“Have other people realized?” Harriet asked, holding her gaze. Before Charlotte could answer, Harriet added, “Have they figured out that you’re an American?”
Charlotte’s hands stilled. She hadn’t realized she was turning her cup in circles in her hands. “Why did you want me to come here?”
“I want to get to know you better, Charlie. You’re interesting. Different from other people,” Harriet replied, apparently unperturbed that Charlotte didn’t answer her question. “And I knew you wanted to see me sometime. Isn’t that what you said?”
Harriet smiled as she asked the question. She looked at ease and perfectly poised. Charlotte was once again distracted by the low cut of Harriet’s blouse, by her graceful gestures and delicate-looking hands.
“And yet you’ve hardly even looked my way the last few times we’ve been around each other.” Charlotte’s words hung in the air for a long moment. “The fact that Thomas is out of town – the timing is just a coincidence?” she asked, setting down her cup.
“Of course not,” Harriet admitted. “He can be such a bore. Why would I want him here when I want to talk with you?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Charlotte wondered how she might still catch Harriet off guard. “Would you give me the nickel tour?” she asked, choosing her words with purpose.
“Yes, how rude of me,” Harriet replied.
Charlotte followed Harriet to the kitchen and a small dining room. Harriet played the part of a hostess perfectly well, pointing out one or two details in each room as if either one of them truly thought Charlotte would be interested in architectural features of the home. At the top of the stairs, standing in the hallway, Harriet paused and gestured to an open doorway.
“This is the master bedroom,” Harriet said.
A large four-poster bed dominated the bedroom. Charlotte said, “You have a beautiful home, Harriet.”
Harriet smiled. “I like the way you say my name. I like how it sounds with your accent. You know, your accent grows more prominent when you’re nervous.” Charlotte visibly tensed and Harriet added, “Relax, Charlie. I’m not a border agent.”
“I’m here legally,” Charlotte said.
“I don’t care whether you are or not,” Harriet replied, resting her hand lightly on Charlotte’s forearm.
“I’m a British citizen.” Her brows knitted, she looked away, frustrated.
Harriet stepped closer and spoke in her ear. “I like you just the way you are.”
Her heart racing, Charlotte said, “Why do I have the feeling you’ve been toying with me?”
She pulled back to look Charlotte in the eye, her nose mere inches from the other woman’s, replying, “I haven’t any idea what you mean.”
“The comments about being Euroskeptic. The pointed looks at me when America was mentioned. The books downstairs – did you put them out just for me?” Charlotte asked, a sharp tone to her voice.
Harriet turned her head to the side as she gave a brief laugh, and replied, “No, Charlie, I didn’t put the books out just for you.”
Charlotte blushed angrily and said, “This is why I think you’re toying with me. You think this is funny.”
Harriet’s smiling laughter faded into a more serious expression. Her voice was quiet when she replied slowly, “I’m not toying with you.” She again leaned in and whispered in Charlotte’s other ear this time, asking, “Do you think I haven’t seen the way you look at me?”
Charlotte wanted to hold onto her feelings of anger and indignation, but when she looked back at Harriet, a different intense feeling arose in her. Her heart pounded in her chest, her lips parted, as Harriet’s hand moved from her arm to her hip. Harriet gave the typical small smile that Charlotte was beginning to associate with her, as she said, “Yes. That’s the very look.”
Charlotte was too impatient to wait any longer. She pressed Harriet against the wall with her body as their mouths met. They kissed hungrily, hands exploring each other’s bodies without hesitation or shyness, a new need quickly consuming them. All the while, Charlotte felt as though Harriet were still in control, had her feelings in check to a better degree than Charlotte did.
