by Karis Walsh
Alana stepped inside the restaurant, marveling at the way business owners around here seemed interconnected with each other and with their community. She had always thought of restaurants and stores as isolated and individual, unless they were part of a chain. She inhaled deeply, savoring the competing scents from sweet and yeasty baked goods and spicy meats. The interior was somewhat plain, with a large counter area where diners placed their orders in one half of the rectangular room and wooden tables and benches squashed into the other half. Decorations were scattered here and there, as if they were afterthoughts. A burro piñata dangled over the salsa bar, and some vividly painted vases topped the plastic garbage cans. All the attention seemed to have been focused on the huge glass display cases under the counter. Two of them held fresh tortillas, still warm enough from the oven to make their plastic wrappers damp and clingy, and stacks of homemade tamales labeled with the names of different fillings. On the other side were the baked goods, with piles of intricately braided sweet breads crammed next to dozens of kinds of cookies. Alana moved closer, drawn to some puffy cookies topped with a layer of oven-cracked sugar, some hot pink and others a deep golden yellow.
Tegan stepped next to her. “Those are conchas and they’re my favorite. They’re not overly sweet, so you don’t feel guilty eating an entire bag full of them.”
A woman’s voice, rich with a thick accent, called Tegan’s name, and she looked up with a smile.
“Hey, Rosie. This is my friend, Alana. You’re doing good business today, as usual.”
Rosie waved across the counter at Alana. She was wearing a flowing colorful dress, similar to the ones the other employees had on, with an off-the-shoulder top revealing smooth skin. Earrings with tiny red parrots dangled from her lobes, and her smile was bright. “Nice to meet you, Alana,” she said.
Alana smiled. “Are you Rosie, as in Rosamund?”
Rosie shook her head. “She was my great-grandmother, but I’m named after her. Most of the recipes we use here were hers. Do you know what you want to order, or shall I surprise you?”
Alana and Tegan looked at each other and nodded at the same time. “Surprise us,” Tegan said. Rosie waved off Tegan’s attempts to pay for their food and told them to find a seat.
They scanned the room for an open place to sit and hurried over to a table by the front window as soon as it was vacated.
“How do you know Rosie?” Alana asked, making a determined effort to ask the question in a casual and not a probing way.
“She volunteers with a feral cat program. They catch stray cats, spay or neuter them, and release them again. I do surgeries for them as often as I can.”
“So she gives you free food in exchange.” She seemed to have traveled back in time when she came to Yakima, back to an era when people bartered for goods and services instead of selling items in a store, complete with nonnegotiable price tags. She was charmed by the connections this casual type of system created, especially when she saw the way Tegan tried to help Chip’s horses and Rosie’s cats without a concern for her own paycheck. Still, she didn’t believe it was a practical alternative to cash and credit cards.
“Sometimes,” Tegan said, staring up at the taco-shaped piñata hanging over their table. “I usually try to wait until she goes into the back, and then place my order with someone else, but I was distracted today…um, by the conchas. I’m really hungry. I mean…never mind.”
Alana wasn’t sure why Tegan was blushing and acting uncomfortable, but she assumed it was because she didn’t want Alana thinking she took advantage of Rosie. “Well, I think it’s nice,” she said, hoping to reassure Tegan. She searched for a change in subject but couldn’t come up with anything besides one that circled back to their earlier conversation. She reluctantly followed the thread.
“This reminds me of my parents’ hotel. Not the décor or food or anything, but because it seems to be a family business. I was kind of like Rosie, working side by side with my family. I remember thinking how strange my best friend’s life was when I visited her house since she barely seemed to see her parents. They were all too busy with their separate lives to even eat dinner at the same time. For me, everything was lumped together, with no distinctions between work and home and family.”
Alana looked up and saw Tegan watching her. She felt a momentary jolt of surprise because she had been lost in her thoughts and almost forgot she was speaking out loud, to another person. “Sometimes I envied her, of course, because she had more privacy than I ever did. I couldn’t get away with anything because there was always a guest or a grandparent or someone who saw me sneaking cookies from the basket in the lobby or hanging out by the pool instead of doing homework.”
