Lucky Love: A Lesbian Romance

by Anna Cove

  We had a quick lunch from my basket of goodies and returned to our places, continuing our tasks. Just before three in the afternoon I stopped, stretching my back. "Those vintage shop dealers will be here any minute. Are you going to stick with us or do you need to go somewhere? I can handle them if you need to do some errands."

  Lena closed the top of her laptop. "I'd rather stay if it's all the same to you."

  "Of course," I said quickly. I should have known we hadn't progressed that far quite yet.

  "I need to make a quick pit stop for some food in the kitchen, do you want anything?" Lena asked.

  "There's some fruit in the basket—feel free to take it. In fact, I'll come with you to check on Ronald before they arrive."

  We walked toward the kitchen, me ahead of Lena, which was good because when we arrived, a smell assaulted my nostrils. Someone had stink-bombed the place, and that someone was curled in the corner of the kitchen, blissfully sleeping. I flung my arms out, blocking the entrance.

  Lena crashed into my back. "What the...?"

  "Don't come in here." I pushed against the door frame with my hip and covered my mouth and nose with one hand.

  "Why not?" she asked, her head craning over my shoulder. "It's just—holy shit. Did that smell come from your dog? What do you feed that thing?"

  "The normal stuff," I said, laughing and choking at the same time. "He just has some gastric issues."

  "You're telling me."

  She had dropped her head onto my shoulder, a laugh making her shudder. It occurred to me that if I turned around she could bury her face in my chest and she wouldn't have to smell the dog. In my dreams. But even this—her forehead on my shoulder—was an incredibly intimate gesture. One that was making my laugh grow hoarse. I dropped my arms when I couldn't stand it any longer and turned toward her.

  "I'm good on the food now." Lena pinched her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. "I've suddenly lost my appetite."

  "Why?" I cocked my head.

  "Because—" Lena's eyes widened and she let out another chuckle. "You're joking. That was funny. Let's quarantine this space before our guests arrive."

  "Aye aye, Captain," I said. It didn't pass my notice that she had used the word "our" before guests. Like she was finally admitting this was my house, too. Well, it was my house alone, but I'd take any progress I could get. I secured the oak door in its latch and backed away.

  Before we could process the situation any longer, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," I said.

  As I wove through the obstacle course to get back to the front of the house, the smile remained stuck on my face, not in the way I usually stuck it on, like I was pushing up the sides of my mouth with two toothpicks, but in a natural way. I hadn't felt like that in a long time.

  "Bill, Karen, nice to see you," I said as I opened the door. I twisted to find Lena standing behind me. "This is Lena Luck, Lois's granddaughter. She's the owner of all these fine pieces of art."

  Lena's smile had lost its luster on our journey from the kitchen. She nodded once in greeting and didn't offer a hand. How had she gone from relaxed to this version of herself in so little time? It seemed as if new people caused something to happen to her. A dimming. Or... a covering like she was a piece of furniture needing protection from the dust other people might bring to life.

  It was up to me to fill in the social graces. "Come in, come in. Your loot is in the back."

  Bill and Karen and I chatted about the warm weather we were having this autumn, and about a sale they made recently. Lena lingered behind, never interjecting, just hovering like a ghost as we wound our way to the dining room. We arrived, and Karen's eyes widened.

  "I knew you'd like this stuff," I said.

  "Yeah." Karen's blue eyes widened to saucers. "There are some great sets here. Look at those frosted glasses, the hand-painted flowers. They're gorgeous."

  Bill kept his hands clasped behind his back, looking at everything with his eagle eyes. He was the one who would give the yes or no to these items. Karen was more a hoarder than a practical seller, and their relationship, one over-the-top, one restrained, worked.

  Bill nodded. "We'll take it."

  I felt myself relaxing, partially because these items were small and harder to sell in a piecemeal fashion.

  "How much?"

  Karen and I turned toward Lena. It was the first thing out of her mouth since the two had arrived and, as usual, her syllables were clipped and monotone.

