Rayann realized she had been had. "I suppose they need to be organized."
"Yes, I guess that would help," Louisa said. "But it could wait until Monday."
"I think it will wait until Monday."
"You're so much fun to tease," Louisa said.
Rayann winced. Louisa's words were an echo of Michelle's, but in an entirely different context. "Well," she managed, "since people are already drawing up their Christmas lists, perhaps I'll start tomorrow."
"It can wait until Monday," Louisa said firmly. "You're too easy to manipulate, you know."
"I know," Rayann said, her chest going tight. "Ill have to work on my resistance."
Louisa put her hand on Rayann's arm. "Do that. Life will treat you better. I won't, but life will."
Rayann smiled slightly. "Well, if this is as bad as you're going to treat me, I think I can take it."
"I make no promises," Louisa said, her arched eyebrow bringing a flush to Rayann's cheeks. "No promises of any kind."
Rayann sliced open a box of Harlequin romances and put them in the rack designed specifically for them. They wouldn't last long because the women from the retirement center positively devoured them. Rayann knew how they felt — she could do with a "good read" herself. She wasn't desperate enough to read pulp heterosexual romances, but when she'd been growing up she had been an addict. She hadn't read them in years — not since she'd discovered the Lace Place Tea Room and Bar, in fact.
She could still remember being in the car with her mother. Looking out the window while they waited at a stoplight, she had commented on the odd name. "How can anything be a tea room and a bar?"
"It's not a place where decent women go, Rayann," her mother had said, and then changed the subject.
Her first lover had taken her there and Rayann had made the vital link to the world of wonderful, delightfully indecent — to use her mother's phrase — women.
Rayann sighed and stretched, then sliced the box so it would fold flat and carried it out to the garage to add to the growing stack for recycling. She should really borrow the car and head over to Mama Bear's and stock up on some new books. Every book she had was so dog-eared from rereading that the thrill, so to speak, was gone. But every time Rayann thought of going she was sure she'd end up asking Louisa why she didn't stock books for lesbians, which was none of her business. The Renee Vivien! The one book in the store with lesbian themes would be a joy to rediscover. Rayann ran back from the garage and went to find it.
Except Muse of the Violets wasn't there. Not under V, not under R, not even under M. It was so slim — Rayann riffled through the books, then slowly neatened the shelves. Where could it have gotten to? She glanced at the table where Greta and Hazel had been sorting and recalled suddenly the volume she had seen Greta take. It had been the right size and color. Rayann began to smile. Greta did not strike her as an aficionada of French Romantic poetry. And that left only one reason why Greta had wanted the book — because it was by a lesbian and about lesbian passion and love.
She hugged the secret to herself. It didn't matter whether Greta had wanted it out of curiosity or because she was a lesbian. Rayann felt just as good as she had when she found out about Eleanor Roosevelt or Martina Navratilova. It made her feel a part of a vital society of women who loved women.
One day, when she felt particularly brave, she was going to ask Greta what she had thought of Renee Vivien. Rayann hoped Greta, like herself, shivered when she read, "My clever fingers linger with the shudders/Of your flesh under your soft petaled gown."
The door chimes tinkled. Rayann jumped and peered around the bookshelves to see who was there. Louisa came in, breathing hard, wiping her brow with her sleeve. Dampness soaked her sweatshirt which clung to her back and sides. She pulled out the combs which had held her hair up off her shoulders. Rayann hadn't really realized before how slender Louisa's neck was, with feathery silver hair right at the hairline. As Louisa shook her hair down, Rayann decided the overall effect was scrumptious.
Stop that. Stop that right now. Just knock it off. No more.
"I'm drenched," Louisa said. "Oh my. I'm getting too old for the whole lake."
"What makes you say that?"
"I'm wiped out. I don't know why I'm so exhausted."
"You've only been gone an hour. Usually it takes you sixty-five minutes."
"Really?" Louisa looked at the clock. "Goodness. No wonder I'm tired. I'll give myself a heart attack." She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, revealing a weathered A's T-shirt.
