His brow looked plenty narrow, Sarah thought. He was roly-poly in a Burl Ives sort of way, but his expression held such superiority and disdain that she instantly disliked him. "How do you get along with him?" She could tell that most of his staff was afraid of him by the formal way they approached him, the physical distance they kept while they talked and the hint of bowing in their demeanor as they left.
"I don't. I talk to my boss, and he talks to Mr. Hansen. I'm considered a very junior member of the firm."
"After what, seven years?"
Geoff nodded. "I'm sure it's because I'm not married, and therefore not a settled, mature sort of fellow, the kind they like to see in their upper management slots."
"Like something out of the Fifties."
The music started with a swing version of "Jingle Bells." No one danced, though Sarah could tell that many, like her, were itching to.
"What's the deal?"
"I told you it was a heterosexual strut. They practically reenact their effing weddings. Here it comes," Geoff said. "Mr. Hansen will dance with Mrs. Hansen. After two minutes, Mr. Wells, senior executive vice president, will cut in, and then Mr. Hansen will ask Mrs. Wells to dance."
"When it would be far more amusing if he asked Mr. Wells dance," Sarah added, her tone dry.
Geoff nearly choked on his California Roll, drawing a few disapproving glances from several people. Sarah was certain that her remark had been overheard by the younger couple near them — the woman was covering her mouth with her napkin, while the man turned his laugh into a cough. The woman strolled over and extended her hand.
"Teresa Griffith," she said. "Are you here with this bad boy?"
"Sarah MacNeil," Sarah answered in kind. They shook hands politely, then Teresa introduced her husband, Carl.
"Teresa is a product manager I work with," Geoff explained. "And she has no right to call me a bad boy."
"Geoff, darling, I've had a little too much sake way too quickly and the night is young," Teresa said. "So you'll have to excuse my manners. But take a look around you sometime. I know, we all know —" She abruptly stopped and shot a panicked look at Sarah.
Geoff flushed. "When you do my performance evaluations we'll talk."
Carl put his arm around her shoulder. "Honey, you have had too much sake." He gave his wife a meaningful glance and then flicked his gaze at Sarah.
Teresa blinked at him, then smiled. "Quite right, darling. I'll be good."
"It's all right, Teresa," Sarah said. "Geoff and I are just friends. I like him just the way he is."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Geoff said. "Can we stop talking about me like I'm not here?"
Teresa leaned toward Geoff and spoke in a lower tone. "My brother wasn't asked and didn't tell and he still got discharged."
Sarah could tell that Geoff was uncomfortable. His color was high and he looked as if his collar was two sizes too tight.
"Terry, leave the poor man alone," Carl said.
"Sorry, Geoffrey, my love," Teresa said. "I'm a mom and you've still got your boyish good looks, so I can't help but nag you."
"No problem, Big T." Geoff cleared his throat. "Thanks for your support. Know what? I think we can all dance now."
Something devilish seized Sarah, and she said to Teresa, "Would you like to dance?"
Teresa gaped. Carl spluttered into his wine and Geoff burst out laughing.
"I don't wait to be asked," Sarah said as Teresa laughed until she got tears in her eyes. "I just tell."
"That served me right," Teresa said. "I'm not going to assume nothing about nobody no more."
"That'll be the day," Carl said. "My darling wife, would you like to dance?"
Geoff spun Sarah out on the dance floor as the ensemble segued from "Winter Wonderland" to "Jingle Bell Rock." Sarah estimated that there were about 80 people at the party, and more than half were dancing.
Sarah enjoyed the sheer pleasure of the motion for a few minutes, then said, "Did you know Teresa knew?"
"No," Geoff said. "I didn’t think anyone did."
"Well, the mask is half off."
"If I get the job at Carsey-Mellon it'll be all the way off." He shrugged his shoulders as if a weight were lifting from them. "I can't even imagine what it'll be like just to talk about myself. I'm not into cruising or the bar scene — been there, done that — and I don't have many friends. And I can't make friends at work because I'm biding all the time, telling near-lies all the time."