  I acted as a bridge between them, speaking to Lena alone now. "Karen and Bill will need a few minutes to determine an amount."

  Lena shoved her hands into her pockets, her shoulders coming up to meet her ears. She bit her lip and nodded, looking more out-of-place than I had ever seen her.

  "We'll give you a thousand dollars for the lot," Bill said.

  "Hell, no." Lena's eyes widened. "That Kodak camera alone is worth 175."

  Bill scoffed. "You'd be lucky if you got seventy-five."

  "I'm not going to let you swindle me," said Lena in a calm voice.

  I turned toward her, cutting Bill and Karen off from view. "There's room for negotiating."

  "You said that camera was worth 175 dollars," Lena whispered.

  "I said you'd be lucky if you got that. Bill and Karen need to make money, too. These are the small-ticket items." I spoke so only Lena could hear me, remaining close to her.

  Lena tapped her foot.

  "Let me do the negotiating, okay? This isn't my specialty, but I know a bit about it, at least."

  Lena flinched and pulled her phone from her pocket. She checked the screen and slipped it back in her pocket, letting it buzz. "How well do you know these people?"

  "We've done some business together."

  "And you trust them?" She flinched again, and again pulled her phone from her pocket.

  "Do you need to take that?" I asked.

  Lena closed her eyes and shook her head. Then sighed and nodded. "Don't make any deals while I'm gone."

  "I won't. I promise."

  Lena left the room. I took a moment to collect myself before turning back to Bill and Karen. When I did, they were studiously examining the items on the table. I waited for their verdict.

  "Wow." Bill chuckled. "She's a pill."

  "She's not so bad," I said.

  "Are you kidding me?" Karen placed a hand on her hip. "I don't know how you're putting up with that kind of attitude every day."

  "How do you know I'm here every day?"

  "Your aunt told me."

  For some reason, this information didn't sit well with me. I'd never had a poor interaction with Karen before, but something about her tone was off. "She's not like that all the time. Just with strangers. I think... well... never mind. It's not my place to judge."

  Karen returned to the items, running her fingers over them. "I've always said you were an angel, Alice Richards, and here you are proving it once again."

  I shrugged off the compliment. It made me uncomfortable for a variety of reasons.

  After a few more seconds of silence Karen spoke up again. "I mean, seriously. How dare she question our judgment? What does she do?"

  "She's an app coder in Silicon Valley. And isn't questioning allowed?"

  "Yes, but she didn't have to cop an attitude."

  "That's just an outer shell. Once you get to know her, she's sweet and funny." Why was I defending her? In the month I'd known her, she had been overwhelmingly cruel and condescending to me, yet I couldn't bring myself to participate in this.

  Karen shook her head. "I hate to say this, and, you know I mean no offense, but she's just like every other dyke I've met."

  ...

  LENA

  I had seven texts from Tara, all with an emergency message telling me to call her. When I'd responded to the last emergency two days earlier, Tara had asked permission to go out for lunch. The time before that, she wanted to know if she could have permission to pay her personal phone bill. The time before th
at, she asked me whether she could wear her green sweater.

  This seemed different, so I called her back.

  "Cash is out," Tara said. "And before you launch into a tirade, it wasn't my fault. It's in the news and everything. He's in serious trouble, Lena."

  "What kind of trouble?" I asked, keeping my voice low so the others in the house couldn't hear me.

  "Embezzlement. Breach of contract with Google. Serious, serious, stuff. His lawyer called me." Tara sounded breathless, almost excited. She loved scandal.

  "Shit," I said.

  "Hey, at least he went down before we launched the app. Imagine the PR horror if this had happened later," Tara said. "I've got some ideas, some new contacts to work."

  My mind swirled. Cash had been a longtime friend and this sounded nothing like him. Tara was right, though. We couldn't do business with him now, even if it only looked like he had done these things. Image mattered. "You'll let me know when you schedule a meeting."