Rayann suddenly realized she couldn't have said anything if she wanted to. Her heart had jumped into her throat and wasn't allowing any room for her windpipe to function. On top of that her palms started to sweat, which was nothing but trouble because once her palms started getting damp, then other parts started getting damp. She finally managed to suck in a breath, but only after she stopped tracing the "A" on Louisa's chest with her eyes. She's old enough to be your mother, remember? She has a friend, Danny, remember? She's not interested in you, remember? What's wrong with you?
"You know what I think I deserve?" Louisa scrubbed her face with the sweatshirt. When Rayann didn't answer, she looked up. Rayann shook her head. "Since I selected so able an assistant, I might play hooky for the rest of the afternoon. I could use a glass of wine, a good book and a long soak in a bubble bath."
If she'd had any breath, Rayann would have groaned. Instead she nodded her head. Like an idiot. Like a fool. Like a teenager. Someone somewhere inside her was screaming. Alarms were going off in her head.
"See you later," Louisa said, after giving Rayann an odd look. She hurried up the stairs, humming.
Too long without sex. That must be it. That surely accounts for everything. It's the logical explanation. Makes perfect sense. Yep. Right. Sure.
Rayann found her lungs were working again. After a moment she peeked down the front of her shirt. She wasn't exactly Twiggy but Louisa certainly had plenty in common with Jane Russell. She sighed, disgusted with herself. Do you possibly think you could get your mind out of Junior High? This is just normal, she told herself. My libido is in full gear and it's just natural. If only I'd gotten Zoraida's phone number.
Louisa held out the phone. Rayann looked up from the huge box of dictionaries she had unearthed. "For me?" She took the phone not knowing what to expect. "You are alive," Judy said. "Of course. So are you, it seems." "I thought you promised to keep in touch." "It hasn't been that long," Rayann said. "Don't exaggerate."
"You're no fun anymore, you know that? Only kidding. Listen, I'm calling because I promised Jilly I'd remind you about the Post-Thanksgiving Pre-Winter Solstice Holiday party. You haven't missed one yet."
"I hadn't forgotten, but I'm not sure —"
"I knew it. You don't feel up to it," Judy accused.
"Well, I don't."
"You have to go. Don't you think I don't know it'll be hard for you? But as your informal therapist —"
"Extremely informal. I know how low your test scores were —"
"It would be good for you to see your friends. Your friends would like to see you."
"But you know who else I'll see."
"So what? I don't want to be cruel, but I don't think Michelle will even know you're in the room. She's been burning the candle at both ends."
"Lovely. Meanwhile I don't even have a wick."
Judy laughed politely. "You need some practice at gay banter. Pun intended. Bring a date."
"A date? You must be joking."
"Would I joke about something like that?" Judy sounded very offended. "If it weren't for a certain cop in my life, who is armed twenty-four hours a day, by the way —"
"Sounds kinky —"
"I'd go with you myself. I could fix you up —"
"No thank you," Rayann enunciated with deliberate clarity. "I'd rather go alone."
"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. Why don't you bring the woman who answered the phone? I'd like to meet the owner of that v
oice."
Rayann dropped her voice. "I told you she has a son older than me."
"What's that got to do with it? She has a nice voice. It's positively Garboesque." Judy sighed. "Well, Dedric and I will make sure you don't sit all night. We'll dance your feet off."
"That isn't necessary," Rayann protested weakly.
"The offer will remain open."
When Rayann hung up the phone she realized Louisa was watching her. "My best friend was reminding me about our annual holiday festivities. She said I should bring a date but I don't know anyone," Rayann said before she could stop herself. Oh God, it sounds like I'm asking her. "Well, I did meet somebody recently I could ask." A red herring, my kingdom for a red herring. "About this box of dictionaries."
"Oh, those. I suppose we could give them to a school or something."
"Why?"
"I don't really sell a lot of reference books."
"Why did you order two boxes of forty each of Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary?" Rayann held out the packing slip.
"I didn't order them." Louisa frowned.
"Why didn't you send them back?"