"I hate to tell you this," Sarah said into his ear as the music transitioned to the "Waltz of the Hours," "but I've been where you are, and once the closet door opens and you breathe in the fresh air there's no going back."
"I'm beginning to understand it," Geoff said. "How'd you get so wise?"
Sarah thought for a moment. "Privilege. I was in an unassailable position. I had something no one could tarnish no matter what. And I hung out with women in the same position. So I'm not nearly as brave as I might seem. I was just lucky."
Geoff gazed down into her eyes. "I have a hard time believing that. So how did your parents take it? I haven't taken that step yet, either."
"Well, my mom freaked, but everything I did made her freak. She's very conscious of what others think, and she was concerned with what people thought of her because of me and felt that just about everything I did reflected badly on her."
"She's an 'enough about me, what do you think about me' kind of person?"
Sarah laughed into his chin. "Yes, that's it exactly. My dad, on the other hand, slapped me on the back, said whatever I did was okay by him and we haven't discussed it since."
"I could live with that," Geoff said.
"I can, too. But with my dad, well, it's hard to explain. He's an antiquities expert, and he does a lot of museum consulting and travel. He might drop in on me once a year. I always feel a little bit like he's just updating his note card on me. But he's affectionate. I know he loves me. He's just not a nurturer, no more than my mother is."
"So you got all your nurturing from your Grannie," Geoff said. "The world could use a lot of grannies."
"You said it." Sarah thought abruptly of Leslie, who was a born nurturer. The programmers, every one of them, loved her. As soon as they'd realized Matt was away, Leslie had been besieged with invitations for Christmas and New Year's Eve, and Sarah had overheard Gene trying to convince her to go to a hockey game. None of them could stand the idea of Leslie being lonely or in need. Maybe she should invite Leslie to dinner some time next week. She missed Debra, missed her a lot. Maybe Leslie could come to mean what Debra had — everyone needed a best friend, or at least someone close who understood them.
She realized she wasn't thinking of Melissa as a best friend. She knew she should be alarmed, but she could not battle her way past the indifference she felt. She felt a chill run down her spine. It was almost as if she didn't like Melissa, which was absurd. She wouldn't have come to San Francisco if she didn't.
"Penny for them," Geoff said.
"Gathering wool," Sarah answered. "I'm getting hungry again."
"Allow me." Geoff pirouetted her off the dance floor and made an elaborate show of escorting her to the buffet table. He attentively plied her with food and drink until she surreptitiously threw a pea at him.
They danced until Sarah thought her feet would fall off. She had enjoyed herself too much to regret the blisters she later discovered when she stripped off her hose. She slipped into the bathtub for a good soak and wondered why Geoff hadn't met the right guy.
Everyone had a soulmate — Grannie MacNeil said it was true, and Sarah realized she still believed it, even though she'd been disillusioned. Maybe she hadn't given Melissa the chance to connect with her. Their physical relationship was too great to give up. You can't make dreams come true by wishing, Sarah told herself. When Melissa returned, she'd welcome her home with open arms, and an open heart.
Leslie turned on her office lights and settled into her comfortable desk chair. It was
pouring rain outside, and Sunday at home alone on such a dark day was too much to handle. If it was going to rain, she would work. Sorting resumes for the accountant job was going to be fun. She was dying to hire somebody, completely the opposite from how she had felt looking at attorney resumes.
She kicked herself mentally — twice. She was not going to think about attorneys, patents, sequin dresses, archery, the Olympics, dancing or anything else that might remotely make her think of Sarah. It was a simple crush, that was all, and just as quickly as it had been born, it would die again. She should just give it some time.
She shook herself out of a daze just as her dream lips were about to brush that sexy tattoo on Sarah's back. She conceded that the tattoo was not sexy, then the devil child inside her added, "But her back sure as hell is."
Cross with herself, she took the sorted resumes out to Melody's desk with instructions to arrange interviews. And then, without really thinking about it, she found herself at the file cabinet. Rationally, she told herself that she had every right to look at Sarah's personnel file. Rationally, she knew no one could say anything about her turning on the copier so she could study Sarah's resume at home, when she had the leisure time. After all, she'd just given up some of her Sunday to work, so why not examine the resume in the comfort of her home if she so desired. It was all very rational.
