Just A Little

Romance

Mary Jane Russell

Just a Little Romance

© 2011 by Mary Jane Russell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN 13: 978-1-935216-25-4

First Printing: 2011

This Trade Paperback Is Published By

Intaglio Publications

Walker, LA USA

www.intagliopub.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Credits

Executive Editor: Tara Young

Cover design by Tiger Graphics

Dedication

For Kim and Richard Butler, good friends lost too soon to cancer.

For Mary Guggenheimer, an example to all.

For Kate Sweeney, who asked me if I’d be willing to try writing a romance.

For Dianne Smith, my partner, thank goodness we found each other.

Acknowledgments

As always, heartfelt gratitude goes to Sheri Payton and Kate Sweeney at Intaglio Publications, and a wonderful editor, Tara Young. Fabulous women all.

Last and never least, thanks to and for my dear friend and mentor, Joyce M. Coleman, who always wants to know what I’m working on and doesn’t roll her eyes when I tell her.

CHAPTER ONE

Samantha Moyer stood in the aisle at Best Buy, staring at row upon row of music CDs. If one more person under the age of twenty—making her own forty-three years all the more obvious—jostled her messenger bag without any form of apology, that someone was likely to be decked. She would swear she was menopausal and not responsible for her actions. Who amongst a store full of people half her age would argue with that?

Granted, she didn’t fit the demographics that Best Buy catered to, but Sam was used to breaking stereotypes. She was one of those redheads who didn’t hesitate to wear red as a means of thumbing her nose at the fashion gurus. Sam was just shy of six feet tall and resembled a stocky Lucille Ball. Not that many others in the store would recognize Lucille Ball by hair color, thanks to their only exposure to the comedienne through black and white reruns on cable television.

Sam’s hair was naturally a reddish blond, but she had decided long ago not to do anything halfway. She kept her hair colored what she liked to think of as lusty red—L’Oreal called it Red Penny—and styled in a short, razored cut bearing no resemblance to the benign semi-ponytail of Lucy’s prime.

Why was it that Sam found herself explaining to people that Lucy was Sam’s age when filming the classic episodes of I Love Lucy? Sam would just as soon not delve into that or why she was so obsessed lately with Lucille Ball—maybe because middle age bore too much resemblance to slapstick comedy, particularly when single. “Everyone needs an Ethel,” Sam said. She had a crush on Vivian Vance before she fully understood why.

Sam forced her attention back to the rows of plastic cases, having at least decided on genre—country. She didn’t consider it a sign of her age that she dismissed the loud lament of teenagers and preferred blue-collar country music with lyrics she understood. She spent way too much time in the white-collar world as it was, standing toe to toe with pasty, middle-aged men who never expected someone like her in the job of managing the county’s business development program.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” The voice came from the direction of Sam’s elbow. Sam quickly convinced herself that there had been no sarcasm in the question.

“I’m still looking, but thank you for asking.” Sam smiled at the young man wearing his hair in a slicked-back ponytail. She caught a glimpse of a tattoo peeking out from his collar.

“Classic rock is over there.” He pointed to the far aisle of racks.

“And country is here,” Sam said. She resorted to the look to send him on his way, sure that she heard a snicker as he departed. “I’ve turned into my mother,” Sam said under her breath. “I suppose talking to myself in Best Buy is not necessarily a good thing. At least he didn’t try to direct me to easy listening.” Sam adjusted her crisp white T-shirt, sans any printed design, tucked into creased washed-out jeans.

It was Sam’s own fault for thinking she could come to the store for a quick purchase of music for exercising. It was a busy weekend, and of course, she was trapped in an endless debate with herself—country or rock, male or female singer, recent or classic. It was her nature that if she wasn’t in a relationship, she was obsessed with exercising. Traditional exercise required music or television accompaniment. She religiously climbed onto the stair stepper several nights a week. Exercise seemed to have little impact on lessening her dress size—fourteen on a good day, sixteen on a bad—but at least she was maintaining her weight through activity and eating sensibly as she entered pre-menopause. She was solid muscle and taut skin so far. Sam sighed. She was fit and healthy. Why did she endlessly play all of this out in her mind? Dress size was a number. She still bought size thirty-six men’s jeans, just relaxed fit instead of classic cut as she had twenty years ago—at least she wasn’t into comfort waists yet.

She smiled, finally knowing what to buy, and reached for the CD. “Mmm mmm mmm. I’d pay $9.99 just for the cover photo.” She adored Terri Clark and agreed with the reviewers who praised the woman for being a female Alan Jackson mixed with Dwight Yoakam. Sam preferred greatest hits collections—that way, she knew all the songs and sang along the first time she played the music to take her mind off of whatever it was she didn’t want to be thinking about while driving or working out.

Sam threaded her way to the checkout aisle. How in the hell did kids have so much money to spend on music, videos, and games? Sam made a good living and couldn’t keep up with purchases for the systems she owned. She looked longingly at a new Wii game and chided herself that there were better things to do with fifty dollars, just not necessarily more fun things.

Sam opened her wallet as she stared at the credit card reader mounted on the counter. Great, she didn’t have her reading glasses with her. She was still in denial of needing assistance to see.

“This way.” The young black woman at the register reached across and rotated Sam’s credit card. “We just installed these. No one’s used to them yet.” She smiled at Sam.

“Thank you.” Sam handed over the CD and strained to read the young woman’s employee badge. “Desiree.” Lucy’s middle name, Sam noted, taking the coincidence as a good sign and her knowledge of it as borderline obsession.

Desiree continued to smile as she scanned the CD. She hesitated as she looked at the front jacket. “I want to look like her when I grow up.” She dropped her voice seductively. Desiree was young enough to have barely understood the adult lyrics of the songs when originally recorded.

They both stared at the cover photograph. What was not to like? Terri Clark wore a Stetson as black as her shoulder-length hair that popped the blue in her eyes. The snug tank top was also black, tucked into tight, dark blue jeans. The boots were black with elaborate stitching. The pose on the arm of the leather sofa was classic—one leg propped up with arm resting on raised knee.

“I’d rather date someone who looks like that,” Sam said, not realizing she said it aloud.

Desiree didn’t miss a beat in completing the transaction while holding her hand up for a high five as she grinned at Sam. Sam gave the girl’s hand a solid smack and returned the smile.

“Enjoy the music.” Desiree handed Sam the bright yellow bag and winked.

Sam walked out of the store in a completely different frame of mind. She looked down as she unclasped her car keys from the strap inside the messenger bag. Desiree had made Sam feel better in five minutes than Sam had in the months of trying to stay busy since her last serious breakup.

Sam glanced up after she started across the driving lanes of the parking lot just as a full-size Toyota truck screeched to a stop. Her feet froze in stride. Sam spotted the rainbow sticker on the back glass and shrugged with a grin of apology.

A butch who was Sam’s age leaned her head out the window. “Bitch, get out of the frickin’ road!”

Sam flipped the woman off and crossed the lane. The truck roared off with a squeal of tires.

“So much for flirting with someone my own age.” The July heat shimmering from the asphalt was the only thing hot in Sam’s life at the moment. Her mood wilted as she slid into her black Nissan Maxima. She cringed against the warmth of the leather seats.

“Why is it that I’m able to connect with someone half my age so easily? I probably reminded her of a friend’s mom or favorite old teacher.” Sam started the car and turned the fan up on the air conditioning. She looked in both directions while backing out of the space, never quite trusting her mirrors. “Is this what I’m resorting to now—getting off on a few kind words from a mere girl?” She had given up on her latest bout of casual dating several weeks earlier, deciding to concentrate on work and friends. She tore the plastic off the CD as she waited for the traffic light that would allow her onto the highway. “Well, whatever works.” Sam laughed at herself—it beat the hell out of crying. “I’ll just have to buy more CDs.”

Sam sang Better Things To Do at the top of her lungs and stayed in tune with Terri Clark, matching the vocal twangs. Not an entirely bad place to be.

CHAPTER TWO

A week later, Sam was still listening to Terri Clark in her car. Her drive to and from work was a hellacious twenty minutes of white knuckles along the worst of Richmond, Virginia’s clogged commuter roads—Chesterfield County boasted a population explosion estimated at 316,000 as opposed to 77,000 counted in the 1970 Census. As long as Terri calmed Sam’s nerves, she was staying put.

Sam pulled into her driveway and punched the remote for the garage door opener. She prepared herself for the usual squealing of the track. If she came in late at night, she parked in the driveway rather than disturb her neighbors. One of these days, she would replace the old door and operating system, but as long as it worked, she would defer another upgrade to the thirty-year-old brick ranch.

She had grown to like her home, admittedly bought simply because it was a good investment. The two thousand-square-foot house had been rental property long enough for it to fall into disrepair and neglect. The landlord lost his job and decided to sell without making significant improvements. The big bonus was the finished apartment that accounted for half of the ground floor.

Due to the silty sand content of the soil, homes in the Richmond area did not have basements. The builder had been determined to have a double garage accessible from the street. The lot sloped downward from front to back. The front foundation of the house tucked slightly into the slope with the garage entrance dug out lower than the surrounding lawn and driveway delineated by knee walls. The rear wall of the foundation was fully exposed—what felt like the actual first floor of the house was in fact eight feet in the air. Sam allowed herself calling the ground level a basement just to freak out native Richmonders.

Sam had taken a chance buying the house as-is over three years before. One of her tenants at the business incubator at the time just happened to be a home inspector. He assured her that the bones of the house were good and that all the work needed was cosmetic. In the years that followed, Sam found that to be mostly true. She was accustomed to small home repair jobs. She could replace a light fixture or an outlet, she knew how to patch walls and paint, and she managed changing a faucet or replacing the toilet tank works. What she had misjudged was the useful life of the furnace. Still, it was all part of a good investment and better than letting money idle in the bank at present interest rates. Eventually, she would recover the cash she had put into the house. For now, home ownership was certainly better than renting an apartment or condo.

Sam had also learned to love the neighborhood. She had been hesitant about buying into an aging subdivision. What she discovered was that she was part of the first turnover from couples who had bought the houses new and were now retiring elsewhere and selling to people Sam’s age or younger. Her favorite neighbors were the original buyers who stayed on in the neighborhood and gave her all the tidbits of subdivision history in passing.

Sam made herself confine the junk in the garage to the rear wall. She only parked in half the space and sometimes had friends who needed to store a vehicle or a tenant in the basement apartment willing to pay more rent for enclosed parking. Her last steady girlfriend had parked there for six months until they broke up two years earlier.

Sam grabbed her briefcase from the passenger’s seat. She went to the trunk for two bags of groceries she picked up when she ran into the store for a loaf of bread.

She went directly up the stairs in the center of the house to the first floor. The kitchen was to her immediate right at the head of the steps. She marveled at the containers that went from grocer’s bag to freezer to microwave. She could nuke food with the best. She joked more than once about selling the ceramic-top stove; if it broke, it wouldn’t be replaced until she listed the house.

Sam kicked off her pumps and followed the long hallway to the master bedroom on the back corner of the house. She was ready to change into knit shorts and a baggy tank top, forgoing bra and shoes of any kind.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, she was hungry enough for one of the microwaveable chicken and rice meals. She ate a piece of fresh bread as the tray rotated in the oven.

The big decision of the night—and what she spent most of her food budget on—was which beer to go with dinner. She had been called a beer snob and couldn’t argue with the label. She allowed herself one good imported beer per day—occasionally with a client at lunch, usually with dinner, or sometimes saved until just before bed. That night, a Harp with dinner for a taste of the Irish.

Sam removed the tray and centered the dish on a paper plate. She grabbed a fork and headed for the smallest and closest of the three bedrooms. She glanced at the dining area that opened from the kitchen and wondered why she bothered. The most she used the four-foot diameter table was when she brought work home and needed to spread papers out. On the few days in the winter that it snowed enough in eastern Virginia to shut businesses down, she might work a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. She even had additional leafs for the table to expand its seating to eight. She hoped the panels were wrapped in moving blankets and standing in the corner of the utility room in the basement.

Her mother’s upright piano stood in the far corner of the dining room. Sam had refused to learn to play as a child. Her mother had told her she would regret being so hard-headed. Sam chuckled. Her mother had been proven right. Sam hated feeling like an orphan. Even with years to adjust to their deaths, she missed the parents who were in their late thirties when she was born and in their sixties when they died.

Sam hesitated and almost crashed on the L-shaped couch in the living room. Sometimes she substituted using the Wii for her stair stepper. She just didn’t feel that coordinated tonight. She usually watched the six o’clock or eleven o’clock local news. She would wait until the late broadcast to catch the antics of the Richmond council meeting that often as not resembled a three-ring circus of clowns in suits.

Sam entered the room of the house she used most—the small bedroom midway along the hall that was perfect for a corner computer desk made of sawdust and glue, her stair stepper, and a three-shelf bookcase with a small flat-screen television on top. The closet was filled with her off-season business clothes.

Sam dropped into the padded executive chair before her computer. The room was comfortably cool, even though late afternoon sun glared through the window. One upgrade to the house she had never regretted was central air conditioning. It was not uncommon for July and August to have days near one hundred degrees with humidity almost as high that made it seem impossible to take a breath outdoors.

Sam stroked the track ball to bring the computer screen to life. She forced herself not to huff at how slow her home system was compared to that at the office. Of all the conveniences she used daily, the microwave and the computer were a tossup of which was most important.

She’d definitely sacrifice the telephone landline and cable television for Internet service and a decent computer. She would eventually replace the desktop with a laptop half its size and four times the memory and operating system. It would be such a luxury to be able to move the computer around the house. She could see definite merit to staying in bed on Sunday with a laptop. “Damn, I’ve been single way too long.”

Sam slowly ate her dinner as she tried not to think about all the women she had dated, slept with, and lived with—not necessarily in that order—over the past twenty-five years. She seemed to go through a repetitive cycle of multi-dating, finding someone to be monogamous with, and living together about three years before one or the other of them would end it, usually without hard feelings and always with resignation that passion and romance just didn’t survive very long in the real world. She had split with her last partner when she wasn’t committed enough to relocate to Ohio. After a breakup, she would keep to herself for as much as a year before casually dating again.

Sam double clicked on the blue lower case e and waited for her home page to load. She scanned the national news headlines, then went to her e-mail site. She’d save Facebook for later as a reward following time on the stair stepper.

Sam opened her e-mail and groaned when she saw three messages from a woman she had met on Match.com several months earlier. It had been decades since she had such a faithful pen pal. The woman’s screen name said it all—TLCplease.

Sam had surprised herself by striking up a friendship with TLCplease.  She had almost passed over the woman because of her unnaturally black hair, smoky makeup, and dark clothing worn for the profile picture.  “How could that be the best she can look?” Sam remembered wondering, then chastising herself for the thought.

As best Sam could figure, and the profile on Match was sketchy except for the answers required from a member to be visible, the woman was a reclusive survivalist. TLCplease lived in the county west of Chesterfield where Sam lived just outside of Richmond. Buckingham County was gradually developing subdivisions but still contained large pockets of timberland and relied on logging for revenue for a large percentage of its residents. TLCplease was eight years younger than Sam and had only been in one real relationship whose demise left her reeling. Sam had no doubt that the woman’s career as a teacher had suffered. Frankly, Sam was amazed that the woman left her home five days a week. They were finally going to meet at the end of the month for a simple cup of coffee in the small shopping center halfway between them.

“Dear Sam,” the e-mail began, “I must beg off of our meeting. I must continue to be careful not to rush into anything. I’m just not ready for a date, even though it’s been years since my relationship ended.”

Sam hit herself in the head with the heel of her hand. “We’ve been e-mailing for three months. All I asked was that you meet me at Starbucks for a lousy cup of coffee.”

She read further. “I know we are both anxious to put faces with names. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed in me. I’m not as outgoing as you are.”

“I wouldn’t have used the word anxious.” Sam took a long swallow of beer. “Hell, I’ve never been hung up on looks—mine or my date’s. I just want someone to really talk to. I’ve traded more information with you than I have with anyone I’ve lived with. Now I’m reduced to sitting here talking to a computer monitor.”

The words flickered. “I just think it best to postpone meeting for a while longer.”

“Postpone. We aren’t even near the day we set. If you’re panicking already, I truly do feel sorry for you.”

“Maybe the fall would be better; that will give me time to make myself more presentable.”

“How about when I’m ninety and you’re eighty-two?” Sam said. “I should have known better than to let this drag on so long.”

“I know you’ll understand. We’re building such a sound relationship this way. I have no time or interest for anyone else. I know you feel the same.” Sam rolled her eyes.

“N-U-T-C-A-S-E.” Sam sang the letters in tune to the original Mickey Mouse Club theme song. “I don’t understand jack. I’ve diddled with e-mail because I’ve been too busy to commit time to anyone. I’m way overdue for meeting someone to go out with on a regular basis.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you, as always. Xoxo, TLCplease.”

“Can we say, tell me your first name, for crying out loud? I feel as though someone signed me up for a bizarre mail order bride and forgot to tell me.” Sam sighed and stared at the keyboard. She couldn’t bring herself to hit the reply tab just yet. She felt at a complete loss for charm or empathy and hated being a jerk with anyone. She had to end this.

Sam left the empty food container on her desk and finished the beer in one swallow. She turned on the television and found a rerun of Boston Legal. Sam climbed on the stair stepper and began a steady rhythm that she would continue for at least thirty minutes. Her machine was a simplified version of the intimidating models at the gym. She loved the way she zoned out with music or television, depending on her mood. She was convinced the simple exercise helped her to sleep.

“Am I so terrible to want a real relationship? I have a home, money, my health, and all my teeth. What am I doing wrong? I put myself on Match. I go to Pride events. I sometimes attend the rainbow church.” Richmond actually had a GLBT church in the historic downtown area, abandoned by Southern Baptists who would have razed the building if they had foreseen its fate. “God, I sound pathetic even to me.” She exercised in silence until the commercial break was over, then stared at Candice Bergen. “Am I so awful to want just a little romance in my life?”

Sam sweated out forty-five minutes and felt better for the extra effort. She showered just before bed, a habit borne from wanting to be ready for the morning as soon as her feet hit the floor. She read after watching the late news and turned her light off just before midnight.

The sound that awoke her was not the voice from the radio but the jangle of her telephone. She groped for the handset.

“Fifteen hundred words tonight. Touch me and feel the sizzle.” The man’s voice was teasing.

“I’ll touch you and feel the lump rising.” Sam opened one eye.

“Did I wake you?” He actually giggled.

“No, I was lying in my bed, nice and comfy, wondering how far along with writing his next gay mystery my best friend is.” Sam yawned into the telephone.

“Good to know you care. That was an awful sentence by the way.”

“I’m awake enough to stomp over there in my sweats and kick your ass.”

Paul Selz lived one block closer to Route 60 than Sam. They had met when each entered a bank’s trainee program, seen each other in passing thanks to Richmond’s GLBT organization, and become fast friends when they realized they were neighbors after repeatedly bumping into each other in the area shops. Sam’s last breakup had left her best friends with Paul—he had taken every call from her, no matter the time of day or night when she had a meltdown, and never chastised her about all the angst.

“I’m just happy and wanted to share. See you soon. I owe you for waking you up.” Paul sounded as though he would be up the rest of the night on a writing high.

“Damn right you do. Love you anyway, sweetie,” Sam said.

“Don’t I know it? You too.”

Sam was smiling as she fell back to sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

Two weeks passed and Sam’s routine was basically unchanged. That night, she concentrated on following her trainer and smiled at herself for how seriously she took the workout. She had become used to her chubby Mii and the voice telling her she was overweight after the body test. Sam thought the balance board and the Wii Fit the best gameware to come along in years. At least it made her attempt at exercise less boring. She made sure to do some type of movement for thirty minutes each day. She’d just rather it was horizontal.

“Samantha, concentrate,” she said to herself as she lost time with the aerobics routine.

Her favorite thing about the Wii was that she didn’t have to dress for being out in public as she would for walking the neighborhood or going to the gym. The board was small enough to slide under the sofa when done. The space between the sofa and dining room table was ample for movement, and she could cheat by using the back of the sofa to steady herself during yoga exercises.

Sam glanced at the clock—8:15 p.m. About another fifteen minutes and she was done—the Wii would prompt her of that also. She would shower, climb into bed with the new Kate Sweeney novel, and wind down for the day.

Sam tilted her head toward the front of the house. She heard muffled voices from across the street. “Oh, God, not those two again.” She maintained her pace, trying not to overly think her movements.

Sam had wondered about the couple across the street ever since the day she moved in. She had instantly recognized that she was not the only sister in the neighborhood. It was the couple’s dynamics that puzzled her.

Haley Thomas was a cutie—mid-thirties, short black hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, 5’6”, and a little heavier than fashionable, but the extra was in all the right places as far as Sam was concerned. Sam frequently caught herself looking longingly across the street and thinking how easy Haley was on the eyes. Haley was so shy that it was endearing.

Sam had finally forced Haley to speak to her while both were mowing grass the first spring that Sam was in her house. Haley’s voice was low and soft, making her easy on the ears also. Now Haley smiled and waved no matter the time of day or night when she saw Sam. Sam openly encouraged Haley’s friendship. They giggled over cold beer in the summer, compared blisters from raking leaves in the fall, made up licentious limericks for shoveling snow, and howled at spring’s full moons.

Haley’s partner was another story. Sam didn’t really want to understand the attraction between the two. KD Jordan was only an inch taller than Haley but at least forty pounds heavier with a ring of fat showing around her middle. She certainly bore no resemblance, or talent, to the singer who went by the same initials. She buzzed her hair in what looked like a 1950s crew cut. KD always wore black and favored wide leather bands around her wrists.

The woman’s butch image was so fixed in Sam’s mind that Sam wondered how any mother managed to come up with Katrina Denise even when KD was a baby. KD usually glared across the street until Sam met her gaze, then she would smirk and duck her chin in recognition. Sam just smiled and waved and kept her feet moving. She had tried talking to KD once and felt as though she should change clothes afterward.

KD was at least a year older than Sam. Sam simply couldn’t comprehend Haley and KD as a couple and was shocked when she found out that they had been together for ten years. “Damn cradle robber.”

Sam’s pace faltered. She definitely heard at least one loud voice—KD. There was a fine line between checking on someone out of concern and interfering. Sam decided to wait a few more minutes. Abruptly, the decision was made for her. Someone was knocking on Sam’s front door with an urgency that demanded quick response.

Sam glanced down at herself. “Great.” She stepped off the balance board and into flip-flops, quick stepping to the entry. She smothered the gasp that nearly escaped as she opened her door. Haley stood on the concrete stoop with a hand towel pressed against her lower face. Blood trailed down the front of her orange Virginia Tech T-shirt and spotted her jean shorts. Red splotches stained Haley’s light gray New Balance shoes. Sam glanced across the street. KD stood in the driveway, hands on hips, looking like a rhinoceros digging in for the charge.

Sam caught Haley by the shoulder and pulled her into the house, closing and locking the front door behind her. “How bad is it?” Sam couldn’t tell the extent of damage because of the amount of blood coming from Haley’s mouth.

Haley’s voice was muffled but understandable. “Split my lip. Loose or broken-off tooth or teeth. I’m starting to feel light-headed or I’d drive myself to the ER.”

Sam shook her head. “Absolutely not. Come on.” She motioned Haley to follow her as she grabbed her keys and wallet from her briefcase on the narrow table between the front and basement doors. She flipped the light switch so they could see the stairs. “I’ll go first. Steady yourself on me, okay?”

Haley nodded.

Sam slowly went down the steps with Haley’s hand on her shoulder. She opened the passenger door of the Maxima and guided Haley in. She activated the garage door opener and locked them inside the car in case KD was waiting for them when they backed out into the street.

KD watched from her own front door. Sam stared until KD turned away, telling Sam all she needed to know. Sam glanced at Haley and almost didn’t have the heart to ask the obvious. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you two tonight?”

Haley shrugged and pointed to the towel with her free hand.

“Uh-huh.” Sam was thankful for the hospital on their side of Richmond; the subdivision was less than three miles from a major medical center without fighting evening traffic crossing the city.

She sped through the subdivision back roads until a traffic light took her across Route 60 and onto the hospital’s main entrance. Sam had been admitted as an outpatient several years ago to clean up the inside of her knee after years of softball abuse caught up with her. She followed the sign to the emergency entrance. The parking lot was half full.

“I’ll drop you at the door. Give me a moment to park if you don’t want to go in by yourself.”

Haley nodded.

Sam jumped out of the car, opened the door for Haley, and stood her against one of the columns of the porte cochere. Sam quickly parked and jogged across the parking lot.

Sam guided Haley by the elbow as they entered through the automatic doors. “You’ll be okay. They’re very good here from everything I’ve heard and experienced.” She squeezed Haley’s arm gently. “Get your story together,” she said softly.

One look from the admitting nurse, and they quickly bypassed the waiting area. Haley managed to give Sam her personal and insurance information to fill in the blanks on the admission form as they perched on chairs in the admission office. There was no question about Sam staying with Haley. Sam watched Haley for signs of fainting so that she could catch her. She kicked herself for waiting to intervene. They were led through a maze of curtained hallways into a cubicle with only one hard wall.

The nurse motioned to the narrow bed. “Hop up. I’ll see which doc is available.” She hurried out after raising the head of the mattress.

Sam studied the younger woman. “What happened, Haley?”

Haley shook her head. “My fault. Fell on the elliptical. Clumsy.” She attempted a shrug and gave in to the pillows piled at the head of the bed.

“Yeah, right.” Sam frowned and helped Haley raise her feet.

The curtain was drawn back. A nurse in navy scrubs entered the treatment area. Sam’s eyes were drawn to the dangling badge identifying the RN.

“Let me take a look, sweetie.” The woman was two inches taller than Haley and about the same size. She had short blond hair purposely showing dark roots. She had likely begun her shift with spiked hair. Tiny diamonds glittered in her earlobes. Her scrub pants were a little too long and dragged the floor at the heel of her athletic shoes. She pulled on latex gloves and a mask. “I’m Lisa Ramey. I assess what’s going on with you, then the doc will be in.” She gently moved the towel from Haley’s face.

Sam was relieved to notice that the bleeding had slowed considerably.

“Damn. Someone did a number on you, girlfriend. Your lower lip is split in two places, upper in one.” She ran a finger along both rows of teeth. “Several are loose, but none knocked out. That’s good, sweetie.” She placed a fresh 4x4 against Haley’s lip. “Apply light pressure to that for me.”

Lisa jotted down information on a rolling laptop she had brought into the room with her, glancing at Sam. “Do you need to report how this happened?” she asked Haley.

“Slipped on the NordicTrack. My fault. No one else involved,” Haley said. She was unable to make eye contact with Lisa or Sam.

Sam sighed. She positioned herself at the corner juncture of the curtains and looked away as the nurse gave the rest of Haley a cursory examination.

“So you just fell on your face. No abrasions on your arms or legs that I can see.” Lisa shielded Haley from Sam and took a peek under the front of her shirt, then moved to the other side of the bed and rolled Haley to her side. Her assessment made the explanation sound even less credible. She leaned closer to Haley and lowered her voice. “Few injuries cause forward falls.”

Sam felt her gaydar going off and was ashamed of herself. Lisa was about Sam’s age and had the self-assurance of someone who routinely dealt with crisis, making her all the more attractive as far as Sam was concerned. Sam caught herself studying the way Lisa’s uniform was filled out—nice hips and tight butt, firm stomach, full breasts. Sam froze. She looked down at her clothes and was immediately embarrassed. She was out in public in her exercise shorts and tank top with no bra. Her breast size went with her height—38DD.

Lisa turned and looked at Sam as though she had enough of Sam’s eyes on her. Sam actually blushed. Lisa gave Sam an appraising look up and down. “If you can’t control your temper, at least take your damn ring off.”

Sam was stunned. She glanced down at her hands and saw Haley’s blood on her from checking her out at the house. Sam always wore her school ring. She remained loyal to the woman’s college that had just gone co-ed—a huge mistake as far as Sam was concerned.

Haley tried to protest. “I slipped and fell.”

“And I won the lottery this morning but came to work for the sheer fun of it,” Lisa said. She stared at Sam again. “You need to wait out front. Shall I call security?”

“We’re not a couple.” Sam motioned from Haley to herself. “I’m just her neighbor. She came to me for help.”

Lisa frowned at both women. “You look guilty as hell about something.”

“I want her to stay,” Haley said.

Lisa looked from one to the other. “All right, girls, but in here, you behave yourselves. Any drama starts playing out and you’ll be escorted outside if I have to throw you out myself.” She pointed deliberately at Sam.

“Promise?” Sam couldn’t help herself. Her smart-ass hormones always managed to kick in at exactly the wrong time and place.

“Women like you two make all of us look bad.” Lisa paused at the curtain. “I’ll find you a gown since the cold is bothering you.”

Sam glanced down and saw how pointed her nipples were. She wondered if there was any chance at all that the concrete floor would open and swallow her. “At ease, girls,” she whispered. She looked at Haley. “Do you think she meant women in general or women as lesbians?” She didn’t give Haley a chance to answer. “Damn you and KD, by the way. I’ve just made a fool out of myself because of KD’s sorry-ass temper.”

Haley chuckled and winced. “I think you look sexy as hell.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m not done with you, so don’t try to distract me by changing the subject. This is serious shit you’re dealing with. Did you fall on two different pieces of equipment or forget what you told me when you had to give her an excuse?”

All humor vanished from Haley’s expression.

“Damn it, Haley. KD hit you. Everyone here can see and figure that out. You can’t keep protecting her.” Sam struggled to keep her voice low. As much as she would enjoy Lisa manhandling her, she didn’t think it worth the chance of being recognized in these circumstances.

Haley covered her mouth with her hand and refused to say any more.

Lisa returned with the doctor and tossed Sam a gown.

Sam put the mint green plaid cotton on like a jacket and crossed the fronts over her. “Stunning.” She huffed as she glanced down, then remembered her manners. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lisa held the tray of instruments and anticipated each step of the doctor’s work.

Sam looked away again as the stitches went in. The doctor nodded at Lisa and left the cubicle.

“You should fill this script tonight if possible,” Lisa said to Sam. “What we gave her will last a few hours. then that lip is going to hurt like a son of a bitch.” She turned to Haley. “Lie down and keep ice on your face for an hour or so. Call your dentist in the morning and let him know what happened.” She glanced at her laptop. “Who’s your dentist?”  She nodded as she typed Haley’s answer. “He’s part of our provider system and can access these records.”

Lisa turned to Sam and scowled. “And, bitch, you behave yourself. Leave the gown in the bin near the exit door.” Lisa left the women to gather their belongings and leave.

“Oh, yeah, she’s one of us,” Haley said.

“No doubt,” Sam said, feeling as though she had been smacked in not necessarily a bad way.

CHAPTER FOUR

Sam stepped out of her front door and waited for her body to acclimate to the outdoor temperature rather than the constant seventy-two degrees maintained by the air conditioning inside. She knew that she would be late arriving home that night and had decided it would do her good to take an early morning walk. July in Virginia meant early morning was the only viable time to be outdoors without feeling completely miserable. She saw no benefit to activities that endangered her health. She had dehydrated once years ago during a softball tournament, and the experience was enough to last her a lifetime.

Sam looked about the neighborhood. All was quiet at Haley and KD’s and had been for the past three days since Sam and Haley visited the ER. Sam knew that Haley and KD were purposely avoiding her, and she was all right with that. Sam continued to keep a watchful eye out for Haley, noticing the patterns of lights on in the house and vehicles in the driveway. KD had been gone a lot lately.

They were lucky to live on one of the few dead end streets in the subdivision. It was a game amongst the residents to avoid Route 60 at all cost; this involved zooming through residential streets to cover the distance in the least time possible. They learned elaborate turns through the abutting subdivisions, similar to rats in a maze, to delay entering the highway until near their destination. Sometimes Sam just gave in to reckless abandon and went directly to Route 60 if she thought she’d be going the opposite direction of the main flow of traffic. Route 60 ran through the heart of Richmond and continued on to Williamsburg to its east. The state highway originated beyond the Blue Ridge Mountains to the west and linked the capital to the communities of Powhatan, Cumberland, Buckingham, and Amherst, and ended in Lexington.

Sam peered between the houses across from her and those beyond to the next row of brick ranches she saw the face of. Paul’s house was dark. She was tempted to go to the next block and ring Paul’s doorbell to wake him up, then run. He would know who was responsible. It would serve him right for calling her late at night as was his habit when he was wide awake and written out. Paul was a bank teller by day and writer of gay fiction by night. His office light had been glowing behind the blinds when Sam brought Haley home from the hospital after one a.m. Wednesday.

Sam picked up the rolled newspaper tossed at the foot of her driveway. She scanned the headlines. At least there were no surprises. None of the major employers was leaving town and none of the city council members had been accused of criminal charges—definitely a quiet news day.

She glanced to her left and saw Ava’s light on. Sam looked at her watch—6:15 a.m. Why would anyone be up this early if not getting ready for work? She went to Ava’s driveway and picked up her newspaper, intending to set it inside the front storm door to save Ava a few steps outside. No sooner had Sam placed her foot on the brick stoop than the front door opened.

“I hoped you would be out and about this morning. Come in for coffee, dear.” Ava held the storm door open. “I just took buttermilk biscuits out of the oven.”

Sam groaned. “You’re an inspiration, cooking already this morning.” Sam followed her neighbor inside the house. The bread fragrance was awesome.

Ava Jacobs was seventy-eight years old. She had lived alone ever since the loss of her husband fifteen years ago. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, who might weigh as much as one hundred pounds. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis, her back curved slightly forward, and the short bonnet of hair atop her head was thin and solid white. Ava’s blue eyes put Sam’s to shame. Sam’s eyes were more cobalt and tended to be dark. Ava’s eyes were the baby blue of a summer sky and twinkled with all she had learned in her years on earth. Ava had finally retired a year earlier from the college across town, mainly because she no longer trusted her driving abilities. Teaching was so engrained in Ava’s psyche that she could launch into an old lecture on any subject regarding ancient or modern history without missing a beat in the conversation.

“Come, come.” Ava led the way through the living room toward the kitchen on the back of the house. She and her husband had worked with the subdivision’s original contractor on the floor plan, and it showed.

Sam loved Ava’s home, even though it made her feel slightly claustrophobic. The house was smaller than Sam’s and had defined rooms instead of overlapping open spaces. How many living rooms actually worked with matching sofas flanking a fireplace, Sam wondered.

No surface was without memorabilia or trinkets of some sort and each had a story. Little space was open on the floor due to all the furniture that Ava and her husband had acquired during years of haunting antique shops. Piles of books and magazines filled the tabletops and spare chairs. Sam really did feel like a bull in a china shop. Many of Ava’s prized possessions were crystal or porcelain—all irreplaceable. Sam hoped for many reasons that Ava never had to be taken out of her home quickly on a gurney.

Ava went to the oven and gestured for Sam to keep on through the small rooms behind her. First was the room previously used by Ava’s husband, Max, as a den and now by Ava as an office. A tall secretary stood against the kitchen wall, its leaf open and every pigeonhole overflowing. A well-used recliner was angled in front of the bay window as a reminder of Max’s favorite place to read. The far wall was completely covered by bookcases filled with nonfiction. The back corner of the house was a sunroom lined with double hung windows. A plump sofa was against the east wall of the room; a small square table stood in the corner next to the office. An ancient console television played in the corner—Sam had connected the signal converter box for Ava. This was the room where Ava spent most of her waking hours. She gently moved a pile of books topped by a composition book from the extra setting at the table. She motioned Sam to take a seat.

Sam was barely settled in the chair when Ava returned with a plate of biscuits and a pot of coffee. Cups and saucers were already on the table. They had discovered long ago that they both preferred their coffee black. Ava placed a double basket with two cut glass containers between the place settings. “I didn’t know whether you preferred jam or honey this morning—both are locally made. The biscuits are already buttered.” Ava joined Sam at the table.

Sam sighed. “I’m just wondering how many other people leave home for an early morning walk and gain weight.”

Ava chuckled. A small pop of gas escaped her. “Excuse me.”

Sam shook her head. “In your own home, please, no apologies necessary.”

Ava smiled. She leaned closer to Sam. “Does my makeup look right?”

Sam studied Ava—her small face was a series of wrinkles that would challenge any woman. Ava was of the generation that considered makeup to be a coating of powder, a touch of rouge, and muted lipstick. “Perfection.”

Ava picked up a crossword puzzle book from the top of a stack on the opposite corner of the table. “Nine-letter word meaning lies.” She looked at Sam expectantly. “Beginning with m and ending in y.”

Sam took a sip of coffee and pondered the clue. Meals with Ava usually came at a price. Sam knew that she was often as not Ava’s guinea pig. Ava was determined to remain in her home unassisted. She worried about the waning of mental acuity, so she worked puzzles of any description. Ava read all the books she owned over and over to reaffirm her knowledge. She cooked and had Sam sample the food to make sure she hadn’t forgotten or misused ingredients. Sam didn’t think she was as sharp at forty-three as Ava was at seventy-eight and wished her friend would not worry so about her age.

Sam knew by Ava asking the question that she was thoroughly stumped. Ava refused to look at the answer key. If she couldn’t come up with the word herself, she would exhaust the people she knew until she found someone who did. At least that way, she was still solving the puzzle.

Sam snapped her fingers and pointed to a biscuit. “It’ll cost you.”

Ava placed two steaming biscuits on Sam’s plate and waited for her choice of condiment.

“Honey.” Sam’s mouth was already watering.

Ava dipped the honey and trailed it across the open faces of the bread. She then held Sam’s hand against the table.

“Mendacity,” Sam said as she was allowed to raise the biscuit.

Ava’s face lit up. “Of course.” She clapped her hands, watching Sam chew. “How’s the taste?”

Sam rolled her eyes back in her head and groaned. “Marvelous! The bread just melts in my mouth. You could sell these on the roadside and make a fortune.”

Ava patted Sam’s hand. “I don’t think so, dear, but you’re very sweet.” She sipped her coffee. “I’ve already eaten my first breakfast.” Ava had discovered that her metabolism benefited from eating lightly every two to three hours.

“What time did you get up?” Sam asked as she debated the possibility of eating a third biscuit. She glanced out the window at the row of birdfeeders with tiny sparrows flocking to the seeds.

“Same time as always—5:15 a.m.—without benefit of an alarm clock. Go ahead.” Ava gestured to the serving platter. “You’re young enough to work it off. I’m guessing you don’t always take time for lunch.”

Sam nodded. “Guilty.”

Ava shook her head. “I’m going to say it one more time…”

Sam mouthed the words along with her.

“Stay away from soft drinks and never skip a meal,” Ava fussed gently.

Sam nodded. “I know, but that’s another of those things easier said than done.”

“Oh, believe me, I understand.” Ava glanced about the room as though making sure no one else was with them. “I stopped smoking thirty years ago and still wish I could light up one more time.”

Sam nodded. “Aren’t our bad habits all the more awful when recognized yet still coveted?”

“Just like Haley with that KD,” Ava said matter-of-factly.

Sam stared at Ava.

“Those two are terrible for each other. KD is a bully, worse with every year they’re together, and Haley feeds into her control because she can’t let herself believe she’s worthy of anyone else. Haley should have sent that woman packing long ago.”

Sam was speechless.

“Haley needs to either hit back or get out.” Ava changed her mind and reached for a biscuit for herself.

“All of us can see that but Haley,” Sam said. “I took her to the emergency room Tuesday night. Twelve stitches in her lips.”

“Oh, she’s well aware of it.” Ava waited to continue until after she swallowed. “Haley is a classic victim. If you can ever get her to admit what’s happening, you might have a chance of helping her. Otherwise, the best you can do is walk away.” Ava covered her mouth with a linen napkin as she belched gently. “More coffee, dear?”

“Thank you.” Sam watched the grace with which Ava performed the simplest tasks. Sam was convinced her generation had missed out on gentility to be self-sufficient while not making real homes for large families. “I’ll cut your grass this weekend when I do mine. A little time with the push mower is good for the soul.”

“You, my dear, need to go a little easier on yourself and have some fun. Life is too damn short. Enjoy it. What is it with all this exercising? You’d best channel that energy into your sexuality.” Ava cleared their plates and left Sam staring after her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sam pulled through the double row of delineated parking spaces and stopped in her usual spot. She didn’t know why, but she liked being able to sit at her desk, glance out of the two-foot-by-six-foot fixed glass window, and see her car poised for her next appointment or home. Her hands remained on the steering wheel as she thought through the day’s meetings. She nodded to herself. Sam had done her homework and met with other county officials to make sure no code changes had slipped by her. She was as ready as she could be to talk with two new clients—one who wanted advice about starting a business and the other about moving a business out of her home.

Sam genuinely admired small business owners. How in the hell anyone put in the hours they did for the narrow profit margin they might be lucky enough to make was beyond her. It was like Paul and his writing. He was so proud of each new book yet his royalties barely paid for the conferences he attended. It was all about doing what you enjoyed.

Sam loved her job. She had started out in banking after college and stayed with it long enough to know that a corporate structure was not how she wanted to spend her waking hours. She was invited to an entrepreneurship conference hosted by the local community college to discuss financing options.

She fell in love with the process of entrepreneurship and was amazed at the local and state assistance available if a business owner had someone to champion for them. Her passion was for the underdog and finding someone with a talent for a service but no knowledge of how to put that service into play. She took it so far as to volunteer with Junior Achievement and take the same principles to high school kids who often had incredible business ideas.

When Chesterfield County’s board of supervisors decided to become proactive in fostering new businesses, she applied for the directorship. Sam called in all favors from companies she had counseled. When offered the position, she had not dickered over salary. It was the challenge she wanted.

The county had purchased a shell building—only roof and exterior walls constructed on speculation. Sam’s charge was to establish and run a fledgling program to retain startup companies that couldn’t afford the going lease rate in a booming county. She traveled the state, looking at incubator floor plans and surveying space requirements. It took less than a year to have a 7,500-square-foot facility built and running in Chesterfield County’s newest industrial park to anchor recruitment. 

The front portion of the building was split face block, a little over one thousand square feet in area with ten-foot clear ceilings, and housed the shared tenant services of conference room, kitchen, mail room, and administrative offices, meaning hard walls for her and a cubicle for her assistant. The rear portion of the building was a little less than six thousand square feet  It was structural steel framing with corrugated aluminum exterior panels, metal studs, and fire-rated drywall interior walls with an eave height of twenty-two feet. It was divided into six offices, a training room, restrooms, and two large light industrial spaces open to the roof insulation on the very back of the building. The offices and training area were constructed with a mezzanine level above for storage or future offices.

The concept of a business incubator was to help a business operate during its infancy with minimal rent and little or no facility overhead costs, then nudge them out on their own after three years. Most small businesses that survived three years were ready to expand and begin showing a profit.

Sam climbed out of her Maxima with her hand grasping her briefcase as a reflex. They were nearing the end of July. Before she realized it, the days would become noticeably shorter and cooler. She fought depression with each winter spent alone, suffering withdrawal from lessening daylight.

Sam stepped through the double doors and immediately heard Tambor’s voice shrieking from the center of the building as Kelly’s low tones tried to soothe her. Tambor Jefferson was Sam’s assistant; Kelly Haskins was the night guard sometimes pressed into maintenance service.

“Oh, God, what now?” Sam leaned inside her office and tossed her briefcase onto a side chair.

Sam followed the voices through the doors separating the buildings. The women were in the men’s room with the hall door and vestibule door propped open. “This should be interesting,” Sam said to herself.

“I’m telling you, something has crawled in here and died.” Tambor’s voice rose to equal her height. She matched Sam’s six feet and was thin with milky cocoa skin. Her hair was cut in short curls tight to her head. She wore bright red eyeglass frames half the size of her face. She was five years younger than Sam.