"I'm not paying to send them back. The sleazy distributor's rep made up the order and then tried to convince me to pay for them at big discounts. He was the ultimate Herb Tarlick." Louisa paused. "You do know who Herb Tarlick is, don't you?"
Rayann pursed her lips again. "I'm not a child. I saw 'WKRP in Cincinnati' when it was first on television, not to mention reruns. I had a crush on Bailey Quarters," Rayann added, as proof she did know what she was talking about. "Anyway, you said the rep made up the order," she prompted.
"Then the distributor went bankrupt and so there's no one to send them back to."
"When did they go bankrupt?"
"About a year ago, more than that."
"You mean I've gone through almost a year of boxes?"
"Yes," Louisa said. "And a fine job you're doing, too." She smiled innocently.
Rayann started a sarcastic come-back, but was silenced by a sudden flash of creativity. "Hold the phone. Alert the media. I have an idea."
"I told you, I sell about two dictionaries a year. They're already a little out of date."
"I know just what to do," Rayann said, clutching her head as if it would explode. "Leave everything to me." The more she thought about it, the more sure she was her idea would work. It felt terrific to have a creative urge — any kind of urge that didn't center below her waist — again.
"I don't like the sound of that," Louisa said, frowning.
"Do you like the sound of change in the cash register?" It had been bothering Rayann that there weren't very many customers. Louisa seemed to spend a lot of time sorting through invoices.
"Yes, but I'm not out to compete with Waldenbooks. I don't need to make a fortune. The house is paid for." Louisa stopped abruptly and turned her face slightly away. "Chris's insurance took care of the mortgage. I just need to pay for the books and for food and utilities. And now a new furnace, which makes me glad I still have you." She smiled at Rayann.
"But I'm working all my rent," Rayann said urgently. "I haven't brought in any cash at all. There must be some first editions you're longing to buy."
"I don't want you to feel beholden that way…"
"It's just an inexpensive and simple promotion scheme," Rayann said. "The labor will be cheap," she said, indicating herself, "and the fixed costs — printing — are easily offset by the expected increase in revenues."
"Printing?"
"For the flyers."
"Oh, of course." Louisa frowned. "For the flyers. Silly me for not knowing."
"Ill take care of everything," Rayann said. "You get final copy approval." She grinned. "And what's so wonderful about this ingenious holiday promotion scheme is that the customers still get value because books are precious and they're going to get a dictionary free."
"Of course. Just what I thought," Louisa said, shaking her head.
"I'm going to leave these books here for now, and go up to my room for a while. I need to be alone."She did her best Garbo impression, but her voice did not have the same timbre as Louisa's, or Garbo's for that matter. Louisa frowned. "Is that part of the scheme?" "Yes," Rayann said, putting her hand to her forehead. "All geniuses must rest after being brilliant."
"Pooh," Louisa said. "I've heard that one before."
Communing with her Macintosh, Rayann hummed "it's a gay world after all" under her breath. She felt glorious and alive as she played with her software, importing some scanned pictures of ribboned packages from Clip Art, cropping out the Santa she didn't want, then placing her text. She ran downstairs for paper, then cranked a sheet into her printer. Louisa appeared in the bedroom doorway.
"I didn't realize you had a computer," she said.
"Not a computer. A Macintosh," Rayann said haughtily. "There's a difference."
"Sorry, I didn't know. What are you doing?"
"Come look." Hauteur gone, Rayann patted the bed and sat down. Louisa examined the flyer. "It'll look better printed out on laser. And I don't care for how big this type is, relative to the offer type. The graphic is fine, though."
"Where did you learn to do this?" Louisa turned to look at Rayann.
"I learned art design in college and Macintosh desktop programs on my own. I was getting pretty good at it. The marketing people at the bank were sorry to see me go, I think."
"Why did you go?"
"To become a serious artist and a lesbian housewife."
"Now I remember," Louisa said, her smile gentle. "We're all entitled to one little mistake in judgment."
"Have you made any?" Rayann stared at the flyer but when Louisa didn't answer right away, she looked up.
Louisa was staring at her intently, then broke the intensity with a slight smile. "One... or two. This seems very artistic to me," she went on, indicating the flyer.