Nevertheless, she took extra pains to put the file back exactly as she had found it, a little hidden by the one in front. She locked the file cabinet again, put the key exactly when Melody had last left it, then scurried into her office with the copy.
The windshield wipers said, "Dumb move dumb move dumb move," as she drove home. She felt as if she had trade secrets in her purse rather than a single sheet of paper she had every right to have.
She made herself a bowl of cereal for dinner, and picked up the resume. She skipped over the CompuSoft work history. She knew everything she needed to know about Sarah as a co-worker. She was thorough, serious and intelligent. The education section provided more clues about Sarah the person. She'd started her graduate and law degrees at the University of Washington five years after graduating with a B.A. from the University of Southern California. NCAA Archery women's team captain for two of the four years at USC. And there it was — Sarah had been a member of the 3-woman U.S. Olympic Archery team in 1984 and 1988.
Wow, was all Leslie could think. Sarah liked movies, gardening, and had done a summer internship with the Human Rights Campaign Fund during law school. So Richard had known Sarah was gay when he hired her. Piffle, Leslie thought. Now she owed him an apology.
Feeling childish, she read through the resume again. It's just a crush, she told herself. Just a crush. You have to get out more.
She was still telling herself that the following day when she pulled into the parking lot and saw Sarah's Jaguar pull in right after her. The rain was still steadily falling, though the wind had died down. She ran for the warehouse door and held it open for Sarah, who was right behind her.
"Oh, man," Sarah was gasping. "Is it pouring or what?"
"Pouring," Leslie agreed. "Why aren't you wearing rainboots?"
Sarah shook one running-shoe-clad foot. "I didn't know I was going to step in a puddle. I hate rain-boots."
"And where is your coat, young lady?" As if it's cold outside," Sarah said. "It's just wet, and the umbrella took care of most of that."
"You sound just like Matt," Leslie said. "It's plenty cold out there."
"Hah! It's balmy." Sarah headed in the direction of her office.
"Something's balmy," Leslie muttered. See, she told herself. She irritates you sometimes. You can't possibly have a crush on someone who irritates you.
"I heard that," Sarah called. "Hey," she said, turning. "What are you doing Saturday night?"
There was a dull roar in Leslie's ears. "Nothing, why?"
"Come to dinner, we'll get a video. I'll make sure Melissa doesn't have her group over that night."
Leslie walked nonchalantly to her own office door. "Is this a pity dinner?"
"Yeah," Sarah said, grinning. "Eight o'clock, don't be late."
This serves me right, Leslie thought. It just serves me right. She pities me and now I'm going to have dinner and watch her and the gorgeous girlfriend of hers make goo-goo eyes at each other all night. Great, just great.
She was not going to apologize to Richard, not now. This was all his fault, bringing another lesbian into the company as if Leslie were made of steel. This was all his fault, and Sarah's too for being so unbearably attractive. She was wearing that lavender and green sweater again, didn't she know it made her eyes turn completely violet?
Part of Leslie's mind was turning over the question of what to wear, and if she perhaps needed to shop for something casual Sarah hadn't seen yet. She didn't own that part of her mind — it was a rotten traitor to be planning which bra she would wear, and if she'd shave her legs.
She heard Sarah answer the phone — her low voice carried through the wall far too well. It just wasn't fair.
Richard came into her office and Leslie gave him her best evil look.
"What did I do?" Richard stopped as if Leslie had shot him, one hand over his heart.
"Nothing," Leslie said, glaring for all she was worth. It's all your fault, you little Ewok from hell.
Sarah looked up from her coffee as a yawning Melissa headed for the kitchen. "Watch out, the floor might still be damp."
Melissa paused at the edge of the carpet and studied the kitchen floor. "You could eat off this."
"When I scrub a floor it knows it's been scrubbed," Sarah said. "It's probably dry."
