by Harper Bliss
Laura nods thoughtfully. She begins to say something, closes her mouth, then starts again. “I assume I pinged your gaydar?”
Now my cheeks do flush bright red. “A little,” I mutter.
“It’s okay.” She averts her gaze and looks at The Nelson Ledger business and greeting cards I brought. “Shall we get down to business?”
“Sure.” I’m still a little flustered, and frustrated because I missed an opportunity to get to know her better. But at least I have confirmation that she’s a lesbian and that alone is enough to make my stomach flutter. “As you can see, your newly adopted town needs you.” I hold up the last issue of The Ledger.
No more smiles from Laura. Her expression has gone all business-like. “What exactly are you looking for? Rebranding? A layout overhaul?”
“The works,” I say. “A graphic intervention, basically.” I try for a chuckle, but get none.
“What’s the budget?” Our gazes meet and cling.
Maybe it’s a city thing to be so straightforward about money, but here in Nelson, money is always the very last item on any agenda—and usually discussed in hushed tones. “One thousand dollars,” I say with great reluctance and a pinch of embarrassment.
“One thousand?” Laura repeats, an edge of incredulity to her voice.
“Yep… and it took me a long time to come up with that.” I try a grin. “But, of course, payment is not only in dollars. You will also get the never-ending gratitude of the inhabitants of this town for saving them from that hideous green round thing they have to look at every week… and an endless supply of green tea, smiles, and friendship from the managing editor.”
Laura chuckles and it feels like a tiny victory. “Do you mind me asking how The Nelson Ledger makes any money at all?”
“Oh, it doesn’t. The weekly paper issue sells for one dollar—any more and I’d have the council on my back. We get a yearly grant from them that barely covers my measly part-time salary, and we have a very small amount of advertising income.”
Laura finishes her tea, then looks at me, her lips pursed together. “So you’re really in it for the love of Nelson.”
“The nail on the head right there.” I swell a little with pride.
“I admire that.” She looks me in the eyes briefly, then looks away again.
“In my free time, I help out my parents at the ranch, though they’re getting older and they’re slowing things down. Selling most of their livestock. I love living on the ranch, but the ranch business ain’t for me.”
“You live with your parents?” Laura can’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.
“Er… yes. Never found a compelling reason to move out, I guess.” I try to read her face but, unlike her voice, it appears she’s very good at keeping it blank.
She glances at The Ledger’s logo and, swiftly, asks me a few questions about the type of new logo I’m looking for. We conclude she’ll make a few sketches—so I can get a feel for what she does—and she’ll get back to me in a few days. Then we’ll decide if we can work on this project together officially.
When she’s making moves to leave, I ask, “Laura, er, do you mind me asking what made you change your mind? You seemed so reluctant to meet at first and after I didn’t hear from you for a week, I honestly believed you’d be avoiding me for the rest of my days.”
“You’re very persistent.” She gathers her bag from the chair next to her and stands. “And the alternative jogging route I tried for a week after your impromptu visit to my house wasn’t working out for me. I like to see at least one person when I go for a run.”
She doesn’t say it as such, but I guess I can summarize Laura’s response in one word: loneliness.
I’m also glad my persistence won out in the end.
CHAPTER FIVE
LAURA
When I arrive at Windsor Oaks the next day, to my surprise, there’s a woman coming out of the front gate who looks just like Tess, though I can tell it’s not Tess. Her hair is styled differently and she has a pair of thick-rimmed glasses on her nose. I must have stared at her a little too long, because she says, “I know it’s confusing, but yes, Tess and I are twins.” She extends her hand. “I’m Megan and you must be Laura.”
Tess’s twin knows my name already? Maybe they’re the kind of twins who tell each other everything. “In the flesh.” I shake her hand briefly, feeling a bit self-conscious about my sweaty palm—and clothes.
