by Ava Miles
When they entered the media room, Natalie and Moira lifted their glasses in salute.
“Welcome to the Fun House,” Natalie said, pointing to Jill’s hat in the center of the small coffee table.
To say it was a mere sombrero covered in fake fruit would have been an insult to every cross-dressing caballero. Jill hadn’t selected only tasteful fruits like cherries and apples. No, she’d stuck four bananas, partially raised, in the shape of… Well, any idiot could tell.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” Truthfully, she hoped she never would again.
“I made it myself!” Jill said, linking their arms together and leading her over to the cushioned benches in front of the coffee table. “I didn’t like the ones online, and Brian joked that since I was bitching about the selection so much, I should just make one.”
“He now regrets that decision, I bet,” Moira said, chuckling with Natalie.
“How many mimosas have you two already had?” Lucy asked, shaking her head. This photo shoot covered a lot of firsts for her—it was starting to look like it would be her first tipsy shoot too.
“Moira’s only had one,” Natalie said, biting her lip. “She can’t hold her liquor.”
“I really can’t,” Moira said, putting her finger to her nose like Doris Day in Pillow Talk. “You’re not much better with your Natalie shows.”
“That takes a lot—”
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Lucy said, interrupting Natalie. “Jill, I thought we should start off by talking about who you’re dedicating your month to. You didn’t say at the volunteer party. Is it your grandma?”
“Yep,” her cousin said, shucking off her pants without so much as a what-for. “If Grandma Harriet were alive, she’d think this calendar a hoot. She would have loved my hat.”
Lucy blinked as Jill threw her pants in the corner. Natalie hooted. Moira hiccupped, which might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Lucy had thought she would have to make Jill comfortable. She should have known better. When her top flew off, Lucy covered her eyes.
“Do you mind?” she asked. “I haven’t had a mimosa yet.”
They must have thought she was joking because they all guffawed. But before she could blink, Natalie pressed a glass into her hand. She looked at it and thought, what the hell, and downed half the contents.
“This is going to be so much fun,” Moira said. “Part of me wants to see you shoot photos of Mom too, but the other part…”
“We might be scarred for life,” Natalie said, “although I have half a mind to send the photos to Dad anonymously at the hospital.”
“That would be the day,” Moira breathed out. “Our dad’s turned into a real prick, in case Andy didn’t tell you.”
She cleared her throat. “He’s mentioned it.”
Setting her mimosa down on the table, Lucy unpacked the soft yellow drape she’d chosen for the shoot. She’d thought a uniform color would work best for the calendar, despite what she’d originally told the volunteers about using different settings. Andy had assured her the background she’d chosen was lovely.
While her mother hadn’t initially been on board with a uniform setting, she’d relented after Lucy had explained it in technical terms that had made Ellen’s eyes glaze over in a minute. Besides, she’d agreed that they wanted to keep the focus on the subjects, not what was behind them.
Lucy hung the drape on the center background wall and checked the lighting she’d set up the day before. The dressing bench she’d selected from her mother’s bedroom was already situated in front of the drape. Some people were going to sit, she expected, while others would stand. Lucy would have to see what worked best.
This wasn’t anything like her usual process for shooting a calendar. Normally she created a story with her photos, building on the theme of the project, strengthening the emotion in each of the images. This time, her subjects had already chosen their months and their themes. All she could do was try and make it look as visually appealing as possible.
“Do you need some help?” Moira asked as she was turning on the strobes. “I know I only dabble, but I love photography.”
Oh brother, here we go.
“It’s more than dabbling, Lucy,” Natalie said. “Moira is pretty darn good. She took one of the best pictures of Blake and me at our first wedding.”
“I know it won’t surprise you, but I wanted to be here today to watch you work.” She gave a slight shrug. “I know Andy said to give you time to settle, but I still…really want to see how you do what you do. I promise to contain my enthusiasm. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
Actually, her interest made Lucy’s stomach roll even more. “I’m not uncomfortable,” she lied. “Are you going to have another mimosa?”
