Winter Hearts

by A. E. Radley

  I did a happy jig and a silent squeal, much to the delight of a couple passing me. The woman, clutching onto her man’s arm, smiled.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “We’re about to board, but I wanted to call and confirm our date in seven days. Less, really, since today has already started.”

  I didn’t bother mentioning that it was five hours earlier in the US and the day had barely begun there. “Where shall we meet?”

  “If it wouldn’t be a nightmare and a tourist trap on a holiday, I’d recommend the top of the Empire State Building.”

  I loved hearing her laughter. “That would be perfect except for the people. I want you all to myself.”

  “My hotel, then. Hey, we’re boarding. I’ll call you when I land. And, Dagny?”

  “Yes?” I prompted her to finish.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes.”

  “Me too.”

  I could hear an announcement in the background.

  “Have a safe flight. Talk soon.”

  When we hung up, I crossed the street to Kensington Gardens, intent on not wasting a second getting to know Allison’s adopted city. I looked around. The green grass. Leafless trees. Paved and dirt paths offering different routes for most personality types through the park. Many dogs were off leashes, chasing balls their owners tossed.

  I ventured farther down the path edging the water. Off to my left was Kensington Palace on the horizon. A swan skimmed the surface of Long Water, coming to a rather graceful stop. Much more graceful than I would have ever managed, and the only trace of the maneuver was a slight ripple in the water.

  A curious squirrel stood on his hind legs, his front ones in what I assumed was his begging for a nut pose.

  I sucked in a deep breath of London air.

  I could live in this town.

  ABOUT TB MARKINSON

  TB Markinson is an American living in England. When she isn’t writing, she’s traveling the world, watching sports on the telly, visiting pubs, or reading. Not necessarily in that order.

  Her novels have hit bestseller lists for lesbian fiction and lesbian romance.

  Feel free to visit TB’s website to say hello. She also runs I Heart Lesfic, a place for authors and fans of lesfic to come together to celebrate and chat about lesbian fiction. On her 50 Year Project blog, TB chronicles her challenge to visit 192 countries, read 1,001 books, and to watch the AFI’s top 100 movies.

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  FAMILY MATTERS BY SUSAN X MEAGHER

  CHAPTER 1

  A Jew, a Mexican, and a pair of twins walk into a bar on Christmas Eve…

  I only wish that was a joke. Well, I sincerely wish we were all meeting in a bar, preferably in the Mission. But we’re driving through a snowstorm on I-80, trying to get to the condo we’d rented in Lake Tahoe.

  When we left San Francisco at nine o’clock this morning, Jessica had the air conditioning on in her car. Three hours later, I’m in the first serious snow storm of my life, and not loving it.

  “So…this is normal, right?” I ask, really not wanting to sound like a whiny baby.

  Jessica gave me a quick glance, softening the stern expression that’d been cramping her features for the last half hour.

  “It’s perfectly normal. I haven’t driven in many storms, but I read all of the tips I could find on the internet. I’m confident,” she said, reassuring me only the tiniest bit.

  “It’s just that everyone’s following so close…”

  She shifted her gaze to the rearview mirror, frowning at the people trying to crawl right up her butt. “Californians,” she sniffed, once again showing her lack of love for her new neighbors.

  “Did someone make you relocate to the Bay Area?” I asked, joking the way we always did at work.

  “No,” she said, with a smile finally forming. “I chose it, mainly because I couldn’t afford Hawaii, and Alaska’s too cold.”

  “But…you like your family, don’t you?”

  “I do. Very much. They’re just like…pickles,” she said, after thinking for a moment.

  “Pickles? Is that a Jewish thing?”

  “No!” She paused a second. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I mean. I like pickles. I even crave them every few weeks. But if I have some today, I won’t want them tomorrow. Know what I mean?”

  “Sure. You like them in small doses.”

  “Precisely. I want my family to love me, and call me, and even visit once a year. But I don’t want my mom’s supervision. Or my sister’s, for that matter. They won’t admit they’re fixated on my marrying a Jewish guy, but having them nit-pick every goy I’ve ever dated has gotten old.”