  "Of course."

  "Because I'd like to fly in," I said, trying a new tactic, since demands didn't seem to work with Tara.

  "Of course," Tara said, her voice laced with honey. Sickly sweet. "I'll talk to you soon."

  I hung up the phone feeling like I should probably return to San Francisco if I wanted any business at all when I returned. The other option, of course, was to sell all of these items off fast and put my own money into the launch. Could I trust Tara in the meantime?

  No. I couldn't.

  I would figure out what to do when everyone left tonight. In the meantime, I had to return to the dining room to make sure these people weren't screwing me under my nose.

  Something made me pause just before I entered the doorway. I seemed to have stumbled on a conversation about me. I should have made my presence known, or left—what did I care what other people thought? Instead, I lingered around the corner, listening.

  "She didn't have to cop an attitude," the woman said. What had been her name? Karen. Right. Karen with the giant mole on the side of her head. Karen with the lazy right eye. I'd been in LA enough times to know what that was from. Botox. Karen with the Botox.

  Alice's soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "That's just an outer shell she has. Once you get to know her, she's sweet and funny."

  Two times in my life did I ever have a reaction where my skin grew hot, then cold in an instant. Once was when I was at a spelling bee and missed the word in the finals. The second time was right then as I listened to Alice. She had no way of knowing I was standing there and no reason to defend me. Yet, here she was, defending me.

  I tried to come up with a reason she would do this. I couldn't.

  I listened when the woman Karen spoke again, wondering if Alice's argument had helped. "I hate to say this, and, you know, I mean no offense, but she's just like every other dyke I've met. Bullish. Crass. It's like, since they don't need to impress men, they lose every one of their manners."

  The husband, Bill, grunted his assent.

  Then a silence spread over the room, punctuated by clinking of vintage glass.

  I held my breath and remained perfectly still, filling in in my head what Alice might be thinking and reacting. "Oh, I totally agree," she would say. Or she would laugh and let it go, just another microaggression left to fester in the world in order to protect herself. Nothing to see here.

  I found myself getting angry, ready to fly in there and give them all a taste of what they deserved. Ready to kick them all out of this house, when Alice spoke up again.

  "You do know I'm one of those dykes, don't you? You're using the term pejoratively to include all lesbians, right?"

  Silence again. I covered my mouth, astonished on multiple fronts at what I was hearing.

  "Sometimes, the word dyke refers to a more masculine lesbian. It's one of those words that the group can use freely, but that people outside of the group probably should avoid." Alice's voice grew louder, more confident as she spoke.

  "I'm sorry," Karen said. "I don't mean you. You're different. You're—"

  "I'm just like her," Alice said.

  "I would never insult you like that."

  "But you would insult a stranger? Someone you barely know? Based solely on how she looked?"

  Even the clinking stopped. Alice allowed the silence to stretch, like she was stretching dough. It felt masterful. If I had been in the same situation, I would have verbally attacked them and left. Alice was questioning them, trying to change their points of view.

  "I'm going to ask you to leave now," Alice said.

  "Can I have these?" Karen asked.

  "No. These things are no longer for sale to you," Alice said. "Please go out the back door. It's closer and I don't want you in this house a second longer than you have to be. Go. Now."

  I heard the swishing of jackets and the clomp of feet on the floor, then the rattling of the glass from the door between the kitchen and the dining room as it opened and closed. I remained hidden for a moment, breathing, trying to figure out what to do next. How did this fit into the narrative I'd created featuring Alice as the villain? It didn't. No matter how much I twisted the arguments, I couldn't find a reason she would do this. Even if she knew I was listening, she put her reputation on the line. Her personal and professional reputation. And for what? For a house? It didn't make sense.

  Every once in a while I find a moment in my life that shifts my perspective on a situation or a person. It's not a gradual thing, but a click into place. This was one of those times. Just like that it was clear. She wasn't manipulating me.