“Honey, it’s just the floor drain.” Kelly remained calm. Sam smiled. Why did that not surprise her? Kelly was a very soft butch—Sam knew firsthand just how soft—in her late forties. She was tough and wizened from years of working outdoors patrolling industrial sites. Her skin stayed perpetually tanned. She had hazel eyes and short salt and pepper hair. She and Sam resorted to casual sex when their hormones and single status aligned. They had agreed after their first attempt at a date that neither of them could take seriously—they were not the right combination for a relationship.

“Well, something crawled down the drain and died.” Tambor was insistent about her theory.

“I would suggest not leaning over the drain cover with a match to check.” Sam wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be right back.” She went toward her office and unlocked the janitor’s closet just inside the admin building. She quickly filled a bucket with water. Sam returned to the men’s room and looked at Kelly. “How long have you two been debating this?”

Kelly glanced at her wide black sports watch. “She started screaming when I went off the clock fifteen minutes ago.” Kelly grinned. “I thought the real emergency was to quiet her down before enough of the tenants were in the building for her to start a panic.”

Sam nodded and said with a wink, “You’re a good woman.” She took careful aim and poured the water slowly into the drain, finally looking up at Tambor as the bucket emptied. “Sweetie, talk to the cleaning crew. They’re using mop buckets to clean the tile and emptying them in the big sink in the janitor’s closet, which is fine, but they’re not pouring any water down the floor drains. The trap dries out and sewer gas comes into the building.” Sure enough, the odor had lessened already. “Let’s crank the fans up in the industrial spaces and open the doors for a little while to air the building out.”

Tambor shook her head. “No can do, boss lady.”

Sam raised her eyebrows.

“The fan in the left room sounds like a cat’s caught in it,” Tambor explained.

Sam closed her eyes and counted to ten. She didn’t appreciate Kelly’s chuckle.

“Have you called the maintenance contractor to check the fan?” Sam asked Tambor.

“I wanted to talk with you first. I forget about it until it cuts on when I’m back there, then the tenant trips the breaker to shut it off.” Tambor tried to make it sound as though a logical progression.

“So he’s operating in un-air-conditioned space with no roof fan to vent the heat that builds during the day?” Sam asked.

“He keeps the drive-thru door open. He just can’t go anywhere unless I stand watch for him. I told him not to bother you.” Tambor nodded to herself.

Sam rubbed her forehead. “Call the HVAC guys. It’s probably worn bearings.”

Tambor nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I was just waiting until we had several things for them to fix. It costs the same to get them here whether they fix one thing or five.” She started to walk away. “Oh. Good morning.”

Sam knew none of this was deliberate. Tambor just had a different way of processing information. She was also great with numbers and sequences, amazing Sam with her ability to look at a company’s balance sheet and locate inconsistencies.

Sam waited until Tambor was out of hearing and looked at Kelly appealingly. “May I go home with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kelly smiled at her. “You look great today, by the way.”

Sam glanced down. She did like this dress—navy, fairly snug, with a low neck and unnecessary white buttons halfway down the front. Her makeup was as subtle as Ava’s. “I’d rather be dressed like you.”

Kelly wore matching tan work pants and shirt that fit her with a comfortable bagginess. The cotton was ironed so that it held a crisp set throughout Kelly’s shift, giving her away as ex-military. Her hiking boots were dark brown suede. Kelly did a brief tap dance. “I wear these just for you—Redhead.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

Kelly chuckled. “But it took your mind off your emergencies.”

“Yes, it did.” Sam wondered again if she should try a relationship with Kelly. Physically, they were so good together, and it had been such fun finding that out. Philosophically, they were at opposite ends of the spectrum on everything from politics (Kelly a staunch Green Party disciple and Sam a liberal Democrat) to recreational drug use (Kelly for and Sam against). Sam genuinely liked and respected Kelly, maybe too much. They just seemed to feel more like very good friends than long-term partners.

“You were thinking about us again, weren’t you?” Kelly looked very satisfied with herself.

“Busted. I’m such a ho.” Sam covered her eyes with her hand, then peeked between her fingers at Kelly.

Kelly laughed loud enough to be heard at the front of the building. “Nothing I like better than a horny ho.” She ran her hand over Sam’s butt as she left the restroom. “Later.” It was said with a definite promise.

“I know you two aren’t still talking about floor drains.” Tambor’s voice carried from the front offices. “Your first meeting is in twenty minutes. You better get your coffee while you can.”

“That’s right.” Kelly glided backward along the hallway. “You better get some while you can.”

Sam waved her off. What was wrong with her? Her mind kept slipping to the distraction offered by sex. Didn’t she want more from a woman?

CHAPTER SIX

All Sam wanted was a little peace and quiet. She was tired—tired of the minor crises at work, tired of being hot every time she went outdoors, and, most of all, tired of herself. Her world was exactly as she had made it, so why did it feel so empty? She usually counted on Tambor and Kelly to keep her mood up at work, but they had begun the week by bickering about the floor drain incident and ended the week by barely speaking to each other. When Sam tried to talk to each of them alone, she was told in no uncertain terms to mind her own business. “Why not just slap me?” Sam glanced around her garage, not yet motivated to leave the cocoon of her car.

She spied the lawnmower in the corner. She had mowed grass the previous weekend as promised, only to hit a rock in Ava’s yard that shut down the mower before she finished. She was guessing that the shear pin in the blade assembly was damaged—more than she wanted to try to repair. The push mower would have to be taken to the shop—another chore Sam loved, or not.

Sam had swallowed her pride and better judgment and knocked on Haley’s door. KD was all too glad to come to the rescue, insisting on mowing the rest of Ava’s grass instead of lending Sam their mower and implying Sam was too girly for such chores anyway. Sam choked back that KD had never offered to mow Ava’s grass before. Sam caught only a glimpse of Haley. Haley’s lips looked back to normal, the stitches almost unrecognizable, but Sam could have sworn Haley had a black eye. Haley had waved and retreated farther into the house upon seeing KD at the door with Sam.

“Maybe I need to take a vacation.” Sam considered where she might like to go as she climbed the stairs to the first floor of her house—a beach trip to the Outer Banks after Labor Day when the crowds were gone or P-town in October for Women’s Week.

She paused halfway up the steps. She heard movement from the kitchen. Sam eased down the treads and returned to the garage. She spied the bag of golf clubs in the corner and grabbed a wood. As she started up the stairs again, she pulled her cell phone out of her bag, poised to call 911 if necessary. She’d take a quick look and duck back down the stairs if she needed reinforcements.

Sam sniffed. What was that odor? She eased the door at the head of the stairs open and peered around the corner into the kitchen. “Sheesh, you scared me.” She looked at the golf club gripped in her hand. “Need me to stir anything?”

Paul glanced over his shoulder and pulled his earbuds out. “Yea, my best bud’s home.” He grinned at her, then realized her mood was not the same as his. “Didn’t you get my message at the office?”

Sam went to the table near the front door and set her briefcase down. The mail waited for her in neat stacks, sorted into bills or junk. Large flip-flops covered with rainbow peace symbols had been kicked off just inside the door. She returned to the kitchen.

Paul stood at the stove in cutoff blue jeans, polo shirt, and bare feet. He was four inches taller than Sam and one year older. Paul stayed in shape with aerobics and swimming. He was lanky with black hair and green eyes. He styled his hair with a side part and swooping front that tended to droop over his eyes. He liked the fact that he was often compared to a young Gregory Peck.

“I left a message at both buildings to let you know that I was crashing your kitchen tonight. Sorry if my timing is off.” He shrugged and kept working between saucepans on the stovetop.

“Everyone was in a bad mood today. I started letting calls go directly to voice mail after lunch and figured I would check them tonight when my own mood was better.” Sam stepped out of her shoes.

“I’ve been watching the cooking channel and wanted to try some new Low Country recipes on you before I make them for Scott. You don’t mind, do you?” Paul glanced over his shoulder.

Sam didn’t want to think about or discuss Scott Boone. He and Paul had been seeing each other for almost three years. Scott had also recently celebrated his tenth anniversary with his wife and had two children in grade school. Paul deserved better.

Sam firmly believed that in a past life, or maybe one yet to come, she and Paul were husband and wife; she just wasn’t sure of their previous genders. If they had been straight in this life, she would have married Paul. They complemented each other mentally and physically and often went out together to try restaurants or catch a movie. In public, they were often assumed to be an established couple. Sam had known Paul for years. They had each other’s spare house and car keys and traded errands or chores without a thought as to who did what last. Paul was truly as close as Sam would come in this life to a husband.

Paul and Scott were open in their relationship. Scott went home to his supposedly unsuspecting wife while Paul occasionally dated other men. Sam told herself that it was their choice, but it still set with her the wrong way, and she didn’t hesitate to tell Paul. Paul always countered with the number of times Sam had U-Hauled with someone too soon, then had a mess to untangle and disengage from. Paul’s theory was that all relationships were fleeting and lasted only several years at best so why move in together.

Sam sighed. “I don’t mind being cooked for at all, sweetie. I keep telling you and Ava to try recipes out on me all you want to. God knows I’m exercising enough, and you don’t want Ava’s take on that.”

Paul laughed until he choked. “Does it have to do with your current celibacy?”

“Bitch.”

“Go change clothes.” He looked at the clock on the microwave. “You have fifteen minutes before this is done.” He motioned for her to wait and went to the fridge and removed a chilled glass of champagne for her. “I almost forgot.”

“Whoa, fancy, what’s up with this?”

Paul sighed. “Truth?”

Sam sipped and nodded. She cared less and less about work.

Paul grinned. “I finished the new book last night, and it’s good. I can just feel it in my bones, as Ava would say. I’m really getting to know my character.”

“The Atticus Finch attorney who solves crimes both in and out of court while all the men fall for him?” Sam baited Paul.

“It’s not based on me.”

Sam blew air between her lips. Paul had loved the review that called him the gay man’s John Grisham.  He had hit his writing stride after coming out and had eight books in print.

“Well, maybe it’s a little of me. My parents wanted me to go to law school, but I stuck with banking.” Paul pointed to the clock. “Ten minutes.”

Sam had first met Paul when they went through an executive training program with the state’s largest bank headquartered in Richmond almost twenty years ago when Paul was married and wrestling with being a straight family man. Sam had decided she wanted to be more of a business adviser, and Paul decided he wanted no more responsibility than logging money in and out. Being a teller allowed him set hours, time to write, and easily approved vacations for literary conferences—all bones of contention with his then-wife.

“Uh-huh.” Sam went to her bedroom and changed into sweats. She looked longingly at her bed, wishing she could stretch out for just a few minutes. She sipped more champagne and went back to the kitchen for a refill. “Damn.”

Paul had shoved aside the newspapers on the dining room table and set two places complete with dessert forks and bread plates. He pointed to the covered serving dishes. “Shrimp and grits, sweet potato pone, and hoppin’ John. Of course, pecan pie for dessert.” He grinned as he said pecan with a long e.

“Okay, I can figure out all but the hoppin’ one.”

Paul smiled. “Black-eyed peas, bacon, onion, and rice.”

“It all smells delicious.” Sam groaned.

Paul held the chair out for her.

“Okay, that’s a bit of overkill.” Sam adjusted her napkin over the lap of her shorts.

“Just enjoy. Pretend we’re in Savannah again,” Paul said.

They had decided on a road trip the previous spring and ended up in Savannah marveling at the unique town squares and taking in all they could find related to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. It had been wonderful. Sam had been thrilled to not only eat at Paula Deen’s restaurant, but meet the famous cook herself. Paul teased her the rest of the trip about her crush.

“We need to do something like that again soon,” Sam said. “Maybe we can talk Haley into going with us.”

“Sans KD?” Paul shivered.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Not going to happen,” Paul said.

“Why is that?” Sam asked.

Paul paused in serving their plates. “Duh!” he said. “KD controls everything in Haley’s life, including her bank accounts.” He lowered his voice with the last phrase.

“Oh, shit.” Sam stared at the food.

“Oh, yeah. Ask me if I was surprised you had to rush her to the ER. I’m just sorry you didn’t bang on the door and take my butt with you. That situation could have turned really ugly if KD had followed you two.” He nudged her. “Eat before it’s cold. I need your critique.”

Sam tasted the food. “Sheesh, I don’t know who is the best cook, you or Ava, but I hope you both keep experimenting.”

Paul nodded. “I love Ava’s recipes, reminds me of home.”

Sam, Paul, and Ava were all native Virginians—another factor that contributed to their friendship. Sam was from a small community west of Richmond, Paul from northern Virginia, and Ava from central Virginia.

Sam and Paul focused on the food for a few minutes. Paul took a break first. “Big plans for the weekend?” He studied the dishes, debating which to have seconds of.

Sam patted her mouth with her napkin. “We’ll see. I’ll be burning up the Internet with several women I’ve met on Match. Hopefully, I’ll have a date in a week or two.”

“Oh, Lord, what are you trying to set up?” Paul cringed.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Sam held her hand up to stop his retort. “I figure I can’t go wrong with a daylight date.”

“Hiking?” Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s so lesbian.”

“I love to hike. I’ve wanted to go back to the James River Park, but someone who shall remain nameless has refused. It’s right here at us. This woman hikes all the time, maybe she can get me back into shape. Ten-day forecast looks good for a cool spell in late August, maybe in the low eighties.”

Paul whistled. “I hear you. Just be sure to take your cell phone and find out where you’re leaving cars in case you need me to pick you up midway.” He didn’t sound encouraging.

“Few serial killers are women,” Sam reminded him.

Paul shook his head. “The women who do it are smart enough not to be caught by dumbass men.”

Sam laughed and waited for Paul to join in. He stared at her, totally serious.

“You haven’t mentioned the big event,” Paul said.

Sam glanced at the wall calendar. “Shit, it’s only a week away. I’m pleasantly surprised you’re thinking about it.” They cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. “I thought I owed you big for agreeing to go with me.”

“I take being an escort to a twenty-fifth high school reunion dance very seriously. Wait until you see me in my new tux. I’ve only worn it once for this past New Year’s Eve ball, and, honey, can I dance.” Paul shook his butt as he washed the saucepans.

“Oh, my. You’ll have to help me with my makeup and outfit. I can’t let you put me to shame.” Sam covered the leftovers and actually had decent food in her refrigerator for a change.

“Remind me. Are we doing the straight masquerade or going as the bickering gay-les duo?”

Sam laughed. “I’m flaunting being a lesbian. I was too low-key about it in high school. I just didn’t date rather than come out.”

“Chicken shit.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“You are lesbian, hear you roar.” Paul ducked Sam’s roundhouse punch.

“Amen.” Sam split the last of the champagne between their glasses and raised hers for a toast.

“Come on. I want to check your dance moves. I’ve only seen you shuffle around with other lesbians who can’t keep time.” He held out his hand and led her into the open area she usually reserved for the Wii. His earbuds dangled around his neck. He cranked up the volume on his iPod.

“You expect me to dance to Cher?” Sam asked.

“She sure does.” Paul twisted his hips.

“What the hell.” Sam followed his lead, and they did a decent imitation of swing dancing.

“Now if I can just do that with real clothes on,” Sam said, out of breath as they finished.

“If I’ve heard that once...” Paul danced toward the front door and waved as he exited the house.

“Great,” Sam said. “Now I can’t get Cher out of my head.” She practiced steps until she realized she was tired enough to sleep. Paul never let her down as a good companion for Friday night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sam braced herself as she opened her front door. She really had become too used to coming home at night and neither seeing nor speaking to anyone else until she returned to work the next morning.

Haley smiled and held up a six-pack of Guinness. “Feel like a real woman’s beer?”

Sam smiled and motioned Haley to follow her inside. She had been stretched out on the sofa looking at the catalogs from the day’s mail; why, she wasn’t sure, since she did the majority of her shopping directly on favorite Internet sites.

Haley pulled her keychain out of her pocket and opened two bottles.

“That’s handy.” Sam took a long swallow and tried not to make a face. Guinness was an excellent beer but definitely an acquired taste.

“I was a Girl Scout.” Haley tipped her bottle back. “Really.” She held up the pocketknife packed with utility blades so that Sam could see the emblem on its side.

“I once subscribed to a camping magazine to get one of those, haven’t been camping since I was a kid. I keep it in the kitchen junk drawer. I’m always using it for something.” Sam turned down the volume of the television.

Haley settled into the sofa and propped her feet up on the low square coffee table. “Is that okay?” She lifted both feet.

“That’s what it’s there for.” Sam did likewise.

Haley relaxed and watched the local news. “I went back to the dentist today.” She smiled, showing her teeth. “I’m okay. He’s stabilizing my teeth with invisible braces for a few weeks just to be on the safe side. I didn’t realize how much teeth could move around. My stitches have all dissolved.” She ran her finger over her lips. “I can’t even tell it happened.”

“I wouldn’t have noticed the braces if you hadn’t told me,” Sam said, studying Haley’s face.

“I know, I started to ask for purple just to see what people would say, but I don’t smile enough on the job for anyone to notice.” Haley shrugged.

Sam studied her. “How about that eye? Did they notice that at work?”

Haley looked away. “I told everyone I got up in the night and thought I didn’t need a light turned on.”

Sam knew enough to realize that Haley wanted to talk or she wouldn’t be here in the first place. She was amazed that Haley had said this much.

Haley turned back to Sam. “Hey, you remember that ER nurse Lisa?”

Sam grimaced. “The one who liked me so much?”

Haley chuckled. “She gave my dentist’s office a heads-up to watch out for you.”

“What?”

Haley snickered, covering her braces with her hand. “I know the hygienist. She showed me the file. Lisa made a note on my chart to be alert about you. I wondered why she asked which dentist I used. She still thinks you’re the one who gave me the split lips.”

“Well, how nice.” Sam set the half-empty beer on the coffee table. “What’s the deal with her anyway?”

Haley grinned and nodded. “I thought you were interested.”

“Oh, yeah, we had such great chemistry.” Sam exaggerated a shiver. “No, I mean, is she one of us or homophobic or just mean?”

“Yes, no, maybe from what I could find out. Jeanie knows her from years ago when they both were on the party circuit. Lisa was married, had two children, and gave them up when she came out—sees them once a month for an afternoon. She’s spent years trying to get her oldest son to speak to her especially now that he’s almost finished high school. No luck.”

“Damn, that must be awful.” Sam’s opinion of Lisa shifted.

“I told Jeanie that you had nothing to do with my loose teeth. She just cackled. She’s seen you in the office enough to know better. I think that’s why she showed me the notation—she thought it was hilarious.” Haley’s face was the picture of innocence.

“Why does that give me little comfort?” Sam asked. “You’re getting a kick out of yanking my chain, you turd.”

Haley nodded. “Guilty.” She held up a fresh bottle of beer.

“Go ahead. I’m still working on this one. I just ate and feel bloated enough as it is. Have you had dinner? Pardon my bad manners. I’m such a brute.”

“I grabbed a burger when I stopped for these.” Haley pointed to the six-pack.

“I’m glad you came by. We don’t do this often enough. Why do you think that is?”

Haley sighed. “Look.” She hesitated, staring at her hands. “It was KD. Okay?”

Finally, Sam thought. “No, that’s not okay, on so many levels. Do you think she has the right to mistreat you?”

“It’s not her fault. She was abused as a child.” Everything in Haley said she had to believe that.

“Bullshit,” Sam snapped. She made herself calm down before she continued. “Haley, you’re one of the gentlest souls I know. Why should anyone hurt you?”

Haley’s eyes filled with tears. “She just does.”

“For how long?” Sam’s tone softened.

Haley was crying as she said, “About a year. I just didn’t want to believe it would continue and become worse. We’d been okay up until then.”

“Just okay?” Sam felt her heart going out to the other woman. Her eyes filled also. “What are you going to do about it?”

Haley shook her head. Her body shuddered with the emotion of saying any of this aloud.

“What do you want me to do?” Sam took Haley’s hand in hers.

Haley stared at Sam blankly. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Sam took a deep breath. “How often does this happen?” Sam pointed to her own lips and eye.

“If KD is working and going out with friends, we’re okay. If jobs and parties slow down, the least little thing will set her off.”

“Like being over here now? Simply talking about her?”

“She’s away for a job in northern Virginia for the rest of the week. I’m safe.” Haley took a deep breath. “You won’t say anything to her, will you? She’d go off the deep end if she knew about this conversation.”

“Did you hear what you just said?” Again, Sam made herself tone it down—too much emotion would spook Haley. “So you time what you do by her mood swings?”

“Sort of.” Haley ran her hands through her hair. “She really isn’t a monster.”

Sam tapped the glass bottle against the table. “Is she going through menopause? God, that’s such a cliché to ask, but I’m speaking from experience. I know I can sense a change in my moods, and I’m only in the early stage of it.”

Haley shook her head. “Don’t feel bad. I tracked her fits by the calendar, thinking it was part of her cycle when she was getting ready to start her period.”

Sam nodded.

“But it doesn’t follow that, either.” Haley glanced at her wristwatch. “I have to go. She calls about eight thirty or nine o’clock, knowing I fall asleep early.”

“Because you can relax and rest when she’s not around?” Sam asked. “I’m betting she only calls on the landline.”

“Because I’m a morning person and wake up early.” Haley began to shut down the conversation. “She uses the phone card for long distance.”

Sam held her hands up as though in surrender. “Don’t be a stranger. My door is always open to you. I’ll even keep my mouth shut if that’s what you need.”

“You…quiet…” Haley blew air between her lips.

“And I like to take long walks on the beach and watch sunsets.”

“Oh, God help us all, you’re going to start Internet dating again, aren’t you?” Haley stood and turned toward the front door.

“How else will I meet anyone?” Sam lowered her voice seductively. “I like to walk in the rain and rebuild engines.”

“Woo, that was good, gave me the chills in a good way. Are you posting your personals on video now? You sound pretty convincing.” Haley crossed the living room.

“Sounds better than I like to lie around on the sofa in sweats and doze during television reruns,” Sam said.

“You think?”

Sam handed her the remaining half of the six-pack. “I don’t need that temptation.” She patted her abs. “I may be getting back into hiking.”

“You go, butch. Put me on your speed dial. I’ll find you if you need rescuing. I owe you one.” Haley tapped the cell phone that was always in her pocket.

“Damn, Paul said pretty much the same thing.”

“We do know you. I thought you promised last time to let Paul and me pick out the next date for you.” Haley said it with a straight face.

Sam pushed Haley out the front door. “Like you two are any better at romance than I am.”

“Sleep well.” Haley waved without looking back.

“Be safe,” Sam whispered.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Stand in front of me for just a second.” Sam guided Paul by the arm so that he blocked her from the rest of the people in the room. She had purposely finished their dance close to the wall.

“Wardrobe malfunction? Is this where I get to flash your boobs at everyone? I thought we were saving that for later.” Paul stood as placed and discreetly looked above Sam’s shoulder at the CMU wall as soon as he realized what she needed to do.

Sam lifted her right boob and adjusted the cup sewn into the strapless, knee-length dress. “Jeez, these things won’t stay put.”

“Your cup overfloweth?” Paul said without lowering his eyes.

“How much have you had to drink?” Sam eased Paul to his left.

Paul laughed. “Nothing so far but a diet cola. I’m giddy being the token gay guy.”  They meandered toward the center of the dance floor as the band took a break.

Sam looked about the Powhatan Ruritan Club’s main room. The building was forty feet square with cinderblock walls. The main entrance led directly into the multipurpose area that was thirty feet deep. The far wall from the entrance was divided into restrooms, kitchen, and a small raised stage.

“I think someone saved the decorations from the senior prom.” Sam studied the crepe paper streamers and balloons disguising the acoustic tile ceiling. “My mom made me go with my best friend who just happened to be a guy.”

“Have you kept up with anyone from your graduating class?” Paul glanced about at the small groupings of people cutting their gazes at them.

“Nope.” Sam had been the only one from her class accepted at the University of Virginia who actually earned an undergraduate degree. Once college and jobs took over, her group of friends had spread over the East Coast and made little attempt at staying in touch through their parents.

“My school was big enough for a GL club and influenced by D.C.’s fed employees enough to allow it. We were a very chic group, majority of us still get together when we go home for Christmas.” He looked at the drab white paint on the walls and floral curtains that were in style when he and Sam graduated from high school. “I feel like this is where the Waltons went to socials.” He guided her toward the food, and more importantly, the large coolers with beer on ice. “Allow me.” Paul opened a Heineken for each of them.

Just as Sam was about to take a swallow, she felt herself lifted off the floor in a bear hug. She managed not to pour the contents of the bottle down the front of her red dinner dress.

“I didn’t think you’d show up!” The baritone voice boomed in Sam’s ear.

She was now deaf, as well as dizzy, but she instantly recognized the source. “Dumbass, put me down!” She smacked the arm around her waist. “Jake!” Sam handed her bottle to Paul as she turned and slapped the big man’s shoulders simultaneously as though checking football pads. Jake Heflin was 6’8” of brawn and beer gut.

“Sammy!” He looked her up and down and whistled.

Sam gestured from one man to the other. “Paul, Jake. Jake, Paul.” She looked at Paul as she spoke. “Jake was my best friend in high school.”

“She came to all the football games. I dragged her to the prom. Her mom bribed me.” Jake winked at Paul.

“I bet you were an offensive lineman,” Paul said.

Jake held up his hand for a high five and smacked Paul’s palm.

“Yowzer.” Paul shook his hand.

Sam looked at Jake and nodded toward Paul. “He’s my best bud now.” She grinned at Paul.

“She’s a fag hag.” Paul shrugged.

Jake grinned. “I get it. You finally came out as a lezzie.” The music paused as Jake finished the sentence.

“To everyone,” Sam said with a shrug.

“Sorry,” Jake said as the music started again. “It’s a gift.”

“Well, at least we gave them something new to talk about,” Sam said. “Both of you stand in front of me, facing out.” Sam spun the men around, nudging them shoulder to shoulder, and adjusted her boobs. She slapped each man in the middle of the back when she was done.

Paul looked at Jake before they turned to face Sam. “So you knew in high school that she was a lesbian.”

“I knew that I wanted to ask her out but also knew not to. Then I noticed she was reading a lot of Rita Mae Brown. Even I could put that two and two together.” Jake watched the dancers.

“And there I was, thinking you were a dumb jock, and you knew I liked girls before I did.” Sam hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Guys had it made back then. All those cute girls they were expected to ask out and too immature to treat them right.”

“It wasn’t that easy,” Jake said. “I was focused on football—a sports scholarship was the only way I made it into college.”

“You were cute, a jock, smart, and could have asked any girl out and had her take you up on it, but instead, you hung out with me,” Sam said.

“You said I was smart.” Jake grinned. He patted his stomach. “But not smart enough to stay in shape.” Jake was the girth of Paul and Sam combined. “I’ve been divorced twice, have a construction business that takes all my time, and I’m primed for a heart attack.”

“Damn.” Sam’s eyes were on the moving bodies filling the dance floor, one in particular.

Paul and Jake followed her gaze.

Jake chuckled. “Can you believe Cindy Taylor went from head cheerleader to making a living with ballroom dancing, winning contests and teaching two-left-feet guys like me? She told me all about it after explaining how much she cleaned her husbands out for in divorces. I just backed away.” He held up both hands. “Been there, done that, and wore holes in the T-shirt.”

Sam continued to stare.

Paul snapped his fingers inches from Sam’s face.

Jake grinned. “Go for it.”

“What?” Sam said.

“Go for it. She’s bored as hell with men. If I was such a dumbass in high school not to take advantage of all the willing girls, don’t you do the same now with the frustrated divorcees.” He nodded toward the dance floor. “I bet there are at least a half dozen of them who would be flattered as hell if you propositioned them. You’re finally fashionable, girl.” He gave her a little push.

“Get out of here.” Sam looked at the single women scattered about, clearly bored with revisiting old boyfriends and one another.

“Go for it,” Jake said again. “I’ll keep your boy here company and safe from all us rednecks.”

Paul nodded vigorously.

Sam shrugged and stopped her shoulder movement before she dislocated a boob. She wandered toward the refreshments again and fell in step behind Cindy Taylor.

Cindy’s hair was the same length as in high school, barely touching her shoulder blades. She had blended brown with black when she last had her hair dyed. She didn’t appear to have gained any weight, just repositioned what she carried as a girl’s body matured into a woman’s. Sam’s eyes lingered on the low-cut back of the dress that dipped below Cindy’s waist.

Cindy had been one of the girls in high school who appeared to have it all together. Her bases had been covered—parents with well-paying jobs, home in the newest subdivision, and self-confidence to try out and win spots in any activity. Cindy had played softball and basketball, as well as being a cheerleader for football. If she had had any self doubts, she had hidden them well. Sam, on the other hand, had reached her adult height in ninth grade and felt tall and awkward around anything but books and Jake. Sam had fallen in with the misfit clique and enjoyed other nerdy, nervous teenagers as she figured out it was okay to be big and gay.

Cindy sensed someone behind her and turned. She stared and grinned. “Sammy Moyer?”

“Guilty.” Sam smiled as though meeting a new client with a homeless multimillion-dollar business.

“Cindy Taylor.” She pointed to her badge. “I dropped both married names and took my own back.”

“I never changed mine.”

“So I just heard. Jake never was subtle.” Cindy’s smile openly invited anything.

“That’s what I always liked about him.” Sam wished she had a collar to tug at.

“I always wondered why you two didn’t date.” She shook her head. “Makes sense. So you always preferred other girls?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said. Their conversation had taken a surreal turn.

“Smart. I never tried it with a woman, not even in college when most girls do.” Cindy sighed.

“That makes us even. I never tried it with a man.”

“No loss there.” Cindy laughed until she snorted. “Whew. I haven’t done that in a long time. I always thought you’d be fun to get in trouble with.” She placed a hand on Sam’s arm.

“It’s never too late to try things, you know.” Sam felt herself blush. She was sixteen again.

Cindy raised her eyebrows.

“Do you live in the Richmond area?” Sam asked.

“Downtown in a loft and love it.”

“How about dinner next week?”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” Cindy was clearly amused and intrigued.

“I’ve waited twenty-five years,” Sam said.

“Then the answer is yes.” She reached into a small handbag for a business card and jotted another number on the back. “My personal cell number is the easiest way to catch me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Cindy laughed and handed Sam the card. “You better call. I don’t like being disappointed.” She dropped her voice.

“I’m hoping that won’t happen anytime soon.” Sam felt as though her face was the color of her dress.

Cindy pulled Sam close enough for a kiss on the cheek. “Call me.”

“I will.” Sam watched Cindy walk away, then returned to her boys.

Jake and Paul wore matching grins. Paul moved so that he bumped hips with Sam.

“Can you teach me your technique? I’m impressed,” Jake said. “You have to let me know how that goes.” He spoke to Paul.

“Deal. Do I get to invite you to a romantic dinner?” Paul batted his eyes.

“Shit, no, but I’ll meet you for lunch to gossip.” Jake thumbed his nose as though tough.

“Close enough,” Paul said.

Sam pulled Jake toward the dance floor. “For old times sake. I’ll even let you lead.”

“I don’t mind being a wallflower.” Paul leaned against the cinderblocks and struck his GQ pose. Two women started in his direction at the same time.

Sam settled against Jake for a slow dance. Maybe she wasn’t all the way over the hill after all.

CHAPTER NINE

“Are you sure this is okay?” Sam asked. “I really did have something a little more romantic in mind.” She waved her program back and forth, trying to create a cool breeze. She had debated comfort with sun protection and decided on an Oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up and tailored shorts.

Cindy chuckled. “I had free tickets to use or lose. You were a dear to give in to me so easily.” She had dressed for the sun in a tight tank top and short shorts.

“No problem there.” Sam adjusted her butt cheeks on the narrow seat. She felt as though in a primary school auditorium. At least on the old bleacher seating she could spread out more comfortably; now spectators were packed in elbow to elbow. Of course, there were worse things than rubbing elbows with Cindy Taylor; there were also other things Sam had rather be rubbing.

“I’m a minor league baseball junkie. I can’t believe Richmond finally has a team back in the city,” Cindy said.

Sam looked sideways at Cindy and raised her eyebrows. “You’re proud of a Double-A team whose owners decided to call their players The Flying Squirrels? Get out of here. We’re the state capital—population of two hundred thousand, MSA over one million—and that’s the best we can come up with.”

“You get out of here.” Cindy punched Sam in the biceps. “I voted for the name. I think it’s hilarious. Isn’t that what this is all about?” Cindy looked over her sunglasses at Sam. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She rubbed Sam’s arm.

“Nope, I’m good.” Sam hated the squeak in her voice. She looked around the stadium. The face-lift had done wonders. The squirrel mascot was definitely a marketing bonanza for bringing the kids in. She well understood the political nightmare of unleashing the formerly known as Richmond Braves with their tomahawk logo. The finalists had been a worrisome group—Rhinos, Flatheads, Rock Hoppers, Hush Puppies, Hambones, and the nefarious Flying Squirrels. The name-the-team contest had sparked interest from six thousand entries.

“I used to get off on watching the boys play in high school. We went to the games just to see them squirm when they tried to adjust their cups unnoticed.” Cindy giggled.

“There’s a lovely thought, or not. I can’t talk, though. I went to the girls’ softball games for sort of the same reason—all those bouncing ponytails and jiggling breasts. It still gives me a cheap thrill when I think of you guys.” Sam closed her eyes and sighed.

It was Cindy’s turn to look at Sam sideways. “Well, honey, it that’s all it takes, I’ll go buy a cap and do a ponytail for you.”

Sam felt herself blush. “I’ll go for drinks. Beer okay?”

“What else would I drink at a ball game?”

Sam felt like an idiot as she scanned the Thirsty Acorn for a baseball cap. She couldn’t believe she was buying Budweiser, the king of the headache beers, as far as she was concerned. She turned too quickly from the counter and almost spilled both beers on the person behind her, the person who just happened to have spiky blond hair.

“Crap. Excuse me,” Sam said as she pulled the cups toward her body.

“My fault. I was too close. The line seems to have a mind of its own.” Lisa frowned at the men behind her, then at Sam. “Is Haley here?” Lisa looked about.

“No. Haley is my neighbor. She’s at home with her partner. I’m here with a date who used to be a cheerleader.” Sam could kick herself for adding that.

Lisa smirked. “Really. Still has the outfit?”

“I haven’t found out yet. I can only hope.” Sam juggled the plastic cups to avoid spillage. “On a hot date?”

“My sons.” Lisa begrudged the answer. “I need to get back to them to make sure they don’t ditch me. My oldest drove and kept my car keys.”

“Enjoy.” Sam raised one cup in a salute.

“Rah rah.” Lisa turned away.

Sam muttered to herself as she headed toward the stands. “Well, at least she’s no longer a hundred percent sure that I’m a spousal abuser.” The closest heads turned in her direction. “Sorry.” She eased her way through the crowd.

Cindy was on her feet cheering when Sam returned to their seats.

“You just missed a home run,” Cindy accepted the drink and took a long swallow, “with the bases loaded.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Sam looked around to see if Lisa’s seats were nearby.

Cindy choked on the beer.

“Don’t tempt me to put my arms around you in the Heimlich.” Sam mentally pulled herself back to her date.

“You’re not helping.” Cindy sputtered the words. “You’re awfully cute and sweet.”

They sat down. Cindy leaned into Sam’s shoulder.

“You’re not worried about being seen and recognized?” Sam asked.

“I always carry on like this with my BFFs.” Cindy concentrated on the next batter.

Play reached the seventh inning with the Squirrels leading by one run.

“Do you want another beer before the concession closes?” Sam asked.

“No, but I need to get rid of the first. Walk with me?” Cindy dropped her voice invitingly.

Sam didn’t know what it was about straight women and wanting to pee in pairs, but she led the way to the restroom. She was glad to have paid attention to signage when she went for the beers.

“I can’t believe there’s not a long line,” Cindy said.

Half the cinder block stalls were empty. They walked toward two open doors side by side.

“Timing is everything.” Sam was now concerned with not being able to pee when she knew someone else was listening.

Cindy followed Sam into the same stall.

Sam was confused enough not to latch the door.

Cindy pushed Sam against the side wall, pressing her breasts into Sam’s and leaning upward, searching for Sam’s lips.

Sam kissed her and couldn’t stop her hands from exploring the other woman. Cindy’s breasts felt a little too perfect and perky.

Sam tried to move Cindy away. “Wouldn’t you rather be a little more comfortable doing this?”

“Isn’t this why you asked me out? All those years of wondering what it would be like?” Cindy breathed into Sam’s ear and onto her neck. She flicked her tongue along Sam’s jaw and began unbuttoning Sam’s shirt.

Sam felt herself shiver.

“This is fun. My BFFs were wrong that I couldn’t get into this.” Cindy ran her hand inside Sam’s shirt. “Nice bra.”

“You’ve talked to them about tonight?” Sam couldn’t believe she wasn’t all over the other woman. What was wrong with her?

“Didn’t you talk to that luscious Paul? I cannot believe he’s gay. What a waste.”

“Excuse me?” Sam held Cindy by the wrists and forced her to take a step back.

“Shit. Excuse me.” Lisa stood at the door to the stall. “I couldn’t tell which was occupied without trying a door.”

“We’re done,” Sam said, trying to button her shirt while keeping Cindy’s hands out of it at the same time.

“No, we’re not. Find someone else to watch.” Cindy pulled Sam’s shirt tail loose of her jeans.

Sam arched her body and sent Cindy against the opposite wall.

“Glad to see you’re not a believer in brute force.” Lisa stared at Sam. “Public restroom groping—how romantic.”

“Fuck off.” Cindy pushed the stall door closed and locked it.

“Same to both of you,” Lisa said.

Sam held the door closed as Cindy tried to follow Lisa. “Enough.”

Cindy stared at Sam. “You haven’t changed. You’re still afraid to have fun.”

“You haven’t changed, either.” Sam had a flashback of cliques based on wearing the right label clothes and stories of going to all the right places while making fun of anyone who didn’t. “This was just for bragging rights with your buddies, wasn’t it?”

Cindy’s lips thinned.

Sam listened to make sure Lisa had left the room before unlocking the door.

“So that’s it?” Cindy stood in front of the toilet with hands on her hips.

“Do you want a ride home?” Sam asked. “This was a huge mistake.”

“I can find my own way home. If you change your mind, call me.” Cindy stalked out of the restroom, knowing Sam’s gaze was on her.

“I won’t.” Sam said, following slowly. “What was my dumb ass thinking?” She glimpsed Lisa walking toward the exit with her boys. Lisa caught her eye and shook her head. Sam had to agree.

CHAPTER TEN

“Hey,” Sam said when Paul finally answered his landline. The first time, it had rung and gone into voice mail. Sam tried again, wanting a real person and knowing that Paul’s daughter only answered her cell phone. She didn’t think this was Paul’s weekend for a visit from Angela anyway.

“What?” Paul mumbled.

“Hey! How you doing?” Sam stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. She needed to paint.

“What the fuck time is it?” Paul managed a sentence.

“You’re alone, right? I tried to check your driveway, but I can’t quite see all of it without going outdoors. I didn’t want to wake everyone up by setting the neighborhood dogs off.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Paul cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m alone. Angela’s hanging out with friends moving back on campus. Why am I not included with everyone else you didn’t want to wake up?”

“It’s two thirty, by the way. Don’t you have a clock radio by your bed?” Sam looked at the holes in her T-shirt; no wonder it was so comfortable.

“God, Sam, have you slept at all?” The bed squeaked as Paul sat up and swung his feet over the edge.

“Damn, you ought to do something about that bed frame. Isn’t that distracting to you and Scott? It’s too high-pitched to blend in with the other sounds going on.” Sam rolled onto her side to ease the ache in her lower back. She used to be able to sleep on her stomach. 

“I know damn well you didn’t call me to discuss my bedroom furniture.”

“Have you heard from your publisher yet? Has he looked at the new manuscript?”

“Samantha!”

“Ooh, you sound just like my mother used to. Freaky.”

“Am I going to have to dress and come over there to find out what’s going on?”

“Don’t dress on my account.”

Paul sighed. “Sam…”

“I had an incredibly bad date—defended your honor and decided not to lose mine.”

“The cheerleader?”

“Miss I-want-a-story-to-amuse-my-friends herself, and I made an ass of myself in front of the cute nurse again.” Sam huffed.

“What else?” Paul asked.

“I’m worried about Haley,” Sam finally admitted. “I hate feeling so damn helpless. Be a man, go over there, and beat the crap out of KD.”

“Even if I could, which I seriously doubt, you know that wouldn’t solve anything. I feel like such a dumbass.” Paul settled against his pillows, knowing sleep was done for the night.

“How do you mean?”

“It’s been right there in front of us, and we’ve all tried so carefully to ignore it. Ava knew. I was aware of something not right about Haley’s financials, and that’s all I’m going to say. At least you’ve stepped up lately and actually helped.”

“It was as though none of us wanted to be the first to actually say it aloud—Haley’s stuck in an abusive relationship.” Sam yawned.

“Oh, no. You have me wide awake now. Don’t even think about hanging up and going back to sleep,” Paul warned her.

“Sleep, yeah, right. I can’t stop thinking about what Haley has to live with. First, she’s in Virginia, a commonwealth that will never recognize gay rights. Then she watches her partner change and become abusive.” Sam thought of Ava and wished she smoked—at least it would be an outlet for all going on in her head.

“Only men are abusive,” Paul quipped.

“Lesbians are equal partners,” Sam said with a wry chuckle.

“KD was abused as a child because she was different from other girls, so it’s not her fault.” Paul tried to sound like an obnoxious authority figure.

“It’s easy for a lesbian to walk out of a relationship. It’s not like the women are married.” Sam caught herself looking down her nose.

Paul laughed. “I know it’s not funny ‘ha ha,’ but collectively, aren’t we a bunch of ignoramuses?”

“I know. Saying it aloud feels like whistling past a cemetery,” Sam said.

“And it’s not just you girls. My favorite expression—boys will be boys, meaning if gay men are abusive, it’s just because of our normal testosterone levels.”

“Wait, wait,” Sam interrupted Paul. “It’s because gay men sleep around and are part of the bar scene, what do they expect?” Sam howled and startled the nearest dog three houses away into barking. “Oops.”

“It’s because gay men really like it rough.” Paul lowered his voice suggestively.

“You’re killing me.” Sam wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

“She didn’t mean to.” Paul’s voice quivered.

“Okay, enough. It’s awful for us to be carrying on this way.” Sam took a deep breath.

“No, what’s awful is what’s going on with Haley. You needed to blow off a little.” Paul knew exactly where Sam was coming from.

“I know.”

“I must say that my blind eye makes me feel like such a man.” Paul’s tone was rueful. “I thought I was more sensitive to others.”

“After my date turned into bitch slapping, I spent the rest of the evening on the Internet researching this. I found some very helpful Web sites. My favorite was on eHow, How to Help a Lesbian Abuse Victim.” Sam looked at the printout on the nightstand.

“What do we do?”

Sam closed her eyes. “You know, that is truly one of the many things I love about you. It’s now we.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Okay.” Sam reached for her reading glasses and the papers. “The gist of it is actually pretty much what we’ve done so far and what Ava said. Isn’t that a hoot?” Sam adjusted the position of her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “First, Haley has to admit what’s going on and talk about it. We’ve done that much.”

“And that’s a huge step for Haley. Bravo, by the way.”

“The next is what I think she’ll balk at—a safety plan out of the house and packed bags hidden in the house and stashed with someone else.” Sam skimmed the material again.

“That’s smart for anyone. My mother called it her hospital bag. I have one in the bottom of my closet. I hadn’t told you?”

“No, but I’ll remember. I ought to do the same thing.” Sam skipped the information about what to do if children were involved—thank God for that. “The last recommendation is to arrange a signal or a phrase that means call the cops or go to a meeting place.”

“Good God.”

“It makes sense. KD is pain waiting to happen to anyone involved,” Sam said.

“I’m relieved to hear you say that. I have no doubt she could easily kick our collective asses.” Paul was a realist to a fault. “Let’s set up our own protection.”