  “That’s a non-Jewish guy, right?”

  “Correct. You’ll know so many Yiddish words that you’ll fit right in when I take you to Long Island next summer.”

  “I’m ready to go,” I said, forcing myself to add, “so long as we turn out to be good travel buddies.”

  “Why wouldn’t we be?” Jessica shot me a look that showed I’d already hurt her feelings, something that wasn’t all that easy to do.

  “We will be,” I soothed, reaching over to pat her leg. “I just don’t like to commit to things until I’m sure they’ll work out.”

  “But we hang out all the time.”

  “I know. But it’s one thing to get along when you’re going out for drinks after work. Being together for four days is a different thing.” I added another pat. “Don’t stress over it. I’m much more worried about getting along with Sutton and Paisley. I just wish we’d been able to at least have a drink with them.”

  “Sutton’s great,” Jessica said, with a little too much enthusiasm. “Really great. She’s one of my very favorite people at work.”

  “I’ve seen her around the office, but I’ve never even spoken to her, since our divisions don’t interact. She could be hiding all sorts of dark secrets.”

  “None,” Jessica said, sounding very sure of herself. “She’s not even very obsessive, which is really rare for us CPAs.”

  “Hey!”

  Jessica pointed at the windshield, which was now clear of snow. “I distracted you so much you didn’t even see there were clear skies up ahead.”

  “I sure hope there are. And, yes, I’m referring to our trip, too. Sutton and Paisley had better not be as odd as their names.”

  I’d brought all of the warm clothes I owned, but I still had to buy a few things to prepare for my first time skiing. I had all of my stuff lying on one of the beds, having let Jessica take the largest of the rooms. She’s the one who’d arranged the whole trip, so that only made sense.

  As I put my clothes in the dresser, I gave myself another pep talk. This was only four days out of my life. Even if it turned out to be a mess, it might give me a good story or two for when I went home for El Dia de los Reyes next week.

  When I finished, I had a load of tissue paper, plastic bags and a big bag from my new ski coat. Jessica had teased about CPAs being obsessive, but she was one hundred percent right about that stereotype. If I didn’t get the trash out, it would bother me all day. I just had on a long-sleeved T-shirt and buff-colored jeans, but I didn’t bother putting on my warmer clothes. Maybe I could acclimate to the cold weather faster if I made myself run to the dumpster.

  I made it down to the trash area, and raced back up the stairs, panting from the chill. Just as I was about to open the door, a woman’s voice stopped me cold.

  “Excuse me,” she said, using a tone that indicated she wasn’t truly apologizing at all.

  I looked up, recognizing the pair. Well, recognizing whichever one of these women was our co-worker. I was just about to greet her when one of them pointed dramatically at her watch. “Tres o’clock, amiga. We check in ahora.”

  Oh, fuck me very much. I was going to spend a long weekend with this zorra?

  The woman who looked like she want
ed to dig a hole and jump into it raced toward me, hand extended. “Gabriela? Great to meet you. Sutton Winterbourne.”

  I shook her hand, then stepped right back into the condo. I wasn’t going to freeze my butt off to be insulted.

  The sisters walked in a few seconds later. I hoped that Sutton had given Paisley a quick, forceful kick in the ass, but I didn’t hold out much hope of that. Paisley hadn’t turned into a jerk in the past ten minutes, and if Sutton was spending Christmas with her, she must have liked her. And if you liked someone who assumed every dark-skinned woman was a cleaning lady, then added insult to injury by using the three or four Spanish words you knew to tell her to hurry up and get out of your precious condo…hasta la vista, gringas.

  “Sorry for the mix-up,” Paisley said, offering her hand in what seemed like a sincere gesture.

  “That’s okay,” I said, deciding to be magnanimous. “It’s not a huge leap of logic to assume a Latina running to the dumpster without a coat on might be the cleaning woman.”