“I’d better stop, or I won’t be able to watch you work your magic.” Moira gave her an encouraging smile.
That’s why I suggested it. “Jill, do you have a robe or something?” Turning, she realized Jill was drinking her mimosa in her birthday suit. “Seriously, Jill. You could have at least kept your panties on. I’m not taking any pictures south of the border.”
Jill gave her a smoky glance and walked toward her. “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up,” she purred like Gloria Swanson herself.
“Oh, good Lord,” Natalie said, reaching down and throwing Jill’s shirt at her. “Put something on, for the love of Pete.”
“We’re all girls here,” Jill said, picking up her red-and-green-striped maracas and shaking them madly.
Moira snorted out a laugh.
“Don’t encourage her,” Lucy said in exasperation.
Nothing felt like it was under her control. Here she was taking photos of entirely naked people—so not her thing—being watched by her own peanut gallery. These were the conditions in which she was supposed to relearn her art. To top it all off, she would never hear the end of it when her colleagues got wind of her involvement in this calendar. She wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them suggested that she follow it up with a study of monkeys wearing top hats.
“You’ve turned green,” Moira said. “Is it the nudity or the harsh realization that you’re not doing your normal calendar?”
Now that made her laugh. “Both. All right, let’s get this done.”
Jill fitted her garish hat on her head and picked up the maracas. Equipped with her props, she arranged herself on the bench, stretching out, of course.
Lucy unzipped the case of her new camera, her fingers trembling as she picked up the Leica SL, the company’s first 35 mm format digital camera with an electronic view finder. She’d bought it last week after concluding she had to learn to use an EVF in case her vision didn’t improve enough for her to return to her old way of taking photos.
All she had to do was look at the small view finder and click the button. It couldn’t be that hard, right?
She’d stayed in the Leica family both because their cameras were the best on the market and because she knew their lenses in and out. Until this new model emerged, none of the electronic view finders on the market had been equipped to handle the kind of high-subject contrast she needed in the field. Even so, she hoped the viewing contrast issue wouldn’t drive her nuts. This model’s view finder supposedly refreshed fast enough for her to shoot on the fly and see the images she was taking with minimal blur.
“I’m surprised you use an EVF,” Moira said.
Lucy’s belly quivered. Moira had already noticed something was off, and she’d barely started.
“I have a lot of cameras. I thought an indoor shoot might be easier with an EVF.” God, she hoped so. Sizing up a shot using a view finder was going to feel weird at first. She would have to pray she had enough courage and skill to adapt.
“Can I hold it a sec?” Moira asked, stepping closer. “I’ve never seen one of these babies in person. I have a Nikon. I’m sorry. I know I said I was only going to watch.”
“Hey!” Jill called.
“I’m getting cold over here.”
“Maybe later,” Lucy said, walking over to her subject, thankful for the reprieve. “Jill, you’re not Rose in Titanic. For heaven’s sake, would you sit up a minute? And can we lose the maracas please?”
She handed them to Moira with a scowl. “I ordered these special from Mexico.”
“Lo siento,” Lucy replied automatically in Spanish. “Sorry. They’re not right for what I have in mind. Take the hat off and put them over your…natural maracas. The fruit is casting weird shadows on your face.”
“Man, you’re bossy,” Jill said, slapping the hat to her chest. “I’m only following your orders because you know what you’re doing.”
Her red hair shifted over her shoulder as she flung it back, and suddenly Lucy saw it. The perfect pose.
“Wait! Stay there.” She grabbed the hat Jill was holding and arranged it so it covered the rim of her nipples, showing off Jill’s ample cleavage. “Tuck your legs up a little on the bench. Like you’re spooning.”
The hat’s curves blended into Jill’s curves, creating a pleasing feminine line.
“Nice,” Moira said, earning her a glare from Jill.