Sam sighed. Why did she feel as though she had just become one of the Hardy boys?

Paul was not to be put off. “If either of us mentions ‘Car 54,’ it means call the police. ‘Home run’ means haul ass to the other’s house.”

“‘Grand slam’ means the shit has hit the fan at work. All of those are simple enough to remember,” Sam said. “How in the hell do we get Haley to do the rest of this?”

“We talk to her, individually or together, whenever we have the opportunity. Bring Ava into it. She’s sharp about things like this, and she might have the best chance to talk to Haley unnoticed by KD.”

“As long as we don’t put Ava into harm’s way.”

“No, I’m all about hiding behind tiny eighty-year-old Jewish women.” Paul pretended to be indignant.

“She’s not Jewish, her husband was, and she’s only seventy-eight. She would take offense.” Sam used her best blue-hair voice.

Paul laughed. “I stand corrected.”

“As well you should.”

“I hate to ask, but you know I’m going to now that the question’s in my head,” Paul said.

“Go ahead.”

“What type of abuse are we dealing with here?”

“Definitely physical and likely isolation from friends. I’ve seen the psychological and emotional abuse. Haley as much as said KD was threatening to harm herself. You know about the economic abuse—I don’t want to know details. Sexual…God, who knows, and again I don’t want to if I don’t absolutely have to. Property destruction…oh, yeah, I could see that happening.” Sam was alarmed at all the checkmarks she made on the list.

“We have no choice but to become involved in all this.” Paul made a statement, not a question.

“Exactly.”

“Are you in the mood for strong coffee and French toast?”

“I’ll gain twenty pounds dealing with this but, yes, I am.”

Paul chuckled. “I’ll bring the fixings. Unlock the front door for me, so I don’t have to bother with keys.”

“Deal.” Sam stood and stretched.

“Five minutes.”

“Paul, thank you.”

“I love to cook breakfast.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Sam said. “And you’re not a waste as a man, as a certain heterosexual woman who shall remain nameless thinks.”

“That just makes me want to sign us up for a dance class, so I can slap the bitch myself,” Paul said.

“I think that’s above and beyond for either of us, but okay, if you really want to. I’ll go along just to watch.” Sam glanced at the Weather Channel. “Oh, crap.”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be hiking in four hours.”

“And what brilliant person set that up?” Paul asked, knowing the answer.

“Love you, too.”

“Back at you.” Paul disconnected.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Of all the stupid-ass things to be doing on a Saturday morning when I could be at home catching up on my sleep.” Sam grumbled to herself as she loaded the car. “But no, I have to make a first date that it wouldn’t look right to break at the last minute.” She grunted when she lifted a small backpack with an ice pack and two bottles of water, bug spray, suntan lotion, cell phone, and baseball cap. Sam wore cargo shorts and a tank top. Her sunglasses hung around her neck on a lanyard in case she tripped crossing the rocks. She used the blanket in the trunk to wedge the cooler so it wouldn’t turn over. She’d stop at Martin’s—even though she would always be loyal to the now defunct Ukrop’s—and pick up lunch for two on the way downtown.

This was part of her problem with casual dating. She didn’t mind meeting new people, but on a day like today, she would just as soon stay home and hang out with Paul. She could have talked him into going out for a late lunch to pay him back for the excellent breakfast he cooked. They could have perused the bookstores or kept up a running commentary during a movie. Paul was so much easier.

“My mother would call that being trifling.” Sam smiled at herself. Okay, maybe she was a little nervous about meeting this woman. There was always the off chance that they would click. Sam wondered if she was really ready to try a relationship again. She was convinced she never learned a damn thing from one woman to the next.

“Well, I have to do something besides trade e-mails with TLCplease.” Sam shook her head. Her reclusive friend was resigned to letting Sam play the field for a while and come back to her since she was sure theirs was true love. “Puh-lease,” Sam said.

She pictured the woman she was to meet today, curious that they hadn’t crossed paths. Sam did most of her business and necessity shopping in Chesterfield County; Lacy worked and lived on the opposite side of Richmond in the Mechanicsville area. “At least we’re in the same city.” From her posting on Match, Lacy Dunn was two years younger, not quite Sam’s size in weight or height, and liked to work out at the gym. “Well, there’s one reason we’ve never met.” As often as she had tried, Sam just couldn’t get into the gym culture—it was too 1980s. Paul thrived on his athletic club for exercise and networking to sell his books.

Sam opened the garage door and peered outside—things were quiet at Ava’s and Haley’s. Ava had been picked up by her son for breakfast and their monthly visit. Haley had simply not ventured out yet. KD’s truck blocked their driveway.

Sam shook her head. She tossed her newspaper in the backseat and headed out of the subdivision. Since it was Saturday, she was going directly to Route 60 and catch the parkway to downtown. Sam smiled. It was easy to tell people who had lived in Richmond for a while. Route 76, also named Powhite Parkway, was lovingly referred to by natives as Po White, as in the Sherwood Anderson novel; newcomers pronounced it Pow Hite. Thankfully, she had been in Richmond long enough to call it the former and snicker at the political correctness of the latter. She had also been in Richmond long enough to know and love the James River Park. There was a trail almost three miles long that skirted Belle Isle and Brown’s Island, beginning at Tredegar Street under the Lee Bridge and ending at the Manchester Bridge on her favorite Route 60. The sixty-five acres of dedicated park land contained a bicycle bridge over the James River, nature walks, open fields, dense woodlands, cliffs, a pond, and views of Hollywood Rapids, which were part of the seven miles of rapids making up the Fall Line. They could do a walk as simple as the mile along the old canal on the north bank of the James or follow the Floodwall walk and try rock climbing at the Manchester Wall. They were meeting at the parking lot at the Fourteenth Street Bridge to explore the Floodwall trail that connected to the Manchester Slave Trail.

Sam refused to be ashamed of the heritage that was the basis of her love for Richmond—her mother’s family had sent seven brothers to fight for the Confederacy with two killed and the others wounded and imprisoned. She thought about it as she walked through Martin’s. Yes, there had been a bleak time in Virginia’s history when slavery contributed to the economy. No, she was not going to hang her head about it. It was all part of the times. Sam was just as proud of her father’s Quaker heritage that had seen many Virginia families pull up stakes and migrate west rather than be caught up in owning slaves or persecuted for not. There were always so many sides and versions of the past. Sometimes, Richmond went a little overboard in trying to compensate for its role as the second capital of the Confederate States of America.

“Okay, leave the soapbox behind you. You know damn well you can’t spout off about history and have enough hot air left to hike.” Sam reprimanded herself as she rejoined traffic. “I just hope I don’t embarrass myself.” She rolled her eyes.

Sam pulled into the last space in the parking lot closest to the trail access. “I hope you got here before me.” She glanced around, looking for a brown Jeep Liberty. “Well, I’m easy enough to recognize.” There were times when her height and red hair came in handy. She opened her trunk for her backpack.

“What a great day for a hike!” The woman’s voice was loud and clipped.

Sam hit her head on the lid of the trunk.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sam looked up and blinked.

Evidently, the photograph that Lacy had posted with her profile was a few years and a few pounds ago. Lacy was about four inches shorter than Sam and likely fifty pounds heavier. She wore men’s tailored shorts and T-shirt and dark, solid shoes.

One thing dealing with the public every day had taught Sam was the ability to carry on a conversation and never miss a beat at anything. She smiled and extended her hand. “You must be Lacy. I’m Sam, short for Samantha, and not named for the television show about witches, though I wouldn’t have minded looking like Elizabeth Montgomery.”

On the inside, Sam cautioned herself to stop talking. She tended to babble while shifting mental gears. She didn’t care about Lacy’s size; she just had to adjust her mind-set.

A look of relief passed across Lacy’s face. “I wasn’t named Lacy sans an e for one of the detectives on the best cop show ever made, either, though I wouldn’t mind looking like Tyne Daly or Sharon Gless.”

“I heard that.” Sam nodded in agreement. “Are we ready?”

“You bet.” Lacy wore a fanny pack that had a loop for a water bottle. “Thank goodness it isn’t as hot today or we’d have to walk inside at one of the malls.”

“And now they’re starting to do those retro without all the enclosed common areas.” Sam locked her car and gestured for Lacy to lead the way. “My father had a theory about August weather that he swore by. The first frost of the fall follows the second cool spell in August by six weeks. His calculations were usually right. This is the second cool spell even if it is barely August.”

Lacy stood aside for another couple with dogs and children. “Your turn.” She motioned Sam to take the lead. Her face was already a bright red and her clothes soaked.

“His father was a farmer,” Sam explained. “You know I’d be just as happy to sit at an outdoor café and sip iced tea while we chat.”

“No, no. I want to get back into walking and hiking. I can tell you like to exercise. I did, too, until I had knee problems several years ago.” Lacy’s words were choppy between intakes of breath.

“I wouldn’t say like. It’s just that some form of exercise generally makes me feel better.” Sam glanced over her shoulder. “Your knee is better now?” Sam was worried.

“For the most part. The one that had surgery, anyway.” Lacy stopped at the stairs that made the change in elevation easier. They weren’t far from the Manchester Bridge.

“Let’s go back.” Sam turned.

“No, my goal is to walk to the end of the trail. See, you’re a good influence on me already.”

Sam would have to give Lacy credit for being dogged. She was attractive, too—short, curly hair, muscular body, and beautiful violet eyes that Sam could lose herself in for at least a month or two. Her skin was flawless. Sam felt encouraged. They were nearing the end of the trail.

“Uh-oh. I shouldn’t have said anything. I jinxed myself.” Lacy stopped and bent over in the center of the gravel walk. She limped to the side of the trail and eased stiff-legged down to the ground. She looked up at Sam. “The meniscus in my knee just tore, big-time.” She touched her knee gently and spoke between gritted teeth as tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. “I feel pieces floating, and it’s locked. I won’t have EMTs putting on a show carrying me out of here.”

Sam knelt beside her. “Damn it, you shouldn’t have pushed yourself on my account.” She placed her hand on Lacy’s shoulder.

Tears ran down Lacy’s face. “I know I wasn’t what you expected. I had already disappointed you with my looks. I wasn’t going to be a quitter.”

Sam locked gazes with Lacy. “That’s not true. You were different from what you led me to believe,” she said as gently as possible, “but it doesn’t matter.” She looked about. “You’re sure about getting out on your own?”

Lacy nodded.

Sam pulled her cell phone from her backpack, knowing she would never hear the end of this. “Paul, can you pick us up near the Manchester Bridge, you know where the cut-through is to the trail that the rock climbers use?” Sam listened, ignoring his wisecracks, as he agreed. “I may need some help. Lacy has hurt her knee.” Paul would like Lacy.

They waited. Sam used the ice pack from her drinks to help keep the pain manageable. Lacy tried to downplay her discomfort, but Sam knew the knee hurt like hell and would become even worse walking to the car. Several couples stopped long enough to offer help.

Sam heard a whistle and looked up to see Paul checking the path in both directions. She put her fingers in the corners of her mouth and whistled back. He jogged to meet them, no trace of humor on his face. He knelt beside Lacy and held out his hand. “Paul Selz, Sam’s faithful sidekick.”

“Lacy. We all need one of those.”

Sam looked at him and motioned toward the car.

“Okay, let’s get you up,” Paul said.

Sam and Paul stood on either side of Lacy and lifted her with their legs.

Lacy took a limping step. “I can make it with your help. Grab my belt. That’s the first thing we teach as physical therapists.”

Sam and Paul each took an arm over their shoulders and grabbed her wide belt.

“No wedgies, okay?” Lacy asked.

They chuckled uncontrollably.

Paul looked at Sam. “She’s okay.”

“I think so, too,” Sam said.

“I’m embarrassed as hell, but I appreciate your kindness.” Lacy’s face showed the toll of each step, but she persevered to the car—Paul drove a Subaru Outback. “I thought we were the only ones who drove these,” Lacy teased him.

“It’s my version of cross-dressing. I just love a Subaru, this is my fourth,” Paul confessed.

Lacy gave him a low five.

“Johnston-Willis is close to where we live. Do you mind if we follow Route 60 and go to their ER? It will make it easier shuffling vehicles,” Sam explained.

“That’s fine. I’ve been there before,” Lacy said.

Lacy stretched her leg out on the backseat. Paul quickly drove them through moderate traffic and pulled up at the ER entrance fifteen minutes later. “Want me to wait?”

“I can manage if you guys just want to drop me off.” Lacy made the offer genuinely.

“Absolutely not. I stay with the one I start out with.” Sam held the door open for her. She took Lacy’s arm and shifted the weight off of Lacy’s right leg. Sam looked at Paul. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll call when we can go back for vehicles, if you don’t mind. Can you check with Haley about helping, too?”

Paul gave Sam a quick salute and drove away.

They walked into the ER and stared at the crowd.

“Sorry,” Lacy said.

“Don’t even go there.” Sam looked for empty chairs with floor space. They made themselves as comfortable as possible on the lightweight plastic seats. Luckily, Lacy had her complete wallet in her fanny pack, including her medical cards. She filled in the forms and chatted up the nurses.

Sam thought about Haley.

“You’re a million miles away,” Lacy said. “Not too late for you to bail.”

“Sorry. I was here not too long ago with a friend who’s going through a bad time,” Sam said.

Thirty minutes later, a nurse came through the double doors with a wheelchair. “Dunn?”

Sam looked up, instantly recognizing the spiked blond hair with dark roots and glittering diamond earrings. “Oh, boy.”

Lisa looked their way when Lacy raised her hand. She frowned. “Not you again. What did you do to this one?” Lisa brought the chair over and settled Lacy into the seat.

“Not a damn thing, nor to either of the other ones.” Sam felt her temper rising. “The last one you saw me with was a high school fantasy I should have left alone. Nothing more than what you witnessed happened. Why am I trying to explain this to you?” She glanced at Lacy and shrugged. “Sorry, I’ll tell you about it later.”

“I don’t want you in the back. For that matter, I don’t want you anywhere. Are you two related?” Lisa asked.

“No.” Sam snapped the word.

“Keep your seat and wait here.” Lisa stared until Sam sat down.

Lacy stared from one woman to the other. “I’m fine. You’ve done all you can. I had the same problem with the other knee two years ago. At the least, they’ll x-ray it, maybe an MRI. I don’t think you need to be here.” Lacy emphasized her wishes, catching Sam’s eye.

Sam looked at Lisa as she spoke to Lacy. “We’ll park your car outside. I’ll bring the key in to you. If you can’t drive, we’ll take you home.”

“I’ve driven with one foot before. It’s no problem. It was good to meet you,” Lacy said, watching Lisa’s growing impatience.

“Sorry I can’t say the same.” Lisa couldn’t let her go without the last word.

Sam knew she was being dismissed by both women. Now she felt the fool. She walked out of the hospital, punching Paul’s number on the speed dial. “I’m such a numbskull to want a little romance in my life.”

She paced as she waited for Paul and Haley.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sam skulked about her house the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday. She didn’t want to hear commiserations from Paul and told him so when he called Saturday evening. Haley had made no comment and certainly inferred no I-told-you-so when helping with Lacy’s Jeep the day before. Ava had waved when they both ventured out for Sunday newspapers before six a.m. but left her alone. “Smart woman,” Sam said, thinking of Ava.

The telephone rang. Sam glanced at the caller ID and picked up. “Go ahead. Anything you have to say serves me right.”

“Nah, that makes it too easy. Not that I want to interrupt your wallowing,” Paul said. “Did you notice yesterday that Haley was favoring her left side?”

Sam closed her eyes and thought back to their brief conversation when she had joined them in Paul’s Subaru, then to even fewer words exchanged at the trail and hospital parking lots. They had driven in tandem to the hospital with Haley driving Lacy’s Jeep.

“I had a little more time with her since we rode together after leaving you on your own at the hospital,” Paul said. Sam flinched. The hospital return visit had been as awkward as she feared. Lacy accepted her key as though she couldn’t wait to disinfect it. Lisa hovered, her body English daring Sam to linger too long. Sam had turned tail with as few words as possible to both women. “No, I didn’t notice it. I should have. My bad.”

“Ease up on yourself, okay?” Paul said gently. “Keep an eye out for Haley is all I’m saying. I may have been reading too much into a shoulder she slept on the wrong way. I’ve been asking around about abusive relationships and cannot believe how many of our friends have experienced some derivation of one. Talk about bursting your bubble about finding the perfect soul mate.”

Sam glanced out the double front windows toward the street. “I’ll watch for Haley. It will give me something productive to do as I pace and practice self-flagellation.”

“Sam!”

“Sorry.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, I’m done with the pity party. I’ll keep an eye out for Haley.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Yours and no one else’s for the moment.”

“Hey, I’m holding you to our deal—if and when we’re both single and fed up with dating at the same time, we get married for tax and survivorship benefits.” This was not the first time that Paul had brought this up.

Sam chuckled. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Damn right. Why not? I’d rather you benefit from the likelihood of me dying first than the government.” Paul was sincere.

“Okay, it’s a deal. I just want you to realize that I’m there now and just waiting for you to catch up.”

“You could wear white since you’re still a virgin as far as the mighty male member—a real one, that is.” Paul and Sam usually had a few drinks before trying to go through their list of friends to find someone else who hadn’t slept with their opposite sex at least one time.

“Oh, please, now you sound like Jake—men and their dicks, gay or straight, united by increments of inches.” Sam waited for Paul to stop sputtering. “One last chance to be a virgin has a nice sound to it. Talk to you later.” Sam hung up. She did feel better. She could think of worse situations than being married to Paul. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea.

Sam glanced at her briefcase. She had brought several business magazines home in case her weekend was a dud. “Well, I don’t think I need to wait for it to get any worse.” She took the magazines to the sofa and positioned herself on the end nearest the fireplace to have the best view of the house across the street.

When Sam next looked up, Haley had moved her truck onto the street and was hosing it down—bucket, rags, and container of car wash set on the curb. Sam had listened to KD bitch Haley out a few weeks before for washing her truck in the driveway and leaving dirt and soap bubbles for KD to step in.

Sam walked out of the house and placed a red Netflix envelope in her mailbox.

“You know it’s Sunday, right?” Haley sprayed the mud out of her wheel wells, following the clumps all the way to the storm sewer with the stream from the hose. She saw Sam staring at the sandy clay mix. “I made the mistake of going on a construction site in my personal vehicle instead of a company car.” Haley worked for an HVAC firm, designing and inspecting commercial and industrial air handling systems.

“And you didn’t want to leave mud in the driveway for someone to get on their work boots?” Sam asked.

Haley shielded her eyes. “Or on the sneakers I wear to the office when I don’t have client meetings in the field.”

“Sorry, I’m just in a funk.”

Haley grimaced. “I can imagine what it was like going back in the ER yesterday. I wasn’t brave enough to offer to go with you.”

Sam shook her entire body. “It was U-G-L-Y.” She spelled the word out for emphasis. “I made another good first impression.”

Haley chuckled. “You have the worst dating luck I’ve ever seen. When was the last time that woman went hiking? Did the year start with 19?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, and she probably did, too.” She waited for Haley to stop laughing. “Paul and I may announce our engagement soon if I can get Scott out of the picture.”

“I’m all for that. Scott gives me the creeps. If he can lie convincingly to his wife, what is he lying to Paul about?” Haley usually passed judgment on no one. “I think you and Paul would be a cute couple. I could see you two growing old together.” Haley filled the bucket and poured in soap to hand wash the Toyota Tacoma.

Sam closed the distance between them and lowered her voice. “Can you see you and KD growing old together?”

Haley paused in wiping the side of the truck, then looked at Sam and tossed her a soapy rag. “Nope.”

“She hits you. She makes you feel guilty enough to stay at home with her, yet she goes out with her friends whenever it suits her. She never says anything positive to or about you unless there’s a barb attached to it. If you hint at something wrong, she makes sure you understand that she can’t function without you. I’m guessing her name is on all of your bank accounts, investments, and insurance. Does she enjoy sex anymore? Don’t answer that. Whose belongings does she break when she loses her temper? Why are you just using your right arm?” Sam stopped to breathe.

Haley gave up washing the truck. She stared at Sam. “How can you know all of that?”

Sam rubbed the front fender. “I didn’t, until just now. You better get back to work.” She inclined her head toward the house.

Haley looked over her shoulder. KD stood on the open carport with a coffee cup in hand. As soon as she made her point of catching their attention by staring at them, KD walked along the driveway to the street. “My baby is such a hard worker. First, she cleans the house and now her truck, and after I told her I’d take it to the car wash for her.”

“No sense wasting good money for something I can do here.” Haley smiled at Sam.

“I hear you had an exciting morning yesterday.” KD blew on her coffee as she looked at Sam.

“Don’t remind me.” Sam shook her head. “I was lucky to catch Haley and Paul, or I’d still be pacing the ER with that nurse bitching at me.”

“My baby is clumsy like that. First, falling off the exercise equipment, then walking into a door.” KD hugged Haley, squeezing Haley’s left side with her hand.

“Things usually happen in threes.” Sam said it because of the look that passed across Haley’s face with the pressure of KD’s hand.

KD snapped her gaze in Sam’s direction. “So she told you about falling down the steps. Those ribs will be sore for a while. I guess she’s learned the hard way to pay more attention to her footing.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sam said, not dropping her gaze from KD’s. She finally looked toward Haley. “So we’re on for weekend after next?”

KD picked up the hose and rinsed the side of the truck that they had washed. “Weekend plans?”

“Sorry. We were talking before you came outside. Paul and I are going to the Columns for the first Tech game on Saturday. Tickets sold out early, so there’s no blackout. I’ll e-mail you the details,” Sam said to Haley.

“Shit, I hate football. I think I’ll pass. Get it?” KD asked.

Sam rolled her eyes as expected. “You’re killing me.”

KD’s smile sent chills down Sam’s back. “I don’t mind you asking my wife out since you’re doing it front of me and not behind my back.”

“No secrets in this neighborhood,” Sam said evenly.

“I’m already looking forward to it,” Haley said. She turned to KD. “I didn’t think you’d mind. Aren’t you traveling that weekend for a job that starts the following Monday in Florida?”

KD nodded. “The money is too good to turn down, plus the general contractor is generous with expenses that he can bill back to the owner for requesting rush work.”

“Electrical work hard to find around here?” Sam asked. Sam had also asked around with her tenants. KD’s reputation preceded her—she was known across most of eastern Virginia for her temper, drinking, and snorting. Local contractors would no longer hire her. She was too much of a loose cannon on projects with tight schedules and low profit margins. Her employment would take a big job with deep pockets and a general contractor who needed bodies to make his efforts look good.

“Tight market, not enough multimillion-dollar projects to keep all of us independents busy.” KD dropped the hose. “I need a refill. See you, Sam. I know I can trust you to look after my best girl.” KD walked away.

“I’m proud of you,” Sam said softly. “Paul and I really are going to the restaurant that Saturday and want you to go with us.”

“Don’t e-mail me anything you don’t want her to see. I’m not always the first one to go through my inbox.” Haley concentrated on her truck.

“God, Haley, why do you put up with this? Change your damn password or set up another account.” Sam stopped ranting when Haley pointed to the lips that had been split. “You have to be kidding.”

Haley shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right about that.” Sam made herself fake a smile for the benefit of the house she faced; she saw a slight movement of blinds. “Do a search on lesbian abuse, then delete it from your browser history. Damn it, if you don’t do something soon, I will.”

KD returned to the carport. “Sweetie, I need you in here before you do that other side.”

“You’ve decisions to make, and you must be prepared. Paul and I will help, but you decide the timing.”

“I know.” Haley tossed the rag in the bucket.

Sam raised her hand and waved to KD as she turned to go back to her house. “I thought my life was fucked up. I have no problems.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sam leaned across the table, motioning Paul to meet her halfway. “Why do we keep coming here? This place depresses the hell out of me.”

Paul chuckled. “It’s reality, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a reality I’m ready to accept,” Sam said, feeling as petulant as a child. “To start with, most of these people are straight.” Sam had already counted only two other same-sex couples out of the sixty or so people in the restaurant.

“This was your suggestion.” Paul loved to remind her of a repeated faux pas.

“I was trying to think and talk at the same time. You know that always gets me in trouble.” Sam topped off her glass of beer from the pitcher.

“No sympathy here,” Paul said.

Sam looked around the bar section of the restaurant that occupied about a third of the building. The bar itself was parallel to the side wall with an obligatory row of stools. Between the columns supporting the roof were small standing height tables. Against the glass wall separating bar from dining area was a row of booths. Near the front exit was a space cleared out for bands to play weekend jams that were usually excellent for jazz or soft rock fans. The dining area was a mix of tables and booths in an L-shape around the main entrance. While waiting to be seated, diners stood in the retail section where house specialties were sold out of glass cases for take-home shoppers and rows of imported beers and wines were neatly displayed for grab-and-go customers.

“I do love the food here,” Sam admitted. She dipped crusty bread into the creamy hearts of palm appetizer.

“That’s right, honey, it makes the rest bearable.” Paul watched the divide for Scott or Haley.

“Humph.” Sam glanced around. “Well, it does make me feel like the youngest customer until our dates get here.”

The majority of people in the bar area were at least in their early fifties—most with gray or white hair, men with stomachs overhanging belts and women with too much makeup or first sign of one plastic surgery too many.

“Face it, honey, you’re an age snob. This could be us in another ten to fifteen years, and I hate the prospect just as much as you.” Paul glanced at himself in the bar mirror. The slight gray in his hair still passed for highlights done purposely. His chin sagged only if he held his head too low—no turkey neck yet.

“Speak for yourself. My hair will be this shade until they close the coffin lid, and I will not end up unable to move my lower face or have eyes pulled closer to my ears.”

“Keep your voice down unless you want the pack to turn on us.” Paul chuckled. His face lit up when he saw Scott walking their way, stopping long enough at the refrigerated beer case to select a brand he wanted to try.

Sam glanced up in time to steel herself for the obligatory passing kiss to the cheek.

Scott Boone was a handsome man. His sandy hair showed flecks of premature gray. His face had the boyish roundness of Sir Paul McCartney. He was Paul’s height and slightly heavier. He worked out but not every day and often fell into the trap of eating fast food with his children.

“Sam, how are you?” Scott slid onto the bench seat next to Paul and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Scott admitted that he felt safe at the Columns because the crowd was in the grandparent stage, averaging twenty years his senior, and not as likely to travel in the same circles he did.

That day, they were all Virginia Tech fans first and foremost and ready for football. Most conversations focused on last season’s stats and the final bowl game. Speculation bounced from one group to the next regarding the starting quarterback.

Scott looked at the empty seat and extra place setting in the booth. “Who’re we waiting for?”

“Haley,” Sam said.

“Cross your fingers that she shows,” Paul said quietly.

Scott nodded as he studied the menu, then looked at Paul. “Why?”

“Why what?” Paul said.

“Why am I supposed to want Haley to be here? I barely know her. KD never lets her off the leash long enough to talk to anyone.” Scott sounded too unconcerned.

“Bingo,” Sam said.

“You two think you’re going to outmaneuver KD about her little cherub?” Scott shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

Sam glanced at her watch—Haley was fifteen minutes late. “Thanks, Scott, now you’ve made me jumpy about why she’s not here.”

Paul looked at Scott questioningly. Scott shrugged. “I’m going to the bar for another round. You guys are good?” He looked at the pitcher of light beer and frowned.

“Some of us are watching carbs,” Sam said.

“And calories,” Paul added.

“Oh, yeah, I forget all you old guys do that.” Scott slid out of the booth and joined a group of men at the bar. They treated him as though a teenager, asking for ID and not believing that he had two children.

“He’s only eight years younger than me,” Paul said.

Sam shook her head. “I’m not going to launch into my Scott opinion again. I feel like a parrot as it is.” Sam held up her hand. “Don’t go there, it’s too easy.”

Haley slid into the booth beside Sam. “Sorry. I just got off the phone with KD.”

“You told her what time you were meeting us, didn’t you?” Sam asked.

“So she timed her call to make you late.” Paul finished Sam’s thought.

Haley nodded. “I looked at those Internet sites you mentioned.” She glanced around the bar.

“And?” Paul asked.

“It makes me feel like an idiot for not looking sooner,” Haley said. “It also makes breaking up seem inevitable.”

Paul reached across the table for Haley’s hand. “Only if you want to live to a ripe old age so you can put us in the home and take over managing our vast portfolios.”

Haley stared at him.

“Only if you want to live,” Paul said, dropping the pretense of humor.

Haley looked from Paul to Sam. “I didn’t think anyone would help me, much less both you guys.” She said it so simply that it took a moment for the sentiment to sink in. “I thought I was trapped with KD from now on.”

“She’s conditioned you to think that for ten years,” Sam said.

“I’m surprised you can have an independent thought. It’s like Patty Hearst and her kidnappers.” Paul showed his age with the reference to brainwashing but didn’t care.

“Look, are you ready to pack the two bags and set up signals for us?” Sam asked.

“I hid one suitcase in the attic where KD never goes and another’s in my truck for you.” Haley looked at Sam expectantly.

“Move into the apartment in my basement this weekend. Don’t be there when KD comes back from this job,” Sam said.

Haley shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t let it come down to money, but it does. I have to get KD to sign off on any claim to the house. She’s on the deed, but I’ve paid every cent of the mortgage. I can’t walk away from better than $70,000 in equity.”

Paul started to speak and stopped himself. Sam looked at Paul across the table and whistled appreciatively. “Damn,” Sam said.

“I know.” Haley looked from Paul to Sam. “It may not be much money to either of you, but I have to keep my equity in my house. I’ve paid down loans for ten years—on our vehicles, on my college degree, on the house. I have very little in the bank because I learned the hard way not to let money set where KD can easily draw it out.”

Paul nodded. “I haven’t divulged any details to Sam.”

Haley brushed off the last statement. “That goes without saying. You guys are different from me—you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

“And you’re smart enough to have survived this long and not gone bankrupt.” Sam still couldn’t believe it had taken so long to see through what was going on across the street from her. “Pack up her things and change the locks on the doors. Give her the key to a storage unit when she signs a quit claim on the house.”

“KD doesn’t make idle threats—she’d kill me.” Haley said it as a fact. “I think she knows we’re done. I’m going to offer her all the cash I’m willing to go into debt for to buy her out of the house as compensation for the improvements she’s done over the years. I can pull $20,000 off of credit cards.”

Paul shook his head. “Come to the bank after you get the highest quote on replacement windows you can put your hands on. I’ll set you up with an equity line that won’t eat you up on the interest rate.”

Haley nodded. She watched Scott at the bar. “You’re helping me, and the last thing I mean to do is insult you.”

“What?” Paul asked.

“I don’t want Scott to know any of this. He’s had KD work at his house and business off the books.” Haley’s mistrust hung in the air.

Paul nodded and spoke slowly. “I understand what you’re saying.”

Sam placed her arm around Haley’s shoulders. “How many steps do you have to stay ahead to survive?”

Haley’s face turned red. She leaned into Sam.

Sam felt eyes burning into her. She glanced about the bar. First sweep picked up nothing unusual; second caught sight of spiked blond hair with black roots. “Oh, shit.”

Paul raised his eyebrows.

“Lisa,” Sam said.

Haley followed Sam’s line of sight and froze. “What do we do?”

“Nothing,” Sam said.

“Damn, if looks could kill, we’d be stretched out on a slab somewhere,” Haley said. “I don’t know whether to return your hug or leave the bar to make this better.”

“What’s the point? I’m an ax murderer, and you’re my girlfriend.” Sam raised her glass to Lisa and took a drink.

Lisa’s friends appeared to be trying to keep her at the standing height table. Sam noticed that none of the women in particular tried to restrain Lisa, so maybe Lisa was uninvolved.

“Get ready,” Sam said to Paul as Lisa came their way.

“Can I give you a ride to the women’s shelter?” Lisa stopped at the end of the table and kept her eyes on Haley.

“You have it all wrong,” Haley began.

“You don’t have to explain anything.” Lisa held up her phone. “I can call 911 and tell them what I’ve seen.”

“You really have it all wrong,” Haley tried again.

“Honestly,” Paul said, “Sam would not harm anyone. I can vouch for her.”

Lisa was unconvinced. “I don’t know which is worse—the women who are the abusers, the women who accept being victims, or the bystanders who do nothing.”

“How about assholes who make crazy assumptions?” Sam asked. “You have all three of us pegged incorrectly. Let me buy you a drink. We can all talk.”

“I don’t think so. I know who my friends are. I had to at least offer.” Lisa turned and left the booth.

Scott took her place at the end of the table. “I’ll be pushing off, as well. I promised to be home for an early dinner.” He bobbed his head to each of them.

Paul stared in disbelief as Scott walked out. “I’ll call you later,” he said to Sam as he threw cash on the table and followed Scott out of the building.

Sam looked at Haley. “Do I know how to clear a table or what?”

Haley chuckled. “I’m in no hurry.” She drank her Guinness. “Do you believe that guy?”

“Scott?”

Haley nodded. “How can Paul be right on target about KD and me yet so oblivious to how bad his own relationship is?”

Sam nodded. “So are you saying I’m better off single and to be careful what I wish for?”

Haley actually giggled. “Well, you won’t be hooking up with her any time in the near future.” She looked at Lisa.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Sam relied on one of her favorite axioms when all other logic failed.

“I know that’s right,” Haley countered.

Sam bumped Haley’s shoulder with hers and watched as the college football season began. Maybe the craziness would disappear as the summer heat faded.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sam couldn’t concentrate. It was that simple. She stared across her desk and forced herself not to let her gaze linger on the cleavage showing in the deep v-neck of the woman’s sweater. Of course, that meant Sam looked into incredibly blue eyes that seemed to twinkle with knowing Sam’s dilemma and enjoying it, or Sam could watch the full, red lips that seemed better suited to deep kisses than long words.

Sam looked out of the window. Her car…think about her car—settling into the soft leather seat, gripping the steering wheel, and reaching over to the firm thigh of an attractive blonde.

“I’m sorry. Have I taken up too much of your time?” Olivia Holland glanced at her Rolex. “I do tend to talk too much about what I’m passionate about at the moment—my new business.” Olivia leaned forward, gathering the financials and business plan she had been explaining, while revealing a lacy black bra beneath the sweater.

Tambor choked out a cough from her cubicle.

Oh, God, Sam thought, am I so obvious that even Tambor has picked up on my lack of concentration without being in the room with us?

“Not at all,” Sam said. “I’m sorry. I’ve a bit of a headache.” She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have skipped lunch.”

Sam was disappointed to see Olivia returning her papers to her briefcase.

“And here it is, almost five o’clock, and I’ve kept you to myself all this time without benefit of an appointment,” Olivia said. She clucked her tongue.

Judge Holland had walked into the business incubator unannounced a little after 3:00. Sam had only half listened to Tambor explaining the services provided by the incubator, stuttering through the expectation that aforementioned services were to be scheduled in advance. Tambor was usually excellent at screening potential clients and keeping Sam on schedule. Sam finally recognized the name. Tambor had also crossed paths with the judge in her official capacity. Truth be told, Sam’s calendar was open and she was about to leave for the day, trading hours with several late evenings from the previous week. Tambor knew that Sam was tired from more than work, even though Sam had discussed Haley’s situation with no one but Paul and Ava.

Sam had finally felt foolish hiding in the corner of her office and decided to breeze through the reception area as though late for an off-site meeting. As soon as she cleared her office door and took one look at Olivia Holland, Sam was lost. It was as though the best of all Sam’s exes was rolled into one extremely attractive woman.

Olivia was dressed in the most expensive clothes available off the rack in metropolitan Richmond. Her frosted blond hair and muted makeup was perfectly coordinated with the deep royal blue cashmere sweater; her shoes matched the gray lightweight wool of her pencil skirt. Olivia had runner’s legs and a torso shaped with careful use of weights to tone but not add bulk. Her face was delicate yet strong, her presence commanding. It wasn’t often that Sam was overwhelmed by such genuine charm.

Sam had no idea what Olivia was pitching for a business. She only knew that Olivia’s ideas were the most important matters that could possibly cross her desk.

Tambor had not appreciated her careful work toward bringing Judge Holland in another day being cast aside. She frowned at her boss and threw up her hands when Sam invited Olivia into her office and asked Tambor to hold her calls.

Sam quickly learned that Olivia Holland was a retired judge and a force to be reckoned with in family law. Olivia had exercised her retirement and waited the required months before going back to work to avoid conflict of interest accusations. She had decided to start her own small practice focusing on guardianship cases—the easiest as far as carrying private insurance. It was no frivolous business to be a champion for the underage or infirm. Sam was amazed at how much demand the court systems in the counties neighboring the state capital had for an impartial attorney who knew the system. Sam knew that she wasn’t the only one to surrender to anything Olivia suggested and guessed that the woman’s intelligence combined with her charisma would keep Olivia on as many cases as she chose to accept. Her business plan was to bring in associates in the third year of practice if her caseload projections were accurate.

“No wonder you have a headache if you skipped lunch. I passed one of my favorite Mexican restaurants on the way into the industrial park. I insist on buying your dinner in exchange for taking up so much of your time. My plans might make a little more sense with the addition of alcohol.” Olivia stood and gestured to the door. “I’ll drive us and bring you back.” She was clearly a woman used to having her own way.

As Sam passed through the reception area, she noticed Kelly seated on the corner of Tambor’s desk.

“A word before you leave, boss.” Kelly stood, hands on hips, her uniform sharply creased as usual.

“Excuse me,” Sam said.

“I’ll start my motor so the car will warm up. You won’t have to bother with a jacket,” Olivia said. September had come in as though skipping any transition from summer, sending everyone scrambling for warmer clothing. “Ladies.” She nodded to the other women as she left the building, maintaining eye contact with Tambor to prove her point about who was in control.

Sam’s eyes stayed on Olivia as she walked out the main entrance.

Kelly snapped her fingers. “Don’t do it.”

“What?” Sam turned and looked at Kelly, frowning.

“You have to trust me on this one, Sam. I’ve heard stories from some very reliable mutual acquaintances. Don’t go to dinner with any expectations but food.” Kelly did her best to sound impartial and not like a sometime lover.

“Jealous that she didn’t pick you up?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, right. Crap. You’re not going to hear a damn thing I say about her, are you? I’m trying to give you a friendly warning. She’s been through the available singles here in Richmond and quite a few others—just enough casual flirting to break up several couples. She’s a strange duck.” Kelly struggled with her warning. It went against her judgment to repeat what she hadn’t experienced for herself.

Tambor didn’t break her gaze from the woman in the parking lot. “She took my sister’s children away from her, put them into the system rather than let me have them while Nene served her time. Bitch told me she was doing me and them a favor, that I’d never handle three more children than what I was already used to as a single mother.” Tambor seldom spoke of her sister.

“Uh-huh. See you guys in the morning. I may be a little late. Do me a favor and get a life so you can quit trying to be mothers to me.” Sam followed a wonderful scent. Why was it that perfume smelled so delicious on other women and fizzled out on her skin? Sam smiled. She wouldn’t mind breathing in Olivia Holland’s aroma for a few hours.

“You’re going to be sorry,” Kelly said as Sam left the building. Sam glanced back. Kelly made a circular motion with her index finger pointed to her temple.

Sam fought the urge to extend her middle finger at Kelly. She didn’t want to appear crude since Olivia sat watching her from the parking lot.

Sam whistled appreciatively at the silver blue BMW roadster that purred like a throaty kitten. Sam slid into the low car, not feeling the least awkward about her height. She felt as though surrendering all control. Surprisingly, Sam liked the feeling.

“First of all, my friends call me Liv.” Olivia glanced into her mirrors and placed her hand on the headrest of Sam’s seat as she backed out of the parking space. “Secondly, how have we not met before?”

Sam hadn’t felt this tongue-tied since a teenager. “Isn’t it amazing how we can work and socialize in concentric circles until some change in our pattern tilts the orbit of our world?”

Liv glanced at Sam. “I’d rather rock your world.” She drove with one hand and let the other rest on Sam’s leg. She ran her hand slowly up and down Sam’s thigh. “I love it when my timing is right.”

Sam actually blushed or had a small hot flash, she wasn’t sure which. By the time they traveled the three miles to the restaurant, Sam was glad to be back in a public place. She was too ready to give in to impulses she knew better than to indulge so quickly. She knew too little about Olivia—damn Kelly and Tambor, Sam thought.

They were greeted at the restaurant by the concierge opening the door for them. “Judge Holland.” He bowed slightly to Liv, then looked at Sam and smiled knowingly. “Ma’am.”

Sam was not used to such immediate seating. They were strategically side by side at a small table in the restaurant’s quietest corner, farthest away from the kitchen and the main entrance. The lighting in the restaurant was low enough to make it hard to distinguish faces two tables away.

“Their strawberry margaritas are excellent,” Liv said, “as long as you don’t mind a quick buzz.”

Sam nodded. “That’s sort of what I had in mind.”

Two drinks appeared on the table. Liv spoke to the waitress in fluent Spanish. “May I order for us?”

Sam nodded again. Why not just let go for a few hours, she reasoned. She glanced around the table. “You didn’t bring your business plan in.”

Liv shook her head. “Business is for daylight hours. Now is the time to relax and let go of work.”

Sam raised her drink to toast the sentiment.

Liv smiled across the table. “How old do you think I am?”

Sam blinked upon hearing her inner uh-oh. “Your application to the incubator stated fifty-eight.”

Liv chuckled. “So you did read the paperwork.”

Sam blushed. “Some of it. My comprehension wasn’t at its usual level.” Sam admittedly had done a quick subtraction early into the meeting—a woman fifteen years older was a bit of a stretch for her, but she wasn’t the age snob that Paul accused her of being.

Liv leaned forward. “I lied. I’m sixty-three. I embraced plastic surgery years ago. I just went on Social Security, as well as my pension, but I still have one more career left in me.” She signaled the waitress for another round of drinks.

Sam thought of Kelly’s warning. Twenty years difference did bother her. But it shouldn’t, she told herself. Liv would be a good experience for her. “The older the violin, the sweeter the music.”

“I’ve made sure that all my strings are nice and tight,” Liv said. She growled softly. “I love the term cougar.”

Sam stared at the plates of food set before them. She felt like a menu item. Why was the alarm sounding louder in her head? She hated when she did this.

The food was excellent, the conversation a mixture of Liv’s war stories and innuendo that kept Sam flustered. As they left the restaurant, Sam was glad she wasn’t driving.

Liv came to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for Sam, then stood blocking her way into the roadster. She pulled Sam against her, kissing her.

Sam automatically parted her lips and waited for the soft probing of a tongue that usually set her on fire. Liv’s lips remained tight together. Sam tried with no luck to explore with her tongue and opened her eyes.

“You’re doing it all wrong, dear. Just relax and keep your mouth closed,” Liv whispered into Sam’s ear, sending chills down her back.

Sam’s mind balked—those directions didn’t jibe with her libido.

Liv moved in for a second kiss, again with closed lips.

Sam couldn’t help her reaction—she drew away.

“You’re doing it all wrong if you want to get anywhere with me.” Liv leaned against her car and looked at Sam as though disappointed.

Sam took a step back from the car. “Excuse me.”

Liv pointed to her lips. “I can’t stand anything in my mouth. Let me show you.”

Sam experienced her first closed-mouth kiss since her age was in single digits. “That does it for you?”

Liv sighed. “Oh, yes, just a brushing of lips—no teeth, no tongue, no invasiveness.”

Sam stared. Speculation about what else this woman preferred overwhelmed her. Her words tumbled out. “I might as well be kissing my mother.”

Olivia snapped straight up. Her eyes flared with anger. “How dare you? Just what are you implying?”

Sam took several steps away from the car, telling herself not to run screaming into the night. “I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words.”

Liv slammed the passenger door closed and walked around her car. She slid into the driver’s seat. “I’ll expect a call from your secretary when my application is approved for my office space by your board. I’ll also expect you to conduct yourself professionally at all times.” The car roared to life and spun out of the parking lot.