  She studied me a bit, giving me a long look. “Well, you are dressed like one. But you don’t have a very strong accent…”

  I took a look at this pair of dopes, barely able to tell them apart. At work, I’d only caught sight of Sutton occasionally, but I’d always looked for her on the rare occasions I was on her floor. Brown hair, cut in a really flattering style, dark eyes, and pale skin that made her eyes look even darker. In my mind, she was English, with a posh accent. But both of the twins sounded like regular old Americans.

  “A T-shirt and jeans isn’t really the universal cleaning woman’s outfit. And I was raised in Berkeley,” I said. “I don’t think the accent’s much different between there and Tahoe.” I was trying to get past this. Really, I was. But I couldn’t just stand there and take her stupid jibes.

  “Oh, you’re an anchor baby,” she said, actually looking proud of herself for coming to this conclusion. Sutton grabbed her arm and tugged her close.

  “She didn’t mean that,” she said, the words falling out of her mouth rapidly. “Did you, Paisley?”

  “What?” she asked, clearly clueless. “That’s a thing,” she insisted. “That’s how people try to get in.”

  I was, in fact, pretty hot-headed. But since that’s one of the many stereotypes my people have been branded with, I try to be Berkeley cool. I had to use every ounce of my considerable will to reply calmly, but god damn it, I did.

  “It would be disingenuous of me to pretend some people don’t come to this country to give birth. But my parents were here legally, on student visas when they had me. I was born in California, and lived here until I was fifteen, when my father got a job teaching in Columbia. I came back to attend Stanford, and I’ll probably stay. Legally. Since I’m like a citizen and all.”

  Paisley turned to her sister, with an insolent look on what should have been a pretty face. But when you were a jerk, your meanness seeped into your features.

  “See? She is an anchor baby.” Turning her head to face me, she said, “I mean, sorry, but that’s the truth.”

  “It’s the truth,” I said, still giving myself an A plus for my patience. “I went to school with anchor babies from England, France, Denmark and Sweden. If I had blonde hair and blue eyes, would you still call me an anchor baby?” Now I looked at Sutton for affirmation. “I mean, that’s the truth, right?”

  The poor woman looked so remarkably uncomfortable I almost felt sorry for her. Then I realized that having on a winter coat, a hat, a wool scarf and mittens might have added to her discomfort.

  “Let’s all agree that there’s no need to call La Migra, okay? Jessica’s taking a nap, so go on downstairs and take your pick of the bedrooms.”

  Seeming very relieved, Sutton guided her charming twin down the stairs. Paisley’s last adorable words were, “Why do we have to be downstairs? We’ll hear them stomping around…”

  “Shh!” Sutton whispered, for what I hoped would not be the last time. If it got to the point where I was in charge of putting Paisley in her place, things would have taken a dark turn indeed.

  “I suppose it’s possible to walk two hundred miles,” Jessica said patiently. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea. Especially not when it’s supposed to snow in the next hour.”

  I glared at her, still so furious I was sputtering. “I can’t spend the next four days with those idiots. I just can’t.”

  “You don’t have a lot of options. I’m not going to drive back in a storm, and there aren’t any buses, Gabriela. I’m sorry I screwed up. I really am.”

  “You didn’t screw up,” I grumbled. “I could have taken the lead and insisted on meeting up before we agreed to this debacle.”

  “No, this is on me. I’m the one who pressed Sutton into coming. She was really reticent, probably realizing that—”

  “You talked her into this? But you said—”

  “I know what I said.” She was suddenly not able to meet my eyes. “But I thought you and Sutton might get a little spark going if you spent some time together. I know you’re looking for love…”

  “With a woman who has an evil twin? Thanks loads!”

  “I didn’t know her sister was…insensitive,” Jessica said, putting the absolute best light on it. “Sutton’s really kind-hearted, so I assumed her twin would be…just like her.”

  “You should have taken a genetics class.”

  “Come on.” Jessica got to her feet and pulled me to mine. “I made reservations at a nice place for dinner. Once we eat and have a few drinks, you’ll feel lots better.”

  “Only if I can sit across from Paisley and kick her under the table.”