  Should I go in there and admit I had heard it all? No, I should pretend I hadn't. It would be less embarrassing. Plus, I still had to deal with what this all meant.

  As I stepped into the dining room, however, I saw Alice bracing herself against the table. She breathed fast, and she looked pale. I rushed to her side. "Are you okay? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

  "No," she said breathlessly. She swallowed, trying to smile reassuringly as she glanced my way. "I'm fine."

  I reached out, touching her shoulder. "You did an amazing job with them."

  "You heard?"

  "Yeah. I'm sorry, I—"

  "Shit," she said, closing her eyes. "No. I'm sorry I brought them into the house. I had no idea they felt that way."

  I dropped my hand, thinking about how I would feel in this situation. How I would hate to have anyone touching me. Plus, it just felt weird after a few seconds. I clasped my hands. "It's this town. It was like this when I was a kid, too. In fact, now I think about it... what was Karen's maiden name?"

  "Owens."

  "Oh my god. It was her. She was the queen bee bully in high school. Did you go to Gardner High?"

  "No," Alice said. Her breath was returning to normal. "I went to a Christian high school in Worcester."

  "That sounds so much better," I said, sarcastically, smiling at her, wishing for even one of those wooden smiles I used to get from her rather than this quaking mess that made me totally uncertain of what to do.

  "Yeah," she said, without even cracking a grin.

  I had to find another topic. I scrambled for one that was good, but nothing came to me. We'd already spoken of lots of things today. I decided to face this head-on, as I would any other problem. "It's not your fault they're bigoted, you know."

  "I know, but I should have vetted them. Especially given—I know you have trouble trusting people."

  "What?" I backed away.

  She glanced toward me.

  I might not have trusted her, but I didn't have a trust problem, per say. I trusted people who earned my trust and I was slow to trust people who didn't. "I'm practical about who I trust. You can't trust everyone, or they'll walk right over you."

  Alice sucked in her lips and pushed off the table, standing upright and folding her arms.

  I'd said the wrong thing. "I wasn't talking about Bill and Karen, I was just talking about people in general."

  "Maybe you're right..." Ali
ce sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. "If you don't mind, I'm going to sit in the kitchen and pull myself together for a moment."

  I wanted to comfort her somehow, to give her a firm hug, to prove to her that she was strong, that she'd done the right thing. But whatever moment had passed between us seemed gone now. Instead, I stepped aside. "Sure."

  The hinges on the old door squealed as she opened it again.

  Oh, my god, I hadn't even said thank you. She had defended me, and I hadn't even thanked her for it. My parents had brought me up better than that. They would be rolling in their graves if they saw this. I headed for the kitchen. When I arrived, Alice stood at the back door.

  She frowned, peering outside. Then she stepped out onto the stoop. "Ronald!" she called.

  Who the hell was Ronald? Oh, of course, it was the stinky half-blind dog. I glanced around the kitchen and, sure enough, he was gone. Alice reappeared, her chest heaving in unbridled panic. "Have you seen Ronald?"

  "No, those idiots must have left the door open." The more I got to know these people, the more I hated them. "Maybe he didn't go out. Maybe he's in here. You go look for him outside and I'll search among the antiques."

  Alice nodded once, stilted, staring. The door to the dining room had remained closed, but the door between the kitchen and the hallway stood open. I meandered through the house, looking in all the most obvious spots. With his short legs, I didn't think he could find his way up the stairs, but I didn't know so I even looked up there.

  For the first time, I saw the state of the actual house rather than just the furniture. Sure, I was looking for the dog first, but if my eyes drifted over the woodwork or the peeling wallpaper or the dusty floors, I wasn't going to stop them. The lawyers had been right, the house probably wasn't worth much in this state, and would require a good chunk of money to update. It probably wasn't even worth anything all said and done. If Alice inherited it, she would lose money on it.

  For some reason, this renewed my energy. I started calling out for the stupid dog.

  "Ronald! Ronald! Come here, puppy. If you're here, bark."