North Coast: A Contemporary Love Story

by Dorothy Rice Bennett

  Lanie groaned. “I know you need the money, but I hope this is a good thing. Does she seem independent, or like a kid needing to be adopted? You’re still vulnerable. The last thing you need is someone who’s needy, like that Debra.”

  “Whoa!” Valerie exclaimed. “I know you’re watching out for me, and I know the last roomer didn’t go so well. But I set some firm boundaries this time—the room and bath and nothing else. It’ll be okay.” She didn’t really need to be reminded about her disappointing first tenant.

  “Is she a lesbian?”

  “Gees, Lanie, how would I know? I just met her.”

  “Nice boobs? Nice buns? Surely you had time to notice that.”

  “Beautiful blue eyes, athletic looking but skinny as a rail. Give it up, Lanie.”

  “Okay. To be continued later. Gotta go. ’Bye!”

  Valerie hung up, shaking her head, and strolled into the kitchen, returning the phone to the cradle. Lanie must have been a bulldog in some other life.

  After dealing with Lanie, Val decided the others would have to wait. She needed something to eat first. In the refrigerator she found the makings for a sandwich and some fresh fruit. She was always relieved these days to look in the refrigerator and see her own things, ordered the way she liked them, and not all of Debra’s stuff stuck in everywhere, overflowing the shelves. That silly woman had been a disaster—well, a disaster for Valerie, anyway.

  She selected bread and leftover roasted chicken, along with cheese and pickles, and put them on the counter. A fresh orange would make a good dessert. She started the kettle for a hot cup of tea. Never having had a roomer before the “infamous” Debra six months ago, never having had to resort to such means to make ends meet, she hadn’t known what to do. Normally assertive but depressed after Doreen’s death, she’d been a pushover in this new role and Debra had taken advantage at every turn. Val had been lucky, so her friends had told her, to be able to get her out of the house after three months. Thankfully, the woman had found a boyfriend to move in with. Now here she was faced with a roomer again—and she probably still didn’t know what to do, but at least she wouldn’t make the same mistakes this time, that’s for sure.

  Samantha had padded into the kitchen, toenails clicking on the floor, ever hopeful for a treat or tidbit to fall her way. Valerie ruffled the big dog’s silky ears and slipped her a piece of chicken. Sam gobbled it down, wagging her tail happily.

  After her sandwich was made, Val considered returning the rest of her calls and then decided to wait until later in the afternoon. Although a gray day, the light was fair right now and it was a good time to work.

  She took her food on a tray out to the garage, with Sam at her heels, and settled herself before her unfinished painting. Maybe she could get the shadings completed on the lighthouse this afternoon. She had a coat of off-white on the tower, and now she needed to add the shadows and imperfections to give it texture.

  As she alternately worked and nibbled at her food, her mind drifted back to her conversation with Lanie, then to Debra, and then to this new roomer Gina. Why, she wondered to herself, would a woman in her 30s be wandering around the country, renting a room, with barely more belongings than she could carry in her hands? This way of operating was so different from Val’s experience—by her 30s she had had stable employment, a home, and a committed relationship. And was Gina a lesbian? Who knew? She didn’t wear a sign, for God’s sake. But those eyes were intense, such a deep shade of blue and so large! She probably had a nice body, sort of tomboyish with small breasts, but how would one know since Gina had so hidden herself behind those glasses, stringy hair, a shapeless oversized sweatshirt, and sloppy jeans?

  Valerie stopped in mid-thought. This was leading nowhere. Thanks, Lanie! As long as this woman paid her rent and didn’t cause any problems, her life, whatever it was, was none of Val’s business. This kind of curiosity would only get her into trouble.

  Pushing all thoughts of Gina aside, Valerie tuned the radio to a classic music station and went back to work.

  Chapter Two

  Valerie and her friends—Lanie Olson, Josie Turner, and Judith Marston, or Judee as everyone called her—had gathered around the television set in Val’s comfortable living room. They planned on sharing dinner somewhere in town, followed by an evening of poker back at Val’s house.