“What’s nice?” her subject asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Let Lucy do her thing, Jill,” Moira said, giving her space. “Girlfriend is in the zone.”
Andy’s sister’s keen interest made her palms sweat, but the compliment did raise her spirits some. She still had it: the ability to size up the perfect shot. Despite the ease with which she’d graded her students’ shots, she’d wondered.
“Put your head on your hand. Elbow here. Now turn and face me.”
“I’ve never seen you this intense,” Jill mumbled.
Because Lucy was falling back into herself, becoming once more the artist who could capture a special moment of time for eternity. She felt complete again, like she had her purpose back. She wanted to jump around and shout “Hallelujah.”
Shifting the camera in her hands, she rubbed her palms on her thighs. All she had to do was capture the image. Trying not to notice how bulky and unfamiliar the Leica felt in her hands, she pointed the camera at Jill. The view finder was alien. She knew it was against the rules, but she closed her right eye first to see the finder more clearly. Well, Dr. Davidson could write an X on her chart. Seeing her subject in that tiny window felt downright unnatural.
When Lucy put her right eye to her old Leicas, she felt like she was part of the scene. Now she felt an unnatural fissure between her and the scene she wanted to capture. She pressed the camera to her chest for a moment, trying to connect it to herself. Make it a part of her.
“Are you okay?” Moira asked, peering at her curiously.
“Yep,” she replied crisply. “Just a little ritual I do.” What a lie. Like she’d ever had the time in her normal job to take a moment and pray.
“Interesting,” Moira replied, and Lucy had to bite her tongue to keep from telling her she was in the way.
Because right now, Lucy felt like she was in Moira’s internal view finder and the woman was seeing all sorts of things Lucy would rather not have exposed to the light. Andy had been right to keep his sister at bay. She’d have to thank him later.
Just start taking the pictures, she told herself, struggling with the new process. She focused on the view finder, moving around Jill, pressing the shutter again and again. The little window made it harder for her to see if she was capturing what she wanted. So she just kept on shooting. Surely there would be a winner in the lot. She had to trust herself.
Her gaze volleyed between her subject and that tiny view finder like a tennis ball being bandied across the net. But her brain was having a hard time zooming in and out on the scene.
“Tell me something I don’t know about your grandma,” she told Jill. “Something special.”
A shadow crossed her face before she smiled, one of those glowing smiles only a rare love could generate. Lucy pressed the shutter.
“One time I broke one of her champagne glasses in two,” Jill said, shifting a little more on the bench than Lucy would have liked. “I’d taken it out of her china cabinet to use for my tea party. I wanted to have champagne and not tea because I saw the adults drink it after Grandpa won another Pulitzer. It looked more fun.”
The story was as magical as her expression, and Lucy sank to her knees to capture her face. Jill’s eyes widened at her unexpected closeness.
“So you broke the glass,” Lucy said, looking back and forth between her subject and the view finder.
“Right,” Jill said, falling back into the memory. “Grandma caught me trying to bury it in her backyard. I knew someone would find it if I put it in the trash. All she did was take her gardening trowel from my hands and wink at me, saying she’d never liked those champagne glasses much anyway. She picked up the pieces and led me inside. After throwing them in the garbage, she washed my hands and poured orange juice for us in two champagne glasses. We drank them at my small table with my dolls.”
“Oh, that’s so freaking sweet,” Natalie cooed. “No wonder you like mimosas.”
“I hadn’t really put that together,” Jill said, tears filling her eyes.
Lucy captured the shock on the woman’s face, thinking yet again about the power of the subconscious mind. Andy would love this story when she saw him later.
“It seems fitting that you drank one before taking these photos to honor Aunt Harriet,” Moira said, still a little too close for Lucy’s peace of mind.
“I miss her sometimes,” Jill said, her tears falling now. “She never got to see Violet or Mia.”
Lucy continued to take the photos, each image telling the story of the woman’s love for a grandmother now gone.