Tegan smiled. “I’m sure you managed to find ways to get yourself into trouble, despite the constant surveillance.”
Alana shrugged. “Sometimes. Mostly I was quite well behaved. It was a passive sort of life, I guess. I was always waiting for someone interesting to show up. Waiting to be old enough to make my own way in life.”
“You must have grown out of your passivity, then, because that’s not a word I would even consider if I was going to describe your personality.”
Alana wanted to ask which words Tegan would choose, but Rosie arrived at the table bearing two platters full of food. She sat next to Tegan and sipped an iced tea, leaning back against the wall. “What a day,” she said. “I cringe every time I see one of those tour buses pull into the lot. So, Alana, are you from Yakima, or are you new here?”
“I just…hey, wait. Where’d your accent go?”
She laughed. “It comes and goes, depending on how many tourists are standing in line. My great-grandmother Rosamund came to the United States when my grandma was a little girl, so I was born here. Sometimes I change accents just for fun.”
Tegan swallowed a bite of her tamale and playfully elbowed Rosie. “When I was here last week, she sounded like she just got off a plane from Paris. Week before, it was Russia.”
“I do community theater, so it’s good practice for me, as long as my mother isn’t close enough to hear. Now, back to you.”
“I’m the new Activity Coordinator at High Ridge Ranch, out near Selah,” she said, still hanging on to the questionable job title. “I haven’t even been here a week.” It felt as if she’d been here far longer, however. She’d packed more into the past few days than she had anticipated.
“Oh, right. Out where those horrible people used to give trail rides. How are the horses doing?”
Alana was relieved when Rosie asked Tegan the question, giving her a chance to taste her food. The heavenly smells had been hard to resist, even for the sake of polite conversation. She had three miniature corn tortillas on her plate, each with a different topping. She chose one that appeared to be covered with seasoned pulled pork and added a spoonful of pico de gallo from a little cup and a squeeze of fresh lime. She folded the tortilla in half and took a bite, enjoying all the flavors and textures clamoring for her attention. Heat and crunch from the pico de gallo, tender, cumin-scented pork, accented by the acid from the lime.
She looked up and saw Tegan and Rosie watching her, as if they’d said something and were waiting for her response. She shook her head. “Sorry, but I can’t talk to you right now. This is the most delicious food I’ve had in a long time, and it deserves my full attention.”
“Thank you,” Rosie said with a pleased smile.
“Pause in between tacos,” Tegan said. “I want Rosie to hear your box-of-rats story.”
“You just want me to talk so you can eat,” Alana said.
“Maybe.” Tegan shrugged, but she didn’t get much food since she and Rosie were soon laughing too hard to eat or drink.
When Alana had first told the story to Tegan, she’d thought it would sound wonderfully dramatic as Lace and the pups were pulled from the brink of death—or at least the threat of coyotes. Tegan had laughed then, too, so Alana had decided to embrace the humor in it. She could imagine the howls of disbelieving lau
ghter she’d hear when she returned to a big-city hotel and shared the anecdote with coworkers.
As soon as she finished, she went back to her meal, selecting a chicken taco next.
“So how did the two of you go from meeting at the clinic with the puppies to working together today? Doesn’t your work at the ranch keep you too busy to moonlight as a volunteer vet assistant?”
Rosie’s voice and smile seemed friendly, but Alana wondered if she was interested in more than a friendship with Tegan and was trying to find out why Alana was here with her. Then again, Tegan hadn’t said she and Rosie weren’t already dating. Alana watched Tegan for a clue about how to respond, but Tegan seemed to be studying her for the same thing. Alana suddenly realized they were trying to protect each other. Tegan couldn’t say anything about Alana’s lessons or her need to get as much horse experience as possible without divulging her secret about how unqualified she was for her job. Alana was treading carefully because she didn’t want to jeopardize whatever relationship Tegan had with Rosie—well, part of her brain didn’t, while most of her body was voting to jeopardize the hell out of it.