  “No problem,” Jessica said, putting her arm around my shoulders, probably to be able to pull me off Paisley if she opened her dumb mouth again.

  The restaurant really was nice. Not that I was surprised by Jessica’s choice. She loved good food, and was always making lists of places she wanted to try. And now that the tired Latinx tropes were out of the way, Paisley had been pretty well-behaved.

  We were on our second cocktail when Sutton said, “So why were you available to travel on Christmas, Gabriela? No local family?”

  “My sister’s local, but she and her husband go to Oregon to be with his family for Christmas.”

  “Ahh. And your parents are in Columbia?”

  “Good memory,” I said. “Actually, my dad’s taking a sabbatical, and he and my mom are spending the year in San Miguel de Allende. They have a condo there.” She looked interested, so I kept going. “My mom’s a ceramicist, and she’s teaching a series of classes at a school there.”

  “Wow,” Sutton said, gazing at me like I was the most interesting woman in the world. I wasn’t, but I was starting to get the idea she wasn’t averse to Jessica’s plan to hook us up. “Won’t they miss you?”

  “Oh, I’m going to visit next week. We don’t make a big deal about Christmas. We’re all about Three Kings.”

  “Mexico has kings?” Paisley asked, her big, dark eyes blinking in confusion.

  “Uh-huh. Three of them,” I said, straight-faced. “Mexico’s ruled by a triple monarchy. I think it’s the only one in the world.” Someone kicked me, and I assumed it was Jessica. She had a good sense of humor, but she must not have liked me totally dragging Paisley.

  “Do you speak Spanish?” Paisley asked. She was giving me a funny look. Maybe it had finally dawned on her that I was screwing with her.

  “Sure. We spoke Spanish at home, and I took it in high school to force myself to learn to write better.”

  “I just don’t hear an accent,” she said, clearly puzzled by the mere concept of someone being bilingual.

  Switching to Spanish, I told her that many of my relatives in Mexico tease me about my accent. Then I translated the sentence, but that seemed to confuse her even more.

  “What do you mean? Spanish is Spanish.”

  “Um, no, it’s not. Just like you might have a southern accent, or a Long Island accent like
Jessica here, Mexicans have accents, too. Mine just isn’t like my dad’s family in Tabasco, or my mom’s in Sinaloa.”

  “I thought they were from some saint place…”

  “That’s where they have a condo, but they’re not from Guanajuato. They just chose to buy a place there to have some property in Mexico. It’s a pretty place, with a very good art scene.”

  “I’m planning on taking Gabriela to Long Island this summer,” Jessica said. “And the minute we get back, I’m going to start bugging her to take me to Mexico.”

  “With all the murders?” Paisley said. Of course she knew about the drug cartels. Why would I expect any less of her? Learn just enough about the country you share a border with to be able to point out the headline-grabbing problems.

  “So,” I said, pointedly turning my attention to Sutton. “I’m here because I didn’t have enough vacation time to stay in Mexico from now until Three Kings. What’s your story?”

  Her expression grew sober, and I saw Paisley reach over to grip her arm. Sutton gave her sister a quick look, then she turned back to me. “Three years ago, our parents were killed by a faulty furnace. They died in their sleep,” she added quietly.

  “Oh, my god,” I murmured. “How horrible for you guys. Do you have any other siblings?”

  “Just the two of us,” Sutton said. “We don’t have any other close family, either, so we’ve been meeting up for the holidays. It’s a lot better than being alone.” She pursed her lips, looking like she was about to cry. “It feels like it just happened, even though this is our third Christmas alone.”

  “You don’t live in the Bay Area?” I asked, trying to be nice to Paisley. Maybe losing both parents in such an awful way had made her into a jerk.

  “St. Louis. That’s where we grew up.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. I’m glad you two have each other, though.” That wasn’t really true. I thought Sutton should change her number, but that was small-minded of me. If our parents died, I’d cling to my sister like a life raft, even if she was a jerk. Well, maybe not, but it would be a tough instinct to resist.