"Honey, something tells me you have a light." A brunette in her mid-forties, in a short red skirt and tight blouse, stopped next to Danny. Danny, turned and the woman leaned over, cigarette between her index and middle fingers. The blouse fell forward, affording everyone a view of what lay under it — Danny with the best view of all. Rayann watched as Danny deftly flipped open her lighter, sparked it with a negligent flip of one thumb and held the flame under the cigarette the brunette slowly inserted between her lips. The brunette steadied Danny's hand and the view down the front of her blouse swelled and receded as the brunette inhaled once, then again, then stood up.
"Thanks, lover."
"Don't mention it." Danny watched the woman walk away, a faint smile of satisfaction playing around her mouth.
Rayann shot a look at Louisa. Louisa was studying her drink. Rayann was enraged — how could Danny do such a thing, something so... so intimate right in front of Louisa?
Dedric said to Danny, "Was it good for you?"
Danny laughed. "I haven't lit another woman's cigarette in years. It really takes me back."
"Sometimes I miss smoking," Dedric said. Then she laughed and glanced slyly at Judy. "Just about every night."
"Everybody I know who's quit says they really miss smoking after dinner," Zoraida said.
"I was not thinking about after dinner." Dedric grinned as Judy playfully slapped at her.
The banter went on, eddying around Rayann's ears. She didn't contribute much. When Zoraida asked her to dance, Rayann was aware of Louisa's gaze on them. She slowly shook her head. "I'm tired," she said feebly.
Zoraida's eyes flashed, startling Rayann. Zoraida turned her head for a moment then asked Dedric to dance. They disappeared in the mass of bodies on the dance floor, each moving in a similar assured step.
Louisa looked at her watch and gave Danny a shake. "Come on, we've still got to find a parking place near the theater. Beach Blanket Babylon is always crowded."
"Okay. Give me time for a smoke outside, and then we'll hightail it." Danny strode to the door, her walk defiant, daring anyone to get in her way.
"Well, it was certainly a pleasure to meet the woman with the Greta Garbo voice," Judy said. "Rayann was positively secretive about you."
"Was she?"
"I don't like to gossip," Rayann said quickly, "unlike my ex-roommate." Judy threw an ice cube at her; Rayann threw it back.
Louisa smiled as she stood up. "I know better than to get caught in the middle of a long-standing feud." To Rayann's surprise and utter shock, Louisa fished an ice cube out of her drink and actually threw it at Rayann. "See you tomorrow, Ray."
Rayann was stunned. She watched Louisa join Danny at the door and then they left, arm in arm.
"They look like old friends," Judy said.
"They're a couple."
"Oh?" Judy's eyebrows went up under her bangs and she shrugged. "Well, I'm sure they have a lot in common — age, history."
"Is that important?"
Judy's eyebrows came down and she studied Rayann with a frighteningly intense analytical gaze that Rayann had never seen before. "It's a factor," Judy said, finally. "Ray, are you…"
"Miss me?" Dedric dropped a breathless kiss on Judy's forehead. "Good lord, she's worn me out."
Zoraida, similarly breathless, collapsed into her chair. "I think it is the other way around."
Everything seemed to go back to the way it was before Louisa and Danny had arrived. Somebody took the two empty chairs to their table, and it could have been as if they'd never been there. Except that Rayann had a frightened, aching truth lodged like shrapnel in her heart. The pain kept her in her seat, drove her through a couple of extra gin and tonics. It kept her from going home with Zoraida. Zoraida took it well, said "maybe next time," and left Rayann at the bookstore door with the impression that Zoraida knew exactly what had caused Rayann's cold feet. Rayann wished Zoraida would explain it to her.
She dozed off sometime around daybreak, aware that Louisa was not home yet, and aware that it was no business of hers where Louisa spent her nights — aware too that searing visions of how and where Rayann wanted Louisa to spend her nights would make her life a living hell until somehow she got over it.