Rayann smiled wryly. "Thank you for saying so, but it's not. It's Design One-A basics."
"I couldn't do it. A lot of people couldn't do it. It's certainly special." Louisa studied the flyer again. "It's attractive to look at and I keep reading the name of the bookstore over and over. How did you do that?"
Rayann leaned over and pointed out the different text positions and how they worked together to move the eye to the name of the bookstore. She became aware that she wanted to rub her cheek against Louisa's soft chambray shirt and sat up again. Judy was right. I need a date. Fast.
"I don't see how you'll have any problems finding a job in the business world if you wanted," Louisa said. "After I've completely burned you out."
For some reason Rayann's heart decided to beat triple-time. "I have three years without a work history to explain. It makes companies suspicious."
"But you can start over, when you're ready. Don't sell yourself short." Louisa stood up. Rayann looked up at her. She seemed so tall — perhaps because her legs were so long. "I think this idea of yours will work. Isn't a twenty-dollar minimum too high?"
"I think it's low, but a good place to start. That's about one hardcover and one paperback to get a free hardcover dictionary. It's pretty cheap, really."
"You're not going to go around and put them on people's cars, are you? I hate that. It's annoying and wasteful."
"No, I'm going to leave copies with receptionists in the offices within a three-block radius. If that works, I'll go out to four blocks."
"No holiday is complete without books," Louisa read, "the perfect gift. We can help you find just the right book for everyone on your list." She handed the flyer back to Rayann. "I like it. And I'm going to get my storeroom back in the bargain."
"Let me fix the text sizes and I'll print it again," Rayann said. "It only takes a second."
Louisa leaned over her, watching the screen as Rayann manipulated the text "That's amazing," Louisa said. "I did an abortion-rights flyer once, twenty years ago at least, and I used rub-off lettering. I kept getting the exclamation points stuck to my elbows and no
thing would line up. I never dreamed you'd be able to do all this by yourself. It's how Gutenberg must have felt when he realized he had the power to print anything he wanted."
Rayann kept her eyes on the screen, aware of the cameo pendant Louisa was fond of wearing swinging next to her ear as Louisa bent over. The cameo usually nestled at the top of Louisa's breasts and Rayann thought she could feel a glow of warmth brushing her ear as the cameo swung by. The door chimes sounded downstairs and Rayann found herself thinking it was just in the nick of time.
She concentrated on her flyer, humming Bonnie Raitt's "Nick of Time," then copied the file to a floppy disk and labeled it. She puttered for a long time and when she went downstairs again, she was able to breathe normally.
Rayann was worried about the impending party at the Lace Place, and her dateless state. What happened to that vow of finding a fun and carefree lover to prove to everyone you weren't hurt in the least? She watched Louisa climb the library ladder — which moved on well-greased wheels again — for a book a customer wanted. She certainly has a nice — I need a date. But there was no way she would ask Louisa to go. Everyone would get the wrong idea.
When Rayann went to get the flyer printed and copies made, she found herself driving by the construction site where she'd dumped the first batch of lumber and ruined books. It looked as if they had added a few more floors. This is desperate, the absolute rock bottom. She parked and wondered how she could locate Zoraida. She started the car up to dive away, then turned it off again. She listened to "Born To Be Wild" on the radio, trying to find enough courage to get out of the car — that all-important first step to asking Zoraida for a date. She had never known how to pick up women. I should call Michelle and ask for advice.
A knock on the car window startled her out of her thoughts. Zoraida was on the other side, smiling, her breath coming out in white puffs. Rayann rolled down the window.
"I wondered if you'd be back," Zoraida said.
"I, umm." I'm so articulate.
"Want to have a beer?"
Rayann nodded and was still nodding when she found her voice. "Okay."
"Follow me, then."
Rayann watched Zoraida get into a black 4x4 truck, and then followed it to a bar a few blocks away. She tried to sink into obscurity in one of the booths as Zoraida went to the bar for the beers. Rayann sat on her hands to combat the urge to bite her nails.
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