Sam patted her pocket. Thank goodness she had presence of mind enough to have her cell phone with her. She called the night number at the incubator. “Don’t say a word. Just please find my car keys on my desk and come get me.”

Kelly was laughing as she hung up.

Sam stared at the cars in the parking lot. “I’m so fucked and didn’t even enjoy a decent kiss.” She hadn’t noticed the couple leaving the restaurant as she spoke.

“Been there, done that,” the man said as his date surrendered to giggles.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sam felt silly, but she knew that she looked damn good. She had worn the teal strapless empire gown only twice before and been overwhelmed by the compliments. She made one final adjustment to the rubber gripper inside the top of the bodice as she left her house. She never completely trusted dresses with built-in cups and no shoulder straps, yet the corset actually made her back feel great. She left her door unlocked and key ring in the bowl on the table with her briefcase. She picked her way across the damp grass and shivered with the cool evening air on her bare skin. She forgot from one fall to the next how quickly the temperature dropped once the sun went down in September. She tapped on Ava’s door.

Ava opened the door looking as elegant as a 1940s movie star.

Sam whistled, then put her hand to her mouth. “I guess that’s not very ladylike.”

Ava waved her inside. “Well, we’ve given up on that by now, haven’t we?”

Sam chuckled. “I didn’t have much ambition that way to begin with.”

“I’m not talking sex, dear.” Ava closed the door. She swept by Sam with a flourish of the A-line skirt made with deep side pleats. The hem of her two-toned blue silk dinner dress was purposely longer in the back than front. Ava’s shoes were a floral design, with blues matching the dress dominant, the likes of which had not been sold in department stores since the 1960s.

“Darn. I thought you might be able to give me a few pointers.” Sam snapped her fingers.

“I only slept with a woman once. It was so long ago I don’t remember much about it except that feeling another woman’s breasts against mine made me giggle.” Ava motioned Sam to the couch facing the door.

Sam stared. “Ava, you never cease to amaze me.”

“You just have to take the time to know people, dear. Few are what they first appear.” Ava handed Sam a small glass. “Aperitif?”

“Bless you,” Sam said as though Ava had sneezed.

“Samantha.” Ava sighed.

“Sorry. I’m still thinking about breasts. You owe me the rest of that story sometime.” Sam took a deep breath. She tasted the wine. “Oh, my, that’s delicious.”

“Viognier—can you taste the smoke and peach?” Ava sipped her drink. “It’s always been one of my favorites.” She gestured to the tray on the coffee table. “Imported cheeses, fresh apricots, and shrimp with a light Asian sauce.”

Sam shook her head. “I feel underdressed for such a meal if this is just the hors d’oeuvres.”

Ava chuckled and patted Sam’s leg. “You’re gracious beyond belief to humor an old woman by dressing in your finest after working all day and trusting my dubious culinary skills. I haven’t assembled a formal dinner since Max passed.” Her face clouded.

Sam covered the tiny gnarled hand with her own. “I’m honored to try this. I have complete faith in you. I didn’t even sneak a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before coming over.”

Ava smiled. She munched on cheese and her favorite stone ground wheat crackers. “I’m so thankful that my sense of taste has not diminished.” She closed her eyes. “This takes me back to a trip to Holland after the war.”

“As in World War II?”

“Of course. I know, before your time.” Ava glanced toward the kitchen.

Sam followed Ava’s look. “May I be of any help?” The antique butcher’s block centered in the half of the kitchen closest to the dining room was covered with chafing dishes and warmers with tiny flames dancing.

“It’s staged.” Ava smiled. “It took me all day, but we have a first course of Maine crab cakes with remoulade sauce, an entrée of salmon roulade on mashed potatoes, a salad of greens with pears and candied walnuts, and a dessert of Belgian chocolate brownies.”

“My Lord.” Sam was genuinely overwhelmed. “We should set you up with a restaurant.”

Ava shook her head. “I’m too much an academic by nature. I’d allow something to burn to a crisp while I reread a passage in a book. Gourmet cooking is a full-time, fine art that takes a singular passion.” She finished her wine and held out her arm. “I will ask your help in rising from the sofa. My back is a little tired from being on my feet so long today.”

“Mine aches in sympathy just from thinking of all the work involved with this meal.” Sam stood and gently pulled Ava to her feet.

Ava stood for a moment as her balance stabilized. She led the way through the kitchen. “We’ll use the dining room tonight. I have my wedding china, crystal, and silver on the table. I haven’t had place settings out in years. Not a single piece broken in services for eight. It took me as long yesterday to clear half of the table as to do the cooking today—I found projects long forgotten about.” Ava chuckled. “More to do.”

Sam stopped in the wide-cased opening and held her breath. Half of the table was worthy of Better Homes and Gardens.

“Can you believe I crocheted the place mats myself to match the pink in the china?” Ava beamed at her efforts.

Sam chuckled. “It’s beautiful, and the projects teetering on the opposite end of the table just make the room homey.”

As Sam started into the dining room, Ava reached across the butcher’s block for the first course serving dish. The long sleeve of her dress caught on the handle of the adjacent chafing dish. Rather than reach to free herself, Ava jerked her arm and toppled the dish off the stand, exposing her arm to the flame of the warming gel. Before Ava was able to react, the sleeve of her dress caught fire. Ava raised and lowered her arm, inadvertently fanning the flame. She stutter-stepped between butcher block and sink, not processing what to do.

Sam grabbed a linen napkin from the table setting and cornered Ava against the cabinets. She wrapped the flames, encapsulating the lower sleeve of Ava’s dress as she pulled Ava away from the butcher’s block. Sam quickly guided Ava to the nearest chair at the dining table. She knelt on the floor and raised the linen napkin to look at Ava’s wrist. The blue silk was blackened in an elliptical shape about the diameter of a dessert plate and adhered to Ava’s skin.

Tears ran down Ava’s face. “I’ve ruined dinner and my dress.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t give a flip about the food, and you possess more formal dresses than I do sneakers. I’m concerned about your arm.” Sam returned to the kitchen and used the wall phone to dial 911. Sam glanced at the neat row of prescription bottles on the kitchen counter and knew not to take a chance with an injury to someone’s Ava age. She gave the address, pertinent information about Ava, and a description of the wound to the dispatcher as she stretched the phone cord to the dining room. “The ambulance will be here in five minutes or less,” she repeated, thanking the dispatcher. “We’re lucky to be so close to a fire station.” Sam returned to Ava’s side. “Is it very bad?”

“I think my pride is hurt worse than my arm.” Ava motioned for a tissue. “It happened so quickly. Can’t we just rinse it in the sink? I’ll go to my GP tomorrow if I need to.”

Sam shook her head. “No, let’s have this checked now. You’d try to tough it out and end up making it worse. It’s too big and appears to be blistered beneath the fabric.”

Ava nodded. “Do we have to call Donnie?”

Sam watched the woman and understood the thought process. “Let’s wait and see what the ER doc says. You can decide about telling Don later.”

Ava was satisfied with Sam’s logic since it would save a trip to the doctor the next day and not involve her son now. They heard the heavy vibration of the ambulance idling on the street.

Sam opened the front door and was amazed by the size of the truck that had been dispatched; close behind was a firetruck. She couldn’t fault the county for its protocol when she was the one who stated a kitchen fire had caused injury.

Sam was unable to keep track of all the names as paramedics checked Ava and firefighters inspected the kitchen.

“The newer warmers that are like burner units are much safer,” the last fireman said as he went out the front door.

Sam bit back her response. She went to Ava as the tiny woman was being tucked into an upright stretcher carried by two of the men—no chance of wheeling the usual gurney through the cluttered house. “I’ll lock your door and follow in my car.”

Ava nodded, supervising the gathering of her medications in a ziplock bag.

Sam considered changing clothes but didn’t want to chance losing sight of Ava. She wanted to be on the truck’s bumper as they drove to the hospital. The strobe light had already drawn a crowd in the neighborhood. Sam waved to Haley. “I’ll call you later. Ava burned her arm, but she’s okay.”

“We’ll keep an eye on your houses,” Haley called back so that the crowd gathered in the street heard her. KD gave the bystanders a look that scattered them faster than anything the county employees said.

Sam stared along the corridor as she followed Ava toward a cubicle, not believing that she was once again seeing the blond hair with black roots. “Why me, Lord?” Sam said to herself.

“What, dear?” Ava asked.

“Nothing.” Sam ducked her head while wondering how a six-foot-tall redhead in a teal evening dress might look inconspicuous.

“A bit overdressed, aren’t you?” Lisa asked. She motioned to an empty cubicle for the nursing assistant to take Ava into. She knelt down and looked Ava in the eyes. “I’m Lisa Ramey, as some of you already know. She didn’t burn you, did she?”

“Heavens, no. She saved me from being burned any worse after I had an accident in the kitchen.” Ava was flustered by the animosity toward Sam.

“Do you just have a gift for being around when people have accidents or are you into pain?” Lisa stood and looked at Sam. “That dress really is the wrong color for your hair and eyes unless you’re going for the Madea-does-dinner look.”

“As if your opinion matters to me,” Sam said.

Lisa carefully unwrapped Ava’s arm. “That’s not bad at all. It looks to be a partial thickness burn—second degree with blistering.” Lisa held up the plastic bag filled with prescriptions. “I’ll bring these back as soon as I log the contents on your record.” She hustled out of the cubicle.

“Do you two know each other?” Ava asked Sam.

“Only from here. She thinks I hit Haley, then there was the hiking accident.” Sam balked at telling Ava about the cheerleader incident.

Ava chuckled. “So she has you pegged as some sort of Boston Strangler?”

Sam nodded.

They were silent when the resident came in to assess the wound. He carefully removed the silk from the blistered area. “Not bad, but you were right to let us take care of this just because of the size of the burned area. Lisa will dress this for you.”

“We can’t wait,” Sam said under her breath as Ava thanked the doctor.

Lisa returned with a tray of supplies. “We’ll leave the blister, make sure to clean around it, and put an Adaptic dressing over it.” She placed the plastic bag of pill bottles beside Ava and talked while she worked. “Did the same doc prescribe all of these?”

“No, I have a general practitioner, a rheumatologist, and an endocrinologist.” Ava pronounced the specialties without faltering.

“You need to let all of them know everything you’re taking.” Lisa looked at Sam. “Can you make sure she does?”

“I think I can manage that.” Each word she spoke was clipped with anger. Sam was still upset about the comment concerning her dress.

Lisa sighed. “Been having these mood swings long?”

“Am I going to have to separate you two?” Ava asked. “Sam, you should be ashamed for rising to the bait of someone stressed out and overworked. You, my dear, shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions. Sam is always helping someone, and my guess is so are you.” Ava spoke first to one woman, then the other as though petulant children.

They each looked duly chastised.

“Kiss and make up,” Ava said. She pointed to her cheek and stared at Sam. “Give her a kiss.”

“Only for you, Ava.” Sam kissed Lisa’s cheek. “Don’t get any ideas. She made me.”

Lisa returned the gesture. “What are you—five?”

“Four-and-a-half,” Sam said.

Lisa’s expression softened. “So you really didn’t clock the little brunette.”

“No way. I only pick on people my own size.” She struck a bodybuilder’s pose for Lisa and almost fell over. “Haley is in a very bad relationship. Her girlfriend is the hitter.”

Lisa nodded. “Sorry. Hang on.” She returned and handed Sam a brochure from the local women’s shelter. “Good people work there. They know how to help your friend. Don’t let it go on too long, thinking you can manage the situation.” She inspected Ava’s bandage. “You, my dear, may go home, but let your GP know what happened tonight and all the meds you’re taking. Insist that he cross-checks everything.”

Ava nodded. “I understand and will do so.”

Lisa looked Sam up and down. “I lied. The dress looks great on you, but I don’t want to see you back here any time soon. Okay?”

Sam nodded. “Okay.” She watched Lisa walk away.

“She likes you,” Ava said.

“Yeah, right, like she likes a flu outbreak,” Sam said forlornly.

“You’re a little slow on the uptake sometimes, dear.” Ava clucked her tongue. “She’s interested, and she’s a good woman.”

“Can you get her number for me?” Sam said.

“This young lady already gave it to me.” Ava patted the hand of the nursing assistant who helped her into a wheelchair to leave the hospital.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sam had learned her lesson. She buttoned her raincoat over her fuchsia pajamas and carried a duffel bag packed with clothes for the next morning. She didn’t care that she was only a block from her house. She approached Paul’s door and almost turned around and went home—loud voices emanated through the walls of the brick ranch. “Deliver me from more drama.” Sam knocked instead of letting herself in unannounced as usual.

Paul held the door open. He wore what used to be called gentleman’s pajamas—baby blue tailored pajamas with navy piping at the collar, cuffs, pocket, and hems.

Angela Selz, Paul’s twenty-three-year-old daughter, stood in the corner of the living room blocking the television with her hands on her hips, back rigid, and cheeks flushed.

“Anyone for Survivor?” Sam asked as she looked from father to daughter. She shed her coat and knew that the simple evening of watching television was not going to happen.

“Oh, great, it’s Lucy and Desi reunited.” Angela threw up her hands. “There’s no talking to you now that your sidekick is here.” She glared at her father.

Sam walked to the sofa that was positioned diagonally in the center of the room and flopped. “This is what I’ve been looking forward to all week.” Sam smiled at Angela. “What has your knickers in a knot?”

Angela did a double take but wouldn’t ask Sam what knickers were. “He won’t rent an apartment for me so that I can get away from Mom.” Angela made the accusation with all the flair of announcing the end of days.

Sam gasped. “No!”

Angela bit back a retort.

“Tell her the rest.” Paul sat on the arm of the sofa closest to Sam.

Angela brushed her brown, salon-streaked blond hair out of her eyes. She jammed her hands in the pockets of her deliberately torn jeans. “I need to stay in school. I’ve been accepted into the master’s program for my other major.”

“Which declaration is this?” Sam asked.

“European Studies,” Angela said with barely contained fury.

Sam looked at Paul, then back to Angela. “And you already have a master in?”

“Financial Engineering.”

“To do what?”

“I want to work in Europe for one of the major oil industries. At least they’re innovative since all their plants were wiped out way back in the 1940s,” Angela said.

Sam nodded. “I’m guessing the key word here is ‘work’?” She looked to Paul.

He closed his eyes to collect his thoughts. “Angie, it’s been a stretch for me to pay your college costs. I have a second mortgage instead of equity in my home and carry way too much debt on credit cards. I can’t swing an apartment and pay your mother’s alimony.”

Angela huffed. “You could if you would take a real job instead of spending so much time writing.”

Sam recoiled at the vindictive tone of Angela’s voice.

“How much of this does your mother know?” Paul asked.

Angela’s lips tightened into a narrow line.

“That’s what I thought. You always come to me first and try your usual guilt trip because dad’s gay.” Paul stood and went to the countertop set in the arch cut in the wall between the living room and kitchen. He poured two glasses of wine, took a long drink from one, and handed the other to Sam.

Angela cleared her throat and held up empty hands.

“I’m not serving alcohol to someone who’s going to be driving in a few minutes,” Paul said as he sat beside Sam.

“Gee, Dad, that’s subtle. Are you telling me to leave?”

“I do have plans.” Paul tapped the remote and pointed to the big-screen television in the corner of the room. “This conversation is going nowhere. I suggest you talk to your mother. Her alimony would cover the rent on an apartment. She makes more than I do now anyway.” He stared at his daughter. “There’s no way in hell I’ll give up my writing. It’s the only thing in my life that keeps me sane.”

Sam cleared her throat.

“Besides my best bud.” Paul reached for Sam’s hand.

“Fine.” Angela stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Sam sipped the Pinot Grigio. “How many bottles of this do you have?”

“Three chilled and that many more in the pantry.” Paul leaned back and let his head rest on the thick cushion of the sofa.

Sam went to the counter and brought the bottle to the coffee table. “Thought I’d save us having to get up and down so often.”

Paul chuckled. “She’s never going to earn her own living. There’s something else going on with her staying in school, and I don’t think I want to know what it is.”

“You guys spoiled her, and I would’ve done the same. I never realized how fortunate I was to have two parents who made me follow a routine and do chores for an allowance.” Sam felt as though inhaling the wine.

“I know. Divorce created our own special monster, but how do I fix her now?” Paul expected no solution.

“Tough love?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, right.”

“Jane will kill you for the alimony suggestion,” Sam said. She shuddered at the thought of Paul’s bitter ex-wife.

“You know it.” He sighed. “Let’s take a vacation.”

“Spend more money to avoid a money problem? You’re catching on to the banking business.” Sam raised her glass.

“Savannah, New Orleans, or Key West?” Paul tried to tempt her.

“P-town in October.” Sam nodded, closing her eyes to envision all those women.

“Leaf peeping on the way. We’ll drive to save plane fare.” Paul touched glasses.

“I wish.”

Paul changed channels. “Too busy at work?”

Sam nodded. “I have three new startup businesses coming in at the first of the month and one that it breaks my heart to have to serve notice on to leave because of being in arrears for six months.”

“I’ll take crunching numbers for a large company any day rather than being in business for myself.” Paul set his glass down. “That’s what worries me about Angie—she places no value on work and has no concept of starting at the bottom and clawing her way up the corporate ladder. She expects to walk into a corner office and a six-figure salary.”

“Reality is that she’ll be lucky to have a cubicle she can’t see over and make enough for rent and groceries.” Sam savored the wine.

“God, I’m so glad you came over to cheer me up.” Paul covered his face with a throw pillow.

“Feed me.” Sam elbowed him.

Paul went to the kitchen and returned with two dinner plates piled high with crepes and freshly sliced peaches.

“I think I just came.” Sam accepted the dish, her mouth salivating.

“Easy, girl, there’s more food in the kitchen. You’ll be sated tonight with no pressure from a date.”

“And I get to sleep over?” Sam asked.

Paul nodded. “And you get to sleep over. I put fresh sheets on the bed this morning—six hundred count.”

Sam sighed. “I’m in heaven.”

Neither Sam nor Paul thought it strange that at least once a month they spent a platonic night together, enjoying not having an empty bed for a change.

Paul’s cell phone jangled a 1920s ringtone. “That’ll be Scott.”

Sam pointed to herself, then the kitchen.

Paul shook his head, telling her she didn’t have to leave the room. “No, I’m not alone. Sam’s here. I told you she would be.”

Sam studied her fingernails. She needed a manicure.

“It was your choice to be with your family every night this week. I told you I understood,” Paul said. His patience was genuine.

Sam took the empty bottle of wine into the kitchen, rinsed the container, and tossed it into the recycle bin. She took a new bottle out of the refrigerator and opened it, filling her glass.

“Yes, I miss you. You know I love you.” Paul’s voice lowered. “I always want you.”

Sam picked up her duffel from beside the front door and carried it to the far end of the house.

Paul had completely renovated the 1970s ranch house shortly after he bought it ten years ago. He had a wall knocked down, turning two small bedrooms on the end of the house into a large master suite with a dressing area. Sam loved the king-size bed with firmness controls for each side. If she wasn’t so frugal—Paul said cheap—she would buy one. Instead, she called Paul and spent the night when her back problems flared up.

The kitchen would satisfy a gourmet cook. Half of the long, narrow garage had been converted to an office. Paul had been lucky enough and young enough to call on friends to do the work. He still dropped everything when one of them needed his help on a project.  He never forgot the years he spent living in rentals while working any hours available to scrape together the down payment for a house. In Virginia, even an amiable split meant half of a couple’s assets went to the attorneys, leaving the other half to be divided between former husband and wife.

Sam returned to the silence of the living room.

“Sorry if that was more than you wanted to hear.” Paul’s eyes were focused on the television screen. “I’ve no idea what I’m watching.”

“Would Scott enjoy his relationship with you as much if he didn’t have a wife and children to deceive?” Sam asked.

“Damn, you could have softened that just a little.” Paul frowned at Sam. “Probably not. He sets the nights that we’re together, then sneaks away from them to call me and go on about how much he misses me and that I deserve a better boyfriend. I can’t criticize him but so much. I was married and lived the straight life for ten years, then walked out on a nine-year-old daughter. God knows what that did to make Jane and Angela how they are.”

“Miserable?” Sam said. “Sorry.” She took another sip of wine. “Both you and Scott date other people?”

Paul nodded. “Scott has to choose, not so much me as lifestyle. He’s just dabbling.”

“With his wife and children on the verge of paying for his ambivalence?” Sam made herself stop. “Why do we put ourselves through all this?”

“We all want that love we see on the cable channels.” Paul nodded toward the television screen.

“Yeah, right.”

“And for $19.95 a month…” Paul reached to the coffee table for his laptop.

“Oh, no.” Sam made a cross with her index fingers. “No more. I’ll just buy new batteries for my handheld device.”

“Girl!” Paul logged on to his Internet service. “Come on. I tell you what. I’ll pick out someone for you to flirt with, then you can find someone for me.”

“And later we can braid each other’s hair?” Sam clapped her hands and feigned excitement.

“Later, we’ll open the third bottle.” Paul scrolled through his favorite sites. “Or we could go on Facebook and take quizzes until we’re too drunk to type.”

“You do know how to show a girl a good time. I don’t understand why Jane let you get away.”

Paul grabbed his chest as though he had been shot. “I’m up to five hundred friends on Facebook now. Have you finished your profile?”

Sam punched him. “Honey, a friend is someone next to you on the sofa in their pajamas understanding why your child temporarily hates you.”

“And playing on your Wii does not constitute socialization.” Paul raised his eyebrows at Sam. “We both live vicariously through our electronic fixes.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Sam did a double take at the woman in the ski cap and sunglasses with a snowy mountain in the background on the Match site after Paul logged in with Sam’s user name.

“We have a winner. Hurry up so you can do me.” He handed her the computer.

“I’m so glad Angela’s not here.”

“You and me both, kid.” Paul pointed to the list of qualities the skier was looking for. “Perfect, she likes petite butches.”

“Shut up.” Sam sent a wink. “Now let’s find you someone who doesn’t want to be around children.” Sam focused on a handsome, young blond with a mischievous smile.

They each ended up with dates for the following weekend.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sam struggled to think of another subtle way to check her wristwatch as she made herself not fidget with the salt and pepper shakers flanking the cruet. She had been amazed when she took the gold Seiko from her jewelry drawer and found the battery still running the watch—it had been a long time since she had dressed to impress for an evening out. She felt disloyal to her usual preference of a Mickey Mouse or Snoopy watch.

 “Just my damn luck. I’ve been stood up. Why didn’t I wait in the vestibule? No, I had to come in to our table.” The last time Sam checked, her date was twenty minutes late. In those twenty minutes, the restaurant had filled and there was now a waiting line staring through the glass entry doors.

Sam looked up from her menu to check the doors again. She had already consumed two glasses of wine and half a basket of breadsticks—not that she was nervous.

The waiter pounced on her once she made eye contact. “Madam is ready to order?”

“Madam is ready to go home, but she’ll order first. I’m here and dressed for it, I might as well eat.” She thought about calling Paul and decided against it. She needed to overcome the self-consciousness of being a woman alone in a busy restaurant; men dined by themselves and never gave it a passing thought.

The waiter shrugged consolingly. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation. Don’t give up too easily.” He winked as he waited for her order.

Sam was ready with a deprecating comeback when she spied a woman on a mission heading her way.

The woman stopped at the table and waited to be seated. She pointed to Sam’s glass. “I’ll have one of those, and I believe she’s ready for another.”

Sam smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Samantha Moyer.”

“Everyone calls you Sam, I’m sure.”

The woman gave Sam an appraising glance as Sam did the same to Shirley Eckels. Shirley was at least half a foot shorter than Sam and pear-shaped. Her upper body appeared a nice 36C and her lower body was a ripe size twenty. Sam smiled, liking the combination. Shirley wore glasses on a chain around her neck yet squinted at the menu. Her hair was dyed a medium brown and cut just below her ears with the layers fluffed away from her head. She appeared about ten years older than Sam and had stated so on Match. Sam gave her kudos for not hiding her age or figure.

Shirley looked up. “Am I very late? I don’t believe in watches and tend to let my appointments run long.”

Sam glanced at her wrist. “Just a half hour.”

“And the way you said that, it matters to you, yet you waited. Good decision, by the way.” Shirley carefully examined her silverware and rearranged the setting, precisely aligning the very tip of the handles.

“What type of appointments?” Sam asked, nodding her thanks to the waiter for the fresh drink.

“I’m a psychiatrist. Most of my sessions are about sexual counseling. Are you ready to order?” Shirley gave her choices in rapid succession with precise preparation instructions without waiting for an answer from Sam.

Sam felt her neck prickle. Surely, her warning system wasn’t clicking on already. She ordered the courses she had decided upon after looking at the dinner menu online at the office that morning.

“And what do you do?” Shirley asked.

“I manage the county’s business incubator, helping new businesses stay in operation and solvent during their first years.”

“Oh, yes, you’re an ombudsman. I read an article about that recently. It’s a shame there’s such a high failure rate in what you do.” Shirley opened her purse and removed a cloisonné pillbox with seven inner compartments. She carefully arranged a row of differently colored pills alongside the very edge of her cloth napkin. She studied her silverware again and motioned the waiter over. “I’d like this replaced. I see spots.”

The waiter nodded and caught Sam’s eye, raising a single eyebrow.

“What about the success rate of the time you spend with your patients?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I can’t discuss clients.” Shirley spoke with a New England accent.

Sam would have almost sworn that Shirley unintentionally said cunt—might that be a Freudian slip. Sam covered a chuckle with her napkin.

The waiter carefully replaced the silverware at both settings. Next, he brought their salad from the kitchen in one large bowl for them to share.

Shirley picked up the bowl as though roadkill had been placed on their table. She motioned for the waiter. “The menu stated fresh chanterelles. These are common portobellos and simply unacceptable. Either bring good mushrooms or keep the damn salad.”

Sam gulped. “I’ll have that. It looks fine to me.”

Shirley frowned in Sam’s direction. Sam served her plate and concentrated on the mixture of greens. Another salad was brought for Shirley, with no mushrooms in the large bowl, accompanied by a small plate of chanterelles.

“Thank you,” Sam said when it was obvious that Shirley wasn’t going to be gracious about extra service.

The waiter didn’t return until their main course was served. He gingerly set the large plates on the table and waited.

Sam immediately picked up her fork. The food looked incredible. She recognized the detail given to the plating from watching Top Chef.

Shirley glanced at her dinner, then glared at the waiter. She shook her head. “That’s not what I expected. The arrangement is horrendous, the portions too large. I can’t eat that much rich food.”

“What would madam have me do? This is the chef’s serving.” The waiter’s expression never faltered.

“We’ll deal with it,” Sam said quickly. “Won’t we, Shirley?”

Shirley swallowed half the pills beside her napkin as the waiter seized the opportunity to leave them.

“Are you not feeling well?” Sam asked.

Shirley’s cell phone beeped. She checked the small screen and texted a message before responding. “You said something just now?”

“Are you not feeling well?” Sam inclined her head toward the remaining row of pills.

“I am a long sufferer with fibromyalgia, as well as acid reflux and several other stress-related conditions. I self-prescribe these as a preventative to discomfort.” Shirley began sampling the meal, moving her fork counterclockwise for a small taste of each item, then repeating the order and portion size.

Sam watched as Shirley ate. She kept hearing the theme to The Twilight Zone in her head. Her food was delicious. It was all she could do not to trade plates with Shirley when hers was emptied and Shirley’s two-thirds full.

“I’ve been told that the tiramisu made here is the best in Richmond,” Sam said.

“Oh, no! Sugar does not agree with my system at all.” Shirley shook her head vigorously as she pushed her plate away.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to think of a topic of conversation to distract both of them. “While there’s an expert present, do you mind a professional question?”

Shirley answered neither way, so Sam continued. “I have a friend who’s in an abusive relationship. Her partner threatens her, hits her, and mismanages her money. What should I do to help her?”

Shirley moved her chair slightly back from the table. “I might have known. It never fails that I’m recognized as a doctor and asked out by someone who actually needs an appointment. Clearly, you’re no one’s victim and clearly there’s no friend. I would recommend that if you cannot control yourself, you let the poor woman leave you. I’ll recommend one of my colleagues if you’re ready to see someone professionally.”

Sam did not believe her ears. Did her size automatically make her believable as an abuser in other women’s eyes?

Shirley stood. “Do not call my office now that I’ve seen you socially, not that this will be repeated.”

“Honestly, it’s about my friend.” Sam threw her hands up and was amazed to see Shirley flinch. This was not a conversation to be conducted in public. She should never have brought Haley into this. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have asked you out again anyway.”

Shirley left the restaurant much as she had entered it, focused only on her objective and without a word of thanks for the dinner she left Sam to pay for.

The waiter eased the black folder on the edge of the table. “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t give you a check for tonight.”

Sam shook her head. “Serves me right. I should know better than to go out on a blind date based on a few glib e-mails.” She left a generous tip and leaned closer to the waiter as she passed him on the way out of the restaurant. “That’s the cheapest I’ve ever broken up with someone.” He coughed to disguise his laughter.

Sam talked to herself as she walked to her car. “At least I didn’t wind up in the ER fighting with Lisa, even if that would have been more fun.”

Sam dialed Paul’s number as she drove out of the parking lot and left him a message. “Another fine mess you got me into.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sam rolled over in bed and couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly wide awake. She wasn’t having a hot flash and she wasn’t sick. She looked at her clock radio—1:35. She listened and heard a round of barks throughout the subdivision as though the dogs were checking in with one another before being threatened by their owners.

She turned over on her back and listened. There it was—noise from the front of the house but not involved with her house directly. “Maybe if I ignore it, it will go away.” Sam had no desire to leave the warmth and comfort of her bed.

She sat bolt upright with the sound of metal crunching against metal. Selfishly, she was thankful that her Nissan was locked in her garage, but what in the hell was going on in the street?

Sam slid out of bed and pulled her sweats on from the previous evening. She stepped into her tennis shoes without tying the laces. She trotted through the house and opened her front door, not turning on any lights to throw off her focus.

The streetlights illuminated the drama taking place in front of her house. KD was behind the wheel of her ten-year-old Ford F-150 that was aimed to make another run at Haley’s two-year-old Toyota. There was already a long dent down the side panel of Haley’s Tacoma.

Sam immediately dialed 911 on her cell phone, giving her address and the situation to the dispatcher. This was no time to tiptoe around the trouble between Haley and KD.

Sam walked to the edge of her yard and waved her arms over her head to get Haley’s attention. “I’ve called the county police.”

Haley frantically gestured to Sam to go back to her house, but it was too late.

KD rammed into Haley’s truck, then threw the transmission into reverse and stomped on the brakes to stop even with Sam. She jumped out of the truck, leaving the motor running. “You what?”

Sam stared at KD. “I’ve called the police. Enough is enough, KD.”

“Enough!” KD strode to the edge of the pavement and stopped, facing Sam in her yard. “I’ll show you enough!”

Sam pointed to the shallow ditch running parallel to the street. “I’m on my property. I’m telling you to stay off my property. Do you understand?”

KD grinned at her. “Do you understand that I don’t give a shit what you say or do?” KD reverted to childhood. She jumped back and forth across the ditch between the shoulder of road and Sam’s yard. “I’m on your property. I’m not on your property.”

Sam held up her hands. “Enough, KD. I will press assault charges against you. Do you understand?” Sam repeated.

KD closed within a few feet of Sam, deliberately standing in her yard. “Do you understand that you have interfered with my wife?”

Sam shook her head. “How much have you had to drink or snort?”

“Sam, are you all right? I’ve called 911.” Ava stood on her front stoop, clutching a flowery housecoat about her.

Sam didn’t take her eyes from KD. “Stay there, Ava.”

“Stay there, Ava.” KD mimicked Sam. “Do you think I’m going to hurt some old woman who hasn’t done a thing to me?”

“I think you’re high and out of control.” Sam stood her ground.

“I think you’re an interfering bitch who’s been advising Haley to leave me. What do you think I found tucked away in our attic tonight but a packed suitcase? It wasn’t filled with any of my things.” KD took a step closer. “Are you so hard up for a woman in your life that you’re trying to take mine?”

“Haley’s my friend. I only want to help her,” Sam said.

“By taking her away from me? I love her.” KD screamed the last statement so that the entire neighborhood heard her.

“Well, you have a damned odd way of showing it.”

Before Sam could react, KD swung her right fist followed by her left, striking blows to Sam’s temple and stomach. Sam staggered and fell backward to the ground. KD closed in and began kicking Sam in the sides and back as Sam tried to move away from her.

“Let’s make it assault and battery,” KD said. “It won’t be the first time.”

The last thoughts that Sam had were wondering why Haley was screaming and where the blinking strobe lights were coming from.

The next thoughts that Sam had were that Paul needed a shave and the lights in the room were too bright.

“She’s coming to,” Paul said. He leaned over the side of the narrow bed.

Sam blinked and wished she hadn’t moved her eyelids. Her entire body settled into a dull ache starting with a headache and stopping with her knees feeling as though someone had taken a hammer to her kneecaps. “What are you doing up?” she asked Paul. She blinked again as Ava and Haley came to stand beside Paul. “I feel like Dorothy in the closing scenes of The Wizard of Oz.”

“Well, at least her cognitive reasoning is intact,” Ava said.

“I’m so sorry.” Haley’s face was as pale as the sheets on the bed. “You should’ve just let her take it out on my truck.”

Sam blinked and winced, the two seeming to go together. She had no desire to move any other part of her body. “What happened?”

“KD beat the crap out of you, girlfriend. I thought you played Wii Boxing,” Paul said, pretending to bob and weave.

“Okay, folks, I need to be able to access the patient. I told you she would come around and be groggy.” A nurse in purple scrubs entered the cubicle.

Sam stared at the sight of the familiar blond hair with black roots and the sparkling earrings. “Oh, no, it’s you.”

Lisa grinned. “I should be the one saying that.” She turned to Sam’s extended family. “Go home, have breakfast, and come back this afternoon. She’ll be moved upstairs as soon as a room is available. We’ll keep her for observation for at least twenty-four hours because of the head injury and to check out any damage to her kidneys. She’ll be in and out for the next few hours, thanks to the pain meds. There’s nothing you can do except watch her sleep and be uncomfortable.”

“You’re safe,” Ava said, moving closer to Sam to make sure she heard the words. “The police took that awful woman with them.”

Sam looked at Haley. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Haley looked absolutely miserable. “This is going to court. She punched both of the officers as they pulled her away from you—automatic jail time. I’ve never seen her that angry.”

“She wasn’t angry,” Ava said. “She was out of her mind.”

“I’m not sorry I missed it, just that I wasn’t there to help you, sweets.” Paul squeezed Sam’s hand. “Come on, ladies, breakfast is on me.” Paul put an arm around Ava and Haley.

“You guys stay together for a while,” Sam said.

Paul looked over his shoulder and nodded as they started out of the room.

Lisa watched the trio leave. “Do you always tell them what to do?”

“Yes, but they usually ignore me.” Sam groaned as she tried to raise her arm to rub her eye.

Lisa held a plastic jug of water toward Sam with the straw bent down.

Sam swallowed. “She did beat the crap out of me.”

“Oh, yeah. No broken bones or sprains, just a lot of bruises. Don’t be alarmed if your pee is a little bloody. I understand she kicked you in the back several times.”

Sam nodded slightly. “I remember that much. I didn’t even see the punches coming. What a dumbass I am to walk out in the middle of that mess and just stand there.”

“Carry a baseball bat or a poker with you next time.”

“This isn’t over, is it?”

Lisa shook her head. “I’m guessing it’s just beginning to get ugly. All of you better be on the lookout.”

Sam sighed.

“Don’t think about playing the pity card and asking me out. I wouldn’t date you on a bet.” Lisa logged the last readings on Sam before transfer. “Miss Playgirl.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sam felt her temper flaring and thought less about how much her body hurt.

Lisa looked down at Sam and adjusted the covers. “Even I went out with Dr. Eckels twice. Dumping her in the restaurant you met in was cold.” Lisa clucked her tongue and grinned.

“That woman is way crazier than the patients she’s paid to treat,” Sam protested.

“She’s not the one who keeps turning up here, now is she?” Lisa motioned the orderlies to take the bed. She waved to Sam as she was rolled out of the emergency unit.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Are you sure you feel up to this?” Paul held the car door open for Sam and offered to help her out of the Subaru.

Sam grasped his hand and welcomed the extra lift he gave her. “I’m sick of sitting around the house. If I’m going to the office Monday, I need to practice getting out and about.”

“Haley’s driving you?” Paul asked.

“Just call me Miss Daisy.” Sam took a quick breath not to yelp with the effort it took to get out of the wagon. “At least for the first day or two. I had to think of something for her to do. She feels so guilty about what happened that she’s worrying the crap out of me.”

Sam hobbled across the parking lot. She had stayed in the hospital all day after her beating and was released the next morning. She had a black eye, several stitches in her cheek, cracked ribs, bruised lower back, and stitches in her right knee. Other than that, after staying in bed for a few days, she felt rested and better. She had been strangely comforted while in the hospital by Lisa checking on her before and after her shift.

Sam caught herself looking around the Saturday afternoon crowd at the mall’s Cineplex for blondes while she waited for Paul to buy their tickets. “Drinks and popcorn are on me if you’ll stand in line.”

Paul nodded, taking the offered $20 bill. “I’m such a gigolo.”

“You’re the only date I’m interested in anymore. I’m done with women,” Sam said. She eyed one of the benches in the lobby but didn’t think the odds of sitting by herself very good.

“I thought the same thing twenty-four years ago on my honeymoon, but I don’t think you’ll hold out that long.” He grinned at her over his shoulder.

Sam looked at the poster on the wall. They had decided that mindless entertainment was the only recreation they could handle. They also felt comfortable that no one else they knew would be at a showing of the latest Toy Story installment.

“We’re all set.” Paul stood beside her and held out his elbow, hands full of snacks.

Sam didn’t hesitate to hold on to him as he guided her through the lobby and into the theater. They arrived early enough to claim one of the side rows of four seats midway along the floor. Paul set the cups into holders and the popcorn containers on the upturned seat cushion between them. He took the aisle seat and positioned Sam toward the wall. “Comfy?”

“Actually, yes. I love these rocking seats.” Sam moved slightly.

Paul centered the bucket of popcorn in her lap.

“I can manage, thank you,” Sam said. “You don’t have to feed me each kernel or lift the drink.”

“I know it tries your patience to be waited on. You’ve tolerated us more graciously than I expected.” Paul slid down in the seat and angled his legs into the aisle against the chair in front of him.

This was the third weekend that the movie had been showing; the theater filled only to half capacity by the time the lights dimmed. One last family came in and stood in the back waiting for their eyes to adjust, talking softly. The foursome passed Sam and Paul, taking seats in the center section five rows back from the screen.

“Shit,” Paul said. His gaze focused below the screen.

Sam looked at him and leaned slightly his way. “What?”

Paul raised his hand a few inches from his lap and pointed to the family that just took seats. “It’s Scott.”

Sam and Paul stared in silence at the group that had the appearance of an all-American family. Scott sat on the end of the row with his arm around his wife’s shoulders, sharing a tub of popcorn with her while thumping his oldest son in the back of the head to tease him. She nestled against him. The boys punched each other before settling down to watch the movie, occasionally throwing popcorn at each other’s mouths.

“Do you want to leave?” Sam asked.

“He told me he had to be at the office all weekend,” Paul said.

Scott leaned close to hear what his wife was saying, then gave her a kiss on the cheek before standing. He walked up the aisle, smiling.

Paul stuck his foot out so that Scott would have to dodge him in passing. Scott looked down at Paul, the smile disappearing from his face. He immediately looked over his shoulder to see if his wife or sons were looking. He pointed to the double doors at the back of the theater.

“I’ll be right back,” Paul said to Sam. He followed Scott toward the lobby.

“Not without me you won’t,” Sam said under her breath. She hoisted herself up, using the arms of the chair and accepting ahead of time that movement would be painful. She wasn’t about to let her best friend go through this alone in a public place.

Sam reached the lobby as Scott explained to Paul.

“The project fell through. I didn’t have to work after all. I figured you’d made plans, so I told Cheryl that I’d take her and the boys to the movies instead of her having to do it by herself. What’s wrong with me taking my family out?” Scott asked.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. Why didn’t you just tell me this was what you wanted to do today instead of lying about work?” Paul asked.

Sam stopped several feet behind Paul, glowering at Scott.

“Damn, what happened to you?” Scott asked, looking past Paul.

“I lied to my date about why I stood her up,” Sam said.

“Who are we trying to kid?” Paul asked Scott, ignoring Sam.

“Don’t start that again. Don’t make me choose.” Scott spoke without emotion.

“You don’t care about me, or us,” Paul said, “other than as subterfuge. I’m a cheap thrill.”

“You just want the best of both worlds without being truly committed to either,” Sam said.

“Butt the hell out,” Scott said to Sam. “Haven’t you learned not to interfere in a relationship? KD told me what happened when I posted her bail.”

“You what?” Sam said.

“She’s going to work it off at my house. I help my friends, too,” Scott said.

“You worthless sack of shit.” Sam advanced toward Scott. “You helped KD, knowing Haley and I are both at risk, and didn’t even give us a heads-up?”

“You provoked what happened,” Scott said.

Sam was so angry that her words came out as a sputtering noise like excess air trapped in a water line.

Paul stepped between them. “Enough.”

Scott looked at Paul. “You and I need to have this conversation in private.”

Paul shook his head. “No, we don’t. That’s the sad part. Every time you say that, it ends in sex, and I give up and allow this charade to continue.”

“What are you saying?” Scott asked.

“I’m saying your family is waiting for you. If you have any sense at all, you’ll be grateful you haven’t lost them yet and will choose them to make a life with.” Paul took a deep breath. “I want nothing more to do with you.”

Scott appeared dumbfounded.

“Asshole,” Sam said.

“Bitch,” Scott countered.

“Enough,” Paul said again. He held out his arm to Sam and spoke to Scott. “Go back to your family before they wonder what’s taking you so long.”

Sam leaned on Paul as they left the theater. “We could stop and rent a stack of DVDs and not leave the couch for the rest of the weekend.”

Paul leaned over and kissed Sam’s cheek.

“What was that for?” She reached across her chest and held on to his arm already locked around hers.

“For loving me, warts and all.” Paul opened the door of the Subaru and eased Sam into the seat. He slid behind the steering wheel and sighed. “I’ve been as blind as Haley. What happened in there was the kick in the seat of the pants I needed. What a sorry son of a bitch I’ve wasted years on.”

Sam put her hand on Paul’s thigh. “A relationship is never wasted. No matter how good or bad it is, we change and grow, and it takes us to the next place in our lives.”

Paul looked Sam up and down. “You’ve been watching entirely too much daytime television.”

Sam chuckled. “You know what I mean. It’s human nature. When we’re alone, all we can think of is finding a partner. When we’re with someone, we struggle to ignore the quirks that drive us crazy and think about how nice it was to be alone. Bottom line—we want to be in love, despite all the past bad relationships.”

Paul started the car. “Yet how many of us will end up like Ava—alone and struggling to hold on?”

“But look at all the good memories she has because she lived her life.”

“So we just keep blundering along?” Paul asked as he pulled into Blockbuster’s parking lot.

“Exactly.” Sam started to open the door, then changed her mind. “Surprise me. I’ll wait here.” She closed her eyes and wondered what a blonde with black roots was doing that weekend.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sam shifted her balance from one foot to the other, maintaining the constant smile on her face as she tried not to think about how much her feet hurt. She glanced down at the table to make sure all the brochures and marketing giveaways were available. She adjusted the folding metal frame behind her that displayed the state and county flags in tiers. She told herself again that she loved working trade shows, and she actually did for the first day or two.