Alana took a deep breath, taking a chance that Rosie was as kind as she seemed and wouldn’t call Chip and tell on her. For Tegan’s sake, she had to give Rosie some sort of explanation. “Tegan’s been giving me riding lessons,” she said. “She thought it would be a good experience for me to handle the Thoroughbreds today.”
“You’re giving her riding lessons.”
“Yes,” Tegan said, keeping her eyes on her plate as she finished her tamale.
Rosie turned to Alana again. “And you don’t get enough time with horses even though you’re in charge of, what, thirty of them at the ranch?”
“Only twenty-five,” Alana said, which didn’t sound helpful once it was out of her mouth. She had a feeling they were going to be at this for a long time, with Rosie slowly dissecting every suspicious element in the story, unless Alana came clean. Or sort of clean. “I didn’t realize how hands-on this job would be when I applied. Tegan’s helping me brush up on my skills, so I don’t let Chip down.”
“Well, she’s an excellent rider, so you’re in good hands.”
Alana smiled, making some sort of vague noise of agreement. She didn’t trust herself to say anything more in case Rosie was able to read on her face just how much of herself she wanted to put into Tegan’s hands.
Rosie got up and stacked their empty plates. “I’ll get us some dessert.”
“Sorry about that,” Tegan said as soon as they were alone again. “Your job and our riding lessons are your private business, and I didn’t mean for you to have to talk about them. Rosie’d never tell Chip anything, though, so don’t worry.”
“I won’t,” Alana said with a shrug. She grinned at Tegan. “Besides, I’ve started to realize that Chip is fudging just as much as I am. He’s as qualified to be a ranch manager as I am a trail guide.”
Tegan laughed. “Well, at least you’re both working hard to improve. And you’re both stubborn enough to make it happen.”
“We will.” Alana stood up. “They’re putting out another batch of tortillas, so I’m going to buy some to take home. Be right back.”
Tegan watched Alana walk to the counter, feeling overwhelmed. She felt like a fumbling teenager around Alana at times, tripping over her own feet at the sight of her bending over to look in the pastry case, or nearly upending her Coke when Alana took a bite of her lunch and rolled her eyes in ecstasy. But moments later, she felt more at ease with Alana than she’d ever felt with a woman. It was like being on a seesaw, without any of the predictability.
She was thinking about how often Alana had made her laugh over the past few days, and she smiled happily at Rosie when she set down a plate of cookies and took a seat across from her.
“Oh, yum,” Tegan said, taking a yellow concha and breaking off a piece.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rosie snapped.
Tegan paused with the bite of cookie halfway to her mouth. She lowered her hand, glancing toward the counter where Alana was still in line. “What? What’s wrong?”
“What are you doing with her? Secret riding lessons? Really? And is this a date?”
Tegan stared at her. She’d never heard Rosie raise her voice, unless she was acting in a play, and she wasn’t sure where the anger had come from. “What’s going on, Rosie? Don’t you like Alana?”
“Of course I do,” Rosie said, sounding more like her normal self. She reached over and broke Tegan’s cookie in half. “She’s smart and nice to animals, plus she’s got a great sense of humor. Not to mention her physical attributes. Very hot.”
“Then why were you yelling at me?”
Rosie wiped her hands on a napkin. “You told me to.”
Tegan rubbed her temple. “I doubt it.”
“Remember when Fay left?”
“Yes.”
“Remember coming to my house and moaning about it for hours? Well, maybe you don’t remember that part. You drank all my Tecate. Anyway, you told me that if I ever saw you falling for another woman who wasn’t born and bred and prepared to live forever in Yakima, I was supposed to slap you across the face and ask you what the hell you were doing. I can’t slap you in front of customers, but feel free to come back after we close, and I’ll do it then.”
“It’s not the same,” Tegan said, squinting as she tried to clear up the fuzzy memory of going to see Rosie that night. “Alana and I aren’t dating. Plus, she’s always been honest about her plans to leave once she’s been here long enough to get a good reference and another job offer.”