  The women had arrived late in the afternoon of a typically chilly and wet winter day. Val first showed them the progress on her latest painting, and they all responded with appropriate appreciation. Then the group moved to the living room—furnished with sturdy oak tables and rich, chocolate-tone leather furniture—to watch a television talk show and share their own happy hour.

  “I want a beer,” Judee called out. “Me, too,” echoed Josie.

  Valerie and Lanie both chose a glass of Napa Valley merlot; they brought their wine glasses and two beers out from the kitchen. Conversation in the living room was getting a bit loud, as it often did when the four women were having fun.

  Valerie brought out chips and a bowl of nuts and smiled to herself as she listened to the banter. She really enjoyed these times with her “gang.” It reminded her of the large number of interesting friends she and Doreen had cultivated in San Francisco.

  As Val put napkins, paper plates, and the snacks down on the coffee table, she looked affectionately around the living room at her friends. These women in Eureka weren’t as sophisticated as her “City” friends had been, but they were fun to be around. Judee, the newest member of the group, was a student at Humboldt State in nearby Arcata. Granted, the label “student” could be a bit misleading, since Judee was a mother and at least 40, but she was seriously into school, catching up for opportunities lost earlier in her life. She also laughed a lot.

  Josie was also a student—part time, anyway. A tall dishwater blonde with muscular build, she really preferred outdoor work. Caring for people’s lawns was leading her in the direction of a landscaping career.

  Lanie, with her gruff voice, came across as one of those tough women with a heart of gold. A bit shorter than Valerie, she had dark brown eyes and short, dark wavy hair with a single strand of gray. Her figure was solid and trim for her nearly 50 years.

  Val sat down on the sofa, joining the group. The women were deeply engrossed in the TV talk show—which focused this day on homosexual relationships—when Gina came down the stairs in her work uniform, comprised of a long-sleeve white blouse, red vest, black Bermuda-length shorts, knee socks, and black walking shoes. She nodded in their direction as she passed the open doorway but didn’t speak. They waved in reply and then went back to their TV and their conversation. As soon as Gina had thrown on her parka and was out of the door—and earshot—Lanie turned to Valerie and observed, “So that’s the new roomer. Hmmm, kind of puny, washed-out looking.”

  “And tall!” Judee added. “What, five feet eight or so? Maybe five nine?”

  Lanie glanced between Josie, who was nearly six feet tall, and Valerie at five six, “Yeah, I’d say taller than Val but not as tall as Josie. Athlete, maybe? And what’s that uniform she’s wearing?”

  Valerie shrugged. “Ritchie’s Grill, I think she said. It’s that new place on the 101 North toward Arcata.”

  Judee jumped up from the sofa and, ever up to fun, enthusiastically proposed, “I vote we have dinner there and give her the once over.” Her brown eyes flashed. “Is she one of us?” With a suggestive grin, she focused on Valerie. Judee, the group clown, had dark eyebrows that would shoot up and wiggle at the slightest provocation. Valerie was often reminded of old movies with Groucho Marx.

  Val shrugged at Judee’s question. “Don’t know. I certainly didn’t ask. She got my name and address from the women’s center at Humboldt State, but that could mean anything. She didn’t say, and I didn’t think it was any of my business.”

  Josie chimed in. “Yeah, right. But we can make it our business. This town could use some new lesbian blood. I vote that we turn on our ‘gaydar’ and go
check her out.” Josie stood out in the group as the most casual dresser, usually opting for some kind of overalls and a flannel shirt. This evening she was wearing jeans and an emerald-green turtleneck sweater, which accented her warm hazel eyes. Although a large gal, she was, Valerie noted, attractive in her own outdoorsy way.

  Among the women, Lanie alone was resistive to the plan. “I think the less Valerie gets involved with this girl the better. Remember Debra? Let’s leave sleeping dogs lie,” she commented. “No offense, Sam,” she added, with a warm laugh, as she looked toward the retriever stretched out on a nearby rug. Sam’s head had come to full attention at the word “dog.”

  Val waved them into silence. “Look, I don’t want to go to Ritchie’s just to check on Gina. However, Ritchie’s is a rather new restaurant, and I haven’t been there. I’ve heard that it’s reasonably priced, and I’d be willing to have dinner there. I don’t want curiosity about Gina to run my life, but I don’t want to avoid things because of her either.”