Charlotte followed Harriet into the bedroom and fumbled to get out of her clothes. Meanwhile Harriet unzipped her skirt in one smooth motion, letting it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. She slowly undressed herself, unbuttoning her blouse while watching Charlotte, and Charlotte realized that Harriet was enjoying making her wait. Charlotte went to her, guiding her to the bed while kissing her and exploring her body with her hands. She barely looked at her surroundings as they landed on the oversized bed. Charlotte was acutely aware that she was intruding into someone else’s space, but for the moment she only cared about the woman who lay under her and who was guiding and commanding her as though it had all been preplanned.
With her hand between Harriet’s legs, Charlotte kissed her pale skin, savoring the soft warmth against her lips. She trailed kisses up Harriet’s belly, between her breasts, and up the side of her neck, kissing on either side of the silver chain. Their eyes locked as they could both feel Harriet nearing climax.
Charlotte felt as though she were seeing the real Harriet for the first time, exposed in more than one way, her usual teasing smile and carefully controlled expression replaced by honest need. In those moments, Charlotte admitted to herself that she was feeling something deeper than lust.
After they were both thoroughly satiated, Harriet rose from the bed and pulled on a silky robe. Charlotte hadn’t previously noticed the robe, but its presence added to the feeling that Harriet had planned the morning to go exactly as it had. Charlotte began to gather her clothes to get dressed.
“If you’d like to take a shower, you’re welcome to use mine,” Harriet said.
Feeling emboldened from their lovemaking, Charlotte responded, “Join me.”
Harriet smiled, amused, but said, “Not today.”
“Does that mean you will another day?” Charlotte asked, smiling back.
“If you’re lucky,” Harriet replied, crossing the short distance between them to pull her into a long and tender kiss. “The shower’s through there,” Harriet finally said, gesturing to the small bathroom off the bedroom.
Charlotte gave in and retreated to the bathroom alone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had two showers in one day. She relished in finding that the shower had steaming hot water, but she felt that she shouldn’t linger. The feeling of being in someone else’s house, the knowledge that she had just slept with someone else’s wife, was quickly putting her into a sober mood. Her shower didn’t last more than ten minutes, but she emerged to find that the house was empty. Somehow she wasn’t surprised. She quickly dressed and then let herself out.
Chapter Thirteen
For the next several days, the hours at work seemed to fly by. Charlotte found that her energy and motivation were renewed, and she tackled her project with an increased intensity. In her downtime, she felt herself happily relaxing, humming as she walked, savoring her private mental replays of the moments she had spent with Harriet. She knew there was something about the situation, about Harriet, that she couldn’t quite figure out. She had the distinct feeling that Harriet was trying very hard to keep some secret part of herself closed off, but Charlotte clung to the fleeting moment of when Harriet’s guard had come down. It gave her hope that Harriet would let her guard down again.
“Collins can’t stop raving about the good work you’re doing,” Joanna said at lunch, sitting on the bench under the flickering lights.
Charlotte gave a short laugh. “Not true. He isn’t allowed to talk about the work we do.”
“Well, he doesn’t talk about the details, of course, but he said you’re an innovative thinker, that your solutions show a kind of creativity that surprises even him,” Joanna said with a hint of some emotion that Charlotte couldn’t quite place. Was it admiration or jealousy?
Charlotte took a drink of soup from her
company-issued thermos. “That’s nice of you to tell me,” she said.
Joanna shrugged. “What are friends for? I’m glad to see you’re finding a good fit in our lab. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I hope you’ll stick around,” Joanna said, smiling.
Charlotte felt a twinge of guilt at having suspected Joanna was jealous. She decided to change the subject and repent by confiding in her friend. “You may have been right about Harriet, by the way.”
“What do you mean?” Joanna asked.
“It’s just, I mean, you’re right that I like her,” Charlotte admitted. She felt Joanna tense and she began to second-guess her decision to confide in her. She added quickly, “But it’s nothing. There are lots of interesting, attractive women out there.” What was it that Maggie used to say? That’s right, Throw out the shovel. You’re just digging yourself a deeper hole. Charlotte could still hear Maggie’s voice telling her that, teasing her, but the situation felt more serious now. On top of that, her heart began to ache at the thought of Maggie. She pushed the thought of her dead wife from her mind.