By midweek, the crowd was shifting from those who saw no potential and were leaving early for weekend plans at home to those coming in for the banquet that would wrap the conference up. Most deals were made during the last evening of vendors and clients on their own when the sorting of players and observers had taken place. There was nothing quite like the rush of a deal falling into place after days of exchanging counteroffers.

Sam was close to signing a lease with a computer expert who wanted to spin off on his own to develop highly specialized software for the nuclear industry. Sam knew little about domestic nuclear energy, but she read the confidence and expertise of the man—he was definitely on to something. Sam’s deals were small, but she took great satisfaction in helping a startup business connect with established industry giants. It was all about outsourcing and keeping payrolls lean—perfect circumstances for a small independent company to sell its services. Everything always came down to timing.

Sam noticed the woman passing her booth for the second time that hour—a brunette with a pixie haircut, killer red dress, and fuck-me stiletto heels. She might weigh 120 pounds fully clothed and was just over five feet tall. “I wonder what her business is,” Sam said to herself. The woman carefully looked everywhere along the wide aisle except at Sam.

Sam glanced at her watch. Officially, two more hours to go and the night was hers. She couldn’t wait to change into her bathing suit and soak in the indoor pool and heated Jacuzzi while ordering frothy drinks. Most of her bruising had faded and was unnoticeable except in extremely bright light. She had seen no evidence of KD in the neighborhood before she packed up her displays and clothes and left Richmond for a week at Chicago’s McCormick Place—the Mecca of all trade shows by sheer square footage and number of vendors, not to mention Chicago as a backdrop. She had already taken her computer expert, as she liked to think of him, for a steak dinner and Second City comedy.

The brunette passed Sam’s booth again, this time approaching the table. “You’re from Virginia,” she said as she browsed the business information from the county, state, and chamber of commerce.

“Just outside its capital,” Sam said, extending her hand. “Samantha Moyer, manager of the Chesterfield County business development program.”

The woman nodded. “I’ve read about those, providing shared services to startup companies. Are you in a renovated school or a new building?”

“New,” Sam said, smiling. “We started our program by customizing an industrial shell building.”

The woman nodded. “I’m your competition in South Carolina.”

Sam cringed. South Carolina always seemed to just beat Virginia out in lucrative business attractions, as much as Sam hated to admit it. Virginia was ranked by Forbes as No. 1 for business, but the commonwealth’s Legislature was still conventional enough not to sacrifice as much future revenue as South Carolina was willing to in order to lure new companies.

“Carla Goodwin.” The woman shook hands firmly.

“You don’t sound like you’re from South Carolina,” Sam said.

“Hell, no. Born and raised in upstate New York, college in California, and the most recent job offer in South Carolina. I can drawl with the best when I have to.” The woman grinned, using a fake Southern accent. “I love economic development. I’ve often thought I could make a living just showing up in cities, hinting that I’m searching for a plant site, and taking whatever the locals offer.”

Sam recoiled. “And ruin the possibility of jobs to keep the kids in the communities and cottage industries to keep established companies in the black by a community that’s been burned once and is twice shy?”

Carla waved her hand. “Calm down. I’m just kidding. It’s what I fantasize about when I have to troll these trade shows. I’m on break from our booth. What do you fantasize about?”

Sam considered her response and decided to play it safe. “Warm water to soak my feet in and cold adult beverages.”

Carla nodded. “Good luck with that. It was nice to meet you. I have to pack up our exhibit if I haven’t been lucky enough for someone to cart off most of it while I’ve been gone.”

Sam smiled. So much for that.

The last hour of the show passed quickly. Sam filled her cases and slid the plastic crates underneath the table for the night—thank goodness for the table skirt that hid her mess. This would be her only unscheduled night, and she was looking forward to it. She caught the courtesy bus back to the hotel and stopped in the grille for a large salad. She was in a Kenny Chesney frame of mind by the time she left her room, wearing her swimsuit with the tropical flowers and wrapped with her flamingo beach towel.

Sam ordered a drink from her favorite waiter and headed for the Jacuzzi. She positioned her towel for a pillow on the concrete behind her head and eased into the deliciously warm water.

She had finished her first drink and ordered her second before anyone else came into the water. Sam opened her eyes and saw a familiar pixie haircut.

“It sounded like a good idea. Hope you don’t mind company?” Carla asked, raising her glass in a toast.

Sam reached behind her for her drink and returned the gesture across the water.

“Now what?” Carla asked.

Sam raised her eyebrows. “This is all I had planned for tonight.”

“I’m surprised,” Carla said. “I thought you would be more open to whatever opportunity presented itself.”

Sam inclined her head. “And what opportunity might that be?”

Carla smiled and laughed. “You like everything spelled out, don’t you?”

“I like to know the details of a deal before I commit.”

“No committing here, just mindless pleasure.” Carla crossed the pool and kissed Sam. “How about we go to my room?” She took Sam’s hand in hers. “You’ve soaked long enough to be softened up.”

Sam flushed. Had it been that long since she had truly enjoyed being with another woman. “Lead the way.”

Carla walked up the steps of the pool and handed Sam her towel as she followed. “Don’t want you too wet.”

“It’s too late to worry about that,” Sam said under her breath.

Carla laughed deep in her throat.

Carla’s room was two floors above Sam’s and looked out toward Wrigley Field. Sam whistled as she peered out of the window. “You guys from South Carolina go first class. I overlook the service alley.”

Carla poured drinks and handed Sam a scotch on the rocks.

“This should set well with the piña coladas.” Sam looked at the dark alcohol dubiously.

Carla emptied her glass in one gulp and crossed the room to the bed. She dropped her two-piece suit and slid under the covers, slithering to the far side of the bed. She patted the mattress.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” Sam asked.

“Not when I see what I’m going after. I execute quickly.”

Sam walked to the bed and stepped out of her suit. She reached for the lamp before getting in.

“Leave the lights on,” Carla said.

Sam looked about the room. All three lamps were turned on, as well as the overhead light in the bathroom. “It seems a bit bright.” So much for ambience.

Carla patted the bed invitingly.

Sam shrugged and climbed in. Carla reached into the drawer of the bedside table and handed Sam an object wrapped in a hand towel. She then stretched an arm to the tabletop and tossed Sam a tube. She lay back on the pillow and waited.

Sam knew what was in the towel without looking.

“You don’t have a problem wearing that, do you?” Carla spread her legs invitingly. “It’s the only way I come.”

Sam looked at the strap-on. It wasn’t that she minded, just that she felt a slight betrayal to being a true lesbian while using a male appendage. If that’s what Carla needed, Sam would oblige. Sam couldn’t shake the image of Lisa standing with folded arms and shaking her head at Sam’s exploits.

Sam eased on top of Carla. “I’m not too heavy?”

“Not at all.” Carla pushed down on Sam’s shoulders after another kiss.

Sam took that as a not-too-subtle hint to pay attention to Carla’s breasts. Their tips perked straight up with no sag to the flesh. Oh, boy, Sam thought, boob job. Sam used her tongue and hands, then continued to move down in the bed.

Sam glanced up. Carla stared at the ceiling.

Sam guided the dildo into Carla and pumped her hips. There was no indication of satisfaction or pleasure from Carla. Finally, Carla gripped Sam’s hair and pushed her away. There had been no vocalization, no moans, no moving with Sam. “Was that okay?” Sam asked.

“Oh, yes.” Carla still hadn’t changed position. “Don’t you want me to wear it now?”

“Not really.” Sam lay on her back. Carla rolled to her side and explored Sam’s body, including the flailing strap-on, finally working her fingers like a piston between Sam’s legs. Sam grabbed Carla’s hand. “Easy.” Carla withdrew and rolled to her opposite side.

Sam hadn’t felt this empty since she broke off her last serious relationship and tried a few one-nighters. Sam waited until she heard the gentle rhythm of Carla’s breathing as she slept.

“All righty then.” Sam eased out of bed, stepped out of the strap-on and into her suit, wrapping her towel around her waist. She glanced at the clock showing 9:30 as she drank the last of the scotch.

Sam talked to herself while she waited in the hallway for the elevator. “I should know better by now. What in the hell is wrong with me?  I’m not some lame-ass kid. I was done with one-nighters in my twenties. Sex is nothing without a little romance. Hell, wearing that thing and performing like a rabbit—I might as well be a man.” The prospect of an empty room was the best deal of the day.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sam purposely avoided everyone except the women she worked with after her return from Chicago. There had been no message from Paul. She knew he was still licking his wounds from the breakup with Scott. Only Haley’s truck was at her house, so Sam left well enough alone. Ava’s lights went on and off in their usual schedule. Maybe they all needed to isolate and regroup. November always seemed to make them more introspective with cold rainy days and early evening darkness. Sam was less than thrilled with her approaching forty-fourth birthday, which fell on Thanksgiving. “I’m just going to be an old maid.” She chuckled at the memory of hearing her mother use the expression and thinking house cleaning was involved.

Sam settled into the soft cushions of the sofa with the gas logs in her fireplace on low and the beer in her hand just taken from twenty minutes in the freezer. “Maybe being single isn’t so bad except that I talk to myself, but who’s here to know?” Sam savored the taste of the regular Heineken.

Her doorbell rang.

Sam stared at the front door in disbelief. Whoever stood on her stoop knew she was home, so it was unlikely that she could simply wait them out. Sam set down the beer bottle and took the poker from the fireplace. She held the poker behind her as she opened the front door.

Paul’s daughter stood on the concrete stoop staring at Sam.

“Angela.” Sam didn’t move to open the storm door.

“Sam,” Angela said, “can I come in?”

Sam stopped herself from using her mother’s refrain of “I don’t know, can you” and held the door open. Angela walked in and sat on the end of the L-shaped sofa nearest the fireplace. “Those logs feel so good.” Angela held her hands toward the gas flame.

Again, Sam resisted pointing out that Angela had no idea how the logs felt. “There’s no mess as when burning wood.” Sam sat on the middle of the sofa opposite Angela. “I was having a beer. May I get you a soda or cup of cocoa?”

Angela smiled. “I’m legally old enough to drink.”

“You’re still Paul’s little girl in my eyes. If Paul doesn’t serve you alcohol, I don’t either.”

Angela nodded. “You and my dad are so tight. I wanted to apologize for being such a b-i-t-c-h the last time I saw you.”

“You’re old enough to say bitch, and I’ve been one a few times myself,” Sam said.

Angela grinned, an expression Sam seldom saw on the girl’s face. Sam knew it hadn’t been easy on Paul coming out after he married and fathered a child. Nor had it been easy for Angela to lose a full-time father and live with an extremely bitter mother.

“Do you want a beer?” Sam asked.

Angela shook her head. “Too fattening for me.”

“For me, too, but I’m past the point of worrying about it.” Sam raised her bottle as in a toast.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that. Robbie hates it if I gain a pound,” Angela said, looking about the room.

“Robbie?”

“My boyfriend. We’ve been together almost six months.” The way Angela said it, it might as well have been years. “He may be the one.” She nodded to reassure herself.

“Well, don’t jump in too quick.”

“That from a U-Haul lesbian, please.” Angela frowned. “He’s the other reason I’m here, besides apologizing.”

“Is that so?” Sam set the empty bottle on the coffee table. This was the Angela she knew and didn’t like—a girl who always had an agenda that benefited herself with little effort on her part.

“I’ve had it with my parents. I thought maybe you could help me.”

“How so?” Sam sensed that this was going to be a good one.

“You know I want to stay on at college for another master’s?”

Sam nodded.

“Mom won’t budge on alimony, and Dad won’t pay for an apartment.”

Sam raised her eyebrows.

Angela nodded toward the door leading to the ground level. “You have an empty apartment.”

Sam should have seen it coming; she must be getting old. “That I use for extra income to pay down my mortgage.”

“Please, you don’t need the money.”

“Excuse me?” Sam couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Robbie is a junior. I want us to have our last year in college together. He can afford some toward living expenses, but his folks won’t help pay for an apartment, either. They told him to get a job.” Angela said it as though he had been instructed to fly the shuttle service to the moon.

“Imagine that,” Sam said. “So I’m supposed to let you two live in my basement?”

Angela nodded. It made perfect sense to her. “We both have student loans. We can use money from our parents for groceries.”

“What would you do in exchange for the apartment?”

Angela looked blankly at Sam. “I’m straight.”

Sam choked. “I meant mow the yard, clean the gutters, clean the house, or rake leaves—some type of chore.”

“We don’t have much extra time. Robbie’s in a band. I stay busy on campus to pad my résumé and stay in good with the profs.”

Sam noted no indication of altruism. “So we’re all supposed to compromise ourselves to enable your lack of responsibility?”

Angela blinked, finally catching on that none of her logic was compatible with Sam’s.

Sam watched the realization dawn on Angela. If she let the couple move in, she would have Angela literally underfoot indefinitely. “I’ve made a previous commitment on the apartment.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

“Let me finish. To Haley, in case she needs a place while she and KD separate.”

Angela smirked. “That’s the other thing my dad is so pissed about. He hasn’t told you?”

Sam waited.

“The last time he talked to Scott, Scott told him that KD agreed with going through the court-ordered rehab program as long as Haley doesn’t break up with her. Haley’s giving KD another chance once the rehab is over.”

“Goddamn,” Sam said. “I’m going to kick her in the ass.”

Angela laughed. “That’s what my dad kept saying, that and he couldn’t wait to give you the good news, meaning he wasn’t going to be the one to tell you.”

“So you just decided to do it for him. You’re a little bitch. How much have you been nagging at him while he’s vulnerable after a breakup?” Sam asked.

Angela stared.

“How dare you come here and try to play me, then tell me about KD to get back at me? Stop being a financial drain on your parents just to punish them. Some kids work their way through school. I did. Haley did. Why should your parents foot your bills while you play at being a student? Do you have any real skills to offer an employer? Get a fucking job, Angela, and stop putting your parents through a guilt trip because they divorced. Guess what? Most marriages don’t last. Give your father a break!”

“How in the hell would you know about real marriage—one man, one woman? You’re as screwed up as my dad. Gay people thrive on drama. Dad knew it would never work with Scott. He just wanted to screw up another family like he did us.” Angela jumped to her feet.

“Is that so?”

“You’d think his world has come to an end because he finally realized hunky Scott wasn’t leaving his family for an old fag. At least Scott chose his family. My father owes me for leaving us to live with his first boyfriend. Why shouldn’t he pay for me to live with mine?”

“Get out of my house.” Sam went to the front door and held it open.

“I suppose you’re going to tell my dad all of this?” Angela asked as she slowly walked across the room.

“Why should I? He knows what you are. He tries his best to ignore it. I’m not going to add to his misery. I value him too much, as should you.”

Angela opened the storm door and once in the yard, turned to extend both middle fingers at Sam.

Sam gave her a mock salute and closed the door. Maybe being alone in the world wasn’t that bad after all. How many times had she thought that recently?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sam stared at the flat-screen television in the corner and sighed like a petulant child as she watched the bands assembling for the parade. She hadn’t moved any farther than to reach for the coffee carafe on the table in front of the sofa since seven o’clock that morning.

“I’m comfortable, and I don’t want to go.” She actually felt her lower lip protrude.

Her cell phone rang. She opened the phone but remained silent.

“Get your ass off the sofa,” Paul said as his way of a Thanksgiving greeting. “Oh, and Happy Birthday!”

“Screw you.” Sam didn’t budge. “You guys promised not to mention that.”

Paul laughed. “I guess it’s too early for a ‘bah, humbug.’ Do I know you or what?”

“Smart ass.” Sam sipped the last of her coffee.

“I bet your bladder is about to burst and you’re convincing yourself to go pee,” Paul said.

“It must be nice to know so damn much about someone.” Sam stood and stretched and started to the bathroom. “Want to listen or shall I call you back?”

“God, Sam. Keep moving and get dressed after you pee, will you? Just clean sweats if jeans are too much of an effort. I’ll be at your door in twenty minutes. I want to be at the midpoint of the race to cheer on the main pack since I sponsored several of the runners.”

“Which one do you have designs on?”

Paul hung up on her.

Sam managed comfortable jeans and a cotton sweater over a T-shirt. She combed out her hair and kept a heavy hand on the hair spray to keep it in place. She applied bright red lipstick and stopped short of pinching her cheeks for more color—the cold air would take care of that soon enough.

Paul opened the front door while tapping on the steel panel. “Happy Turkey Day.”

“Not for the turkeys.” Sam walked along the hallway, carrying shoes and socks. “Ta da.” She smiled brightly.

Paul shielded his eyes. “I know that hurts you more than me. You can veg out tomorrow when everyone else goes shopping.”

“Thank you for managing my time.” She sat on the couch and pulled on her heavy white athletic socks.

“Bitch.” Paul didn’t look at her as he watched the formation of the floats in the Macy’s parade.

“Ho!” Sam grunted as she leaned over to tie her shoes. “As in singular and floozy and nothing to do with Santa Claus.”

“I do love the holidays.” Paul hugged himself. “I’m over feeling sorry for myself, and I’m taking you with me.”

Sam finally chuckled. “I know. I can’t believe I let you talk me into going to the 10K to stand on the sidelines and cheer—thank God you’re not a runner. At least we have Ava’s cooking to look forward to afterward. Yum. It’s so sweet of her to insist on making us a proper lunch when she realized we were all at loose ends this year. She knows we’re practically orphans since neither of us is dating this holiday season and who knows about Haley and KD—at least KD’s locked down in rehab. Ava takes pity on us, and I get up in a bad mood about it. You’re right—I’m such a bitch.”

“But we love you anyway.” Paul angled his head. “Nice Skechers.”

Sam extended her leg. “Comfortable, and I love the mix of red and gray.”

Paul glanced at his watch. “I know it’s silly, but I want to check on Ava before we head out. I don’t know how much of the neighborhood is descending on her.”

“I offered to help yesterday, but she refused when I called her at lunchtime,” Sam said.

Ava had a Thanksgiving buffet each year for anyone in their section of the subdivision who didn’t have a home to go to for the holidays. She recruited Sam and Paul to place invitations in the mailboxes on the streets surrounding theirs. She typically set out cheese and crackers, crustless sandwiches, and cookies. Ava’s son stoically bore the floating number of guests as he watched football while making his perfunctory visit. Sam suspected that Ava busied herself with the buffet to keep Don from feeling the pressure of maintaining a long conversation with his mother.

“I wonder where Haley bought dessert.” Sam jangled her car keys. “Just in case we need to make a run to the store for Ava.”

They crossed the yard between the houses. Sam tapped on Ava’s front door. She waited, then tried the knob. “Locked. Weird.”

Paul reached over the door frame for the spare key.

Sam eased the door open and called out to her friend. “Ava?”

The house was silent.

“Uh-oh.” Paul stayed on Sam’s heels as they entered the living room.

Sam went directly to the kitchen, the logical room to find Ava, and took note of no activity on the large stovetop. Buffet items were in neat containers on the counter, ready to plate. She listened and turned toward the office and sunroom.

Ava was nestled in the corner of the sofa in the sunroom, her chin against her shoulder. She jumped slightly when Sam and Paul entered the room and rubbed her neck. “What are you two doing here on a weekday?”

Sam went to the sofa and sat beside Ava. Paul pulled out a chair at the small table.

“Sweetie, it’s Thanksgiving,” Sam said gently.

Ava’s face showed no comprehension.

“How long have you been up?” Paul asked.

“I think I slept here last night.” Ava looked at her clothes. “It’s Thursday?”

Sam felt Ava’s hand—chilled. She looked at Paul. “How about coffee and toast?”

“Coming right up.” Paul returned to the kitchen.

Ava’s face crumbled. “Oh, no. It’s Thanksgiving. I did all the prep work yesterday. Everything’s in the fridge, ready to go in the oven. I sat down last night to rest for just a minute and started watching an old Jimmy Stewart movie on Turner Classics. That’s the last I remember.” She began to sob.

Sam moved closer and put her arm around the small, frail body. “It’s my fault. I should have come over last night and checked on you. A full meal and buffet was way too much work for any one person to do by themselves.”

Paul knelt in front of Ava with a breakfast tray of coffee, toast and jam, and fresh fruit. “Same here. I should have popped in last night and taken some of the food home to cook for you.” He looked to Sam. “Everything’s in the fridge, ready for the stove, just as she said.”

Sam guided the breakfast tray to the sofa cushion. “Let’s get busy. We’ll take it from here, Ava. You rest.” Sam caught herself patting Ava’s shoulder.

“Don’t say anything,” Sam said to Paul under her breath, “or I’ll be crying, as well.”

They worked in tandem, calling out questions to Ava or checking the recipe file on the counter as they worked. Ava made her way into the dining room and cleared the table. “I’m going to put on fresh clothes.” She stared at Sam and Paul. “You won’t tell Donnie, will you?”

Paul looked to Sam.

“Let’s see how the rest of today goes,” Sam said.

Ava glanced down. “How I hate growing old. I don’t feel as though I’m almost eighty. Where did the time go?”

“It passes in a blink, doesn’t it?” Paul said.

“You have every right to be exhausted from all that you did yesterday,” Sam said.

“Are you reassuring me or yourself, dear?” Ava asked. “I’m so sorry that you two walked in on this.” She gestured around the kitchen. “You had plans this morning. I was going to be the big-shot cook—herb-roasted turkey breast, cornbread and oyster dressing, cranberry-orange relish, ambrosia salad, and sweet potato casserole. The buffet things I buy ready-made at the deli.”

Paul rubbed his hands together. “But now I know where the recipes are that I covet each year. I’ve seen the secret ingredients.” He grinned at Ava.

A sad smile spread across Ava’s face. “I’ll leave all my cooking things to you. Don doesn’t care about anything in this house.”

Sam shivered. “That’s not true, Ava. He must have good memories of growing up here.”

“I have an aversion to books and clutter.” Don Jacobs entered the kitchen having silently come in the front door. He was in his late fifties with a pot belly overhanging his belt and thinning hair slicked straight back on his head. His tan was as overpowering as his aftershave.

Paul coughed. “I should have smelled you coming.”

Don glared at Paul. “What happened? Did she forget to cook?” His gaze roved the room. “She didn’t answer the phone last night.”

Sam could swear she heard him calculating the value of the house and contents as she choked back wanting to ask why he hadn’t checked on his mother the previous evening. “Don’t be silly. We’re her sous-chefs. I may finally learn how to cook if Ava doesn’t lose patience with me.”

“I was trying to get out of setting the table for everyone,” Paul said. He held the tablecloth toward Don. “I’ve already piled all the projects in the corner.”

Don set two plastic bags on the butcher’s block. “I brought beer and wine, the extent of my culinary skills.” He continued to eye the others in the room.

“Let’s get out the good dishes.” Ava pointed to the sideboard in the corner of the dining room. “I want to see my wedding china again. We’re a small group since all of us are single this year. The other neighbors who bothered to respond are just stopping in later to munch.”

“And a good time will be had by all,” Paul said quietly as he handed Don a corkscrew and wine glass.

Sam caught Paul by the arm and pulled him into the dining room with her. “Ava, go ahead and dress. Paul and I will handle the dishes.”

“I’ll be in the living room. The pre-game show is on.” Don’s voice faded away.

“No, I don’t care for wine yet,” Paul said to Don’s back.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Ava whispered the words as she hugged first Sam, then Paul. “You two are my real family.”

“By choice,” Sam said.

Haley timed her entry perfectly by accident. She held up the blue box that Sam knew from experience contained an ice cream cake. “Happy we’re-pretending-not-to-remember-your birthday.” She grinned at Sam.

Paul reappeared from the guest bedroom, wheeling a mountain bike carefully into the kitchen. “From all of us.”

“To get you out of the house for exercise,” Haley said.

“I picked out the color,” Ava said. “It was all I could do not to give it a try while we hid it here.”

Paul handed Sam a cherry red helmet.

Sam stared from the bike to each of her friends. She hadn’t received a bright red bike since she was a child. She fleetingly hoped she still had her sense of balance, then didn’t care. If she fell off, she’d keep getting back on—life’s lessons on wheels. “You guys are the best.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sam shivered, pulling the afghan around her shoulders like a cape as she stood. “Okay, so much for economizing. I’m freezing.” She hugged herself as she walked toward the thermostat. The midmorning sun was streaming through the front windows yet making no noticeable difference in how the room felt. 

Virginia’s quirky weather had gone from a seasonably cool Thanksgiving to a frigid December with night temperatures plummeting into the teens. Richmond had also been surprised by a freakish dip of the jet stream that left two inches of snow on the eastern portion of the state while the mountains to the west were clear of precipitation.

The only place Sam was comfortable in her house was between the flannel sheets or within three feet of the gas logs in the living room fireplace.

Sam tapped the electronic thermostat. Her inside temperature registered as fifty-eight degrees.

“Great. The heaters in the ducts must not be working. I’ll ask Haley. This is the only time of year I hate my heat pumps.” Sam returned to the sofa, deciding to tough it out for the weekend and call for a repair Monday. She knew the maintenance guys were swamped that weekend, and it would likely do little good to call now. She also didn’t have the heart to call them out as long as she had some heat.

Sam glanced out the front windows. At least the sun was shining, melting the snow, even if the slush would freeze into ice overnight.

Sam did a double take. What were the colors dotting the yard at Haley’s? Sam walked to the front window and watched as Haley marched out of her house with an armload of clothing and flung it across the yard with the rest.

Sam eased the front door open and stood at the storm door.

“If anybody leaves this house, it’s going to be you. I’ve had enough! I’m sick of being afraid of you. I’m not tiptoeing in my own home any longer. This break we just had showed me how bad things were between us.” Haley stood on the sidewalk, challenging the person still inside the house.

Sam’s chin dropped.

KD strolled out the front door. “You don’t really want me to go. You have to let me come home from rehab. It’s our deal.”

“And you’re already high. That’s not part of our deal. Make arrangements for another place to live. I told you this was our last chance. I felt sorry for you!” Haley walked in a circle. “I’m done with you and your crazy-ass lifestyle and the way you treat me!”

“Baby…”

“Don’t go there.” Haley held up her hand. “It’s too late. Get your shit off my yard and get the hell out of my house. Don’t make me call the police.” Haley’s face was as red as Sam’s hair.

“Holy crap.” Sam reached for her phone and called Paul. “Home run. Home run.” She actually remembered their code. “Get over here. Haley finally found her balls.”

KD ambled out of the house, pulling on a worn black leather biker jacket. “You’ll be calling me, begging me to come back. Don’t wait too long.”

Haley kicked KD in the ass as she walked past her. “I deserve better than you.”

“Uh-oh.” Sam grabbed her coat and dashed out the front door.

Haley glanced in Sam’s direction and held her hand up to stop her. “KD’s leaving on her own.”

“Like hell.” KD rubbed her butt cheek. She picked up the clothing and threw it into the bed of her pickup.

Sam felt like dancing. She stopped on the edge of her yard. She caught sight of Paul sprinting along the street and waved him off.

KD looked at Sam, then Haley. “I’m leaving, but I’ll still keep an eye on you, Haley. You’ll want me back just as you always do. You and I aren’t done.” She glowered at Sam.

Sam couldn’t stop herself from striking a boxing pose.

KD feigned a step in Sam’s direction, then turned to her truck and climbed in. She drove away, extending her middle finger at both women and swerving as though to run Paul down.

Haley leaned forward and placed her hands on her knees. She looked up as Paul and Sam approached. “Well, I finally told her it was time for us to go our separate ways. She talked the rehab center into letting her come home for Christmas, then spent the holiday getting stoned. I refused to lie for her and say she was here and clean, and she started in on me. How do you think it went?” She had the beginnings of a black eye and a welt rising on her cheek.

Sam and Paul jumped in the air for a chest bump.

“Hot damn, girl, when you find your backbone, you do it in a big way.” Paul grinned at Haley.

“Well, I figured if you could finally admit what was going on with Scott, it was time for me to do the same about KD. We both need to get off of self-destruct as far as relationships go.” Haley stood, touching her face gingerly.

“Hallelujah!” Sam put an arm around each of her friends.

Paul’s expression sagged. “You’ve got tough days and worse nights ahead.”

“I know,” Haley said.

“Thank God you came in to the bank last week,” Paul said.

“It was all part of my plan.” Haley grinned and winced.  She looked at Sam’s questioning expression. “I took KD off my bank accounts and changed my safe deposit box—just in case.”

“You devil!” Sam squeezed Haley against her. “You did listen to what Paul and I said to you.”

“I also went to a real estate attorney who explained to me about proof of mortgage payment all those years, as well as paying all the utility bills, giving KD no claim to the house.”

“No shit!” Sam clapped her hands.

“I also have a locksmith scheduled to come out Monday. I’m taking a vacation day to pack everything of KD’s and put it into storage and e-mail her the lock combination. The week between Christmas and New Year’s is always dead at our office.” Haley looked taller.

“I bow to the master.” Sam bent at the waist.

“Free at last,” Paul said.

“Damn right,” Haley said. “I finally just had enough. I wasn’t going to allow her to hit me anymore or mistreat me in other ways. I deserve better!”

“Bravo!” Ava called from her doorway. She motioned them to come to her house.

Ava hugged each one as they came inside. Her living room was toasty warm. “I just made a pot of coffee, and I’ve been saving a bottle Max brought home from Ireland. Who’ll join me?”

All hands went up. Ava chuckled.

“That’s the first time I ever struck anyone,” Haley said. “I didn’t realize how fed up with her I was until she put you in the hospital. I’m so sorry, Sam. Then in a weak, or dumbass, moment, I gave her one last chance, knowing she would likely blow it.” Haley grimaced. “Sorry for the unintentional pun.”

Sam shook off the apology. “Not to worry.”

“I hope Scott can afford to lose the bail he posted for her,” Haley said. “She’s supposed to report in after the first of the year. My guess is that she’ll skip town for a while. She’s already violated the break the judge gave her, and she’s on a tear now.”

“He can’t, but it serves Scott right.” Paul reached up and took the tray from Ava. He poured coffee for everyone, adding Irish whiskey before handing each woman a cup. “I feel as though I have a harem.”

“And you love it,” Sam said.

Paul nodded and tasted his coffee. “I could get used to this,” he said to Ava.

Sam raised her cup slightly for a toast. “Good riddance to this past year. Maybe next year we’ll all meet the loves of our lives.”

“Or be reunited with them,” Ava said as she looked at the photograph on the mantel of the Army Air Corps pilot.

They tapped cups, careful not to spill any.

“It can’t get any better for me,” Ava said, “because I have you three and you’re all I need. But I’m willing to bet there’s just a little romance in store for each of you next year.”

They all savored the coffee and Ava’s prediction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sam felt like banging her head against the surface of her desk. She hated working on the annual departmental budget. It seemed a bit too Scroogish that the draft numbers were due to the county’s board by the end of the calendar year. She couldn’t shake the background noise of chains rattling.

Her work was such a crapshoot. It would be too easy for county officials to look at the business incubator as an easy place to trim funds since nonessential services were provided. But her job was also akin to the “trickle-down” effect. If free support services and reduced rents weren’t dangled, new companies would locate in the counties farther west where the taxes were lower. No new companies meant no increase in business license tax or employment, especially when a grateful startup graduated to a stand-alone site. No increase in tax base or employment meant a tighter budget.

“Arghh!” Sam threw her pencil against the wall. She immediately reached for a fresh Ticonderoga from the can on her desk.

“You flip that into the ceiling tile, and I’ll put you over my knee.” Kelly stood in the doorway to Sam’s office. She glanced down at her Timex Ironman watch. “You’re working late tonight.”

Sam glanced at the clock on the wall and couldn’t believe it was almost nine o’clock. “Shit, where does the time go when you’re not having fun?”

“Have you had any fun at all lately?” Kelly leaned against the doorjamb.

Sam motioned her to come into the office. She pointed at a side chair facing her desk. “Have a seat.”

Kelly came in but sat on the corner of the desk closest to Sam. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Sam grinned. “Well, make yourself at home.”

Kelly chuckled. “What’s going on with you?”

“That’s right. We haven’t had a chance to talk lately.” Sam put her hand on Kelly’s thigh and gave her a squeeze. “Haley finally kicked KD out on her fat ass.”

“No way.” Kelly leaned slightly forward. “I thought KD was supposed to be a guest of the state for a while.”

Sam’s gaze dropped to the open buttons of Kelly’s shirt. She forced her gaze upward. “Way. Dumbass was released early and immediately got wasted, then showed up at Haley’s. Haley threw out KD’s clothes, then made her leave. I haven’t seen KD’s truck making the circuit of the subdivision but once. Haley thinks she’ll tuck tail and leave town before she’s to report back to the judge.”

“Good for Haley. She’ll have the girls lining up to call her and ask her out. I’ll put the word out in my crowd,” Kelly said.

“How about you? Haley’s a cutie. You’re just her type.” Sam asked the question for her sake, as well as Haley’s.

Kelly shook her head. “I’m not into trolling for someone just coming out of a long-term relationship. Maybe a few months from now if Haley hasn’t already moved someone else in.”

Sam nodded. “She says she wants to take a break, keep dating very casual if she goes out at all, and not rush into anything.”

“We all say that,” Kelly said.

“And usually don’t mean it.” Sam pointed to herself.

“I heard that.”

Sam ran her hand up and down Kelly’s well-muscled thigh, then forced herself back to the conversation. “Paul broke off his relationship with Scott. He finally admitted that he had allowed himself to be strung along, knowing Scott wouldn’t leave his family. He seems to be doing really well with being alone.”  Sam shook her head. “I think I’ve been a bad influence on my friends—we’re all single.”

“Some of us by choice,” Kelly said. “Good for Paul. Being strung along is only okay when both parties are willing to do the stringing.”

Sam swallowed. “What are you willing to do?”

Kelly reached over and lightly stroked Sam’s cheek. She slipped off the corner of the desk and knelt before Sam’s chair. She straightened up and pulled Sam to her for a long, deep kiss.

Sam leaned back in her chair. “Remind me why we decided we weren’t right for each other?”

Kelly sat back on her heels and laughed. “Because I’m too blue collar to your white collar. I’m a redneck and you’re a solid femme citizen. You’re still not comfortable with business casual, and I’d just as soon wear jeans and a T-shirt when I have to wear clothes.”

Sam felt herself flush at the memory of Kelly in no clothes.

“Ha! Made you think about me, didn’t I?” Kelly leaned forward, placing a hand on each arm of Sam’s chair.

“Damn hormones,” Sam said.

“I can take care of that.” Kelly dropped her hands to Sam’s knees. She gently pushed Sam’s legs apart and moved her body between Sam’s legs, forcing Sam’s skirt to rise. She reached up and unbuttoned Sam’s Oxford shirt. “Nice.” Kelly looked appreciatively at the front-hook pink bra.

Sam pulled Kelly to her and ran her hand inside Kelly’s work shirt as she kissed her. Kelly’s breasts were small and firm, a novelty to Sam when she looked at her own.

“I take it you’re not dating anyone,” Kelly whispered in Sam’s ear.

“Turd.” Sam pinched Kelly’s nipple through the Jockey undershirt.

“You know I like that.” Kelly reached up Sam’s skirt and found panty hose and panty waistbands. Sam lifted herself up slightly in her chair as Kelly rolled down both layers all the way to Sam’s ankles. Kelly reached under Sam’s skirt and explored with her fingers.

Sam grasped Kelly’s shoulders, willing her to plunge deep into her.

Kelly teased and explored, then lowered her face to Sam’s clit.

Sam rode the woman until she came slightly twice. Kelly opened Sam’s bra and sucked her nipples as she entered her with her fingers again.

Sam leaned back in her chair and let everything go, feeling only what Kelly aroused in her. She climaxed in one big burst of sensation that hit her from head to toe.

Sam looked at the ceiling, closing her eyes. Kelly rested her head in Sam’s lap, giving her a chance to come back to herself.

“Damn, you don’t waste any time,” Sam said.

Kelly leaned back as Sam kicked off shoes and undergarments. Sam stood and pulled Kelly to her feet. She spun Kelly around against the wall and pulled her shirt wide open, then unzipped her pants.

Sam needed to taste and feel Kelly’s breasts. She pulled the neck of Kelly’s undershirt lower. How Sam loved women’s bodies and making love to women whether prolonged or like rapid fire when the chemistry was right. She ran her hand into Kelly’s pants and moaned at how wet Kelly was. She brought her hand to her mouth for a quick taste, then worked her fingers until Kelly pushed at her to stop. Sam kissed each nipple before backing away one step. She enfolded Kelly in a tender hug, nuzzling her neck and running her hands over Kelly’s back and bottom.

“God, I wish passion was enough.” Kelly was short of breath as she spoke.

“I’d hate to ruin excellent sex by dating,” Sam said simply.

“Amen to that.” Kelly righted her clothes, then hooked Sam’s bra for her, adjusting her breasts in the cups. “Whew, I could start all over again just from helping with your bra.”

“We’d end up fucking all night and have to explain ourselves to Tambor in the morning.”

Kelly did her best imitation of Tambor’s offended look. She started giggling and Sam joined. They soon collapsed against each other, exhausted from laughing so hard.

“Well, that put us in perspective,” Sam said. “I’m just so damn comfortable with you.”

Kelly nodded. “I stopped to see you for a reason. I really didn’t know about Haley ending things, but I’ve seen KD downtown.”

Sam raised one eyebrow.

“Don’t do that, you’ll have me started on you again.” Kelly went to the side chair and sat before Sam’s desk.

Sam returned to her executive chair. “I’ll sleep well tonight.” She sighed. “You were saying?”

“I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I saw KD in a butch bar downtown, across the Manchester Bridge. She was drinking and snorting.”

Sam grimaced.

“Don’t start about where my buddies hang out.” Kelly put her feet up on Sam’s desk. “I’m clean. I intend to keep my job, and I do on occasion have to pee in a cup.”

Sam held her hands up in submission.

“KD didn’t see me, so I know she wasn’t blowing air up my skirt, so to speak.”

Sam started to speak.

Kelly continued quickly. “KD is pissed off big-time with you and talking revenge. She may leave town for a while to avoid the court date, but she’ll come back. You’d better be looking over your shoulder.”

“She won’t risk coming back to Virginia if she blows off a judge,” Sam said.

Kelly shook her head. “That’s exactly why she’ll show up again. She’s one crazy, mean bitch.”

Kelly looked at her watch. “Go home or you’ll miss your eleven o’clock news fix.”

Sam fanned herself. “So much for afterglow.”

Kelly chuckled as she started out of Sam’s office. She called over her shoulder, “You’re so full of shit.”

Sam watched Kelly walk away and wished not for the first time that they could work as a couple.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It wasn’t that Sam regretted going to her boss’s New Year’s Eve open house so much as it emphasized her lack of a significant other. “Oh, Lord, don’t start using that term,” Sam whispered to herself as she drove carefully across Richmond. She had nursed a single beer all evening and was more on the lookout for someone else’s driving after a party rather than being concerned about her own ability.

 “Significant other—sheesh.” Sam had decided long ago that whispering to herself wasn’t as bad as talking aloud to herself.  Asking Kelly to go with her was out of the question. If nothing else, Kelly had a full agenda of parties to drop in on. To add insult to injury, Sam’s boss and his wife had given her a midnight hug and pat on the back.

 Sam turned into the subdivision from Route 60 and saw no other cars moving. She looked ahead along Paul’s street when she slowed at the intersection to turn onto her own. Paul’s house was dark. He was bar hopping downtown and hoping to strike it lucky. “For God’s sake, just be safe, my friend.” This she said aloud so that it would count in its full ability to ward off anything bad happening to Paul.

Sam stared at Haley’s house before pulling into her own driveway. She caught a glimmer of light between closed blinds from a flickering television screen. Only Haley’s truck was parked in her driveway. “Good for you with being okay to stay in and by yourself tonight.” This, too, Sam said aloud. “Happy New Year, buddy.”

Sam stopped in her driveway, forgoing the squealing of the overhead door track. Just as she was about to open her door, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the passenger window. Sam glanced about for a weapon—all her emergency equipment was in the trunk. “Not so smart,” she whispered.

Sam opened her door with cell phone in hand and continued scanning the area beyond her car. She froze when she saw a tiny figure in a robe. “Ava?”

“Oh, excuse me, have you seen Newman? I must find him before Donnie comes in from his date.” Ava walked slowly and in an erratic pattern.

Sam wracked her brain. Newman? She stopped as she rounded the front of her car. Ava had once shown her a photograph of a husky with penetrating blue eyes that Max had given Don for his tenth birthday.

“I let him out to do his business, and he hasn’t returned. Donnie can’t sleep unless Newman is on the foot of his bed.” Ava peered in the direction of the houses across the street and tried to whistle. “I never could do that.” She shrugged.

Sam quickly did the math—Ava was forty years in her past. “Who am I, Ava?”

Ava stopped and squinted in Sam’s direction. She frowned. “I thought you were one of Donnie’s teachers.” It was more of a question than an answer.

“Why don’t you come inside with me?” Sam walked toward Ava. “I’m sure Newman is fine. He wouldn’t want you to catch a chill looking for him. Maybe he’s with Donnie. We’ll call and ask him.”

“You can do that?” Ava’s worried expression lifted.

“You bet. I know how to reach Donnie. I’m a friend of his.” Sam guided Ava to the front door of her house.

“You’re awfully sweet. He ought to be out with you.” Ava shivered. “I’m cold.”

Sam rubbed Ava’s arms and shoulders as she led her to the sofa. She took the afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around Ava. “I’ll make us a cup of cocoa.”

“Donnie will enjoy that when he gets home.” Ava rocked gently on the couch.

Sam went to the kitchen and turned the ever ready kettle of water on to boil. She used the number for Don programmed into her cell phone.

“Jacobs.” The voice was neither slurred nor happy to receive his first phone call of the year.

“Don, it’s Samantha Moyer. I just came in and found your mother disoriented and wandering in her yard. I’ll stay with her the rest of the night but thought you ought to know.”

“I can be there in fifteen minutes.” His tone actually softened, surprising Sam.

“I think it would be a shock to her to see you my age instead of the teenager she’s expecting home. I’ll put her to bed and you can see how she is in a few hours. It’s your call. She’s not in any pain and there’s no compromise of speech or body that I can see.” Sam gave him time to think.

“Her mind’s getting worse. None of us wants to discuss it,” Don finally said. “Surely you’ve noticed.”

Sam glanced into the living room. Ava had settled into the corner of the sofa and dozed off. “Yes. I chalked it up to being almost eighty.”

“I’ll be there at eight. I’ll bring breakfast. Thank you.” Don disconnected.

Sam made two cups of cocoa and returned to the living room. Ava opened her eyes but didn’t move and motioned the cup away.

“I was outdoors and not myself, wasn’t I, Sam?” Ava asked.

Sam nodded, relieved to be recognized.

“I’ve been able to hide it longer than I thought.” She glanced about her house. “What will become of all my books? What will I do without them?” She spoke of the hardbacks as the lifelong friends they were.

“Don’t worry about that now. Don is coming over in the morning. You two will talk through this.” Sam shuddered at the thought of anyone having to sort through Ava’s belongings.

“I’ve had a good life. The good and the bad balanced, actually tipped in the direction of good. I still want more time, though. Is that greedy?” Ava’s eyes filled with tears.

“Good heavens, no. Have you told your doctor about these spells?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been on Aricept for six months. Don knows. That’s why I’ve practiced so much on you, Haley, and Paul. I wanted to be able to reassure Don that the medicine was working and I could live on my own. It’s very mild Alzheimer’s. Of course, that’s akin to thinking yourself a little pregnant.” Ava sat upright and took the cup of cocoa to sip. “Delicious.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked gently.

“I didn’t want you worrying about me any more than you already do, child. I also didn’t want you analyzing my every movement and word.” Ava took a deep breath. “I’m very tired.”

“I’ll help you to bed.” Sam set her cup on the coffee table and waited for Ava to finish.

“I want you to do something for me.” Ava waited after she stood to make sure she had her balance.

“Anything.”