6
Inlay
Rayann regretted not going home with Zoraida. She regretted it every morning when Louisa, still damp from her shower, skin glowing from the hot water, came out of the bathroom in her robe. She regretted it when Danny dropped in for a cup of coffee and she and Louisa talked what amounted to a foreign language, about places and people and events Rayann could hardly follow.
She lived with her regrets because of the things she didn't regret — leaving Michelle, striking out on her own. One sketchpad was already filled with images that might some day become something more concrete. She was on speaking terms with her mother — had even found herself inviting her mother to stop by the bookstore anytime. Everything would, in fact, be perfect if only her body would behave itself when Louisa was around.
Using up all her spare energy, Rayann threw herself into working on Christmas gifts for her mother and Louisa, and keeping the shelves restocked. She certainly had no regrets about making the flyer, or even about what a swoon she'd been in when she delivered them. The bookstore was crawling with customers who agreed that books were the perfect gift and who delighted in the personal help they received. By the end of the following week the eighty dictionaries were gone. In the flurry of business Louisa had reorganized the tables into For Him, For Her, For Kids and For That Special Someone. Rayann watched happily as customers sought out Louisa's advice and left the store contented.
"I never would have believed we'd have this much business," Louisa said in the first lull of the week. "I'm not sure I want to work this hard."
"Well, then I'll give you an incentive." Rayann crooked her finger, adopting the light teasing attitude she'd found she could sustain around Louisa. Louisa followed her into the storeroom.
Rayann spun around and held out her arms. The bare light cast Rayann's shadow against one wall. She made a shadow rabbit. "What do you think?" The room was empty save for the card table Rayann had unearthed.
"Oh, my God," Louisa murmured, and then she shook her head. "It hasn't been like this since Christina..."
Rayann made another shadow rabbit scurry across the wall. "It needs painting but when I'm done what are we going to do with the space?" She segued from shadow-rabbiting to antler-dancing. She felt giddy.
"I want to expand the store and put shelves and tables in here," Louisa said, "but I can't think what exactly to move where. And if I'm going to have customers going in and out, I'll have to move the cash register and counter elsewhere. But again, I don't know where to."
"Where will we put the deliveries?"
"In the anteroom." Louisa turned with a huge grin when she saw Rayann's shadow on the wall. "What on earth are you doing?"
"Antler-dancing. It's the right time of the year." Rayann stopped, breathing hard. "What the heck is the anteroom?"
"Walk this way," Louisa said.
If I could walk that way I wouldn't need the talcum powder, Rayann thought, watching Louisa's legs whisper against one another. No more antler-dancing. It makes me silly. Rayann followed Louisa across the store to a door Rayann had assumed led to the outside but was locked for safety. She was wrong. Louisa unlocked it and stood aside.
"There're only a few boxes in here, but they're very old. A collection of books Chris bought at an estate sale and never got around to sorting."
Rayann hauled them out one by one. She sneezed twice from the dust and mercilessly stomped on a spider that meandered groggily out of one of the boxes. "Hope there aren't any more of those," she said, sniffling. She took the tissue Louisa proffered and felt less bleary after she blew her nose. "You know, I think once these are taken care of, you're right about using this cubbyhole for deliveries. It's about the right size to keep us from getting lazy."
Louisa's smile
didn't quite reach her eyes. "Or sentimental." A customer entered and Louisa looked over her shoulder. "She has a flyer — duty calls."
Rayann heard Louisa explain that the dictionaries were gone but that the flyer still entitled the woman to twenty-five percent off the price of the hardcover best-seller of her choice. Kneeling, Rayann set about sorting and pricing the books.
"How come whenever I see you you're picking something up?"
Startled, Rayann looked up. Teddy was leaning against a set of shelves watching her with a look of amused indulgence.
Rayann smiled. She knew more about him now, and even taking into account Louisa's natural prejudice, he didn't sound all that bad for a man. As a single father with a demanding career, he seemed to be doing a good job raising his son after Tucker's mother had departed with another man for parts unknown. "You really shouldn't sneak up on people like that."