Joanna was quiet for several long moments before she said, “Like I told you before, just be careful.”
Charlotte made herself take a deep breath before responding. “Oh, of course. You have nothing to worry about,” she replied in what she hoped would pass for a casual tone.
Chapter Fourteen
With her canvass bag full of glass and scrap metal, Charlotte waited in line with the other scavengers. The day was similar – hot, humid, crowded – as the last time she had stood in this line. She thought back to the strange series of events: the papers fluttering down, landing in puddles and disintegrating as everyone scattered, then the man asking if she were a friend of George and telling her an address to seek out. She still didn’t know what to make of it all.
She made it through the line, her bag emptied, without anything out of the ordinary happening. She half-expected to see the man in the tan overcoat and plaid hat, but he was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t sure if she were relieved or disappointed. She walked for only a few blocks before the mood around her changed considerably, where the passersby wore visibly more expensive clothes and walked at a more leisurely pace. The shops looked more like boutiques and sold luxury items: chocolates and candies, loose tea and coffee beans, and flowers of all varieties.
The shop that Charlotte entered was full of flowers of every color that she could imagine and in at least a dozen varieties: tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies, daisies, orchids, peonies, and more for which she couldn’t immediately come up with the common name although she knew the scientific names of some of them. She hadn’t been in a flower shop since she had last bought flowers for Maggie several years ago. She tried to remember if it had been for Maggie’s birthday or their anniversary, but she couldn’t place the memory. She silently asked for Maggie’s blessing or forgiveness, whichever she was willing to offer from wherever she might be, as she picked out a white orchid. At the register, the clerk debited far more credits than she had earned that morning.
Charlotte had misjudged how long it would take to run her errands. She looked up at the sky with some concern as the sun’s intensity seemed to grow. By the time she reached Harriet’s door, it was nearly noon, and sweat ran down her back and darkened her shirt in multiple places. She rang the doorbell a second time, wondering if Harriet wasn’t at home, when the door swung open.
“Charlie, what are you—” Harriet began to say but stopped short upon seeing the orchid. “Is that for me?” she asked. She looked dressed in her usual attire, her clothes perfectly neat and pressed, her hair combed with every strand in place, but her face registered a hint of anxiety.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. She handed the potted flower to Harriet, who accepted the gift but didn’t move aside to let her into the house. The feeling of not being welcome was not lost on Charlotte. “I’m sorry, I just –” she started to say.
Harriet’s eyes had darted over Charlotte’s shoulder before she cut her off mid-sentence. “Thank you.” She added quickly and quietly, “Listen, you have to go. I’ll come by your place later.” With that, she closed the door.
Charlotte turned to go, befuddled and feeling hurt. She looked across the street to where Harriet had looked and saw a man, presumably a neighbor, setting out his garbage bin for collection. He openly stared at her, sending a chill down her spine. After a moment, she broke eye contact first and walked swiftly away.
Charlotte took the long way home, needing the time to clear her mind and talk herself down from being angry with Harriet. By the time she returned to her apartment, it was halfway through the time when she’d normally be sleeping. She stripped down to her white underwear and faded black tank top, and climbed into bed.
A knock on the door woke her from her dreamless sleep.
“Just a moment,” she called to the door, pulling on the pair of dirty cargo pants she’d taken off earlier.
Opening the door, her first thought was that she was happy to see Harriet. A second thought quickly followed, one of Why doesn’t Harriet look apologetic?
“May I come in?” Harriet asked.
“Yes, of course,” Charlotte said, moving aside and then closing the door behind her guest.
Harriet crossed her arms and asked, “Can you just tell me what you were thinking – coming to my house this morning?” Her face looked calm but her voice betrayed her and hinted that she was trying to maintain control of her emotions.