“You are too caring a person to be alone, Sam. The right one is there in front of you if you will stop chasing every skirt that lifts in your direction or pair of hiking boots that catches your eye.”  Ava held on to Sam’s arm.

“Ava!”

Ava chuckled. “You know what I mean. Quality of life is everything. Quality of love is just as important. Think about that and choose your next woman friend accordingly.”

“You make it sound so simple. How is it that you’re so smart and I’m not?” Sam escorted Ava to her bedroom.

“You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you?” Ava winked as Sam held the blanket up for her to slide into bed.

“I’ll be on the sofa. Thanks for giving me something else to think about instead of sleeping.” Sam tucked the covers around the small, frail body.

“Sweet dreams, dear. You know I love you like a daughter.” Ava cupped Sam’s face in her hand when Sam bent to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Sam could no longer contain her tears as she returned to the living room. She could not lose Ava.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sam was proud of herself. So far each weekday of this year, she had arrived at work less than an hour early and stayed no more than an hour late. She spent evenings and weekends at home and stayed productively busy. She organized kitchen cabinets and bedroom closets, resulting in considerable donations to Goodwill. She exercised. She read. She talked to Haley and Paul by telephone. She dropped in on Ava in person each day at varying times. She watched quality television. She did not, however, troll on the Internet.

“He keeps telling me that his teacher has it in for him,” Tambor said as she turned off her computer.

“Go. I understand,” Sam said without glancing up from her desk.

“I couldn’t get an appointment after five.” Tambor stood in Sam’s door with car keys in hand.

“You’re only leaving two hours early. Enjoy it and don’t show it on your time sheet. Take Deuce out to dinner afterward.” Sam looked up. “Nothing is more important than your son. Any problem at school had best be worked out quickly now before it escalates. Middle school is when classes and permanent records start to take a real toll on what he’ll do after he graduates.”

Tambor nodded. “I don’t remember grade school being so intense.”

“Hell, I remember playing marbles. Try telling that to your son if you want to see him roll his eyes.” Sam waved Tambor off.

“Hope you didn’t lose all of them.” Tambor laughed as she left the building.

“No, my marbles are safely saved in a glass jar for display.” Sam found her place in the business plan she was reviewing from a possible tenant. Something about it looked too cookie cutter. There must be a new Web site for fill-in-the-blank forms for businesses. Sam heard the thump of the double front doors. “I thought I told you to go already.”

“Well, I just got here.” A woman who was not Tambor answered. Her response was accompanied by a boy’s giggle.

“I’m so sorry.” Sam quickly stood and walked around her desk toward the front office of the building that doubled as a foyer, as well as admin and reception. She stopped short in the doorway of her office.

Lisa looked at Sam and burst out laughing. “That just about sums up how I feel about seeing you here. Please tell me you’re just visiting.”

At Lisa’s side was a barely teen boy with blond hair and brown eyes whose head already reached above Lisa’s shoulder. He was rapidly making his way through the magazines on the circular coffee table. “No good ones, Mom.”

Sam mentally steeled herself not to argue with Lisa. “It’s my job to manage this facility. Are you two lost?” She sounded a little too hopeful. “Who might this be with you?”

Lisa drew the boy in front of her and placed a hand on each shoulder. “This is Alex, my youngest. Thirteen. Knows everything. We stopped on our way to a movie and dinner. His dad’s taking his older brother to an away basketball game, so I have a bonus weeknight with him.” Lisa managed not to laugh at Sam again. “I’m here on purpose. One of my patients told me about this place and how helpful it is for anyone who has a small business idea.”

Sam relaxed. “That’s the best kind of advertising for us.” She angled her head. “Truce? I’m actually fairly good at my job.”

Lisa extended her hand. “Absolutely.”

Sam held out her hand to Alex. “I’m Sam.”

“She’s Ms. Moyer.” Lisa frowned at Sam.

“I’m going outside, Mom.” Alex made it sound like a statement rather than asking permission.

“Five minutes,” Lisa said. She removed her coat.

“You want to start your own business?” Sam waited until Alex was through the doors.

Lisa looked around and sat down at one of the chairs at the low, round table in the reception area. She glanced at the scattering of business magazines. “I didn’t know there were such publications. Yes, I want to start a part-time business and see if I can eventually go full time with it.”

Sam sat opposite Lisa and waited for her to continue.

“No wisecracks?” Lisa asked.

“I’m not quite as much of a smart ass when I’m not nervous about being in an ER with me or one of my friends hurt.” Sam was surprised by how much she wanted Lisa to be impressed with the business incubator.

“I heard that,” Lisa said. “I’m burned out at the hospital. Ten years in trauma is longer than most people last.”

Sam nodded.

Lisa took a deep breath. “I love to cook. I’m self-taught. I became hooked on haute cuisine when I started watching all the shows on the Food Network. I’ve done a little catering on my downtime—just meals for patients or parties for friends. Everyone always raves about the food. Even my exes tell me I ought to cook for a living.” She waited for a reaction.

“I know that decent, affordable caterers are hard to find,” Sam said. She would not rise to the easy barb.

“My idea for a business isn’t exactly catering.” Lisa leaned forward. “I think there’s a genuine need for someone who prepares good, healthy meals. Meals that could be picked up by professionals on their way home or delivered to someone shut-in from age or illness. Meals that are tailored for an age group or health restriction.”

“Kind of a healthy gourmet-to-go?” Sam asked.

“Exactly.”

Alex returned on time and sat in the chair closest to Lisa. “I like to cook, too. Mom lets me experiment.”

“Good for you,” Sam said. She looked at Lisa and winked. “Years from now, the women in his life will thank you.” There was nothing effeminate about the boy.

“He treats it as a science project. He’s actually the one who got me started. We began cooking together to help him understand dry measurements. We realized we had found something we both enjoyed doing together under his dad’s watchful eye.”

“Mom!”

“His brother calls him little Bobby Flay.” Lisa rubbed his head. “I won’t be able to do that much longer. He’ll be too tall.”

“I think you have a great idea. Sign me up.” Sam was serious. “How far along are you with a startup loan, or do you have investors? Have you put together a business plan?”

Lisa shook her head. “I don’t even know what a business plan looks like. It was my New Year’s resolution to get my ass in gear, find out what’s involved in starting a business, and do something before the end of the year.”

Sam stood and motioned Lisa and Alex to follow her to the conference room. Just inside the door was half a wall of brochures. Sam skimmed the titles and picked out several. “Okay. The first thing you need to do is call back tomorrow when Tambor is here and sign up for a Business 101 class. It walks you through market research and business plans.” She handed Lisa the accompanying brochure. “This will come later, but you might want to skim it now. The state has several loan programs in place. This is one time being a woman really helps.” Sam handed her another pamphlet. “And this is about us. The layout of the building, our bylaws, how we set rents, and the services we provide.”

The door from the main building opened into the conference room. “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” Olivia Holland breezed into the room and looked over her bifocals at Sam and Lisa. She raised her eyebrows. “You best watch those services. Don’t kiss on the first date and be dumped like I was.” She looked Lisa up and down. “Drop in and see me next time you’re here alone.” She went to the signup sheet on the cork board and penciled in a meeting on the schedule. “Have fun, girls. Young man.” She closed the door behind her.

“I don’t think so,” Lisa said.

Sam sputtered, trying to give a reasonable explanation. “It was just dinner and what she considered a kiss.”

Alex processed the exchange and returned to the marketing brochure for the incubator’s tenant that wrote software applications for NASA. “This is way cool.”

Lisa held a hand up toward Sam. “I don’t want to know. It’s none of my concern. Let’s stay on track and keep what’s between us strictly business.”

Sam nodded. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Lisa tucked her chin and raised her eyes to look at Sam.

“You weren’t the only one who made a New Year’s resolution,” Sam said. “I’m focusing on work and not forcing a relationship just because I want to be in one.”

“Good for you.” Lisa returned to the reception area. “Dating is tough,” she said as she put her coat on.

“Mom knows about that,” Alex said. He grinned at his mother. “She always picks losers.”

Lisa pushed him toward the exit.

“Working and running a small business will be all the commitment she’ll have time for, other than you,” Sam said.

Lisa looked at Sam intently. “I think we’ll survive. Thanks for your help. You’ve definitely given me what I came looking for today.”

Sam handed Lisa two business cards. “Call Tambor and sign up for a class. If you have any questions about the information I gave you, call me and I’ll gladly help you.”

Lisa tucked the brochures in her tote bag and waved as she left the building.

Sam hummed as she returned to her desk and watched Lisa drive away. “Two boys,” Sam said, shaking her head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sam tapped her fingernails against the Nissan’s steering wheel. She held her hand up and looked—time for a trim again. She admired long fingernails on others but detested more than a sixteenth of an inch of nail above her own fingertips. It had nothing to do with being a lesbian. She simply found nail in conflict with fingertip worrisome.

She had decided to leave work early and run errands. There had finally been a break in January’s cold that allowed her to venture outside in a blouse and coat without intervening layers. She intended to enjoy the false spring-like temperature that was in sharp contrast to the dormant landscaping everywhere.

Sam glanced in her rearview mirror as she slowed to turn in at her bank. A boxy white sedan mimicked her turn but pulled into a parking space rather than queue up in the drive-thru lane. Sam cashed the refund check she wasn’t sure why she had received from her insurance company. It was a nuisance to deal with but enough to pay for her lunch.

Sam sighed as she returned to the heavy flow of traffic. She wasn’t the only one who had taken an afternoon off. Where to indulge in too many calories was the next dilemma. What was it about a Big Mac that appealed so to her taste while at the same time giving her nutritional chills? She ordered water rather than a milkshake and felt slightly virtuous.

Sam looked up as she juggled opening the box to grab the hamburger while waiting to rejoin traffic. Again, a boxy white car was behind her. Sam stared—a Crown Vic. She drove toward the post office, gave a signal to turn, and watched the signal flash on the white car. She sped up. The big Ford stayed a car length off her bumper.

“Uh-oh,” Sam said. Her gaze darted between front windshield and rearview mirror, checking the car shadowing her as she ate and made several right turns onto side streets. She didn’t lose the white Ford.

“Okay, I’ve had enough.” Sam signaled and pulled to the shoulder of an older subdivision three blocks over from Route 60. She opened the door and stood, brushing sesame seeds off her coat as the white car pulled in behind her.

Sam walked directly to the driver’s window, peering at the figure through the windshield. To her surprise and relief, it wasn’t KD.

The window rolled down.

Sam bent over. “May I ask why you’re following me?”

The driver was a woman in her mid-thirties with short brown hair obviously cut by a barber, rectangular eyeglasses, and a square face. “I was worried about you. You haven’t responded to any of my messages on Match lately.”

Sam inwardly groaned. “I haven’t been on Match this year. Doesn’t my account show as inactive?”

“But you’ve always answered me within a few days before. I’m Beverly Leavitt—Bevgun. I’m the deputy from Lexington.” The woman smiled, revealing a wide gap between her two front teeth. Sam thought of the old photos of Amelia Earhart.

“Good heavens. I haven’t sent you anything since last fall.” Sam backed away as Beverly opened her door and stood to face Sam. Sam was unnerved to look up at a woman slightly taller than herself. “How did you find me?”

Beverly hooked her thumbs in the waist of her jeans. Sam had a vision of a uniform and Sam Browne utility belt. “It wasn’t difficult. You identified living in the metro Richmond area, and there aren’t that many business incubators in the state. I found your full name on the county’s Web site and looked you up through newspaper articles.”

“Aren’t you just a Ted Bundy?” Sam shivered.

“So how about hanging out the rest of the afternoon and going to dinner with me tonight? I took a chance on driving over the mountains on my day off.” Beverly leaned casually against the door of the car so that she was on eye level with Sam.

Sam crossed her arms. “Beverly, I’ve already told you I’m not interested in a distance relationship.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re dating someone else. That’s okay. I don’t expect you to be exclusive until you get to know me a lot better.” She winked.

Sam stepped back. “You’re not listening. It’s my own fault for trying to be polite instead of blunt. I answered your messages as a courtesy. I’m not interested in dating you.”

Beverly stood to her full height, giving up on flirting. “So I’m not good enough for you. I’ve seen your house and where you work. So what if I still live at home and only work part time? I’m a catch.”

Sam held up her hand. “Okay, that’s way too much information. Now you’re just creeping me out. Get in your car, drive safely home, and leave me alone.”

Beverly began to protest. A silver minivan slowed in passing with the driver gawking as she turned into a driveway two houses down the street.

Sam stared at Beverly. “No means no. Do not come here and cause me problems. You will be on the opposite end of a restraining order than is usual for you. Do you want that showing up on your record?”

“Bitch! You wouldn’t.” Beverly returned to the driver’s seat.

“I most certainly would.” Sam glanced deliberately at the license plate of the Crown Vic. “I don’t want to see you or this vehicle near me again.”

Beverly jammed the stick into reverse, backed up, and stomped the accelerator as she pulled into the driving lane.

Sam smiled wanly at the woman who had paused to watch the drama playing out on the street after removing her toddler from the safety seat of the minivan.

“Sorry,” Sam said, waving as she quickly returned to her car. She glanced back and saw the little girl waving back as her mother pulled her toward the house.

Sam muttered to herself. “Is it a gift or a curse to attract all the wrong women? I didn’t even go out with that one and she pulled the crazy shit on me I’ve come to expect after a first date.” Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter. “No more Internet singles for me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sam had always enjoyed teaching, whether it was working with eager business students at the area high schools or wary entrepreneurs who held day jobs. This was the first night of what showed on the incubator’s business plan as a third-quarter class—she had learned to start in early February, giving a thirty-day grace period to the holidays and end-of-year closeouts.

She leaned against the single table at the front of the room as she looked about the training room, smiling as she made eye contact with the adults filling the seats at the tables. The room was large enough to position a course notebook and goody bag at every other seat and still accommodate the full contingency of thirty students.

Sam knew from the start that the group was too large, but she preferred the dynamics of interaction between many students to drawing out discussions from a small group. The signups covered a broad spectrum from those in retirement seeking yet another career to those fresh out of college who had been unable to get on with an area employer.

Sam watched each new arrival. She was on edge not about the curriculum but about one of the last students to complete an application. Now to see if she actually showed up. Sam watched the faces of those who immediately opened the bulging notebook and thumbed through all the pages.

Sam caught sight of spiked blond hair and forced herself not to grin like a teenager with a bad crush. The only seats remaining were in the middle of the room. Sam looked at her wristwatch, then skimmed the room, noting only one empty setting. “We’ll begin on time.” She waited for the room to quiet down. “You’re adults. Come and go as needed, just try to do so quietly, please. I know the first priority for most of you is being dismissed on time, so we’ll do a full hour—one lesson—before taking a fifteen-minute break, then come back for the second half of class to have you out on time. I’ll stay as late as anyone needs and answer individual questions afterward. Try to limit questions during class to broad issues that affect everyone.” She was pleased to see chins bobbing.

“If you’ve looked at your notebook, you can see that our course work is in sixteen divisions—evaluating potential of your idea, writing business plans, organization of companies, managing employees, licenses, insurance, bricks and mortar, financing, accounting practices, e-commerce, franchises, international sales, marketing, communicating, expansion, and home-based businesses.” Sam ticked off topics on her fingers. “Was that sixteen?”

“Whew!” There was a comedian in the front row. Chuckles rippled across the room.

Sam nodded. “Exactly. This is an intensive eight-week course. We hit the ground running tonight. You’ll be expected to keep up with the assignments. We have a computer lab here in the building for our tenants that you will have access to. Included in the bag beside your notebook, once you get past pens and pads I coerce from local companies, is my business card. Call me if you have questions or issues between classes.” She leaned forward on the podium. “I know this material. I want you to learn it and put it into everyday practice as you operate a successful business.”

“What’s the failure rate for startup small businesses?” Again, from the front row.

“With or without a course such as this?” Sam said. She waited for the chuckles to subside. “That’s why this class is so important. You can avoid the easy mistakes, and frankly, if you can’t make it through an eight-week class, you likely don’t have the dedication to keep a small business operating profitably.” Sam paused for comments. “Let’s get started.”

Throughout the first hour, Sam tried to keep her eyes toward the front or back rows, avoiding Lisa. She couldn’t help herself from an occasional look at the woman. Lisa was into the material, writing furiously in her notebook, as well as on a pad of grid paper from a local engineering group.

Sam thought Lisa’s idea for gourmet meals for professionals and shut-ins was a winner. She knew of several similar franchises, but none had ventured into the Richmond area so far. She also suspected that the personalization based on Lisa’s medical background would be a successful draw. Sam hoped for Ava’s sake that Lisa would start her business soon.

The break sent most of the women in search of the restroom and the men to the hallway with cell phones.

Lisa finished the last of her jotting and looked up at Sam. “Damn, woman, how do you go nonstop like that without notes?”

Sam smiled. “Years of practice and passion for what I do.”

Lisa nodded. “That much is obvious.” She dropped the pen, shaking the cramps from her hand as she leaned back in the chair. “I have to admit I’m impressed.”

Sam blushed. She took a long drink from her water bottle.

“That makes me thirsty. I’ll be right back.” Lisa grinned and left the room.

It was a good sign that everyone returned. Even the empty seat was filled when they resumed class.

Sam repeated the hourlong process. “By next week, I want each of you to have a draft of a business plan. That plan will evolve as we go along and be the final assignment that you hand in to earn your certificate. There are examples online, but remember those are only models. Class dismissed, drive safely. You guys have been excellent tonight. Don’t be overwhelmed.”

Sam felt sorry for the majority of the class because they would not be successful, at least not with their first business idea. They left the room stunned, talking quietly to one another. This was no course to sleep through.

Again, Lisa stayed behind. “You weren’t kidding. You purposely make this a tough class.”

Sam shrugged. “Guilty. What’s that old expression—have to separate the wheat from the chaff.”

“How about piss or get off the pot?” Lisa said.

“Don’t be discouraged.” Sam gathered her books.

Lisa blew air between her lips. “I’m not. Just the opposite. This is all fascinating. I’ve been bumming old business mags that the docs leave lying around their waiting rooms. Starting a business is a whole different world from practicing medicine.”

Sam smiled. “I think your timing is perfect.”

Kelly stopped in the doorway of the classroom. “How about my timing?” She held up her flashlight. “May I walk you ladies to your vehicles? You’re the last two in the building.”

Lisa looked over her shoulder as she gathered her materials and filled her tote bag. She turned back to Sam and raised her eyebrows.

“Lisa Ramey, this is Kelly Haskins, our security guard and handy woman,” Sam said, dropping her gaze from Lisa’s. “I just have to stop by my office for my coat and briefcase.”

Lisa nodded to Kelly as she passed by her.

“My pleasure.” Kelly observed Lisa from behind and gave Sam a wink, then swept her arm toward the hall and waited for Sam to walk with Lisa toward the front of the building.

Lisa lowered her voice. “Spend a lot of late nights here at work?” She asked Sam the question already knowing the answer.

Kelly chuckled and spoke before Sam could respond. “Late nights but not what I consider work involved.”

Sam shot a look over her shoulder, trying to silence Kelly.

Lisa didn’t slow her pace. “Why am I not surprised?”

Kelly leaned close to Lisa’s ear. “Oh, I’m full of surprises. That’s why Sam doesn’t get tired of me like all the others. How long have we been staying late, Sam, on and off for almost two years?”

Sam stopped so that Kelly ran into her as Lisa continued alone. “Stop it right now!” In trying to keep her voice low, she hissed the words at Kelly.

Kelly shrugged. “I’m jealous.”

“Bite me.” Sam held up her hand to stop Kelly’s easy retort. Sam double-timed to catch up with Lisa. “Sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about?” Lisa paused in the reception area as Sam continued to her office. Her hand beat Kelly’s to the push bar on the door. “I can manage,” Lisa said to Kelly.

“I bet you can.” Kelly pushed through the other door. “I’ll wait outside where it’s not so chilly.” She faked a shiver.

Lisa looked at Sam as she put her coat on. “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry about. You like to play around. I get it. You don’t let a woman cross your path without hitting on her. You’re so busy sampling everything that you don’t savor anyone. I bet you think fast food is the best meal in town.” Lisa threw up her free hand. “I can’t believe I almost fell for it. When am I going to learn to trust my first instincts about someone?” She entered the air lock between pairs of doors. “I can find my own damn car if you two have better things to do,” she said to Kelly.

“See you next week,” Sam said as Lisa stalked away. “I hope,” she said to herself. “You,” she jabbed her finger into Kelly’s shoulder, “pushed me too far tonight.”

Kelly aimed her flashlight at Sam’s car. “But you always know where to find me when that need comes over you again, don’t you, sweetie?” Kelly locked the doors as Sam walked away.

Sam wished Kelly was wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Sam still hadn’t shaken feeling like a heel by the weekend. She had spent the balance of the week going through the motions of her job and avoiding being alone with Kelly. She had finally talked briefly with Kelly on Friday morning—a conversation that should have made her feel better.

“I’m going off duty,” Kelly said as she met Sam in the parking lot as Sam walked toward the building.

“Have a good day,” Sam said, intending not to slow down.

“Can you give me a few minutes?” Kelly stopped several feet away from Sam.

Sam looked at Kelly. “Sure.”

Kelly glanced down. “Look, I’m sorry to have acted like such an a-hole the other night.” She puffed air from her cheeks. “I was jealous. Lisa’s cute.”

“What?” Sam shifted her briefcase to her left hand.

“I really was jealous. You and Lisa look like you should be a couple. I knew you and me were winding down just from the look on your face.” She shrugged. “Me embarrassing you won’t happen again, so not cool.”

Sam nodded. “I’m the one who’s encouraged you even if we did have an understanding.” Sam frowned. “Kelly, I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I enjoy talking with you as much as anything else we do. Nothing more than conversation between us, okay? I don’t feel right about it anymore, especially if you’re interested in Haley.” Sam held out her hand. “Deal?”

Kelly grinned. “Deal.” She cocked her head to one side. “You and Lisa do look good together, and Haley is a sweetheart. I guess it’s time for us to get our shit sorted out and act like grownups.” Kelly shivered.

Sam hugged Kelly and smacked her on the back of the head as they separated. “You’re such a romantic.”

Sam had waved Kelly off, dismissing the possibility of Lisa. She didn’t know how she was going to manage standing before her class next week. She was restless enough Saturday morning to go where she always did to snap herself out of a funk.

Sam opened the door to Ava’s house and walked in unannounced as she was accustomed. She was greeted with a shriek.

“Fuck,” Sam said as she jumped in reaction to the loud noise ringing in her ears. She held her hands up, trying to calm the young woman in scrubs. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting.”

“Ms. Moyer, you’re not making my job any easier.” A girl, the antithesis of Paul’s daughter, reached for the duster she had dropped to the floor. Jennifer was twenty-two, stocky, and employed by the home health service Don had called when he realized his mother needed help. Jennifer was the certified nursing assistant who Sam liked the most. During her shifts over the past several weeks, Sam had learned that Jennifer was from Buckingham County, worked in elder care while finishing high school, and was saving to enroll in Radford University’s nursing program. Sam had wondered if TLCplease had been one of Jennifer’s teachers.

“I’m just not used to Ava having a companion,” Sam said as an apology.

“Neither am I,” Ava said from the next room.

Sam walked farther into the house and peered around the cased opening to the formal dining room.

“I just can’t get used to having someone else in the house all the time,” Ava said. She sat at the rectangular table that was now completely clear of all books and magazines. She was hunched over in one of the chairs along the side of the table with her hands folded and resting on the tablecloth Sam had never seen as the only thing covering the table’s surface.

Ava looked forlornly at Sam. “I’m to wait here until the living room is cleaned, then Jennifer will start on the den and sunroom.” She nodded with her repetition of the plan for the day.

Sam glanced at Jennifer, then joined Ava at the table. “What are you working on during the day?” Sam had never witnessed Ava idle.

“Not a damn thing.” Ava plucked at the sleeve of her sweater. “This situation will make me lose what little mind I have left.” She grabbed Sam’s wrist and looked at Sam with panic-stricken eyes.

Sam covered Ava’s hand with her own. “Bless your heart,” Sam said, relying on her favorite catch-all phrase.

“I can’t work anymore. She put all my magazines out for recycling collection. All my books are back on the shelves. They all tell me that the legal pads and pens stay at the desk, not scattered about the house so I can write when the inspiration comes to me.” Ava leaned toward Sam. “I’m a prisoner in my own home, my very neat home that doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Don has these women sitting with me around the clock. I’m only alone a few hours at night when the meds have me knocked out. Don even sleeps here now. I might as well be in prison. Why can’t I just be euthanized?”

“Because your friends would miss you too much,” Sam whispered. “Let’s go make a cup of tea.” Sam nodded toward the kitchen. “Jennifer, would you like hot tea?” Sam raised her voice.

“No, thank you. I have my water bottle,” Jennifer answered from the living room. “I’m only doing what they pay me to.”

Sam put her finger to her lips and led Ava into the kitchen. Ava’s situation was not Jennifer’s fault. It was true that Ava seemed to have aged ten years since the incident of searching for Donnie’s dog. Ava finally acted her age and appeared as fragile as an eggshell.

Sam turned the burner on beneath the kettle and went to the cupboard for tea bags. She checked the level of sugar in the dish and spooned generous amounts of sweetener into both cups.

Sam watched Ava venture into the neatly organized den as though she was looking about someone else’s home.

“Max wouldn’t know how to work in here, either,” Ava said. “I know the place looked like a fire trap with all the research materials we kept scattered about, but it was how we found comfort in our home. Our work was never controlled by a time clock.”

“How are your new meds working?” Sam asked as she filled both cups with boiling water and bobbed the tea bags until she had a nicely dark brew.

“Better,” Ava said. “I catch myself losing track of my thoughts in the afternoon and take a nap. Then I stay up until the late news. I sleep all night, rising when my first sitter comes on duty at eight.” Ava walked about the perimeter of the room, eyeing the desk and bookshelves. “There’s still so much I want to do yet I can’t read or write when I feel someone looking over my shoulder every minute. I don’t have time to waste. I’ve been gathering notes about the women in Mr. Jefferson’s life—lovers as well as daughters—for thirty years. It’s fascinating material that never has been brought together in one compendium. I’ve also discovered a collection of papers recently scanned and made available online—previously unpublished Quaker information from the Revolution. One of my former students printed it for me to incorporate with a manuscript I’ve worked on for the past ten years. It’s gone, thrown out with the trash, for all I know. I was so excited to finally tie up loose ends and show how Quakers were integral with ending slavery in the South.”

Sam hated the wistful tone in Ava’s voice. She had no doubt that her friend still possessed the ability to work—a right that should be denied no one, much less a scholar of Ava’s standing in academic circles. So what if Ava only had an hour or two a day of lucid, productive thought. She could accomplish more in that amount of time than most could in a full day.

The telephone rang. Jennifer was quick to answer the extension in the living room.

Ava looked at Sam and made a sour face. “Don, checking on me.”

Sam didn’t hesitate to take the kitchen extension off the hook. She listened to Jennifer.

“Neighbor came in a little while ago and has your mother up and walking around, drinking tea. The caffeine is going to agitate her.”

“She’s agitated from much more than that,” Sam said. “Don, we need to talk. Excuse me for interrupting, Jennifer.”

“I’ll come there for lunch.” Don hung up.

Sam stared at the receiver in her hand. “That went well.”

Jennifer started the vacuum cleaner in the living room.

Sam pointed to the sunroom and followed Ava. She gasped, having never seen every surface of the room devoid of clutter. There was nothing piled on the sofa or table or chairs. The room felt sterile and uncomfortable.

Ava pulled Sam on the sofa beside her. “I must find some other way to live. I have my savings. This house was paid off years ago. Hell, I’ll check into a hotel or book myself on a cruise and call on room service for what Don is paying to the sitters.”

Sam knew she was interfering but wasn’t about to let that stop her; it never had before. What was the point of growing old if a person could not live as they were accustomed and with a measure of dignity? “You have options, sweetheart, and every right to exercise them.”

“I’m not completely senile.” Ava attempted a smile. “There’s a new complex with lovely small apartments near the new hospital. I could call on my former students for help with my research. Don won’t even discuss me buying a place there.”

That was all Sam needed to hear. She waited for Don and met him as he walked into the kitchen. They faced off across the butcher’s block.

“I know what’s best for my mother,” he said. “She stays in her own home.”

“I know I’m an interfering bitch, but I love your mother as if she was my own,” Sam said. “Your mother’s miserable. She knows her condition and her limits. Why not let her downsize and move to the new AZ unit where she can be self-sufficient for a while longer?”

“Do you know how bad the real estate market is? Do you understand all the updates that would have to be done to this house that I’ve let go rather than disturb her oversized office?” He gestured about the house.

“So sell it as a fixer-upper. Let someone else flip the house,” Sam said.

“That would bring down the value of the entire neighborhood.” Don’s voice rose needlessly.

“Cool. It’ll decrease my real estate taxes,” Sam said.

“You have an answer for everything.” Don hung his head briefly. “I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I.” Sam reached for his hand gripping the edge of the wooden butcher’s block. “What’s going on with you, Don?”

“I don’t want her in one of those places.” He sounded as though the age when Newman was alive.

“It’s a new facility. I’ve toured it as part of the governor’s ribbon cutting. The apartments are bright. Everything’s within easy reach, including a call button for twenty-four/seven care. There’s a van to take residents on errands and to appointments. There are others there going through this—both of you would have peer support. It’s a progressive facility—there’s care for all stages of this disease.”

Don’s expression was anguished. “But Mom won’t be at home any longer. I won’t have a home to come to. I’ve been in a town house since my divorce.”

“It’s all about losing your mother, isn’t it?” Sam asked.

Don nodded and let out a deep sigh. “I’ve been a butt head because I’ve let it be about my needs.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Ava entered the kitchen. She went to her son and hugged him. “I’ve had an excellent life. I still have good years ahead, Donnie. My bulb will grow gradually dimmer but will still light my way.”

Don nodded and embraced his mother.

Sam waved to Jennifer as she left. Jennifer gave her a thumbs-up.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Psst. Sam. Psst.”

Sam blinked her eyes. Was she dreaming or had she just been awakened by a voice in her bedroom that she didn’t fall asleep with? Never a good question to wake up to.

“Sam, are you awake?”

Sam rolled over and saw someone standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“It’s me, Paul.” He held a flashlight under his chin and turned the light on so that she could see his face. “I don’t mean to scare you, sweetie.”

“Then what the hell are you doing waking me up in the middle of the night? What’s wrong? Is it Angela?” Sam sat up in the bed and reached for the lamp on the small table beside the head of the bed. She glanced at her alarm clock—10:30.

“It’s not exactly the middle of the night. I didn’t think you’d already be in bed asleep or I might not have barged in.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“I notice you said might. What’s wrong?” Sam leaned back against the headboard.

“What are you doing in bed so early?” Paul sat on the foot of the bed, one leg crossed and the other foot resting on the floor.

“I haven’t slept worth a damn all week. I think it’s seeing the ‘for sale’ sign next door and watching the parade of antique dealers going back and forth, cruising the estate sale.”

Paul grinned. “Ava loves it. I saw her this morning. She’s having a blast telling the pickers all the stories that go with everything. Those guys are earning their profit on her belongings.”

Sam threw the extra pillow at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t write.” Paul made a horizontal motion with one hand. “Nada. Nothing. Not a thought in my head worth typing once I open Word. Dry. Empty. Kaput.”

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen.”

“I can’t help my nature.” Paul hugged the pillow. “I’m also tired of being virtuous.”

Sam shook her head. “You were right to break up with Scott and you know it.”

“He’s been calling again lately. Keeps saying he just wants to hear my voice.”

“And that he still loves you?’ Sam knew the pattern too well.

Paul nodded.

“And that his wife isn’t enough?” Sam could tick the ploys off on her fingers.

“Our third anniversary would have been next week.”

“You guys are more sentimental than two old women.” Sam rubbed her hands over her face.

Paul sat up straight and placed his hands on his hips. “I resemble that remark.”

Sam grimaced. “There are kids involved.”

“That’s what’s bothered me all along. I never should have given in to that cute round face of his.” Paul glanced at Sam. “He keeps telling me that his past boyfriends accepted his double life.”

“So his behavior pattern is your fault?” Sam looked at him sideways.

Paul huffed.

“Come on. Your alter ego never lets you down. Writing is your preferred form of escapism from work and lovers.”

“Exactly.” Paul tossed the pillow back at her.

“How are you stuck? Beginning, middle, or ending?”

“I’m at the oh-shit middle—over fifty thousand words. I’m too far in to start making major changes without an extensive rewrite, yet all the little nagging doubts are jumping out at me. Have I planted the info to make the ending work? Is the plot too obvious, too contrived, or too obscure? Does the ending make sense? Would an attorney really catch all of those clues and solve a murder?” His thoughts trailed off as he looked about the room. “Damn, just how many projects have you been working on while you couldn’t sleep? This looks like Ava’s house used to.”

“Don’t start. I’ve been bringing work home all week so I wouldn’t stay late at the office.”

Paul grinned. “And indulge with the strangely enticing Kelly?”

Sam hit him again with the pillow. “That’s been over for a month now. I actually like her better as a friend. I think we both knew that all along.”

“I still think you two should have tried it as a couple. You have the advantage of knowing each other at work and already having sex.” Paul leaned against the bedpost.

Sam held up her hand, knowing his reaction to what she was about to say. “I’m not a snob. I just don’t think Kelly and I have any long-lasting connection. I think it was the latent voyeurism of sex at the office.”

Paul started to respond and stopped himself.

“What?” Sam wanted to know what he was thinking.

“Kelly would be an improvement for Haley.” He watched Sam closely.

Sam leaned forward and smacked his knee. “I’ve already had that conversation with Kelly. She wants to wait until Haley is through the first rush of being single.”

Paul pointed at her. “That’s what’s holding you back. You can see the two of them together.”

“If Haley wants an older butch, at least Kelly is a soft one I know to be a decent woman.” Sam shrugged. “It’s the Doris Day theory—what will be will be. I can tell you who I don’t see together.”

Paul raised his eyebrows.

“Lisa, anywhere near me—not going to happen. She’s skipped three classes in a row. I really messed that up.”

“Well, Kelly helped.” Paul picked at a loose thread on his shirt.

“But I allowed the situation with Kelly. Now I’ve alienated Lisa when I should be able to do my job and help her. I don’t know whether to call her or just leave the situation alone.” Sam had thought of little else lately, more with each passing week of Lisa’s absence.

“That sucks.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Angela is quitting college and going to work. She really wants to earn a living and marry this boy she’s living with. She has a second interview with my stockbroker.” Paul beamed.

Sam’s chin dropped.

“She probably won’t keep the job any longer than she has the others she’s tried during summer breaks, but at least she’s trying. Talk about allowing a situation. Don’t get me started on how I’ve fucked up my daughter.” Paul crawled up the bed and stretched out beside Sam. “I don’t have to go back to that empty house and glaring monitor, do I?”

“We’re just pitiful,” Sam said.

“Woe is me.” Paul struck a pose with wrist to forehead.

Sam laughed as she popped him in the head with the pillow.

“Hungry?” Paul peeked out from behind the corner of the pillow.

“Always when I’m alone,” Sam said.

“Good. Let’s make something decadent and devour it so we can look sufficiently guilty about our debauchery tomorrow and make everyone wonder what we’ve been up to.” Paul clapped his hands.

“You’re so gay.” She hugged him. “I knew I loved you for all the right reasons.” Sam followed Paul to the kitchen, stopping in the living room to turn on her docked iPod. Sheryl Crow blasted out of the speakers. “Just for you,” she said as she sidled up to Paul.

“I’m thinking something with chocolate and alcohol.” He browsed the cupboards. “May I spend the night? I really don’t feel like going back in that house, knowing the computer will only taunt me because I haven’t kept up with tonight’s word count goal.”

“Poor baby. You know you can.” Sam danced to the rhythmic beat of the music.

“Hey, you’ve been practicing.” Paul smiled.

“Dance Dance Revolution,” Sam said, referring to the Wii game.

“Oh, good heavens.” Paul rolled his eyes. “We need to get some real people in your life.”

Sam laughed and hugged her friend. “You’re real enough for me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sam faced off with the copy machine for the second time in thirty minutes. Tambor was out sick, and Sam needed copies for that night’s class. Why shouldn’t she be able to walk into the mail room, check the amount of blank paper in the lower tray, and put the originals in to be copied, collated, and stapled? Simple enough and the reason they leased a top-of-the-line machine, or so she thought. She was wrong again. She had already sorted one jam of the blank paper. Now the indicator for an original stuck in the top rollers was blinking.

“Goddamn worthless son of a bitch!” Sam yanked the front door of the machine open and went through the sequence of manually turning the rollers. No loose paper revealed itself.

Sam kicked the base of the machine and cringed with the pain that shot through her foot. “Fuck!” She had lost all trace of reason with the first paper jam.

“Hello?” The call was tentative, telling Sam that her tirade had been overheard.

“Shit!” Sam said to herself as she cast one last withering look at the copier, hoping for tendrils of smoke to waft out of the open compartment. “Coming,” she called.

Lisa stood in the front reception area. “Brag, brag, brag.”

Sam frowned, puzzled, then got the joke as her frustration with the machine lifted. “The only thing more aggravating than most women is that damn cantankerous copier. Sorry.” Sam gestured to the chairs around the low table. Sam took it as a good sign that Lisa chuckled.

“I was on my way to work and decided to stop in for just a minute,” Lisa said.

“I’ve missed you in class.” Sam adjusted the fanned business magazines. She had to do something with her hands. “I’m willing to help you make up the work.”

Lisa shook her head. “I started to just blow off the rest. I’ve wasted $20 on worse. I decided I needed to withdraw in person even if it did take me a while to get here.”

Sam only charged materials costs for the class. She was rethinking the value she put on Tambor’s time coaxing copies from their machine.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m also sorry about the drama between Kelly and me. It was extremely unprofessional of both of us,” Sam said.

“Look. What you do in your place of work is your business. I see it all the time at the hospital. There’s nothing more convenient than working with another bored lesbian.” Lisa was clearly distancing herself.

“Ouch,” Sam said with an exaggerated flinch, “that one burned.”

“The truth usually does.”

“No argument, no excuses,” Sam said. “Please tell me you’re not giving up on your business idea.”

Lisa shook her head. “Part of why I’m dropping the class is that my schedule changed. I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to commit to the same evening off each week for two months. I know better. I’ve been rotated onto double shifts during the week so I can pull a single on the weekend. I’m saving all my OT pay for my business. I’m not giving up on making a change in my life. I also have my boys to consider. I have more visitations with Alex now that he’s thirteen and lost time to make up for.”

“That’s great,” Sam said. She added, “Me either. Not giving up on changes.”

Lisa looked at Sam several moments before speaking. “Here I go again. Listen. How can you expect any happiness in a relationship if you just keep throwing yourself at any single woman who’s willing? You’ve gone through how many just since the first time I met you in the ER?”

Sam closed her eyes and started to count.

Lisa reached over and touched Sam’s hand. “That was a rhetorical question. I don’t want to know a number. You string Kelly along while you go through all the others. How long before you hit on your friend Haley? Don’t turn a midlife crisis into speed dating. Honey, you need to settle down and think about your next relationship with your head, not your twat.”

“Is that actually a medical term?” Sam asked. She didn’t know whether to be pissed or encouraged by the turn of the conversation.

“Smart ass. You know what I’m saying is true, or you would have kicked my butt out of here by now.” Lisa challenged her.

“I had a similar conversation with Ava.” Sam touched her own forearm. “The burn victim.”

Lisa nodded. “I thought at first she was your mom.”

“Close enough.” Sam looked Lisa in her eyes that were more a gorgeous green than hazel. “Point taken. For what it’s worth, Kelly and I have agreed to be no more than co-workers and friends. I’m hoping Haley and Kelly will get together. They’d be good for each other.” Sam changed gears. “Now how about what’s good for you?”

Lisa actually blushed.

“Are you going to keep your business small and operating out of your home?” Sam asked.

“No, I’ve got to take the plunge. I just don’t have the capacity I need at home, but how can I rent somewhere when I can only work in spurts between shifts?”

Sam grinned. “That’s where I come in. I just happen to know of a commercial kitchen that’s setting dormant because the potato salad manufacturer went out of business last year. The building is old and will be almost impossible to find a tenant for as is. If I can persuade the owner to subdivide the kitchen and warehouse space, I know I can fill all the warehouse square footage. I bet we could get the kitchen at a low ball rent to get his insurance company off his back about the building being empty. It would at least give you a place to start with little or no upgrade cost as you see if the business is really there. Let me make a few phone calls and gauge the owner’s willingness.”

Lisa stared. “Damn. Is this what you do for all your clients?”

“It amazes me sometimes to realize that if I just hang out with businesses owners and commercial Realtors, listen, and connect the dots what deals can be put together. Plus I have an inside track with the state on their loans and business assistance grants. Your business is fucking doable.”

“Is that a business school term?” Lisa asked.

“Now who’s the smart ass?”

“No, I’m the grateful ass. We seem to talk about asses a lot.” Lisa glanced at her watch. “And mine is going to be in a sling if I don’t get going. Call me? My cell number is on my class application.”

Sam nodded. “Absolutely.”

Kelly walked in from the conference room. She stopped short of Lisa and held up her hands as though surrendering. “Sorry. I was just letting Sam know that I’m here a little early today.”

“Don’t let me interrupt anything,” Lisa said.

Kelly shook her head. “Nothing to interrupt. I owe you an apology for acting like a jerk—must’ve been my male hormones kicking in. I’m sorry. Sam and I have moved on to a better relationship—gal pals.” Kelly batted her eyes.

Lisa laughed and accepted Kelly’s handshake. “You’re forgiven. I think you two are finally banging smarts.”

Kelly turned the handshake into a knuckle bump. “See you, cutie.” She walked away.

Lisa paused before leaving the building. “She’s okay. You know, it’s a damn shame you can’t focus on the concept of one woman like you do with a business proposal. If you ever start applying that technique to dating, let me know.” She left as Sam stood speechless at the table.

A slow smile spread across Sam’s face. She returned to the copy machine and eased the side panel open, gently manipulating the jammed original off the roller. She stroked the copier as the collating resumed. “I can do that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Sam thought about her mother, hearing her voice as she used to caution Sam about being careful about what she wished for because it just might come true. Sam heard giggling and the slam of a car door and smiled. Kelly had waited until she and Sam were history for two months before calling Haley. Haley had been single long enough to already survive two first dates that would progress no further. Sam sat up in bed when the subdued chit-chat turned into loud, arguing voices. She marked her progress in the book she was reading.

“I wonder if Ava would take me with her.” Sam rolled out of bed, reaching for the robe hanging on the bedpost. She had learned her lesson about opening her door in too few clothes.

By the time Sam reached her front door, the argument outside was in full swing.

KD stood as though guarding the front of Haley’s house, keeping the other two women at bay in the street next to Kelly’s SUV. Kelly was closest to KD with Haley held behind her by the arm that wasn’t shaking a fist at KD.

“You’re not pushing her around anymore,” Kelly said. “I’ll beat the shit out of you, KD, if you don’t leave Haley alone. She broke up with you four months ago.”

Haley tugged Kelly toward Sam’s yard to get more separation between them and KD.

KD paced from edge to edge of the concrete stoop. “We’ll see who winds up in the hospital.”

“How about if we see who winds up in jail?” Sam stepped outside, clutching her robe around her and holding her phone aloft.

KD pointed at Sam as she advanced from the stoop. “You call the cops on me again, and I’ll put you in the hospital alongside your squeeze. I didn’t know Haley was into sharing, or I’d have brought someone else home years ago.” She leered at Kelly. “Haley’s shy. She takes a lot of coaxing to come, doesn’t she?”

Haley grabbed Kelly’s arm and dug her heels in. Sam dashed across her yard.

Kelly fumed. “I was in the service, bitch. I know how to put your fat ass down for the count.”