"And then you lecture me, just like my mother."
"I do not lecture you," Rayann protested. "I'm right, though."
"I know. I snuck up on you to be mean. Would you care for some help?"
"No, but thanks. I'm almost done."
"The shelves look really good, by the way."
"Thanks again."
To Rayann's surprise he lingered, talking about how her structure was greatly superior and stronger to the one he'd been planning to put up. Rayann found herself liking him, a little.
"Listen, while Mom's busy," he said, after glancing over his shoulder "can you tell me what she might want for Christmas?"
Rayann thought for a second. "Well, she said she liked the Paul Winter tape I played so I was thinking of getting her his Sunsinger album."
"I didn't know she liked Paul Winter," Teddy said. "She's always been a classical music lover."
"We listen to all sorts of stuff, actually. She also likes k.d. lang." At Teddy's uncomprehending look, Rayann went on, "She's a country singer. K period, D period, L-A-N-G. Louisa said she reminds her of Patsy Cline."
Teddy pulled a small notebook from his pocket and scribbled. "Country? I'd have never known. Do you have any idea what size sweater she wears?"
Rayann took his pencil and notebook, smiling. She'd taken notes when she'd done laundry before deciding to make Louisa's gift. They wore the same size — except Louisa's bra was two sizes larger than Rayann's. She jotted down sweater, slacks, and shirt sizes, then handed the notebook back.
"Gee, thanks. This is great. I always have to ask her and then she guesses what I'm getting her, which is no fun whatsoever."
"What are you two whispering about?" Louisa loomed over them.
Teddy got up to hug Louisa. "We were whispering about your Christmas present."
Louisa smiled with what Rayann thought was relief. "What are you getting me?"
"No hints, not this year."
"You're no fun. I'll just torture the secret out of Rayann."
"These lips are sealed," Rayann said. She went back to categorizing and pricing the books and imagined some of the ways Louisa might be able to torture her. Like wearing that turquoise shirt with the high collar. And putting her hair up in those filigree combs . . .
After she filed the volume of Yeats, Rayann caressed The Muse of the Violets. She knew what she would do with the storeroom, but then again, this wasn't her shop. And I'd better stop saying things like "Where are we going to store deliveries" and acting as if this is my place. But since she was indulging in druthers, if she had the storeroom to herself, she'd turn the whole area into a women's book area, including books by and about lesbians, women's spirituality, and women's health. There were all sorts of topics Louisa's current space just didn't allow for. She'd make The Common Reader famous in the East Bay for women's literature. In your dreams.
"Ray, we're going to go up and have some coffee — you'll be okay?"
Rayann waved to Louisa in response and took up a position behind the counter. She did admire Louisa for keeping such a close relationship with her son. It was something her own mother had not achieved, but lately Rayann had been willing to place a little more blame at her own door than she had in the past. She looked forward to better times.
When Louisa returned, Rayann went back to examining the books. "Some of these will have to be thrown away. Mildew."
As Louisa took the book their fingertips touched. Rayann promptly dropped everything she was holding. "Goodness there's been a lot of static electricity today," she said, all in a rush. She bent to get the book, hiding her face. Yeah, right.
Within a few days Rayann was glad that her overwhelming and sudden crush on Louisa hadn't lasted. There was just one little problem: the crush had mutated into a gigantic infatuation which felt deep and serious. But of course it had to be infatuation because nothing would ever happen between them. She was sure that at times, from the indulgent way Louisa treated her, she must seem like a child to Louisa. Or the daughter-she-never-had. They listened to k.d. lang and Louisa heard Patsy Cline; Rayann heard k.d. lang. Rayann wasn't sure she'd know Patsy Cline if Patsy Cline walked up and kissed her. There was just so much she didn't know about Louisa and her history.
Louisa glanced up and caught Rayann staring. At that distance her eyes looked black. Rayann smiled and turned to help the woman she'd noticed browsing in a lost sort of way. "Can I help you find something?"