Melissa tiptoed to the coffeemaker and then joined Sarah at the table. "I forgot we had company tonight."
"I think you'll like Leslie." Sarah set aside the newspaper and admired the sight of Melissa in flannel pajamas. Her homecoming from Los Angeles had been memorable. "Her son is gone for the holidays and I think she's very lonely."
Melissa sighed with satisfaction after a swallow of coffee. "I keep forgetting Christmas is right around the corner."
"About Christmas," Sarah said.
"Do you have plans?" Melissa went back to the kitchen for more sugar.
"Well, I only have a couple of days vacation coming to me, but I think Richard is planning to give everyone one or two more days off as a bonus, so I think I could manage to take the whole week off. I was wondering — would you like to spend Christmas in the snow?"
"Skiing? I'd love to."
"Well, there is some skiing, but I was thinking more along the lines of a remote cabin in the Cascades — my grandmother's farm. I inherited it when she died. It's a very special place to me." Sarah had been thinking the plan over ever since her night with Geoff. She wanted to open her life to Melissa.
"A white Christmas would be fun. The only thing I've got going is my lunch with Shana Dawson on Monday, so we could leave any time after that. Whenever you can get off."
She'd heard all about Shana Dawson when Melissa had come home on Tuesday night, and she thought it was great that Melissa would be receiving real advice and encouragement from a professional. "Most likely not until Friday afternoon. I think if we get into Seattle by eight we can be at the cabin by midnight, weather permitting. If not, we'll stop off at a motel. I just want you to see it in the morning light. We'd come home sometime the following weekend, if you want to be gone that long."
"Sounds great. I guess I could be busy if I decide to go the executive producer route that Shana suggested for the grant project. I'm going to ask her more about that at our lunch. It would be good experience, but I'm still unhappy about not changing the content like I want to."
Sarah was relieved that Shana Dawson's advice had made Melissa see that the experience would be beneficial. She dried her hands, then lassoed Melissa with the dishtowel. After a very thorough kiss she let her go.
"What was that for?" Melissa slipped her arms around Sarah's waist.
"That was just
because," Sarah said.
"And you had no ulterior motives?" Melissa waggled her eyebrows.
"You have a dirty mind," Sarah said, with mock severity.
"Yes, I do. Remember when I said you'd scrubbed the kitchen floor so hard you could eat off it?"
Sarah nodded, bewildered by the change of subject.
"I think I'll prove it," Melissa finished, and she pulled a giggling Sarah to the floor.
9
You desire, to embrace it, to caress it, to possess it... (Henry James)
"I know you said I shouldn't bring anything, but I couldn't help myself," Leslie said.
Sarah took the box of Joseph Schmidt chocolates. "I've heard these are local treasures."
"Open it," Leslie urged.
"Wow," Sarah breathed. Inside were ornate tablespoons made of bittersweet and milk chocolate. "My cappuccino just got better. You really didn't have to, but thank you. Here, give me your coat. Hey, I like that sweater, is it new?"
Leslie nodded. "I was killing time at the mall."
Sarah gave Leslie the brief guided tour, then led the way to the kitchen where Melissa was busy tearing lettuce. After introductions, she offered Leslie a drink. "You're our second formal dinner guest."
"And this time I won't burn the rice," Melissa said. "Fortunately, Sarah's friend Geoff was a good sport."
"Geoff is always a good sport," Sarah said. "At least when he's dancing."
"Oh, Geoff is the one who plies you with wine and takes you dancing, right?" Leslie settled onto the stool next to the breakfast bar.
Sarah emerged with a cold bottle of white wine in one hand and a chilled goblet in the other. "Umm-hmmm. He's a bad influence. But I think if I had ever wanted to have some guy's babies, it would be Geoff s. You know what I mean?"
Melissa said no at the same time Leslie said yes and Sarah laughed. "We seem to have a difference of opinion."
"Since I have had a baby with a man, I do know what you mean," Leslie said.
"You know, I've never wanted to have babies, much less with a man," Melissa said. "I'm a real lesbian, through and through."
Embrace in Motion Page 14