“I was just dropping off some artwork the first graders made for the people in the home. Your aunt lives here, doesn’t she?” They must be that kind of twins I conclude there and then. Their voices are the same as well.
“She does. I’m here for my daily visit.”
“I have my youngest in the car so I can’t dilly-dally, but it was lovely meeting you, Laura,” Megan says and gives me a quick wave.
“You too,” I mumble, though I doubt Megan caught it. She’s making a mad dash for the SUV parked a few feet away.
✶ ✶ ✶
“I might have made an acquaintance,” I say to Aunt Milly, and it’s as though I can see her perk up at receiving this news. She has always been so supportive. When I came out to my family, my evangelical preacher father and his devoted wife decided my ‘choice of lifestyle’ was not compatible with their beliefs, and they cut me out of their life. Aunt Milly was the only one who accepted and stood by me.
“That’s wonderful, Laura. I know you’re wary and it will take the time it takes, but I’m glad for you.” Aunt Milly is very alert today—no signs of her dozing off just yet.
“Tess Douglas, who apparently has a twin sister called Megan. She runs The Nelson Ledger.”
“Oh yes. I know the Douglas girls. One of them is married to the high school football coach, which practically makes them royalty in a town like this.”
Not Tess, I think, and remember the comment she made about not having a wife. “I’m doing some design work for The Ledger, that’s how I met Tess.”
“Oh.” Aunt Milly slaps a palm against her thigh limply. “I remember now. Yes, Tess Douglas. There was a whole brouhaha when she came out years ago. Nelson has had to evolve since then.”
It feels wrong to hear this information from somebody else than Tess, but I am glad to know a little more about her.
“We’ve had another couple move here since then…” She pauses. “I forget their names, but they live on Birch Street.”
Gosh, Nelson is beginning to seem like a hotbed of lesbianism. “Good to know it’s not just me then.”
“It never is, dear. It never is.” Aunt Milly sits up straighter. “Before I forget, Laura, can I ask a favor of you?”
“Anything you want.” I hope she’s not going to ask me to get to know all of Nelson’s lesbians better, but that’s hardly Aunt Milly’s style.
She reaches for a drawer on her left hand side and takes out a closed envelope. “Could you bring this to Mr. Caan, my lawyer. He’ll know what to do with it.”
I take the envelope from her. It’s light as a feather, as though there’s no paper inside. “That’s very mysterious.”
“I’m just like everyone else in that there are a few things I’d rather not talk about. This is one of them.”
“Gotcha. I’ll take it over first thing tomorrow.” I know very well what Aunt Milly doesn’t want to talk about, just as I can guess that what she has given me is most likely something to do with her will.
✶ ✶ ✶
The next day, after delivering Aunt Milly’s mysterious envelope to Mr. Caan’s office, I walk into Mary’s Café for a follow-up meeting with Tess. Because I didn’t know how long it was going to take at the lawyer’s, I’m early, and I look over the drawings I made as a potential new logo for The Nelson Ledger. Because my shaky arm is still acting up, I drew them on my sketch pad rather than designing them directly on the computer. I’ll have to show Tess some color swatches, but one thing’s for sure: we’re getting rid of that vile green.
After Tess ambush
ed me at my front door, I wanted to stay away from her. So much so that I changed my running route to Windsor Oaks to avoid passing through Main Street—adding more than a mile each way to the distance. Until I realized how silly I was being avoiding a woman who was offering me work. Business first, I told myself. Not only because of the money—which is turning out to be quite pitiful—but also to adhere to something resembling a normal life.
As long as I make it crystal clear that I’m in no way, shape or form ‘on the market’, as quickly as possible, I fail to see a valid reason for not doing business with her. After all, as I’ve learned after ten years as a freelance graphic designer, one client can lead to another and so on. If I want to make Nelson my home, getting work here should be my priority.
“Green tea?”
I easily recognize Tess’s voice by now—I don’t talk to many people these days. I guess she likes to arrive early. “I’m fine for now.” I look up at her and am, again, amazed by how much she and her sister look alike.