“What?” Charlotte felt her hurt feelings begin to arise again. “Was Thomas home? I thought he was gone still for a few more days.”
Harriet closed her eyes for a long moment before saying, “It’s not about Thomas. It’s about you being seen in my neighborhood.” She sighed and unfolded her arms. “Listen, it’s not—”
“It’s not what? Are you embarrassed by me? Don’t want your neighbors to know you’re screwing someone else?” Charlotte could feel her pulse beginning to race.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Shit,” Harriet said, sighing and running her hands through her straight dark hair. Charlotte was unaccustomed to seeing a crack in Harriet’s façade. “I can’t attract attention, Charlie. My neighbors see you and they know that you, well, you don’t live there. They don’t recognize you. And frankly, you don’t look like you belong in the neighborhood – you know that. I can’t have any suspicions being raised… I can’t have my house being searched.”
Charlotte tried to process what Harriet was saying. She tried not to focus on what Harriet meant about the way she looked, the way she was dressed, and instead focused on what Harriet was implying about her house being searched. “Do you mean… you mean because of the books? The American authors? I don’t think the police care about that, Harriet. With all the terrorism threats, they have more to worry about than banned books.”
“It’s not about the books,” Harriet replied. She looked Charlotte in the eye, her face revealing intensity and anxiety, and then shook her head. “I can’t tell you more. The less you know, the better.”
“I’d like to understand,” Charlotte said.
Harriet said, “Please don’t. I –” Her voice faltered. She began again, “I like you too much for you to understand.” A moment passed and Harriet said, “I’ll go. I just wanted to explain. Well, to explain what I could, anyway.”
“But you didn’t really explain anything,” Charlotte protested. “So is this it? Does this mean you don’t want to see me anymore?”
“I’m not saying that. It just means we need to be careful. All right?” Harriet stepped closer and kissed Charlotte’s lips lightly.
Charlotte kissed her in return and said, “Okay,” even though she felt uneasy.
Harriet ran the backs of her fingers down the other woman’s bare arm. “The orchid – it was sweet of you. And it’s beautiful. I put it on the sitting room table.”
Charlotte looked into Harriet’s eyes, lost in the blues and grays that reminded her of
a turbulent sea, and said, “Well, I wanted to do something… sweet… for you. I didn’t mean for it to be a problem.”
“Let me worry about that,” Harriet replied, not moving away.
Charlotte could feel the heat from Harriet’s body and smell a trace of perfume. Her hand went to the top of Harriet’s blouse, unbuttoning the top button. “Will you stay for a little while? I’m tired – exhausted really – but…”
“You’re perfect,” Harriet said, her lips finding Charlotte’s neck.
Chapter Fifteen
Charlotte was humming as she climbed the steps to her apartment. Much to her surprise, when she arrived at her door she saw Erin sitting in the hallway, legs bent at the knees in a distinctly unladylike fashion, given her outfit. Erin wore a teal-colored silk chiffon dress that complemented her warm-toned skin but also clung to it in sweat.
“Erin, I didn’t expect to see you.”
Erin made a show of stretching her limbs before standing up. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you either.”
“What are you doing here?” Charlotte asked as she unlocked the door.
“I came to check on you, silly.” Erin replied. “You don’t write, you don’t call… I was starting to worry.”
“No need to worry,” Charlotte said, hanging up her jacket and bag on pegs just inside the door. “Want some water?”
“Sure,” Erin said. “You know I must’ve been out there for twenty minutes at the very least.”
Charlotte pulled a liter of water out from the refrigerator and poured water into two mugs. “You weren’t really worried, were you?”
“Are you kidding? It’s been complete radio silence from you for weeks now. Of course I was worried,” Erin replied. She sipped her water, leaning back against the kitchen sink and observing her friend.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy,” Charlotte said, taking a long drink of water.
“So what is it? Work? Football? Oh, don’t tell me, it’s that crush of yours – the coach! What was her name? Hannah? Hailey?”
The Organization Page 6