“She would have loved them,” Natalie said, and she sounded closer, making Lucy wonder if she was standing next to her sister now.
“Yeah, she would have,” Jill said, brushing away the tears on her face. “I’m so sorry, Lucy. I’m a mess. Please don’t take my picture like this.”
She lowered her camera and smiled at Jill. “You’ve never been more beautiful or real, and there’s nothing wrong with showing it.”
Jill gave her a watery smile, and Lucy resumed. After taking what seemed like a hundred shots, she finally called it.
“I think we have a winner somewhere in here,” she said, setting the Leica on a table. “You can sit up now, Jill, but please, for the love of Pete, keep the hat where it is.”
That made everyone laugh, diffusing the lingering emotion in the room.
Jill set her hat aside, more somber now, and slipped on her underwear and her shirt. Crossing to Lucy, she pulled her into a hug.
“Whoa,” Lucy said, returning the embrace.
“Thanks, Lucy. I didn’t expect it, but I felt Grandma here.”
Goosebumps broke out all over Lucy’s body. “When Violet and Mia start having tea parties, you’ll have to dig out those champagne glasses one day and fill them with orange juice.”
“Aunt Harriet would love that,” Natalie said. Jill released Lucy and bounded over to hug her cousins.
“Once I check out the photos,” Lucy said, “I’ll send you the one I think is the best.”
Right now, there was a peace inside her fostered by the certainty that among the trove of photos she’d taken, there would be a photograph worthy of her pride. Besides, she could run it by Andy. He didn’t have a professional’s eye, but he would tell her what he saw.
“I can’t wait to see what you choose,” Jill said, her face glowing.
“Me too,” Moira said enthusiastically. “There were a few moments there where I knew you had the perfect shot. You know, the kind you feel in your gut.”
Yeah, Lucy knew that feeling. She thrived on it. “Thank you for saying that.” And she meant it.
“It was great to see you in action,” Moira said, “although this is probably pretty tame compared to what you’re used to.”
“It’s fine,” sh
e said, not feeling as sad as she might have before. Taking photos again—even like the ones today—had restored a part of her soul to her.
“This really is the best idea ever,” Jill said, prancing about, swinging her pants in the air. “And now it’s official. I’m a calendar girl. Oh, Brian is going to be a happy man tonight.”
Natalie laughed, and Moira slapped her hands over her ears, singing, “La-la-la-la,” like that would stop Jill.
Lucy simply stood there, feeling more grounded, more settled inside herself. Things might not be perfect, but they were looking up.
And that was something to be grateful for.
Chapter 21
When Lucy opened the door of Merry Cottage and flung herself into his arms, Andy clutched her to him. Her enthusiasm had all the force of a runaway train.
“I got through it,” she said, laughing. “I took photos again! And it felt terrific.”
The sound of her laughter made his heart feel funny. Being with Lucy pretty much made it feel that way all the time. He cuddled her closer, happy she was happy. And then his mind had to intrude.
She’s going to leave you.
He told that thought to go to hell and focused on her, how her body was pressed against him, how her arms were squeezing him. She was here now, and he didn’t want to start missing her before she was gone. “That’s great, babe. I’m so happy for you!”
“Babe?” she said, pushing away from him. “Do I have a new nickname now?”
His ears started to burn. “Maybe. Is it too soon?” Shit. Now he was being a moron. “Do you like it?” He couldn’t stop talking. “Lucy, I—”
She pressed her mouth to his, silencing him, thank God. Her hands slid up his back in the most arousing caress, and he reminded himself how lucky he was to have her. Even if it was only for a while. She was everything good in the world, and each day they spent together, the sun seemed to shine a little brighter.
Her tongue traced his lips, and he was lost. He groaned as he tightened his hold on her, not caring that they were standing in the doorway of her cottage. It wasn’t like anyone could see them all the way up here. The cool fall air felt delicious against his fast-heating skin, and it was a pleasure to be with her out here with millions of stars over their heads.