"You have such an incredible variety I don't know where to start." The customer, sporting an irrepressible smile, scratched her head. "I just need some ideas." She had strong, broad hips, and moved from table to table in comfortable tennis shoes and sweats.
"Who's left on your list?" Rayann suggested books for parents, step-parents and several friends. Watching Louisa had taught Rayann confidence in dealing with customers, and how to ask the right questions to help them make a good choice.
"This is great," the customer said, a few minutes later. "Everyone's covered, except me. I'm out of things to read, which drives me nuts. I'm looking for something entertaining and romantic." Rayann started to point out several authors but the woman interrupted her with a shy look. "No, not those. You don't seem to have... the kind I'm looking for. But I thought maybe you could tell me if there's a woman's bookstore around here." There was a slight emphasis on "you."
"I understand." Rayann met the woman's gaze honestly. Someday these cryptic conversations won't be necessary. "You're right. We don't carry any... of those books, but I could draw you a map to Mama Bear's."
The woman bit her lower lip and stared shyly at her shoes. "If you get off work sometime soon you could come with me. Save you making me the map." She looked up.
Rayann blushed. "I'm... I…" she floundered. "I'm flattered, but I'm not really free." You are so!
"Well, it was worth a try." The woman gave Rayann a cheeky smile. "I'll bet you could recommend some good books, though."
Rayann wrote down several titles. "I recommend them all."
"I haven't read any of these. Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it." She went her way, moving gracefully around the tables. She was the last customer of the day, and when she left, Louisa turned the door sign to "Closed." She turned back to Rayann with a knowing smirk. "Smooth operator."
"What'd I do?"
Louisa aimed a thumb after the departing customer. "She told me to tell you her phone number is on the check. She made up a plausible story about you letting her know when a book comes in, but I know what she was up to." Louisa's eyes were shining with laughter.
"But I told her I wasn't really free at the moment," Rayann said. The more she blushed the more Louisa smirked.
"Zoraida might not take kindly to competition," Louisa said. Her voice had overtones that Rayann distinctly heard as maternal. Why does she think Zoraida and I are serious? It was only one date. She's the one who didn't come home after the party.
"Zoraida isn't... well, anyway," Rayann said, hoping not to discuss her love life any further, "it was a shame I had to send her someplace else to finish buying her books."
"Oh, why was
that?" Louisa looked genuinely puzzled.
"She wanted something for lesbians."
"Oh." Louisa was silent for a few moments. Then she answered Rayann's unspoken question. "I can't, Ray. I know the small presses are very helpful and it would be pretty easy to stock up, but I couldn't possibly afford it. The steady customers might go elsewhere and they're the bread and butter of the store."
"It's your store. I just think — there's a market. And we're looking for a warm and friendly place to buy."
"I suppose. But I can't."
"The storeroom…"
"I can't. It's not…"
"I understand." Rayann smiled to hide her disappointment. Louisa's answer extended to more than just the books. "Let's forget I brought it up and have some dinner. I'm starved."
They watched the news and argued over the same political points they always argued over, agreeing in principle on sensitive topics such as abortion rights, U.S. meddling in Central America and the Middle East and the so-called war on drugs, but disagreeing on minor points and semantics. Ever since Rayann had started reading Louisa's back issues of Zeta, she had found herself much more informed on world affairs and could hold her own.
But when Louisa said good night, Rayann knew there was one argument she would never win. The storeroom would never become The Woman's Reader of her imagination. She didn't understand why, but she had to accept it. She crept down to the bookstore and copied the woman's phone number. I'll call tomorrow. She wouldn't have time tomorrow, the last shopping day before Christmas. I'll call next week. Yeah, sure, and chocolate is not the lesbian national food.
They caught the last hour of Miracle on 34th Street. Rayann sighed. "I wish this weren't colorized. I don't know why, but Maureen O’Hara's hair looks more red in black and white."
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