She gestures to Mary behind the counter and sits. “Hi there.” There’s that stare again, not quite gray and not quite green. I try to remember Megan’s eye color, but I was too busy recovering from the shock of seeing a Tess clone to notice. “How are you?” Tess looks at the closed folder on the table. “Can’t wait to see what you came up with.” The enthusiasm in her voice is flattering, but also a bit nerve-racking. There’s always the prospect of disappointing a potential client.
“I’m fine.” The times I’ve spoken those words while, inside, I’m all cramped up with fear and doubt. But today is not too bad. Removing myself from the scene of the crime and putting nine hundred miles between myself and Chicago has helped. Plus, I’m on the cusp of nailing a client and making a friend. “Though a little confused.”
“Why’s that?” Tess thanks Mary for the coffee, then focuses her attention on me again. She’s wearing her long hair in a loose pony tail today and that maroon blouse looks good on her.
“I met your twin sister at Windsor Oaks yesterday. Talk about a mind trip. You look so much alike.”
A quizzical expression crosses Tess’s face. “You met Megan?” Her voice grows high-pitched. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”
“Neither can I.” A giggle escapes my throat.
“Why can’t you believe it?” Tess cocks her head.
“Because, even though I only met your sister briefly, I got the distinct impression that you ladies tell each other everything. I didn’t even have to introduce myself.” I hold Tess’s gaze and immediately feel sorry for her when her cheeks go pink.
“Well, this is a small town and we don’t get new inhabitants every day. I may have mentioned you.” Tess recovers well.
“Don’t worry. I’m flattered.” I feel a smile breaking on my lips—a motion I can’t seem to control. Perhaps, after all these months of not allowing myself much room for emotions, I’m starting to get back in touch with the human inside of me.
“Thank goodness.” Tess’s laugh is a little too wild. “I hope my dear sister didn’t offend you in any way?”
“We just had a brief chat. There was no time for her to dish the dirt on you.” Something in my stomach twinges, alerting me that I’m about to skirt dangerous territory. The territory of flirting. I clear my throat and change my approach—remembering that if Tess makes any move on me, I will need to shut that down instantly. This light banter between us may be a temporary respite from everything I’ve been through and the pain I carry with me, but it most certainly can’t go anywhere. And it mustn’t put unattainable ideas into Tess’s head.
“Hallelujah.” Tess brings her hands together in front of her face in prayer position. “Because that girl can talk.”
I swallow the comment I’m about to make about how totally alike they are in every respect, because, in the end, we’re here for business first and foremost. “Shall I show you my sketches?” I tap a finger on the folder in front of me.
“Oh, yes, of course.” A hint of hesitation has crept into Tess’s tone.
I open the folder and spread out three sheets of paper. “I’m having some computer issues, so I drew them by hand. But I was thinking about this color palette.” I show her the turquoise tones I chose.
Tess studies the designs in silence for a few minutes, then exclaims, “Oh my goodness, these are amazing.” Tess finds my gaze and, for a moment, it looks as though she might hug me. Then she examines my sketches again. “I’m in absolute awe right now.”
My turn to blush. “Thank you. I’m so glad you like them.”
“Like them? I love them! How am I meant to choose between these three?” She glances at me again, this time holding my gaze. I find it hard to look back so I focus on the smattering of freckles on her nose.
“Too much praise, really. Let’s not go overboard.”
“You must understand, this is a small town in Texas. Maybe people are used to this amount of talent in Chicago, but in Nelson, this is a treat.”
Enough now, I want to say. I know I’m pretty good at drawing but the logos I sketched for The Ledger—one inspired by the robins I keep seeing here, one a more sophisticated variation on the current simple, round logo, and the last an outlined sketch of the town hall and its neighboring buildings—are not worthy of that much praise. I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat.
“Too much?” Tess draws her lips into a thin line.