Rosie leaned across the table toward her. “So was Fay, hon. She never hid her ambition to move to Europe. Trouble was, you weren’t honest with yourself. You always believed she’d decide to stay.”
Tegan crossed her arms and sat back. She still wasn’t sure why Rosie was bringing this up since she and Alana weren’t romantically involved. She’d thought about it, yes. Fantasized about it? Yes. But they were nothing more than friends.
Rosie shook her head, as if reading Tegan’s mind. “I’ve done my duty, like I promised you I would, and I won’t say another word about it after this. Just make me a promise, too, that you’ll keep your eyes open this time. Be friends, date, have a fling, whatever you want. Just be sure you don’t lie to yourself about what it means.”
Tegan stared out the window for a moment before giving Rosie a sharp nod. She was quiet while Alana returned to the table and chatted with Rosie, asking about the different cookies and sampling a taste of everything on the plate. Tegan watched her as she laughed at something Rosie said, their voices fading into the background as a realization came forward. She didn’t have to fight against her attraction to Alana if she didn’t want to. She could acknowledge it. Find out if Alana felt the same way. Maybe explore where it would lead them, as long as she didn’t try to look too far ahead.
Maybe. Tegan leaned forward again, sliding back into the conversation.
Chapter Ten
Tegan listened to the healthy rhythms of the standard poodle’s heart and respiration. Just as she moved her stethoscope away and was about to pull the tips out of her ears, he gave a loud woof.
“Ouch,” she said, and he turned his head and gave her a sloppy lick across her nose.
“Oh, he’s apologizing. How sweet,” Amy, his owner said, ruffling his ears while Tegan got a paper towel and wiped her face. Her last patient had peed on her foot, so she wasn’t going to complain about a little slobber.
“He seems healthy,” she said, taking two syringes out of her lab coat pocket. “Do you have any concerns or questions, though?”
“No. He’s been doing great.”
The dog didn’t even flinch as she gave him his injections and chatted with Amy about a local obedience trainer. She wished all her appointments were this easy.
“Those are cute puppies,” Amy said, pointing to the photo Alana had tacked up at the beginning of the week. She h
elped Tegan lift her large fluffy dog off the table and walked over for a closer look.
“Aren’t they? The mom seems to be a spaniel mix, and the pups will be ready for adoption in about four weeks.” She gave Amy a brief explanation about how Alana had found the litter.
“We’ve been thinking about getting King a little brother or sister. Could we take the kids over to meet them sometime?”
“Of course,” Tegan said, fishing one of the cards Alana had made on Chip’s printer, with her number and a tiny picture of Lace on it. “If you’re interested in adopting after you’ve met them, I’d suggest getting King and one of the puppies together for a supervised meeting, maybe in two or three weeks, when the pups are a little older. We could do it here, in a neutral place, and we can find out how well they get along.”
Tegan said good-bye and gave the examination room a quick cleaning. After lunch at Rosamund’s, when she’d scared the crap out of herself by even considering an affair with Alana, she had wondered whether she should avoid her altogether, running away from temptation and the guaranteed pain she would feel when Alana inevitably left. Her determination to protect herself hadn’t lasted long, though. She had made a commitment to help Alana with her riding, so she continued giving her lessons during her lunch hour. She drew the line at invitations to lunch or to have Alana accompany her on calls.
But once Alana had come up with the idea to post the litter’s photo in the clinic’s waiting room and two exam rooms, Tegan had to live with a constant reminder of Alana. Every time she saw the picture or answered questions about the puppies, she had to think about Alana and the possibilities she presented. A possibility for pain, yes, but also for some wonderful months spent in her company and in her bed.
Tegan sighed, resting her hip against the table for a moment before moving on to her next patient, who was currently yowling in a cat carrier in the waiting room. She wasn’t even sure if Alana would be open to the kind of relationship Tegan was sidling around, but never directly considering. She thought Alana seemed interested in her, too, given the small hints found in casual touches and playful teasing.