KD motioned her to bring it on, stepping closer to Kelly.

Sam took hold of Haley’s arm and backed the couple up. “Kelly, don’t do it. She’ll bring charges against you in a heartbeat. You’ll lose your job.”

“You like working with the redhead, don’t you?” KD said. “All those perks. What do you do, Haley—watch?” KD looked past the couple at Sam. “I won’t forget this. You set them up, didn’t you?” KD leaned toward Kelly, taunting her.

Kelly kicked up from the hip and knocked KD backward. KD’s head banged on the ground, momentarily stunning her.

Sam punched 911 on her cell phone. She gave her address and KD’s full name, stating that the woman was on her property and that there was an outstanding warrant on her. “Kelly, get your ass in my house right now before KD slips and falls in my yard again.”

Haley and Sam pulled Kelly into the house. Sam closed the front door as KD stood and charged. Sam braced the door with her shoulder while engaging the deadbolt as KD fumbled with opening the storm door.

Sam punched the speed dial for Paul. “Home run. KD’s at my door.” Sam mentally checked the other exterior doors. She had not gone out of any other than the front lately. They were safely locked in.

Haley continued to hold on to Kelly.

“Goddamn her!” Kelly said. “We had such a great evening, and her fat ass is ruining it.”

“Only if you allow her to,” Haley said.

Paul’s Subaru tore down the street and pulled into Sam’s driveway. He stayed in the wagon with headlights on bright.

KD turned and shielded her eyes. “Like you’re going to scare me off. If I can’t get to them, I’ll settle for your scrawny ass. I’m an equal opportunity butt whupper.”

KD lumbered toward Paul, then stopped as an oversized engine came within hearing. She hesitated a moment, then did a run-waddle for her truck parked in the cul-de-sac. She did a donut with her truck protesting with a shrill shriek of the transfer case and sped up the street. She passed the approaching county police’s sedan.

Paul jumped out of his Subaru and met the brown and tan car, pointing after KD. The car did a quick U-turn and took off after the truck.

Paul stood in the street, straining to watch the disappearing taillights. He looked toward the house as Sam opened the front door. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yes,” Sam said, “thanks to you. Come in for a drink.”

“I have company.” Paul feigned a curtsey.

Sam laughed. “Sorry to disturb you. Go home. We’re fine.” She watched him drive away.

“I’ll take you up on a drink,” Kelly said. She dropped to the sofa, pulling Haley down beside her.

Haley ran her hand over her forehead, brushing her hair back, then rested her hand on Kelly’s thigh. “Sorry, babe.”

Kelly reached for the cold beer from Sam. She nodded toward Haley. “She calls me babe. Don’t you love it?”

Sam sighed. “Oh, God. You two are in that stage where everything you do is precious.”

“Thanks to you.” Haley blushed.

It was true. Sam had campaigned with them each individually to go out on one date and see how it went. That was two weeks earlier, and they hadn’t missed contact of some sort each day since. Sam chuckled every time she saw Kelly at work furiously texting away on her cell phone.

Kelly tapped her bottle against Sam’s. “Damn right. It’s about time she had someone being sweet to her. KD gives butches a bad rep.”

Sam sank into the other half of the L-shaped sofa and briefly raised her bottle before taking a long drink. “More power to both of you. I hope this stage lasts years.”

Haley ran her finger around the rim of the bottle. “I have something I want to say while both of you are in the same room.”

Sam choked on her beer.

Haley held her hand up to Kelly’s lips to silence her. “I know you two had a thing together. I know it was the ‘buddy thing.’” She made air quotation marks. “I also know it’s over. I trust you guys. I’ve been friends with Sam long enough to know that if she gives me her word, she keeps it. I’m sensing the same about you, babe.”

Sam crossed her heart. “I wouldn’t hurt either of you for anything.”

Kelly held Haley’s hand. “I’m not smart enough to handle more than one woman. Not like some lesbians we know and love.”

Haley snickered.

Sam leaned forward and punched Kelly in the arm. “We’re so much better off as buddies.”

“That’s the only time I’ll bring up your past,” Haley said. “I can’t judge or criticize anyone after what I’ve put up with and seen KD do to others, as well as me, these past ten years.”

Sam went to the kitchen for three more beers. She returned and made a toast. “A fresh start for all of us.”

Kelly chugged her beer and smothered a belch. “Excuse me.” She looked at Haley and nodded toward the door.

“You can take the beer with you,” Sam said, sensing Haley’s dilemma. “I’ll make you guys breakfast if you plan on getting out of bed today.”

Kelly grinned as Haley hesitated. “How about a late lunch?”

“Animals.” Sam pushed them out of the front door.

The giggling recommenced.

“Now that’s a sound I could get used to from across the street.” Sam went to the kitchen and started the coffeemaker as she waited for the officer to return. Would KD ever give up?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Sam was surprised to find a space midway in the parking lot. It amazed her that the hospital had been approved to construct a huge addition based upon surface parking after it merged with two other Richmond-area facilities. Was it any wonder that visiting the hospital during the week entailed parking along the outer perimeter access road and hiking to the main entrance. Saturdays and Sundays, the lot was half full when doctors’ offices were closed.

“I foresee a parking deck in your near future,” Sam said as she referenced her car’s location. It was bad enough becoming lost inside the building much less not being able to find your means home.

Sam entered through the original lobby. For some reason, the sidewalk sloped down toward the double doors. Sam wondered if the long narrow trench drain caught the runoff from heavy thunderstorms.

The lobby had been remodeled with a long, low counter to accommodate the volunteers who provided patient information. Chairs with thick cushions filled the waiting area. The low ceiling emphasized the feeling of a basement. As she approached the elevator bank, Sam glanced into the glass display cases like those in a pawn shop that exhibited antique medical devices and photographs of the original building.

Sam made herself pay attention to the small signs and color-coded stripes on the floor so that she wouldn’t become hopelessly lost. She purposely didn’t park in the lot closest to the ER area since this was one time she was non-critical. She couldn’t shake the feeling of a rat in a maze.

Sam thought back to her earlier conversation with Lisa. She had known better than to call for a social reason.

“Hey, Lisa. It’s Sam. Hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“Just going in for today’s shift.” Lisa sounded out of breath.

“ER?”

“NICU—sorry, Neuro Intensive Care Unit—is my shift this weekend.”

Sam waited as she heard Lisa speaking to others as she entered the building. “I have a book you need to see. May I drop it off tonight?”

Lisa hesitated. “Okay, who do you have a date with that you’re pre-planning ER time for?”

Sam laughed. “No date. I’ve sworn off that for a while. I’m running out later to pick up supper. I don’t have the talent some people do with a stove.”

“Flatterer. I’m almost at the elevator. Come up to four on the same side of building as the ER. I’ll let the front desk know that I’m expecting you. I can use my dinner break, but I’ll only have a moment. My work isn’t as flexible as yours. Seriously, if it looks busy, hold off and I’ll stop at your office later this week.”

“Understand. See you,” Sam said.

The signal dropped.

The manual was a beginning entrepreneur’s equivalent of the Bible. It was a pretense Lisa was too busy to see through. The truth was that Sam just wanted to see Lisa even if only for a few minutes as she handed her the book. It would also mean that she would see Lisa again when the book was returned. Working out details for the lease proposal on the commercial kitchen had given Sam the excuse of several phone calls. Sam could manage on just a little of Lisa’s time. She simply couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Sam entered the ER and went directly for the desk in the middle of the room that provided initial screening. “Samantha Moyer. I’ve an appointment with Lisa Ramey.” Sam moved aside as the next patient approached.

The woman confirmed Sam by telephone. She pointed at Sam, then at the double doors behind her. She buzzed Sam through.

Sam walked along the corridor, looking for Lisa either in front of her or along the duplicate hallway on the far side of the room. The very center was a hub enclosed by waist-high counters for the doctors and nurses.

“Ma’am.”

Sam looked at the nurse seated at a workstation on the other side of the counter. “Lisa asked if you’d wait. She was just called in.” Sam followed the gesture toward the chairs along the short length of solid wall joining patient cubes. Sam sat on a standard issue, uncomfortably formed plastic chair. She didn’t know whose body the chairs were shaped for, but it certainly wasn’t hers. She wasn’t about to wander anywhere she wasn’t supposed to in search of a better chair. She had even placed the book in a brown envelope with Lisa’s name printed on it just in case she had to leave the book with someone else.

Sam looked across the nurses’ station into a cube off the opposite hallway. She had no choice but to watch the drama unfolding, and it wasn’t good.

A family stood clustered at the foot of the bed. The bed was shielded by the curtain drawn across the fixed glass next to the opening.

Nurses hustled in and out of the room. Lisa came out arm in arm with a man in his early sixties. She carefully led him beyond the others’ hearing and leaned close as she talked to him. First the man’s face, then his entire body sagged. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Lisa put her arm around him and ran her hand slowly up and down his back. The man stared blankly at the grown children standing watch around the bed. The rest of the medical team left the cube without the sense of urgency they had entered with. Lisa walked the man inside and took a step back as he spoke to his children. Lisa waited, then left the cube and pulled a curtain across the door. Her pager flashed again and she reached for the small black box around her neck. Sam watched her hustle along the hallway to a farther cube.

Sam’s gaze was drawn to the closed curtain. Two of the children left, struggling to find the opening in the curtain and holding each other for support. One remained with his father. Fifteen minutes later, the father and son emerged, weeping and looking like mirror images of each other. The hospital chaplain met them and walked them toward a room adjacent to the nurses’ hub.

Sam continued to watch the room. Ten minutes passed and two orderlies came with a flat cart.

Sam rapidly blinked her eyes to keep tears at bay, knowing the men’s duty. She stared as the curtain was parted and the cart wheeled away.

Another nurse opened the curtain, speaking into her pager. Minutes later, the cleaning staff arrived.

Sam sat rigidly in the chair. That was it. What a life came down to. A last gathering of family if you were lucky. Dignity managed with curtains and coverings. Your body being wheeled away by strangers.

Sam felt numb. How in the hell did anyone work with this day in and day out? How trivial did it make any other job or any other situation seem? Plus, Lisa had sons she was trying to build relationships with.

Sam had no doubt that she was the biggest shit on the face of the earth for the way she had been living lately. She jumped when a hand gently touched her shoulder.

Lisa kept her voice low. “I’m so sorry. It was as though as soon as I asked them to send you back, I had one call right after another.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you here. Please forgive me.” Sam stood to leave.

“Is that the book?” Lisa asked, watching Sam carefully.

“I’m an idiot. I just wanted to see you.” She handed Lisa the package.

Lisa looked at Sam’s chair, then approximated her line of sight. “You watched all that?”

Sam nodded. “I didn’t mean to intrude. It was just in front of me.”

Lisa checked that units were covered, then guided Sam along the hallway. “You saw the mortuary gurney?”

Sam nodded.

“It’s what we deal with every shift,” Lisa said. “The docs won’t tell the family anything. If I see that the next of kin want to know, I tell them what the morphine drip means. We help patients out of this world every day, even though the hospital will never admit it.” She pushed the security doors open for Sam. “They call me the Angel of Death because I have no problem helping someone die when there’s no hope for them.”

Sam stopped and looked at Lisa. “I hope someone like you is around when it’s my time to leave this earth.”

Lisa rubbed Sam’s arm. “That’s entirely possible with your recent history. Pick up your dinner and no fast food. Go home and relax. I’ll call you after I look at the book. We can always talk.”

Sam nodded and walked slowly out of the building and to her car. She was finally thinking about a woman with mostly her head and a little of her heart, and it was all Lisa.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Four days passed, and Sam had not recovered from the evening at the ER. She was subdued enough at work that Tambor and Kelly kept asking her what was wrong. She had talked to Paul only to learn of how many of his friends he had sat with when AIDS attrition was at its worst. Realizing how truly short life was had motivated Paul to decide on a teller’s job that allowed him to write during his off hours—an escalating financial career that consumed all his time and brain power was not his top priority.

Sam drove slowly and cautiously, not taking for granted her right to the road or allowing distractions of food or telephone. She had to live through the changes she intended to make in her life. She had to improve her record, so to speak, before her time was up.

She appreciated that Lisa had called her at work Monday simply to check on her. No sermon, no teasing, just a few questions about how Sam was doing. She promised she would call again after she skimmed the manual. Sam was inexplicably grateful for the mere sound of Lisa’s voice. “I’ve got it bad.”

Sam glanced again in her rearview mirror. She knew she must be paranoid to think she was being followed again, this time by a dark sedan. Maybe the driver of the car staying close on her bumper lived in the same subdivision and was trying to nudge Sam home faster than she intended driving.

“Okay, this is too weird. I’m not leading Beverly to my house. It must be her again,” Sam said. She pulled into the parking lot, forgetting that Kohl’s was renovating. She wouldn’t be able to zip across the wide aisle directly in front of the buildings to reach the next street that was a shortcut to the back of the subdivision. “Crap, I’m trapped.” She didn’t see the dark car behind her. “Cool.”

Sam pulled into a parking space next to the chain link fence enclosing the construction site. She might as well pick up a few things at Target while she was in the shopping center. She might even walk to Martin’s and pick up something for dinner. She stood with key in hand and stared as the dark car did a quick half turn and stopped, blocking her in the space. “What in the hell?”

Sam left her door open and watched as KD climbed out of the car. Sam threw up her hands. “Enough already. You’re the butchest of all. Satisfied? Leave me alone.”

KD grinned with no humor reflected in her eyes. “You sound like you’re the one itching for a fight.”

“What do you want?” Sam stayed close to the open car door in case she needed to take a dive.

“I want my life, and my wife, back. Haley and I were fine until you convinced her that she was some kind of victim.” KD’s face was as red as Sam’s hair.

“You’re so full of bullshit, KD. Haley was a victim. You were abusing her mentally, physically, and financially. Respect the fact that Haley finally had enough and told you so face to face. Hell, the judge gave you the deal of a lifetime—rehab and probation—and you blew it. You know damn well that you can’t pass a drug test.”

KD looked away. “You just won’t give me a break, will you?”

“Sure I will,” Sam said. She raised her hands with palms open and stepped away from her car. “No telephone. No cops. Here’s your break. Skip town in your new car. Leave the state. Start over somewhere else. Life is too damn short to keep putting all of us through this. Now move your car. I have errands to do before I go home.” She turned to reach for her wallet.

Sam didn’t see the attack coming. KD charged, slamming the door to Sam’s car closed and hurling Sam against the chain link fence.

It took Sam a moment to shake off the wind being knocked out of her. KD closed the distance between them. She grabbed Sam by the front of her shirt and slammed her against the fence again, then copped a cheap feel of Sam’s breasts.

“I’ll leave when I’ve settled things with you and Kelly,” KD said.

Sam cringed at KD’s breath and fleetingly wondered how Haley had ever tolerated any intimacy with this woman.

“Hey!” A man in a white hardhat started down the steps of the construction trailer in the enclosed area. “I don’t know what you chicks are doing, but take it somewhere else or I’m calling the cops.”

KD released Sam and started to walk away.

Sam followed, glancing over her shoulder at the contractor. “Sorry, she got carried away with a little friendly bitch slapping.” Sam thought it worth a try to joke her way out of this.

“Allow me, friend.” KD reached for the door handle to Sam’s car and threw the door open and back on Sam.

Sam instinctively reached out with her right hand to stop the heavy door from knocking her down. She felt her wrist crack upon impact with the steel panel. Sam dropped to her knees, cradling her wrist to her body. Tears ran down her cheeks as she watched KD drive away.

“I’m calling 911. Stay there. I’ll come around.” The man was talking and running at the same time. He knelt beside Sam. “Lady, you need to find a better class of friends.”

Gordon was kind enough to stay with Sam, handing her the briefcase from the car and locking the doors for her. “I’ll keep an eye on your car until you have it picked up.” He stuck his business card in the side pocket of Sam’s briefcase.

Sam sat on the asphalt and waited for the rescue squad. She knew the drill once the guys arrived of info to be given and vitals to be taken as they loaded her. She watched the familiar route to the hospital through the windows in the back doors of the truck.

Sam closed her eyes, trying to zone out the jolts of pain that went up her arm with each movement as she was lifted out of the truck and rolled into the ER. The next time she looked, Lisa was standing beside the crew member handing off information.

Lisa shook her head as she walked over and looked down first at Sam’s hand, then her face. “Yep, I’d say you have a broken wrist.”

Sam tried to smile. “It didn’t have that kink in it before.” Sam gritted her teeth as Lisa examined her arm. “KD.”

“I figured as much.” Lisa’s hand rested on Sam’s shoulder. “Hang on. We’ll do a CT scan so we can check for fractures. It makes it easier to see any damage to soft tissue or blood vessels.” Lisa held up one of the green plaid gowns. “I’ll help you change.”

“Why not,” Sam said. “You’ve already seen me in every other stage of undress.”

“Honey, I do this all day long.” Lisa was clearly amused. “What’s your pain level, one to ten, one being lowest?”

“Five, I guess,” Sam said. “It’s not too bad now that I’m distracted from it.”

A doctor stuck his head in. “Her charms may not do the trick when I do the fracture reduction.” He looked at Lisa and grinned. “I’m thinking muscle relaxant.” He was gone.

Lisa nodded. “I’m guessing you’re right-handed,” she said as she helped Sam out of her shirt.

“Of course.” Sam noticed Lisa’s lingering look at her bra.

Lisa quickly tied the gown around Sam’s neck and unhooked her bra after she was draped.

“You’re good at that,” Sam said.

Lisa looked at her innocently. “All I have to do is snap my fingers and the hooks pop right out of the eyes.”

Sam winced as she slid her arm into the sleeve. “How long does a break like this take to heal?”

Lisa looked at the angle of the hand disjointed from the wrist. “Several months is only a guess, then you’ll need rehab. Wouldn’t want you to permanently lose any flexibility of that hand.”

“I’m really awkward with my left,” Sam said apologetically.

Lisa stepped back. “Ready to drop trou?”

“You just made one of my recent fantasies come true.” Sam chuckled, trying to think what underwear she had on and deciding it didn’t matter at this point.

The doctor returned. “You guys are having way too much fun. We have you set up for a CT, then I’ll fix you up.” He looked at Lisa as she reached under Sam’s gown. “Did you tell her about the cast liners that go under the fiberglass so she can do her usual bathing and swimming? Very cool.”

“No, we hadn’t made it that far,” Lisa said, unzipping Sam’s pants. Sam leaned from side to side as Lisa slid her pants off.

He gave Sam a thumbs-up and left the cubicle. Another nurse came in with a tiny cup and the promised muscle relaxer.

“That’s great about being able to shower. I was just thinking about having to do things with one hand,” Sam said. She opened her mouth for the pill as Lisa held a cup of water for her to drink from.

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of volunteers to help you.” Lisa folded Sam’s trousers and snapped open a plastic bag to put all her clothes in.

“My buddy Paul,” Sam said, “has a better eye for dressing me than I ever manage.”

Lisa shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

Sam was ready with an answer.

Lisa beat her to it. “How about if I bring dinner to you tomorrow night? I’m doing a run for my customers.”

“Why are you being so nice to me this time?” Sam asked. “You’ve seen my screw-ups. You’ve seen all of me. There’s no mystery.”

Lisa helped Sam stretch out on the narrow bed. “How did you get to be our age and still have so much to learn about the basics of romance?”

Sam was puzzled.

Lisa leaned over her. “You care, knucklehead, more about your friends than yourself. You keep blundering into this woman who beats the crap out of you every time you try to help your friend. You’d get up right now and launch yourself at KD if Haley needed you to. You back off from Kelly when you realize she and Haley might be a couple. You look out for your buddies Paul and Ava. Hell, you find me the perfect kitchen. If I don’t intend to fulfill your wish about dying around someone like me, I’d better figure out how to keep you out of trouble. I’d like to try some serious erogenous manipulation of your taste buds. Is there anything you don’t like?”

“Eating alone,” Sam said. She hoped she wasn’t hallucinating.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“I’m telling you,” Paul said, eyeing the pile of clothes on the bed, “just go with the sweatpants and polo shirt and be comfortable. That way, you’ll also be more relaxed. She’s not going to expect you to be dressed up. Twelve hours ago, you just were home from the hospital.” He pulled the shirt over Sam’s head.

“Tylenol with codeine has pretty much taken care of the relaxing part.” Sam looked down at her outfit. “Seriously, these? I’m not six.” She wore navy sweatpants with Eeyore’s face in a paler blue that matched her soft pima shirt. She had slept all day and if not for Paul stopping by to help her dress, suspected she would have slept through the night. She had popped another pill as soon as Paul brought her a glass of water.

Paul handed her a pair of gray and blue ragg socks. “Perfect. You’ll look cute.”

Sam made a face.

Paul corrected himself. “I mean sexy with a childlike vulnerability.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Sam said before yawning.

“Tell me again about the erogenous part. I’m using that line the next time I cook for someone, by the way.” Paul began folding the discarded clothes.

“Use it in your next novel.” Sam sank down into the large gooseneck rocker that had belonged to her parents. The wooden arm was just right to rest her cast upon with her hand holding the goose’s neck. “Uh-oh, this might’ve been a mistake. I forget how comfortable this chair is.” Sam rocked slightly. “What did you ask me?”

“What’s the menu for tonight?” Paul repeated the question, saying the words very slowly—a habit that usually irritated Sam.

“I have no idea.” Sam spaced her words out also. She laughed as Paul stopped folding and looked at her.

“What time is it?” Sam asked.

“Time for you to go back to bed. I’ll call Lisa for you.” Paul pulled out his cell phone.

“No way. I’m hungry, and she’s going to treat me to an indigenous meal.”

“Seriously, what’s Lisa’s number? She’s not ready to see you this way.” Paul was poised to punch numbers on the phone’s keypad.

The doorbell chimed.

“I’ll get it.” Sam struggled to stand from the chair as her thick socks slid on the hardwood floor. She giggled. “I feel like Tom Cruise in that underwear dancing movie.”

“Don’t you dare!” Paul steadied her and walked behind her to the front door.

Sam fumbled with the doorknob with her left hand, then threw the solid door back with enough force to cause the knob to bounce off the wall bumper. “Excuse me. Hi!”

Paul gently pulled Sam out of the open door. He held the storm door for Lisa. “May I help carry anything?”

“I’ve got it. I’m balanced.” Lisa had an insulated carrier in each hand. “Which way to the kitchen, Eeyore?”

Paul pointed as Sam turned to him and said, “I told you so.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Oh, my God, you smell wonderful.” She was back to drawing out words again. “I mean, the food smells wonderful. You look delicious.”

“Oh, my,” Lisa said.

Paul walked past the sofa and waited until Lisa set the carriers on the kitchen counter. “I’m out of here. Lisa, always good to see you somewhere besides the hospital. She’s a little loopy from the pain meds, so be gentle with her.”

“I can get my cast wet any time I want to,” Sam said from the living room.

“Don’t desert me.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I should’ve thought of the meds and waited to do this. My mothering instincts kicked in on me.”

“That’s a good thing. I’m guessing she’ll try your patience tonight. Think teenager drunk for the first time.” Paul kissed Sam on the cheek. “Try to behave.”

“What’s a have?” Sam said the word with a long a.

“Oh, brother,” Lisa said. “Hey, Red, look this way.” Lisa snapped her fingers. “Should I take this on to someone else and give you a rain check for another night?”

“No,” Sam said as Paul said, “Yes.”

“Okay. I’m hungry. We’re going to eat, then you’ll go back to bed.” Lisa checked the cabinets for dishes and called over her shoulder, “There’s plenty here for three and she’ll still have leftovers.”

Paul didn’t slow his route to the door. “No way. See you, wouldn’t want to be you. Oh, God, now she has me regressing. Call me if you need help, either of you.” Paul was gone.

“Okay, missy, take a seat at the table.” Lisa guided Sam by the shoulders to the table. “You and I don’t need to be tripping over each other.”

“Might be fun.” Sam was put in her place without protest.

“How many of those pills have you taken?” Lisa asked.

“Just according to directions. Maybe I took the first one too soon after what I had at the hospital, then another when I woke up a little while ago. Boy, do I feel woozy.”

“You think?”

Sam forgot and tried to shrug with her entire upper body and hit her cast on the edge of the table.

“I bet that hurt,” Lisa said.

“What?”

“Oh, Lord, are you going to taste anything or even remember that I was here?”

“You betcha.” Sam raised her right arm with her left and set the cast carefully on the place mat.

Lisa brought candles to the table and her own lighter. “First, a little ambience, and I’m hoping for something besides the Three Stooges since Paul has left us one short.”

“What was the shortest one’s name?” Sam was perplexed.

Lisa snapped her fingers again. “Focus on me, Red.”

“This is my natural color,” Sam said, fingering her hair. “It’s the L’Oreal I naturally buy.”

Lisa sighed.

“You have my complete attention.” Sam sat up straight in the chair.

Lisa spoke from the kitchen. “The menu for tonight? I’d be delighted to tell you what I made for my customers today.”

Sam looked about to see who had asked before understanding she was supposed to. “What is tonight’s menu?”

Lisa came to the division between kitchen and dining room with a dishtowel draped over her forearm and a chef’s apron covering her blue jeans. “For your enjoyment tonight, we have oysters Rockefeller, Chateaubriand with portobello mushrooms and madeira wine jus, steamed asparagus with hollandaise sauce, twice baked potatoes with leeks and parmesan, tiramisu hearts, and coffee with chocolate dipped strawberries. Recipes are courtesy of www.gourmet-food-revolution.com. They also suggested starting with champagne, but I think we’ll forgo that this time. So what do you think?”

“What’s jus with you?” Sam asked with a straight face.

Lisa shook her head. “I can see now that you’re going to drive me insane.”

“Turnabout is fair play,” Sam said, earning a second look from Lisa.

Lisa dimmed the overhead light and served each course, enduring Sam’s quips with humor. By the time they were sipping coffee, ninety minutes had passed in the blink of an eye.

Between the food and Sam not taking another loaded Tylenol, she was almost back to herself. “Thank you so much. Don’t tell Paul, but I’ve never enjoyed a better prepared meal.”

“My pleasure.” Lisa briefly bowed her head.

“Time with you makes me realize how shallow all my dates this past year have been, and I mean the actual dates, not the women. Rushing the women was my doing. You were right when you said I had much to learn about romance. As Tambor reminds me, ‘Smart people.’” Sam said it despairingly.

“Let’s consider this a fresh start. The first thing you do is learn to listen to the nurse in me.”

“Okay,” Sam said.

“Go to bed. Rest is the best you can do for your body after what happened yesterday. I’ll clean up my mess and load the dishwasher.”

“But I was raised that if you cook, I clean.”

“Believe me, that’s my kind of deal, but tonight’s the exception. Bed,” Lisa said firmly.

“Yes, ma’am, and you’ll notice I resisted any easy jokes.”

“Thank God. That reminds me. Take another regular Tylenol—the docs never tell you that it’s okay to exceed the dosage on the package when you’re really hurting. Come off of the loaded pills when you feel like going back to work next week—hopefully Tuesday or Wednesday.” Lisa stood and gathered the plates. She stopped by Sam’s chair. “Hey.”

Sam looked up.

Lisa bent over and kissed Sam gently on the cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

“You’re a cruel woman.”

Lisa chuckled as she helped Sam up from the chair and gave her a push along the hallway.

“But I could get used to you telling me what to do,” Sam said softly as she returned to her bedroom.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Sam counted the carefully packed boxes of books. The moving company had made her promise to use the smallest of their boxes for her sake and theirs. It would also help when the collection arrived at the university. No doubt the boxes would be placed in storage until a part-time employee was assigned to inventory the contents. Ava had her own cataloging system that she and Max had used over the years of collecting so they wouldn’t repeat purchases. Sam doubted that the university would give much credence to Max’s cigar boxes with index cards cut in half.

“Thirty-five boxes.” Sam looked across the den at Ava. “I’m betting the university library doesn’t have many of these. You guys traveled and bought so many editions overseas.”

Ava chuckled. “We usually ended up giving away our clothes so that we could pack the trunks with books when we came home.” She sat in Max’s recliner, gently rocking. It had surprised her that Donnie wanted the old chair for his den.

The house had almost emptied itself. The estate sale had been a huge success with pickers who bought in lots and individuals who sought single pieces. Ava had been stunned by the easy influx of cash. Don was mollified by having six months’ rent at Ava’s new apartment paid in advance without Ava touching her savings.

Don was also stunned that the house sold so quickly. He had asked a reasonable price before attempting major upgrades. His concession for the sale was to pay all the closing costs rather than drop the actual sale price. He had none of the hassle of arranging and overseeing renovations. He had discussed the strategy with Ava of investing the funds from the sale of the house in bonds of varying maturity, bearing both their names. Ava had readily agreed. Don wanted none of the proceeds, insisting that all he wanted was for Ava to be financially secure for the years ahead of her.

“It was all easier than I thought,” Ava said. “I should’ve done this sooner.” She rubbed the arms of the chair.

“No last thoughts of anything we missed that you wanted to take with you?” Sam asked.

Ava had a grouping of fifteen boxes containing the core of her library on Virginia history that she worked with on a daily basis. She had tagged a half-dozen pieces of furniture to be moved. Once she began to realize the catharsis provided by uncluttering her life, she had decided to take surprisingly little with her to the apartment.

Ava shook her head. “All of this feels right. I want a fresh start. I want to simplify the remainder of my life. The last thing I want is to try to force a house full of things into a two-room apartment only to make it cramped and uncomfortable. I’m embarrassed by how much Max and I had accumulated here. We weren’t hoarders, were we?”

Sam chuckled. “Not unless you have a stash of empty margarine containers or cases of toilet paper somewhere that we haven’t found.”

“I can’t believe how much you did with that cast on. I hope you haven’t set your healing back by lifting too much,” Ava said.

Sam patted the fiberglass. “No, my arm pretty much lets me know when it’s had enough. The difficult part was labeling the boxes left-handed so that someone else could decipher the writing. Another two weeks, and I may see my arm again.”

Ava walked into the kitchen. All the cabinets had been emptied. Sam was to coordinate pickup by the DAV within the week remaining before the closing date on the house.

Don now had time to have the house cleaned and make sure Ava was settled in without rushing everything at the last minute.

“You seem not to have minded a broken wrist,” Ava said.

Sam grinned. “Well, it finally got Lisa and me together, so I think it a small price to pay. Yet I don’t want or need to rush anything with her. I really want it to just play itself out. I feel such an underlying excitement about the possibility of a good and lasting relationship, I don’t want to spoil it. You know?”

Ava nodded. “That means all is as it should be.” She walked into the dining room and looked about the empty walls. “I’m honestly excited about my move.” There was wonder in her voice. “I feel as I did when I packed one suitcase and left for college when I was a girl. We were a few years over World War II. Max was going to college on the G.I. Bill—what a marvelous instrument that was for so many generations. He had enough saved for a tiny little house. My parents agreed to pay for my schooling as long as I swore to complete whatever degree I started. We waited to have Donnie until after we both found jobs.”

“Very wise,” Sam said.

Ava shrugged. “We couldn’t afford to do anything else. I have no regrets. I had a wonderful husband, a long career, and a child who is here now for me. I wouldn’t change any of the major events of my life, and I’ve stopped worrying about the little things. Worrying is just such a waste of time.”

“How many people are able to recognize that about their lives?” Sam said.

Ava came back to Sam. “It’s not too late for you, dear. Your forties and fifties are wonderful years, even your sixties if you take care of yourself. I didn’t really begin to feel that my health was compromised until I was in my seventies. Now each day is a bonus.” She motioned Sam to lean closer. “Enjoy every moment you can—it’s the small things that make you happiest. Listen to your heart.”

“Yes, ma’am.” At the moment, Sam’s heart was full. She knew there was nothing more important than her friends and Lisa.

“There’s Donnie.” Ava looked out the front window. She held on to Sam’s hand as they walked to the front door together.

Ava closed and locked the front door behind them. “Adieu, adieu.” Ava whispered a farewell to her home and that phase of her life. She squeezed Sam’s hand, then waved to Donnie.

Haley jogged across the street to give Ava one last hug. “I’ll come to see you in a day or two.”

“Me too,” Sam said.

Ava nodded as Donnie helped her into his car.

Donnie held out his hand to Sam. “Thank you for all your help. You’ve been a good friend to my mother.”

Sam watched the car until they were out of sight.

“Beer?” Haley said to Sam.

“Oh, yeah.” Sam followed Haley. “I hope I have just a measure of her dignity when it’s my time to do that.”

Both women tried to cover that they were crying.

“There goes my butch card,” Sam said.

Haley blew air between her lips. “Like you ever had one.”

“Honorary,” Sam said.

“Well, my mascara and lipstick are ruined,” Haley said.

“You wouldn’t know one from the other.” Sam bumped shoulders with her friend.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“I’m not nervous,” Sam said to herself. She squinted at the house numbers too small to read from the street on half of the houses. “Who am I kidding? I’m way nervous.” She grinned. “How cool is that?”

Sam glanced at the time displayed on the Nissan’s radio console. “That clock has to be slow. I’m not early.”

She slowed the car as she entered the block of numbers of the one she was looking for. Kelly had warned her that it was easy to drive past the place and not realize it. She looked for a wider curb entrance than the standard residential. “Got it.” Luckily, there was no other car behind her so she could slam the brakes rather than have to double back.

“Jeez, Louise,” Sam said as the slight curve of the driveway gave vision to the large tract behind the residential lots bordering the street. She approached a breech in the brick wall and screening white pines. An old wrought iron gate was staked open. She eased the car to a stop in front of the white frame gatehouse that served as an office. No one was on duty. She continued along the crushed seashell drive and followed the turn that would take her to the main house.

The two-story antebellum house set on a slight rise overlooking the surrounding lawn and pasture. Sam grinned with delight as the theme from Gone with the Wind played in her head. “But this is Virginia.”

A wide portico ran along the entire front of the house with Doric columns easily two feet in diameter supporting the roof. The house was a holdover to the past when the area had been prosperous farmland. As times changed and subdivisions encroached, most of the land had been sold, leaving twenty acres surrounding the grand old home. The house itself had gone through the cycle of showcase home to one of Chesterfield County’s coal kingpins only to be used for hay storage a hundred years later as it awaited a wrecking ball or restoration. Fortunately, after the last two hundred-acre parcel was successful as a golf course, the house was bought and restored as an inn. It had been renamed Manakin House in honor of the French Huguenots who settled the area and mined the first coal.

If Sam had continued along the main drive, she would have passed a row of outbuildings that looked alarmingly like slave cabins that were nowadays rented as cottages. A barn stood on the back corner of the property. Sleigh rides were a big attraction in the winter when snow cooperated. The rest of the year, equestrian lessons were a revenue mainstay. The property boasted a pond stocked for fishing that was landscaped to give the feel of being in the deep woods rather than walking distance of a rented room. The country club also offered free visitor golfing to guests of the inn in exchange for a catering discount.

Sam had heard of the lavish parties held at Manakin House but never been invited to one. Most of Richmond’s elite held some part of their children’s weddings here, whether party or actual ceremony. Bookings were solid during December for Christmas gatherings.

Sam thought back to the phone call from Lisa that had brought her here.

“How’re you doing?” Lisa began.

“Okay.” Sam stopped the stair stepper reps.

“Is Ava settled in her new apartment?”

Sam wiped her face with the towel from the handlebar. “She is. She called as soon as Don left her alone the first time. She’s so excited to have everything she needs in a small, accessible space. She gives me hope for the distant future.”

“What’re you doing in your immediate future?” Lisa asked.

“Nothing. I’m in a groove—go to work, come home, behave myself. That’s it. My cast comes off next week.”

“Woohoo! Will you trust me to plan an evening for us this Friday?”

“You bet.” Sam’s only reluctance was that it was Tuesday—so many days to wait.

Lisa chuckled deep in her throat. “You’re so easy and transparent.” She gave Sam the time and address.

Sam whistled. “Manakin House. You’re kidding. How dressed up do I need to be?”

“That’s personal preference.” Lisa waited for the return of Sam’s attention. “Casual’s fine.”

And she was gone, leaving Sam staring at her cell phone.

Sam had taken Lisa at her word. She wore blue jeans and a pale green Oxford shirt with the tails out. She hoped she wasn’t about to embarrass herself.

Sam locked her car out of habit, even though no one was around. She approached the main entrance of the building and wondered why the place was so deserted. This was all very strange. The front doors were unlocked.

“Hello.” Sam listened for an answer or any telltale noise.

“I’m in the back.” Lisa’s voice was muffled by the distance it had to travel through the solid walls of the house.

Sam glanced at the period furniture in the wide hallway. The carving of the newel post and banisters of the stairway was intricately handcrafted. The parlor was to her left and dining room to her right. Both rooms were the size of small exhibition halls. Sam paused at the swinging door that separated front and back halves of the house and prepared herself not to react like a two-month-old puppy upon seeing Lisa.

Sam caught her breath as she stepped into the glittering twenty-first century kitchen. Lisa stood at the island in the center of the room that was directly from a designer’s portfolio. No trace of Civil War times had survived the renovation into a commercial kitchen with all the latest gadgets. Black granite countertops set off the room dotted with stainless steel appliances and hanging racks of pots and pans. There was a walk-in freezer, a wine cooler as tall as a refrigerator, and a Viking range as big as Sam’s car.

“Good heavens. This must have cost more than my entire house.” Sam was dazzled by the pimped-out kitchen.

“Isn’t it a hoot? I feel more like a scientist than a chef,” Lisa said. She wore an apron over her clothes. She walked over to Sam and gave her a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “Sit down. I have mixed drinks ready.”

Sam pulled out a stool on the opposite side of the island from Lisa’s prep area.

Lisa placed a cocktail glass in front of Sam. “Lemon drop martini?”

“I haven’t had one of those in years.” Sam tasted the mix. “Delicious. What’s the deal here?” Sam gestured at their surroundings.

“I’m house-sitting. The owners have gone to the beach for two weeks before college graduation and wedding season begins. My boys are coming over Sunday to ride horses and play golf. I cook for the owners on the crazy weekends when both are too busy working the guests to be in the kitchen. They told me to make myself at home, so I called you.” Lisa checked the oven, looking through the glass panel rather than opening the door. “How about a tour? We have time.”

“Absolutely.” Sam drained the glass. “Yum.”

“Another to take with you?” Lisa started toward the refrigerator.

“I’ll wait. I don’t want to take a chance on spilling anything.”

Lisa led the way, pointing out the half bath open to guests off the wide hallway and the residential quarters in the back corner of the house. “This is where I’m staying. It’s easier to be near the alarm panel and security monitors.” The room’s second television panned the cameras mounted throughout the compound.

Lisa explained the best of the antiques in the parlor and dining rooms. She gestured to the stairs when they returned to the main hall. “There are four suites above us. Come see.”

Sam almost fell over her own feet as her eyes were on level with Lisa’s butt as she followed her up the stairs. A central hall led to four wide doors, each leading to spacious bedrooms with private baths. “You have to see this one.”

Lisa opened the door on a bedroom with king-size four-poster bed, fireplace with gas logs, matching paisley overstuffed chairs, and a window seat overlooking the wooded pond. She opened the door so that Sam could appreciate the sunken tub and multi-jet shower. The tub was half full. Lisa turned on the jets and pointed to a fluffy robe hanging on the back of the door. “Why don’t you get undressed?”

Sam gulped. Her senses were about to explode as it was. “What?” Her voice squeaked like a teenage boy’s.

Lisa laughed and led Sam by the arm into the bathroom. “I’m going to check on dinner. Enjoy a nice relaxing soak.” She rubbed her hand across Sam’s shoulders. “Just as I thought. You’re tense and knotty.”

Sam fought the urge to say that she did indeed feel naughty.

Lisa sprinkled bath salts in the water and left the room, closing the door behind her. Beth Nielsen Chapman began to sing from the bedroom stereo.

Sam looked around. “What the hell.” She undressed and eased her body into the tub. “Heaven.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. It was seldom that a tub was long enough that she could stretch out without her knees sticking up.

Sam lost track of time until she heard the sound of someone clearing her throat.

Lisa stood in the doorway, holding a towel. “Ready to come out?”

“Years ago,” Sam said.

Lisa let her eyes linger on Sam’s body as she wrapped the towel around her. She gently patted Sam down, then led her into the bedroom. “Lay down.”

Sam sat on the bed and swung her legs up.

“Across the bed, on your stomach,” Lisa said.

Sam had given up thinking and did as she was told.

“Have I told you that I’m a licensed massage therapist? That’s what I did before nursing.” Lisa leaned over the bed and eased the towel to Sam’s waist, exposing her back. She worked lotion into her hands, warming it, then began kneading Sam’s neck and back, working out the knots and releasing spasms.

Lisa manipulated Sam and the towel as she spent an hour on a full body massage.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Sam said. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Lisa sat on the edge of the bed, working the last of the lotion into her hands.

Sam rolled onto her hip.

“I know helping Ava leave her home has been difficult for you, mentally and physically. I also know you well enough to guess that you have thrown yourself into the office and Ava’s house, working at both more than you should to keep your mind off of everything else.” Lisa enjoyed the way Sam’s eyes followed her hand motion. “Plus, I wanted to soften you up for what I need to say to you.”

Sam blinked. “I don’t want to ruin what I’m feeling for you.”

Lisa nodded. “That’s why we’re going to take this very slowly and know each other before we know each other. I need to make sure you understand how important my sons are to me. I lost my rights to them when I walked out of my marriage. I was going crazy because I knew I was living a huge lie. My husband hated me, but thankfully, he didn’t turn the boys against me. He just wouldn’t allow me to see my youngest unsupervised until Alex became a teenager. Alex and I are cool. Rick and I are still struggling. They come first when I have a chance to spend time with them. Anyone I date has to understand my priorities. You’re my first girlfriend since they actually both spend entire weekends with me.” Lisa’s preplanned speech ran down. “Sorry for the filibuster. Well?”

Sam smiled. “I’m your girlfriend? What’s for dinner?”

“It’ll be on the table by the time you dress,” Lisa said, “unless you want to wear just the robe.”

“Tease,” Sam said.

“More like promise,” Lisa whispered in Sam’s ear as she walked past her.

Sam shivered and decided it best to put all her clothes back on.

They talked and laughed and learned about each other until the early hours of the morning.

Lisa looked at Sam as they finished packing the leftovers and cleaning the kitchen. “You’re welcome to stay the rest of the night in one of the rooms upstairs.”

Sam shook her head. She had never had the second martini and only sipped the wine with their meal. She hadn’t needed alcohol for the high she was on and wanted to clearly enjoy and remember the evening. “I’ll see myself out. Thank you for a wonderful time.” She kissed Lisa on each cheek. “I learned that in France.”

Lisa took Sam’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips. “I learned that in high school.”

Sam felt as though everything in her life had been building to bring her to this moment.

“Drive carefully,” Lisa said. “This is the first of many nights together.”

Sam drove home slowly, mindful of deer and opossums that wandered the neighborhoods at night. She had never spent a better evening with anyone. Oddly enough, she wasn’t put off by taking a backseat to Lisa’s boys as long as she occasionally lured Lisa into the backseat with her. Sam smiled at the prospect.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Sunday morning—Sam’s favorite time of the weekend—was made especially sweet by the thoughts of Friday evening with Lisa. Sam didn’t feel the least tired from sleeping only four hours the past two nights. It was how she knew she was pumped for doing right by Lisa, work, and home in that order. She was truly savoring the feel of the relationship building with Lisa. A part of her was racing for consummation through sex while the rest of her wanted to wait as long as possible to make the act of love that much better. There was so much to look forward to. Sam wished everyone felt such anticipation about their future.

Fortified with her second cup of coffee, Sam stopped at her computer for a quick check of e-mail. The food that she prepared just didn’t have much appeal to her. “I must be falling in love.”