I nod and sip from my tea, which has gone tepid.
“Sorry… but you’re hired!” Tess holds out her hand. “That is if you’re willing to work with me and for the proposed fee.”
I stare at her hand for a mute instant, then shake it. “Deal.”
“Awesome.” Tess’s fingers linger on mine and I start pulling my hand away. Her glance skitters away from me and she looks at my sketches again. “Can I hold on to these for a few days? I’d like to show them to a few people before I make my decision.”
“Of course.” Glad that the awkward moment has passed, I exhale deeply. I could do with some meditating right about now.
“I’m going to draw up a standard contract for the work. Do you have a business card? I’m going to need your full name or the name of your company.”
My full name. A surge of panic washes through me. After Tracy died, I quickly changed my last name back from Hunt to Baker—vowing that I would never again take someone else’s last name. “There’s a business card in the folder behind the drawings. It should have all the information you need.”
Tess is the first person I’ve given my card to since the accident.
CHAPTER SIX
TESS
I’ve practiced enormous amounts of patience. I’ve tried not to overwhelm Laura with too many emails. The only email I’ve sent her the past few days is one with the contract, though I did consider it a huge missed opportunity not to go over to her house and have her sign it in person. But I’ve listened to Megan’s advice and I’ve taken it down a gear.
“You have time,” Megan said. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Laura sent the signed contract back and we’re now officially in business. As happy as that makes me, it’s hardly enough. On the business card she gave me with the sketches, there’s also a phone number. I’ve only looked at it and considered what I’m about to do a thousand times. My patience has run out. I’m calling her.
“Hello?” Laura’s voice is hesitant, almost reluctant.
“Hi, Laura. It’s Tess.”
“Hi.” Laura’s tone is clipped. Perhaps she’s one of those people who don’t like talking over the phone—like my dad who, for some reason, never got the hang of telephone etiquette and always hangs up before I can even say goodbye.
I should have prepared this call better. The reason for my impromptu call to Laura is blinking in big red letters in my mind, but I need to ease into it. “I hope you don’t mind me calling out of the blue like this. I was just wondering how things are going.”
“Er, with the design, you
mean?” She sounds confused now. “We haven’t actually discussed that yet and I’m waiting to hear back from you on a final decision about the logo.”
“No, no. Gosh, no. It’s Sunday, Laura. I would never bother you about those things on a Sunday. I was wondering how you are doing.”
“Me? Why?” Laura’s phone manners are beginning to resemble my dad’s more and more.
“Just out of friendly curiosity.” The small of my back breaks out into a sweat.
“Just trying to make sense of Aunt Milly’s overgrown garden. I don’t exactly have a green thumb, what with being a city girl, but it’s a challenge I like to take on.”
“You’re in luck then,” I nearly shout. “I was born and raised on a ranch and I know a thing or two about plants. Need some help?”
“No, that’s all right. I enjoy figuring things out myself.”
It feels like someone just stomped on my foot very hard. “The offer stands for as long as you like,” I’m quick to say.
“Was there anything else?” Laura sounds very keen to get back to pulling weeds.
“No, er, I mean yes. I was wondering if you’d like to go out some time. Grab a drink. Have a meal. You know, a bit like a date?” There. I said the D word.
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Look, Tess.”
Now it’s starting to feel more like a punch to the gut.
“I’m sorry,” Laura continues. “You’re a great person and I enjoy working with you, but I’m not looking to date.”
“That’s fine.” The bitter sting of rejection leaves a foul taste in my mouth. “Friends?” I ask with a small voice.
“Yes, yes. Of course.”
“I’ll be in touch soon about the, er, things.” I’m starting to stammer so I’d better hang up. “Bye.”
I throw my phone onto my bed and stare at it for a long minute, as though the device is to blame for Laura’s response.
There’s only one remedy for that feeling of complete inadequacy running through me right now. I grab my phone from the pillow and call my sister.