  Lanie raised an eyebrow. “You’re about as subtle as Samantha.”

  They all laughed and Valerie blushed, but in the end they decided to have dinner at Ritchie’s Grill. They finished watching the talk show, downed their beverages, and then, bundled up against the cold, soaking rain, climbed into Val’s silver Volvo for the short trip across town to the restaurant.

  Ritchie’s sported “retro” red, white, and black décor. The four women found a booth to their liking, stripped off their outdoor gear, and turned their attention to the plastic-coated menu that the young, smiling hostess had provided. They soon agreed that if they liked the food, they’d be eating here often because the choices were varied and the prices moderate.

  “Look,” Josie pointed out, “they have chocolate mud pie for dessert. Wow!”

  Judee feigned a pained look. “Do you have to mention that when I am trying to watch my calories?”

  They all laughed. Judee, after giving birth to her two sons, had continuously struggled with her weight. Her battle, however, had never prevented her from enjoying herself.

  Valerie looked around and noted that the restaurant’s 50s theme was uninspired but adequate. She had initially been amused at eateries in Eureka and how they generally lacked ambience, compared to the trendy restaurants she had enjoyed in San Francisco. She hated to sound snobbish, but living in a smaller community was certainly an eye-opening experience. After trying almost every restaurant in town, she had decided that if the food was decent in Eureka she had to be satisfied. And, she reminded herself, it wasn’t Eureka’s problem. She had decided to move here.

  A young woman server took their order. A trim blonde of college age and obviously heterosexual, she was not particularly interested in dealing with these four women. She handled their orders efficiently but without displaying any warmth toward them.

  While Valerie waited for the meal to be served she glanced around the seating area, hoping to spot Gina. At first she didn’t see her, but eventually Gina emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray loaded with several plates of food. She headed for a corner table. Val noted that Gina appeared friendly toward the customers she was serving and that they seemed to be responsive. As Gina went back toward the kitchen she caught a glimpse of Valerie and her friends out of the corner of her eye. Her face registered some surprise. She quickly nodded to Val, who was caught gazing right at her. Their eyes met briefly, then Gina looked away.

  Once Gina had disappeared into the kitchen, Josie leaned over and whispered, “So what do you think? Is she a lesbo?”

  “You better believe it,” Judee said loudly, with a raucous laugh. The bushy eyebrows danced.

  Valerie pleaded with them to be less obvious. “Come on. We’re all out, but let’s keep it down,” she said very quietly. “Especially you, Judee.” As they all did, Val stressed the “ee” and called her “Judeeeee.”

  “Okay,” Judee shrugged, “I’ll change the subject. Who do you think is going to win the Humboldt State basketball game next Friday?” Her voice was still loud enough to be heard by everyone in the dining room.

  A few heads turned their way, and Val, Lanie, and Josie all squirmed. Valerie frowned at Judee, who just wiggled her eyebrows in return. What could one do with such an irrepressible gal?

  In the kitchen, Gina shoved her glasses up on her nose and waited for her next order to be hefted onto the counter by Carlos, the portly, middle-aged Mexican cook. She looked at her watch. Valerie and her friends made her nervous because they were obviously here checking her out. She could handle the job fine, but those four women, who as a group looked so overtly lesbian, were something else. They were loud, if not obnoxious.

  When she’d gone to the women’s center looking for housing she had definitely wanted to share space with a woman, and she knew there was at least a possibility that the woman would be a lesbian. Valerie had been reserved, hadn’t made any comments about her personal life, which was fine, and Gina wanted to keep it that way. Now she found the whole bunch of them unnerving. Valerie was feminine in appearance and could fit in any crowd, but the other three were very butch. Gina hoped they didn’t try to talk to her.

  With a sigh, she reached up to the counter, took the plates that had just come up with her order, and headed back to the dining room. “Well, gal,” she grumbled to herself, “this is part of the game. You can’t avoid it, so you might as well learn how to live with it.”

