’m not sure I trust that woman who was in here. What was her name? Desiree?”
“Dominique,” Amelia corrected gently. “How do you know her?” Dominique had never mentioned anything about Bill.
“She stopped by my house right after Chloe was murdered…well, a few days after, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t know who she is or what business she has here.”
“She’s just trying to help, I think,” Amelia said. “I know she’s not from here, but I think her intentions are good.”
“Okay,” he said half-heartedly. “Just don’t get caught up in something where they want to use Chloe as an example. I’m not about all that.”
“I get it,” Amelia said. “I think it’s about something bigger than Chloe. It’s about a systemic problem, and she just wants to offer support and educate others to make sure this doesn’t happen somewhere else.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It never should have happened here.” He fidgeted, lightly pounding his fist against the counter.
“I agree.” She took the moment of silence to look him over and take in his appearance. His face was weathered, even more so than just a few weeks ago. The lines around his eyes had deepened, as had the circles beneath them. She wanted to hug him but instead reached across and held his hand. “I cared about your daughter, too. I know you know me as the coffee girl down the street and the kid who got straight As all the way through school. Even if Chloe was a couple of years older than I was, I’m sure you weren’t able to escape the small town talk where everyone’s kids know everyone else. And that’s who I was to them. That’s how most people around here know me, but I was close to your daughter. I miss her terribly, too. I know nothing can make this better and it all seems pretty scary. There are people here we don’t even know. We’ve seen our share of investigators, lawyers, and even some support people like Dominique. Just because they’re not all familiar doesn’t mean they’re bad. And just so you know, since I know her, I’ll make sure everything done about this by her organization honors the way Chloe lived and how she would want to be portrayed.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I just don’t want them painting her as some kind of civil rights activist when all she was doing was living her life.”
“In a sense, isn’t that the most bold type of activist?” she asked, thinking back to how Chloe had lived life so out-loud and proud without ever really having to say anything. She just was. “She never shoved it in anyone’s face, but she never hid. She never tried to be anything other than what she was and she wouldn’t take anyone’s disapproval to heart. She lived her life as a proud gay woman and showed everyone how damn happy she was.”
“I guess you might be onto something there,” he said as a sad smile formed on his lips. “Anyway, enough about that. Why don’t you tell me about the side of my daughter you knew? Who was she to you?”
Amelia bit her lip and lowered her gaze. It was now or never. There was no sense lying to a man who already knew who his daughter was, particularly right after she had just praised Chloe for living so proudly. “I was…I…” she sighed. Words were inadequate and there was no real description for what she had been. She glanced into his eyes, hoping he’d save her from having to find the words, but he waited patiently. “I was dating her,” she said when no better term came to mind.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “That means you knew her well. You knew who my girl was, and you can help to honor her memory. That’s what I wanted to make sure. I also just wanted to talk to someone else around here who might actually talk about it, about her, instead of just shying away from it like it’s too painful to talk about.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, giving him an opportunity to share what he was feeling, even though she knew exactly what he meant. If it hadn’t been for Dominique, she wouldn’t have been able to verbally process anything either. Everyone around here just talked about how they couldn’t believe it, how Trent couldn’t have done it, and how Knell would never be the same.
No one seemed to delve deeper, to talk about the mark Chloe left on this place, or to even mention her name. It made mourning her even lonelier.
“You know what I mean,” he said as if reading her mind. “I want to talk about that stubborn passion for life, the way she’d grit her teeth and jump headfirst into any challenge, the way she’d make anyone mad as hell with that temper and that refusal to take ‘no’ for an answer, the way her smile would light up a room and diffuse a tense situation. I want to talk about that, to remember it. I want her to be remembered for everything—not just fo
r being the only gay person in this small little town.” He trailed off, looking out the window. “You know, this place has always been my home. Lately it feels like hell. It feels like I’m an outsider and I don’t know how to get back in.”
“I know the feeling,” she said, patting his hand gently. “Let’s talk about her. Let’s remember.” She recalled their last night together and bit her lip. She still couldn’t share that with anyone. “When she first started coming into my shop every day, it was a breath of fresh air. She was always humming some different tune. She was like the cool kid everyone wants to be but will never be. She had this air of confidence about her. Looking back, I know it was well deserved. She deserved to feel like the coolest person on the planet, because she was. Always listening to rock music, dressing like one of the guys and working harder than all of them. She was strong but not just physically. She was mentally strong and fierce in determination—whether it was fixing a leaky sink or finally mastering baking an apple pie. Whatever it was she was going to do, she was going to be the best. I miss seeing someone so alive and driven.”
“Me, too,” he said. A half smile lifted the left corner of his mouth. “She made an apple pie?” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “She once told me she could burn water, and I believed it. I ate some of her early creations.”
“She did,” Amelia said, settling on her stool. She smiled and recounted the memory for Bill. “I told her it was my favorite in passing, and she and her big heart got in the way of her just buying it or letting me make one. I had a rough week a while back. Some stuff was going on financially and the stress of running a business had gotten to me. I was stressed and she called, insisting that I come see her. I gave in and drove over, only to find a freshly baked apple pie on her dining room table. Later, after I raved and raved about how delicious it was—and it was—she admitted it was the third one she had tried to make that day. She had told me ‘those damn recipe books just don’t tell you all you need to know.’ Even so, she mastered it. I never found anything she couldn’t master.”