She stared at her e-mail inbox. “Oh, crap.” There were eight notifications from Match of messages sent during the past week. Sam tried to think back to the last time she had checked her personal e-mail—maybe two weeks. She stayed busy at work and didn’t have time to waste on Hotmail. She either talked or texted daily with Lisa or Paul. Ava relied on pencil and paper. It hadn’t dawned on Sam that there would be anything but glorified spam waiting for her.

Sam debated hitting the delete tab with each notification and not venturing into the Match information. Then she thought back to what a rocky road TLCplease walked as a survivalist and hermit, withdrawing more and more from any adult interaction.

Sam began reading the messages. In a nutshell—and Sam didn’t mean to be unkind, but the woman was a nut—TLCplease was finally over the edge and determined to meet Sam. She was not being offered a contract to teach the next year with the economy and the county’s budget taking the blame. Her cat had been diagnosed with kidney failure and hated being forced fluids by injection. A logging company was clearing the land beside her home, emphasizing that she hadn’t bought enough acreage. “Bless her heart,” Sam said. The last message was a blazing accusation of Sam being the woman meant for her only to be ignoring all her messages now that she really needed a friend.

“She’ll turn up at school with an automatic weapon,” Sam said, meaning the words and not making a joke at the woman’s expense.

Sam opened a blank message and typed. “I’ve been terribly busy at work. Apologies for not reading your messages until now. Please meet me for coffee at the new shopping center just before Midlothian this afternoon.” Sam hesitated before hitting the send button. She didn’t know anyone else to call on the woman’s behalf. Chances were that TLCplease would not venture away from home anyway. “At least I’ll know that I tried,” she said to herself as she sent the message.

Sam returned to her bedroom and dressed. The telephone rang.

“Hey!” Haley said.

“Hey, yourself.” Sam leaned over to tie her shoes.

“You were out late the other night.” Haley sang the words as though skipping rope to them.

“And you have a lovely voice,” Sam said. She heard Kelly laughing in the background. “Tell the hyena that her directions saved my ass.”

Haley waited for Kelly to stop howling. “We’re just checking on you. How about going to lunch with us? We want details.”

“Mind your own damn business.”

Kelly’s voice was heard in the background. “It’s serious if she doesn’t want to talk trash.”

“Love you both and mean it.” Sam disconnected. She didn’t want to tell funny stories at Lisa’s expense—this time was different.

Sam glanced at the calendar. This was Paul’s weekend to be in New Orleans for the Saints and Sinners festival. He was hoping to meet some of the other guys who wrote for his publisher. It also never hurt sales to be available for book signings.

Sam returned to the computer. She opened a message written in all caps.

“I’ll be there at 2:00. Don’t disappoint me. Dawn.”

Sam raised her eyebrows. This woman who looked as though a founding member of the Goth movement was named Dawn? She finished her chores—sorting through mail and recycling, throwing laundry in the machine, and paying her bills online—then headed out.

Sam was constantly amazed at the automobile dealerships that had moved to new showrooms on Route 60 west of Richmond proper. No shabby cars here—Land Rover, Audi, Saab, Mercedes Benz, and BMW. Sam shuddered at the value of their combined inventories and wondered how anyone justified driving a sixty thousand-dollar vehicle anymore. She patted the steering wheel of her Nissan. “I’ll drive you for 100K at least.”

Sam carefully negotiated the shopping center that had recently opened. The stores were dotted along a sprawling campus of annoying traffic circles and reverse curves. She parked in front of the doors of the coffee shop. Evidently, few others were enamored of the urban shopping experience, either. “Good, this should have made it easier on Dawn.” She had to work on becoming used to the name.

Sam pushed her sunglasses on top of her head as she entered the building. Seated at the corner table was the embodiment of a furtive woman. “Yikes,” Sam said to herself.

Crossing the room, Sam summoned a smile. “We finally meet.” She slid onto the chair opposite the woman.

“You didn’t think I’d show up, did you?”

“Well, you always had good justification for canceling before.” Sam blinked. The woman was entirely too thin. Her hair was spiked and her ears, nose, and eyebrows pierced. Her fingernails were painted black. If Sam hadn’t already sworn off Internet dating, this would have done it for her. Sam felt her sympathy shifting to the principal who had no doubt tired of reassuring parents about the safety of the students. Sam fought back asking Dawn if she always dressed this way or just to meet her.

Sam’s phone rang. “Excuse me just a moment.” She went to the counter. “Hold on a second, please,” she said after answering. She ordered, then returned her attention to the phone call. “I’m back.”

“You went out for coffee without me?” Lisa asked. “I could have brewed us a pot to share as we looked at the newspaper this morning—one of my favorite weekend pastimes, by the way.”

“Trust me when I say you wouldn’t want to be here.” Sam fumbled with her change. She looked over her shoulder. If possible, Dawn’s expression had darkened. “I’ll be just a minute.”

“Are you alone?” Lisa asked, her voice dropping the teasing tone.

“Not exactly.”

“Tell me you aren’t there with one of your Match buddies.”

“Can’t do that.” Sam sipped the coffee.

“Can’t talk, either, can you?”

“But I can explain later.” Sam turned her back to the corner table.

“Much later,” Lisa said as she disconnected.

Sam faced the table.

Dawn was standing, gathering her coffee and shoulder pack. “I might have known you were dating someone. Why didn’t you just tell me that?” She started for the door.

“I was trying to be a friend,” Sam said.

“Screw you. Oh, she probably already is. Well, screw both of you!” Dawn stomped across the coffee shop on three-inch-thick platforms. “Serves me right for leaving home.” She talked to herself as she barged through the door.

“I can only hope,” Sam said. “I’m such a dumbass.” More than the strong coffee left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Sam was not motivated to move except to reach to the next table for the newspaper. She hadn’t taken time to read the headlines at home. Not that she could concentrate to read. It gave her something legitimate to stare at.

Sam didn’t look up again until she was aware of someone standing next to her table. “Angela.”

“Hi, Sam.” Angela was arm in arm with a young man. They had the sleepy look of a morning spent in bed together. “Do you mind?” He pulled out a chair for her. “This is Robbie.”

“Help yourself.”

“I’ll get our coffee. Do you need a refill?” Robbie waited for Sam’s answer.

Sam shook her head. This young man was clean cut, as well as polite, and clearly in love with Angela—none of which she expected from Angela’s boyfriends.

“I’m working.” Angela glanced at Robbie. “I like my job and making money for us. Robbie’s staying in school. I’ll go back later if I really need to.”

Sam was stunned. “It sounds like a plan has come together.”

Angela hesitated. “I know I was a brat. Robbie talked me through it. He agreed with you and Dad. I’m trying to see my parents as people, not my expectations of them—just like I want them to do me.”

Sam resisted the urge to pinch herself. “I’m glad for you, Angie. They both love you and want you to be happy, as well as independent.”

Angela nodded. “For all my college classes, I’m finally learning that.” She stood. “I just wanted us to be cool. You mean so much to Dad. I’m glad he has you. I’m tired of driving people he loves away.”

Sam watched Angela and Robbie settle comfortably at a table with coffee and croissants.

“There is hope,” Sam said, “for any of us to change.” Sam knew her best strategy with Lisa—persistence.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Sam lost count of the number of phone calls, e-mails, and text messages it took to convince Lisa to listen to what she had to say about TLCplease—she refused to think of her as Dawn. Then Sam repeated the process in talking Lisa into coming to her house for dinner with her friends. Next, she turned to Paul.

“Busy?” Sam asked when Paul answered his landline.

“I’m so jacked up from the conference that I have three books I’m trying to outline. I can’t stop writing. I’m carrying a little tablet in my pocket all the time, for crying out loud. If my damn job would just stop interfering with what I really want to do.” His voice trailed off as Sam heard a flurry of keys being punched on his laptop. Paul sounded five years younger.

“Damn, I’m going with you next year.” Sam stared at the living room wall.

“Uh-oh. What’s wrong? Is KD back in town?” Paul continued typing.

“Oh, Lord, don’t even think that. I’d almost rather she had beaten the crap out of me again compared to how badly I screwed things up with Lisa.” Sam told Paul about the friendly intervention that went bust.

“Wait, wait. Let me jot some of that down. You’re going to be in book number four.” Paul had difficulty with words for all the chuckles escaping him.

“Well, I’m glad to be such a source of amusement and inspiration. I need your help, turd face.”

Paul sighed. “Okay, Lucy, tell me what part I play in your scheme to win Ethel back.”

“Teach me how to cook.”

Paul was silent.

“Are you still there?” Sam asked.

“I’m envisioning chocolate candies on a conveyer belt.”

“Gee, thanks. You’re invited by the way.” Sam hung up and made him call her back twice before she continued the conversation with him.

Paul was insistent. “You’re setting yourself up for disaster, trying to cook for a gourmet.”

“That’s why I’m keeping the menu very simple and something even I can’t screw up.”

By Saturday morning, Sam had practiced all the dishes she was preparing—steaks on the grill, sautéed vegetables à la kabobs, and two different meringue-topped pies. If Sam had learned nothing else in her mother’s kitchen, it was how to bake. Simple, satisfying food that was no competition with haute cuisine—perfect. Sam cleaned the house, shopped, and was ready to begin prep work two hours before everyone was to arrive. Her telephone rang.

“Are you sure you don’t want me there early to help?” Paul asked. “Aaron will wait to join us when everyone else is there if you don’t want him underfoot early.”

“Nope, I’m good. I’m going to do this by myself.” Sam glanced at her checklist. “Wait a minute, buster. Aaron? Isn’t he the cutie I found for you on Match when you set me up with the crazy shrink last fall?”

Paul laughed. “Hooking up with Aaron has been a weird, rather lesbian-like, experience. We met, clicked, held off taking it further because we were both seeing other people, then kept crossing paths. He was at Saints and Sinners as a followup to being in New Orleans for his job with the Tourism Corporation—something about the World War II museum. We ended up hanging out the entire con—we could have stayed right here in Richmond and done that. He wants us to be exclusive.”

“Very subtle. I’m proud of you. About damn time, by the way. Got to go, messes to make,” Sam said.

“Call me if you change your mind.”

Sam hung up.

By six p.m., all was in place. The gas grill was burning, the vegetables marinating, and the pies were ready to go in the oven to bake the meringue.

Paul and Aaron arrived. Paul beamed, showing off his new blond and buff boyfriend. Aaron Johnson was younger than Paul by ten years—a preference Paul couldn’t seem to break—and unable to take his eyes off his date. Neither of them stopped grinning. Aaron used Sam’s offered hand to pull her close to him and hugged her as though he had known her for years. Paul held up the chilled bottle he brought and ducked into the kitchen to pour glasses of wine.

“I love gay men,” Sam said into Aaron’s shoulder. She placed her free hand over his, gripping her right. “Take it easy, sweetie, I’m just out of a cast.”

“I’m so sorry.” Aaron dropped her hand. “My bad. Paul told me about it and I forgot.”

“How’s work?” Sam followed him to the sofa. She could appreciate that he was a gorgeous young man—tall, cropped blond hair, gym-sculpted body, and animated mannerisms.

“The Tourism Corporation has me scouting locations in the boonies next week. Thank God for GPS. I used to think I wanted to be in movies, but arranging locales for film crews that want to shoot in Virginia is such a hoot. So far, I’ve been an extra in one movie about the Kennedys and two about Jefferson, and played a corpse in a serial killer miniseries.” He struck a screaming victim pose.

“That’ll come in handy working for the state,” Sam said.

Haley and Kelly strolled in arm in arm, carrying a twelve-pack of Guinness. Kelly held up the box. “Just in case all you have is that wussy skunk beer.”

“You’re always welcome in my home,” Sam said. She met them halfway across the room and engaged them in a group hug whether they liked it or not.

“We waited until we saw the boys arrive so we wouldn’t be here first.” Haley looked about the room in expectation.

“We figured her car was hidden in your garage,” Kelly said, side-stepping an elbow from Haley.

“She’ll be here. She promised.” Sam was antsy enough without anyone else saying Lisa’s name.

Kelly bumped knuckles with Sam. “Need any help?”

Sam pulled Kelly into the kitchen. Haley followed long enough to set the beer in the refrigerator and take a bottle back to the sofa with the boys.

“I’m going to check the temperature on the grill. Please put the pies in the oven and take them out in fifteen minutes or as soon as the meringue browns.” Sam had everything precisely timed.

Kelly nodded. “Got it, boss.”

“Don’t make me smack you.” Sam was annoyed by the smirk on Kelly’s face. She was well aware of overplanning to compensate for her nervousness.

“For old time’s sake?” Kelly turned her butt toward Sam, then quickly stepped away before she took her up on it.

Sam waved her off and went out on the back deck. The grill was cold. “Shit!” Sam tried the ignition button. No sizzling of gas making contact with a spark. “Oh, no.” She opened the doors of the cabinet base and nudged the container. The propane tank she should have checked last week was empty. She returned to the kitchen.

Kelly made a fist and thumped her heart, then gave Sam a salute. “I’m counting down the brown time.”

Sam huffed and continued into the living room. She caught Paul’s eye and motioned him to the dining area. “May I borrow your propane tank?”

Paul grimaced. “It’s in the back of the wagon to be refilled.”

Sam looked at Haley. “You don’t even have a gas grill. I’m screwed in a bad way.”

Aaron excused himself from Haley. “I’ll run over to the hardware store.” He caught Paul’s toss of his keys and sprinted out the door.

“He has such energy for everything.” Paul’s eyes stayed on Aaron.

“TMI.” Haley covered her ears with her hands.

“Oh, you two go at it like zoo orangutans, don’t try to fool me with feigned shyness.” Paul loved teasing Haley and watched her neck and face turn red.

Kelly came to the doorway and motioned Sam to the kitchen. “How’s that?”

The meringue on the pies was as brown as a UPS truck, tips actually blackened.

“I made sure the eggs were good and done,” Kelly said, marveling at her ability to cook.

Sam covered her face with her hands. “What was I thinking, asking a butch to bake? You’re worse in the kitchen than I am.” Sam pushed Kelly toward the living room. “Go. Out. Now!”

The doorbell rang. Haley ushered Lisa into the house. Lisa looked at their faces. “Good heavens, what slapstick routine have I walked in on?”

Sam hit Kelly on the shoulder. “I didn’t need any help looking like an idiot.”

“Am I going to have to separate you two?” Lisa asked. “Paul, how are you?”

Paul waved, cell phone to his ear.

Kelly gave Lisa a quick hug. “Do something with your woman, will you? I’ve just been insulted and banned from the kitchen.”

Paul held up his empty wineglass. “This dinner is driving me to drink. Aaron just called. He’s stuck in traffic from a fender bender on Route 60.”

Lisa followed Sam into the kitchen. “Are we a little stressed out?” The kitchen looked as though a food bomb had been set off. No surface was without clutter or remnants of ingredients. “Need some help?” Lisa held up an abandoned corn cob.

“What’s your favorite take-out?” Sam tossed her apron toward the trash can, intending to repeat the action with the pies.

“Whoa!” Lisa caught Sam by the arm. “Go sit in the living room. Take a nice cold beer with you.” She gave Sam a push. “I forgive you, by the way.”

Sam fought the urge to put her head between the sofa cushions.

Aaron came in the front door and dropped to the floor dramatically. “I had a Steve McQueen moment and drove across the median and ditch. Traffic was not moving. It was too hot to just sit there and wait for the radiator to overheat.” He jumped up and over the back of the sofa to sit beside Paul, handing him the keys. “Nada on the propane.”

Sam groaned.

Thirty minutes passed. Lisa came around the corner from the kitchen and grinned at the desolate group. “Dinner’s ready.”

Everyone filed into the dining area and took a seat as though being punished. Lisa brought in platters of pan-seared steaks, steamed vegetables, and, later, bowls of baked pudding that tasted surprisingly like pie filling. They each in turn raved about the meal. Sam chewed in stunned silence while the others chatted as voraciously as they ate.

Lisa whispered in Sam’s ear as she began clearing the table. “You just have to know how to salvage a situation.”

“I bow to the master,” Sam said. “I clear and clean, remember?”

Lisa nodded. “I’ll try to pass muster with your friends.”

“It’s me they’ll boot out and keep you.” Sam watched as Lisa went into the living room to yet another round of applause. She nestled in between Paul and Aaron on the sofa. Haley and Kelly sprawled on pillows on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“What a perfect evening,” Sam said. She was amazed by her good fortune.

CHAPTER FORTY

“Why did I agree to do this?” Sam chided herself once again for being a sucker. She had been coerced into acting as the substitute host for the post-graduation job fair for area high school seniors who had not been able to find summer work. The high schools had bailed out on the chamber of commerce event because of summer programs already stretching skeleton staffs and nonexistent budgets too thin.

Even with making use of the drive-in door of the back bay of the building, Sam had schlepped in three loads of materials to the training room and now faced setting everything up by herself. “Well, at least I had sense enough to come in early to get this done before the phones start ringing.” Her phone beeped. “Too freaky.” Sam fumbled to set her armload down quickly and find her phone. “Probably Tambor explaining why she’s late as a volunteer for extra work I can’t pay her for. Maybe I can talk Kelly into helping once she’s off the clock.” She had waved to Kelly in passing when she didn’t park in her usual spot. “Or Kelly’s pissed because she opened the front doors for me for nothing.”

Sam read the text message from Kelly for the second time. “Boss, front and center. KD alert!!!!!!!”

She dialed Kelly’s phone. No answer. “This is not good.” Sam let the table skirt drop to the floor and trotted toward the front of the building. She followed the hallway to the conference room. No sense jumping to conclusions. Hopefully, KD was simply parked out front and glaring at the building. Sam walked quietly through the room and peeked around the door into the reception area, ready to bless out Kelly for scaring the crap out of her. Instead, Sam froze and stared.

KD was perched on the corner of Tambor’s desk with Kelly in a visitor’s chair, hands clasped behind her head. They both heard Sam’s gasp.

“Join us.” KD motioned Sam into the reception area.

Sam ducked back into the conference room.

KD fired the gun. A bullet came through the wall ahead of Sam with a dull pop. Sam jerked to a stop. The white board was ruined. “I wonder how much that cost.” Sam knew she wasn’t making any sense.

“Come back and join us or I’ll empty the clip into your buddy. I have plenty more ammo.” KD’s threat was way too calm.

Sam returned to the reception area.

Kelly’s face was pale as she silently pleaded with Sam. Sam wasn’t sure what Kelly imagined she might do.

“Sit down.” KD motioned with the gun.

Sam sat in the chair closest to Kelly so that they both faced KD.

“How lucky am I to find the two of you here at the same time?” KD rubbed her nose with the tip of the barrel. “Bonus!”

“I guess I don’t need to remind you that you’re in violation of a restraining order? There’s already an outstanding warrant for you,” Sam said.

Kelly kicked Sam in the ankle.

“The order that prohibits me from carrying a gun and will put me in jail if I approach you?” KD said. She knew legalese by heart. “A warrant because I didn’t report back to that old fart judge that I snookered?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “right on both counts.”

“Imagine that.” KD grinned at her, then looked at Kelly. “Call Haley and tell her you’re having car trouble and need a ride.” She aimed the gun at Sam for emphasis.

“No,” Sam and Kelly said at the same time.

KD shot into the panel behind Kelly, showering the women with broken bits of glass. “Call her.”

“Do it,” Sam said.

Kelly’s hand shook as she cradled her cell phone. “Hey, sweetie, can you come by and pick me up? My truck’s dead.”

KD leaned across the table and took Kelly’s phone, snapping it closed. She held out her hand toward Sam. “Give me yours.”

“May I call Lisa? She’ll know something’s wrong if I don’t leave her a message this morning. She’s worked all night, and I always check in with her.” Sam looked evenly at KD.

“Do it.”

Sam punched the button programmed with Paul’s number and hoped KD couldn’t read the small screen upside down before she had the phone to her ear. “Hey, Lisa, just wanted to say good morning. I owe you dinner for the grand slam in yesterday afternoon’s tennis match. I always get myself in trouble with losers. Talk to you later.”

KD glanced at her watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes until Haley gets here. Any last requests?” She grinned at the women.

Sam didn’t miss a beat. “For you to get the fuck out of my building.”

KD slapped Sam across the face. “It’ll be nice not having to put up with your smart mouth any longer.” She stared out of the narrow front window. “Ah, the last member of the crew arrives. If either of you move, it’ll be a tossup who I shoot. Understand?”

“Yes,” Sam said as Kelly nodded. She was in agony as she waited for Tambor to park and take her tote bag out of the trunk.

Tambor walked in the front door, struggling to clip her keys on the strap inside of her bag. “Whose piece of shit car is that in my usual parking space?” The question died on her lips when she looked up and saw the gun in KD’s hand and the blood on Sam’s face. She dropped her bag and threw up her hands. “I have a child. Take anything I got but don’t hurt us.”

“How about if I take out your boss and her friend here? You going to do anything to try to stop me?” KD motioned Tambor to join the others around the low table. “Cell phone?” She held out her hand.

Tambor pulled her phone from her skirt pocket and tossed it to KD.

They all stared at one another.

“Are we still not supposed to move?” Sam asked.

“God, Sam,” Kelly said.

“How about if I throw you across this desk, shove this gun up your butt, and pull the trigger?” KD asked.

“I guess I’d get a bang out of it.” Sam wished she could stop. What was wrong with her? At least she kept KD’s attention off the other two.

“I hear a vehicle,” Kelly said.

KD looked out front. “It’s Haley. She’s stopping, waiting for you to come out.” A horn honked once.

KD turned to Kelly. “Wave her in from the door.”

Kelly stood and stumbled with her first step. She caught herself on Sam’s shoulder.

“Don’t do anything crazy. Help’s coming,” Sam whispered.

“Quiet!” KD said.

Kelly approached the double glass doors leading to the air lock of the vestibule.

“That’s far enough.”

Kelly motioned Haley to come inside.

KD watched. “She’s holding up her hands, now pointing at her watch. Do it again, Kelly.” KD nodded. “She’s cussing. She’s coming in.” KD waited until Haley was through both sets of doors. “Good morning.”

Haley froze. She stared from Kelly to KD.

“I’m so sorry,” Kelly said.

“She had no choice,” Sam said.

“Don’t be shy.” KD waved them to gather around the table. “I’m just trying to decide what order to shoot everyone in.”

Haley reached for Kelly’s hand.

“How sweet,” KD said. She looked toward the main road of the industrial park and saw the first county police car arrive and block the entrance to the building’s parking lot. She turned to Sam. “Your call to Lisa?”

Sam nodded.

“Nothing ever changes, does it, you interfering cunt?” KD said.

“Nope.” Sam knew in that moment that she was going to die. She knew her friends would follow. She had made the mistake of thinking her time on earth was limitless now that she had found Lisa.

It was as though KD read Sam’s mind. “It’s been real, and it’s been fun, but I can’t say it’s been real fun.”

KD took aim and fired the gun.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Ava sat on the bench beneath the towering oak trees, hands folded on her lap, staring across the courtyard toward her building. She watched a fellow resident filling the half-dozen birdfeeders scattered about the park-like setting. She looked to her right when she heard approaching footsteps, smiled, and patted the bench beside her.

Sam sat down.

“Your cast is off,” Ava said as gently as coaxing a wounded animal to approach.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam nodded for extra emphasis. “My arm is almost back to normal.” The breath caught in the back of her throat. “Normal.” She said the word again as though from a foreign language.

Ava placed her hand on Sam’s thigh. She patted her gently.

Sam looked sideways. “I must really look bad if I’m getting a three pat.”

Ava chuckled. “You said it, not me.”

It had been a week since the shooting. A week that Sam felt was one of the toughest in her life. She felt disconnected most of the time, better understanding what Ava was going through. Her concentration seemed to have a mind of its own. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she should have done differently. Not that she had any opportunity to stop thinking about it. Local reporters continued to camp outside the building and turn up intermittently at her home. When she wouldn’t answer the door, they tried Haley. So much for thinking her sexual orientation would stay under the radar. Besides everything else, she and Haley had been outed big-time. Not that it really mattered, though.

What Sam couldn’t get out of her head was how close she had come to being killed. She simply had never really faced her mortality. Frankly, she didn’t like what she had seen. The one good outcome—she and Lisa were inseparable.

“I still can’t believe she did it,” Sam said.

Ava shrugged. “How long have we known that KD was unbalanced?”

“On the inside or said aloud to others?”

Ava patted Sam’s leg again.

“Either stop doing that or be prepared for me to start crying,” Sam said.

“That isn’t necessarily a bad thing to do.” Ava started to touch Sam again and stopped herself. “How’s Haley?”

“A basket case that won’t leave her house. She blames herself for everything. She’s only seeing Kelly,” Sam said. “Kelly’s all wrought up because she allowed KD to get the drop on her, and it was her job to protect the rest of us. If we’re going to place blame, it’s my damn fault the building was open so early.”

“Like Haley ever had any control over KD’s actions or Kelly could foresee every scenario at the building,” Ava said. “Or that you shouldn’t feel free to do as you need in your place of work?”

“You try telling that to two headstrong lesbians.” Sam swatted at a pesky honeybee.

“I’m having enough trouble convincing one.” Ava shielded her eyes and squinted at the woman coming out the back door of the building. “Is that your lady friend? She looks different out of uniform.”

Sam smiled and resisted agreeing too strongly. “Yes. She wanted us to have a little time alone.”

“It was all beyond anyone’s control. You do realize that, don’t you?” Ava waved to Lisa.

“A part of me does,” Sam said. “Another part of me blames the legal system. KD should’ve been in jail somewhere.”

“That’s too easy.” Ava dismissed the notion. “If you have no respect for the law, as KD didn’t, why should you be concerned about breaking it? KD knew she was a small fish as far as the police were concerned.”

“Ava!”

“KD’s path was set long ago, and she followed it instead of finding a way to break away from it.”

Sam sighed. “She won’t be missed. Isn’t that the saddest thing of all?” Sam rested her arm on the back of the bench behind Ava.

Sam knew that she was alive by luck only. They all were. KD had waited until she had her chosen audience. She had created one last melodrama. Sam fully believed that until the very last minute, KD had not decided whom to shoot. In a split-second decision, she pressed the barrel of the gun against her temple and squeezed the trigger.

Would any of them ever be comfortable in the incubator building again? Sam had no choice. She had made herself go back to work two days after the shooting when the police finally released the site. She refused to allow KD to ruin the career she loved. Tambor was already applying for jobs elsewhere and turning a deaf ear to Sam telling her the negative vibes would pass. Kelly had simply quit the security company and moved in as Haley’s bodyguard.

Lisa talked to Sam morning and night and continued to suggest counseling for all of them. Every time Lisa brought psychiatry into the conversation, Sam joked that she was going to call Shirley Eckels.

Ava couldn’t resist one last bout of patting. “Everyone should be mourned in some fashion.  Each of you is doing so in your own way. You saw how tortured KD was. Once you’re past the shock of the violence you witnessed, you’ll look at her differently. Give it time.”

Sam watched Lisa as she listened intently to the explanation of the different types of seeds that could be used in the birdfeeders.

Ava followed Sam’s gaze. “Doesn’t he remind you of Walter Matthau? He lives on my floor, one of the first to move in. Mr. Wheeler knows how to dance, too.” Ava winked.

“Get out of town.” Sam took a good look at her friend. “You look fantastic if I forgot to tell you when I first sat down.”

“Thank you, dear.” Ava smoothed the skirt of her dress. “So do you, by the way. Love agrees with you.” She dipped her chin and looked pointedly at Lisa. “I’m so happy here. Donnie thinks I just say it to make him feel better, but I am. I’ve made the first new friends I’ve had in years. Groups of us gather to play cards or listen to music each evening. I’ve joined the book club. It’s pleasant to go places together. I don’t feel as though I’m inconveniencing anyone. We help look out for the ones of us who are more afflicted.” She caught Sam’s look. “It’s reality. That’s why we enjoy each other’s company now as much as we can. I loved my house dearly, but I had forgotten how nice it is not to have that kind of responsibility.” She glanced at her wristwatch.

“Am I keeping you from something?” Sam asked.

“I have two grad students coming by this morning to help with the legwork on my projects. The university press wants first right of refusal of my manuscript.” Ava beamed with the good news.

“You’re going to be famous.” Sam hugged her.

Two of the residents passed by, power walking.

“Showoffs,” Ava said.

Sam chuckled. “We could rig a trip line between the trees.”

“That’s what Fred always says.” Ava watched him give Lisa a hug goodbye.

Lisa joined them. “I want to move here. Good morning.” She gave Ava and Sam a kiss on the cheek.

“Call me Ava, dear.”

“Good morning, Ava dear,” Lisa said.

“That’s what I call her, too.” Fred continued his rounds of the building, easily carrying the sack of black oil sunflower seeds.

“Dances and good hearing?” Sam raised her eyebrows. “He’s a keeper.”

“I’ll fight you for him,” Lisa said. “He’s so sweet.”

“Oh, my, you two are becoming too much alike.” Ava looked from one woman to the other.

“You should have seen her, Ava. She was knocking paramedics out of the way to come inside the building that morning.” Sam watched Lisa’s reaction.

“Paul called me and told me Sam was in trouble, then I heard the trauma alert come in. Freaked me out. I flew over there, arrived just as the SWAT team was standing down. I almost wrestled a rifle from one of them.” Lisa revealed more of her feelings with each telling of the story. She knelt in front of Ava. “I don’t ever want to experience that again—being held back in the parking lot and knowing a shot has been fired. I thought Paul and I were going through the cinderblock wall to find out who was hurt or dead.”

“You’ll have your hands full keeping this one out of trouble.” Ava patted Lisa’s shoulder. “See, she doesn’t mind a little physical contact.” She winked at Sam.

Lisa stood and held out her hands, one to Ava and the other to Sam. “We know all about that.”

It was Sam’s turn to blush. The night of the shooting had begun with Sam in one type of shock and ended with altogether another.

Lisa had won the argument with Paul to drive Sam home. Paul had spent the day with the women after he and Lisa called in to use paid time off. The gist of Lisa’s words to Paul was that the hospital admin had best approve her request or there were three other health care providers in the Richmond area she could find work with. Paul had echoed the sentiment. Neither of them had to find new employment.

“She’s too quiet,” Paul said to Lisa while watching Sam huddle on the sofa, staring at the television.

“Just let her hear us talking,” Lisa said. “She’s absorbing the television as background comfort noise, us too. We’ll coax her into drinking a soda and eating something in a little while.”

They had actually managed to have Sam eat lunch and doze off that afternoon as they all gathered on the sofa. First Sam had a good cry—sure sign of emotional recovery. Paul treated Sam as though a small child, not moving after she comfortably nestled against him.

After dinner, Paul took Lisa aside. “Are you staying tonight?” There was nothing coy in his question.

“Yes,” Lisa said. There was no mistaking the intent of her answer.

Paul nodded, kissed Sam on the cheek, and left to check on Haley and Kelly.

“Thank you for everything.” Sam’s voice trailed Paul. “I’m so lucky to have the two of you.” She hadn’t moved from the sofa except once to pee but had regained a little color in her cheeks. She followed Lisa about the rooms with her gaze.

“I think we’re all feeling lucky to have you, Haley, and Kelly tonight.” Lisa brought Sam a cup of cocoa. “I know it’s summer. Drink it anyway.”

Sam cradled the mug in her hands. “No argument here. I’m freezing.”

“Well, bring that with you then.” Lisa led the way along the hall. She flipped the switch that turned on the bedside lamp and looked about the room. “Nice.” The bed was king size, the furniture dark, the walls and trim a subtle shade of rose and magenta.

Lisa removed all of Sam’s clothes, then her own. She slid into bed beside Sam and put her arms around her as she spooned Sam’s body. “Best way I know to warm you up. I don’t do this for just any of my patients.”

“I should hope not.” Sam was relieved not to be alone. “I’m so glad Haley has Kelly, and I have you.” Her tone was tentative.

“I know, sweetie.” Lisa pulled Sam onto her back and kissed her. “Yum. Chocolate kiss.”

Sam raised her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I should have brushed my teeth.”

Lisa kissed her again, longer and harder.

“I’m feeling a little warmer now if you want to try a few more of those,” Sam said.

Lisa chuckled. “Now don’t go breaking the mood.”

But it was already done. Sam had never spent such a passionate night that found her one minute in a fit of giggles and the next in the throes of ecstasy. She and Lisa explored, guided each other, offered commentary, and finally fell asleep early the next morning.

Lisa eased out of bed and left the bathroom wearing Sam’s robe. She managed to find enough supplies in Sam’s cupboards and refrigerator to make a decent breakfast for five. She called Paul, who picked up a tray to share with Haley and Kelly. Lisa carried Sam’s breakfast in just as she awoke.

“It can’t be morning already,” Sam said.

“Oh, yes.” Lisa set the tray on the bed, then removed the robe and climbed under the covers.

“What a beautiful day,” Sam said.

“How would you know? You haven’t looked outside.” Lisa poured coffee from the carafe.

Sam shuddered. “I’m alive and in love and so are my best friends. That makes any day beautiful.”  She tasted the coffee and set it aside to cool.

“We are, aren’t we?” Lisa grinned.  “I’ll even say it out loud without fear of jinxing us. I love you.” Lisa lowered the sheet and flashed Sam. “No more catting around for you, missy.”

“What?” Sam’s gaze was focused on Lisa’s breasts.  “Absolutely not.”

Lisa nodded. “One last hurdle and we’re set.”

Sam thought for a moment and smiled. “I can handle it, I mean, them. I mean your boys, your children, not your breasts, even though I very much like to handle those.”

“Give it up, Samantha.” Lisa pulled her close.

“Oh, yeah.” Sam’s concentration was gone. “I really do love you.” Her voice was muffled.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Sam eased her car into a parking spot on the narrow street, making sure she was blocking no one’s driveway or sidewalk connection to the pavement. No point in pissing off a neighbor the first time she ventured to Lisa’s house.

She was in one of the older suburbs that had seen the first outpouring of city residents from the downtown area after World War I. The houses were of the age to be going through the second set of major renovations after falling into disrepair as the neighborhood lagged behind the times before coming back into vogue.

Lisa had told Sam to look for the smallest house on the street. She made no apologies. “It was the only one I could afford to buy even before values went up. Better to own a smaller house than rent a larger one.” Sam agreed with the logic.

Sam brought flowers for Lisa and Frostie Root Beer that she had liked as a kid for the boys.

Lisa had promised to make this easy on Sam—Sunday night supper with their father picking them up shortly afterward.

“Just get through the meal,” Sam told herself. It seemed as though her life with Lisa was to be centered by food.

The house was inviting. Its exterior siding was cream-colored with dark green trim and door. Lights glowed from every window. It felt like a comfortable home just standing on the porch. Sam liked the wicker furniture with thick cushions. One end of the porch was dominated by a wooden swing almost as wide as the decking.

Sam knocked on the frame of the screen door.

“I’ll get it,” Alex said. He raced across the living room in sock feet. “Hi, Ms. Moyer.” He held the door open for her.

“Hey, Alex.” Sam blinked as her eyes adjusted to all the lamps and the television turned on in the room.

Lisa’s oldest son lay on the couch, focused on the television, offering no acknowledgment of Sam.

Sam took another step forward. “Hello. I’m Sam.”

The young man shifted his head to keep from breaking concentration with the television.

“Mom!” Alex shouted toward the back corner of the house.

“Rick, introduce yourself.” Lisa called from what Sam assumed to be the kitchen.

The older boy sighed and swung his body to a sitting position. He looked up at Sam. “I’m Rick.”

Instead of shaking hands, he faked Sam out and reached for a beer from the coffee table. He looked at the carton of soft drinks she carried. “Nice. No caffeine, loaded with sugar, and a dark cola to stain our teeth. Did you think we’d be that easy?” Rick burped and stood.

“Don’t you dare leave. You agreed to eat dinner with us tonight and ride back with your father.” Again, the unseen Lisa.

Sam looked at Alex. “How does she do that?”

“She doesn’t take any crap off him.” Alex grinned, relieving Sam of the six-pack. “Thanks, I like root beer. Dad always buys the cheapest.” He nodded toward his brother. “He’s eighteen. He can have real beer when he’s at Mom’s.”

Lisa had explained her philosophy to Sam. She knew Rick drank alcohol. She didn’t want him sneaking around. He was permitted to drink in her home as long as he stayed in and was nowhere near an automobile. He had also promised her he wouldn’t use tobacco if he was allowed alcohol. Lisa thought it ridiculous the way the state flip-flopped on the legal drinking age yet allowed eighteen-year-olds to vote, join the military, and buy tobacco.

“Mom!” Rick mimicked his brother.

“He can have one soda with dinner and take the rest home,” Lisa said.

“Seriously,” Sam said, looking about, “does she have a closed-circuit monitor in here?”

“I’ve been through all of this before,” Rick said. “She knows how I feel.”

Sam invited herself to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from the tall, dark, and brooding oldest son who was definitely his brother’s every opposite. She glanced at the flowers gripped in her hand. “Oh, yeah. How’s that?”

Rick smiled. Sam could see why Lisa had married Rick’s father. “My mom left us for women like you. I always had to meet them. Ponyboy was too young. You should have seen some of her first girlfriends.” He struck a body builder’s pose. “Why should I have any respect for her or her lifestyle?” He waited.

Sam sensed the young man’s intelligence camouflaged by deep-seated anger.

“Iced tea?” Alex asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll bring you a glass if you’re still here when I come back.” He vanished toward the source of Lisa’s voice.

“You want to do this now and get it out of the way. Fine.” Sam set the bouquet of flowers aside on the coffee table and shifted slightly to look Rick in the eye. “Would you rather have had your mother living a lie and miserable? What do you think that would have done to your family?”

Rick’s lips thinned.

“How old were you when your parents split?” Sam asked.

“Almost Alex’s age—twelve,” Rick said.

“So you hated both of your parents by that time anyway?”

Rick blinked.

“You noticed the fights leading up to their divorce, felt the full effect of the separation, and were old enough to understand most of what you heard?” Sam pressed on.

“Yeah,” Rick looked away. “I failed a year of school, then spent the next five years being forced to see Mom a few hours each weekend. Dad made her come to the house to see Alex, but I came here. He threw me to her but protected Alex from the lesbian lineup. Now we spend entire weekends here.”

“Does she listen to you and try to help you? Does she tolerate your shitty moods and rudeness? Does she refuse to be drawn into your neglected drama? I bet she’s never let you play her against your father.” Sam leaned forward. “I’ll tell you a secret.” She looked around. “Sometimes life sucks no matter how good or bad a person you are.”

“Like seeing that woman kill herself in front of you?” Rick asked.

Sam blinked.

“Score,” Rick said.

“Yeah, like the woman who killed herself. She was in her forties and still making herself miserable over what happened in her childhood. Is that going to be you?” Sam said.

The smirk dropped from Rick’s face.

Lisa came through the small hallway that connected kitchen to living room. “Enough, okay? You’ve each drawn blood.”

Sam handed her the flowers.

Lisa gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, sweetie.”

Alex handed Sam a glass of iced tea. “I like having two moms and a baby sister. Dad explained it. Nobody was happy, so they changed who they were living with. He didn’t want me around Mom’s girlfriends until I was old enough to understand. I like girls, too.” He shrugged. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”

Lisa started back to the kitchen. She pointed to her left. “Bathroom’s through here.”

“And the master bedroom,” Rick said.

Lisa returned with a tray of hamburgers and fixings. “Everyone makes their own.”

Sam glanced straight ahead into the dining room that had been made into a bedroom. Curtains were bunched against the cased opening. “I’ll clean up since I did you boys the favor of not cooking.”

Rick withdrew with food into the dining room, whipping the curtain closed behind him.

Lisa looked at Sam. “He’s making progress. At least he argued with you.”

“I can take it.” Sam piled ketchup and onions onto her burger.

“Well, if you do, so will I.” Lisa added onion to her bun.

Alex was halfway through his hamburger. “I have to go pack. Dad doesn’t like to wait with Naomi in the car. She’s our sister. She likes Mom. My room’s off the kitchen.” He dashed away.

Rick emerged from his room with a duffel bag. “See you in two weeks, Mom. You promised to make dinner for me and my girlfriend.” He looked at Sam. “Maybe you, too.”

“Maybe,” Sam said.

“He’s here.” Rick yelled as he stepped out onto the porch.

“I’m coming.” Alex hurried through the living room, coming back to kiss Lisa on the cheek. He held out his hand to Sam.

“Always a pleasure to see you, sir,” Sam said.

“She’s sick, Mom.” Alex ran out of the house.

“Snowboarding term. It means seriously good.” Lisa knew Sam didn’t have a clue.

“Whew,” Sam said, putting the empty plate aside. She hadn’t realized she was so hungry.

“Welcome to my world,” Lisa said. She waited for Sam’s reaction.

“May I have another burger? I love the seasoning.” Sam grinned. “Just enough spice to make it interesting.”

Lisa threw a bun at her.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

“I love the fall,” Sam said. She was nestled against Paul’s shoulder, watching college football on the big-screen television in the corner of her living room.

“That’s not what you say when you’ve been raking leaves all morning.” Paul reached across Sam for the bowl of popcorn. “Where’s the missus?”

Sam elbowed him.

Popcorn shot across the room.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” Paul said.

“She’s out making deliveries to the rich people watching football,” Sam said. “She actually turned down the last several calls she received for meals today. She may bring in a part-time employee. For some reason, she doesn’t take me seriously when I offer to help.”

Paul snorted. He looked across the street. “Speaking of raking leaves.”

They watched Haley and Kelly chasing each other around the yard only to tumble down into the leaves they had just raked into a pile.

“They’re like two kids,” Sam said.

“Like you have room to talk about anyone.” He made a dove sound. “My four little turtledoves.”

Lisa had moved in a month earlier. Sam loved having her in the same house. They were in the process of having the apartment ripped out of the basement and installing a commercial-grade kitchen and one big combination room for the boys.

“I believe that would be six turtledoves if Aaron wasn’t on location this weekend,” Sam said. She had finally stopped teasing the boys about the U-Haul they had used to move Aaron in with Paul several weeks before Lisa’s move.

“Ain’t love grand?” Paul asked.

“I intend to enjoy the honeymoon while it lasts,” Sam said. “I’m in love but also a realist.”

“Amen,” Paul said.

“Did I miss prayer meeting or something?” Lisa came up from the basement. “I’m done for the day.” She sat beside Sam and reached across to punch Paul. “Clean up your mess.”

Paul laughed and picked up the popcorn from the floor. He held up the photograph of Ava and her new gentleman friend that Sam kept on the mantel. “Ava says it’s platonic, but I don’t know. It’s so cute the way she calls him ‘Mr. Wheeler.’ They both have that sparkle in their eyes.”

“I think it’s great,” Sam said. “No disrespect to Max.”

“I’m sure there’s none taken.” Paul kissed the top of Sam’s head in passing. “Drinks while I’m up?”

“Yes, please,” Lisa and Sam said in unison.

Lisa relaxed against Sam. “Rick said to tell you that you’ve beaten him at chess for the last time.” She raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you guys had hooked up online.”

“Ooh, flashback,” Sam said softly. She smiled at Lisa. “I could get used to this.”

“Oh, I won’t let you get too used to anything or where’s the romance?” Lisa asked.

Sam smiled. She thought back to Ava’s prediction for the New Year. It had come true. They had all found just a little romance.

About the author

 Mary Jane Russell is a native Virginian—the sixth generation to be raised on the family farm. She retired from local government after thirty-one years of service, during which she set a series of firsts—first female draftsman, staff engineer, project manager, and first female director of economic development.

Her lifelong love has been books and reading; her dream since a teenager was to be a published writer. This made her second career an easy choice. She is encouraged by her Cardigan Corgi, Winnie, and ignored by her cats. She lives with her partner in Roanoke, Virginia, and is discovering the joys of being an honorary grandmother.

She is also the author of The Arcanum of Beth and Murder in City Hall from Intaglio Publications.