  Gina waved her pay envelope at Ritchie’s manager. “Thanks, Tino,” she called out as she left the restaurant. Climbing into her Beetle, she clutched the envelope tightly. Now on to the bank.

  Her personal survival tools included a cell phone—which she detested but kept for emergencies—the simplest of checking and savings accounts, and one credit card, also used only for emergencies. Now that she had her first paycheck, the bulk of it, beyond what she needed immediately for gas and food, went into Bank of America at F and the 101 downtown. Next Gina walked along the 101 to the nearest post office. She needed to open a post office box and pick up her general delivery mail, which consisted of a few advertisements and one envelope that appeared to contain a bill. The ads she tossed into a nearby trash barrel. Then she tore open the envelope, pulled out a sheet of paper, and quickly read what it said. She resisted a sudden impulse to wad up the paper and toss it in the trash, knowing that destroying it would feel great but wouldn’t in the long run help anything.

  Uttering a deep sigh, she looked around the room and spied a counter with free space for writing. She went over to the counter, pulled her checkbook from her backpack along with a plain envelope, and quickly wrote a check. She addressed the envelope, enclosed the check, and went up to the window to buy some stamps. She then paused just a second to study the envelope thoughtfully before dropping it into the outgoing mail slot.

  Outside the building, she bought a local newspaper from a sidewalk rack and pulled her parka tighter against a brisk wind. It was a cloudy winter day, but no rain was forecast until later in the afternoon.

  To sit and study the paper, she could go to the library—which was several blocks away—or go down to the waterfront, perhaps almost as far. Despite the cold and wind, she chose the waterfront. She needed to walk, to think, and to make some decisions. The Boardwalk was a good place for that because, on a day like this one, she could count on solitude there.

  Gina hiked for several blocks and finally came to the Boardwalk, where there were benches at water’s edge—just across from typical Old Town businesses, including a restaurant, an antiques store, and a couple of art galleries. She sat with her newspaper, thoughtfully, frowning now and then when the gusty wind threatened to whip the pages out of her hands. She carefully went over the want ads, then folded the paper, found a pen in her backpack, and circled two ads in the Help Wanted column. She jotted some figures in the margin, totaled them up, and nodded. Next she pulled a map of Eureka from her backpack.

  After checking the map, which she held tightly against the wind, she pulled
her belongings together and walked briskly back down the sidewalk along the same direction she had come earlier. She looked at building numbers on the other side of the street until one caught her eye. That was it, The Music Recycler. Pausing for a moment to let a car pass, she crossed the street and approached the faded brick building. A small “Help Wanted” sign had been placed in a window next to the front door.

  Crossing her fingers for good luck, she entered the store. A few moments later the “Help Wanted” sign disappeared from behind the glass. Gina came out shortly thereafter, a broad smile on her face. She pumped a fist into the air. Perfect, she thought to herself. Just what she needed. A job in the mornings opening the store for the owner, a job that would fit into her schedule at Ritchie’s Grill. Gina couldn’t believe her good fortune. Jobs were scarce in Eureka—she knew that even though she hadn’t been in town very long. Maybe the fact that the store owner was pretty clearly gay had helped her get the job. Whatever, she was just grateful to have it.

  A Saturday morning dawned much warmer than in recent days. A light fog started breaking up early, and the afternoon promised to be sunny. Valerie was thrilled. It was going to be a rare, late winter day during which she could go to the ocean and paint. She’d do that after lunch, but first she would take Sam for a much-needed walk. They had been cooped up the past few miserable days during a storm that had blown in from the Pacific Northwest, and Sam was getting a bit testy—as all big dogs tended to do when they didn’t get enough exercise. Tossing Sam balls inside the house was no real substitute for an outdoor romp.

  After a light breakfast for herself and the retriever, Valerie pulled on her sweats. Then she said to the dog, “Leash, Sam.” Immediately, Sam turned in circles, barking and wagging her tail. The retriever ran to the front hallway and brought back her harness and leash, which Val always kept within easy reach. With an “atta girl,” Val put the harness on the dog, grabbed her keys, and took the big animal out the front door and down to the bay.