One Fine Day

by Erica Abbott

  Jill sat back and answered, “No, Terry.”

  That was all. No “I’m too busy to have a relationship,” no “I don’t have time to meet someone,” no excuse of any kind. Terry had always liked that about Jill. She was still amazed that they’d ever gotten together, given how little Jill seemed to pursue personal relationships.

  Well, now that she thought about it, Terry had chased the hell out of her until Jill capitulated. “You could come in, you know,” she said. “When you take me home, I mean.” Still chasing? Terry asked herself.

  Jill smiled but didn’t respond directly. “Let’s have our coffee first,” was all she said.

  They had coffee, and Jill accepted a bite of the torta from Terry’s fork. A good sign, Terry thought. The cake was eaten down to crumbs, and the coffee cups refilled, before Terry saw the front door open and Caroline Prince step inside the room.

  Against the dark wood and dim light of the restaurant, Caroline looked as if a spotlight were following her across the floor. She was in a cream-colored skirt, a shimmering silk blouse catching the gaze of everyone in the room. She smiled at a few people who seemed to recognize her, but didn’t stop until she reached Jill and Terry’s table.

  Terry, for reasons she didn’t clearly understand, actually got up from her chair as Caroline reached them.

  Caroline offered her hand to Terry and said, “I apologize for being so late, Ms. Royce. My board meeting ran quite long. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here. I’m glad you are.”

  “That’s fine,” Terry managed. “Let me introduce you.”

  Caroline turned slowly and looked down at Jill, who had an expression Terry had never seen before. Terry was expecting surprise, delight perhaps. Instead, Jill looked as if she’d been strapped into an electric chair.

  “Jillian,” Caroline said softly.

  Jillian? The last time Terry heard anyone call Jill that was never.

  “My God,” Jill said, clearly incredulous. “My God. Caroline?”

  What the hell? Terry was deeply confused, and a moment later it got worse.

  Caroline laughed, just a little uncertainly. “I don’t look that different, do I?”

  Now Jill was standing too, and Terry saw a moment of unbelievable awkwardness between the two. Caroline seemed to lean into Jill, just a little, and Jill half-returned the movement, like a dancer greeting a partner, before she backed away again.

  What in the hell was this? “Um, maybe we should sit down,” Terry muttered.

  She stepped around to let Caroline take her chair, across from Jill. Terry moved between them, suddenly and irrationally wanting to put herself between Jill and Caroline Prince.

  They sat down. Terry felt as if she had been appearing in one scene and was suddenly thrown into another, one in which she had no idea what was in the script. Trying to regain some sense of control, she said to Jill, “This would be your early birthday present. I interviewed Ms. Prince a couple of days ago, and I told her what a big fan you were, and she offered to come and surprise you.”

  Jill said, “I am surprised. I had no idea you were in Colorado, Caroline.”

  Caroline just looked at Jill in a way that made Terry wonder if she’d had dinner yet. Unable to bear the silence, Terry said quickly, “She’s the new artistic director of the Rocky Mountain Opera. Isn’t that wonderful? We finally have a world-class artist- in-residence here. It should do wonderful things for opera in the city, and Caroline has lots of plans to bring the Opera into the twenty-first century.”

  Terry knew she was babbling, but the tension at the table was palpable. Clearly something very strange was going on, and she tried to sort out what it was. An old rivalry? Or something else?

  No one else spoke. Caroline was still looking at Jill with more intensity than Terry had ever seen, and Jill seemed to be withdrawing into some faraway place. The atmosphere at the table felt like an electrical storm about to hit. A little desperately, Terry said, “So, I’m guessing you two have already met?”

  Caroline finally said, quietly, “I wasn’t sure if it would really be you. You look wonderful, Jill.”

  Jill brushed her hand through her thick, dark hair, shot with premature gray, and answered, “No, I don’t. I’m a lot older.”

  “So am I.”

  “You hardly look it.”

  “Now you’re just being kind. I can see every line, believe me.”

  “You seem pretty much the same to me.”

  Terry was watching the two women, her head swiveling back and forth during the conversation as if she were watching a tennis match. Jill was scrambling to maintain a façade of cool detachment, and Terry didn’t see how she was managing to resist the warmth and invitation in every line of Caroline’s body. Caroline’s voice was soft and welcoming, her eyes bright in the dim light.

  Helena appeared at their table and said to Caroline, “May I get you a menu? Or a drink, perhaps?”

  Caroline answered without looking away from Jill’s face. “Just some coffee, please. Black, thank you.”

  Helena went away again, and the silence returned. Terry finally said, “I’d really appreciate it if somebody would let me in on whatever it is I’m missing here.”

  Jill said, coolly, “Ms. Prince was one of my aunt’s voice students, a long time ago.”

  Caroline smiled a little. “A very long time ago.” She finally turned to Terry and said, “Jill played for me a few times when I was an up-and-coming teenager. Back when I scarcely knew my chest voice from my head voice.” She returned to Jill and said softly, “I was very sorry to hear that Renata passed away. I know you were close.”

  “Yes,” Jill agreed stiffly. “Thanks for sending flowers. And for the extremely generous contribution to the Conservatory in her name.”

  Caroline waved a hand. “I was just sorry I couldn’t be here. I was in…”

  “Sydney. I know.”

  Caroline looked at her in surprise. “Yes. I really was sorry. Your aunt was the first one to really believe in my talent.”

  Jill interjected, with a note of bitterness, “That’s not true. You believed in yourself first. You always knew where you were going, Caroline. I’m not surprised that you got there.”

  Caroline said, with a touch of challenge in her voice, “And what about you? Did you get where you were going, too?”

  Jill just stared at her, and Terry wondered again if they really hated each other. Terry answered Caroline’s question with, “Jill’s a very successful lawyer. She’s a partner at Worthington and Steele. The firm that represents the Rocky Mountain Opera, in fact.”

  “Really?” Caroline said thoughtfully.

  Helena arrived with coffee, and Caroline sat back in her chair, stirring the coffee to cool it, her spoon making tiny tings against the china. “So,” she remarked, “you did accomplish your goals. Congratulations.”

  “Oh, I think you’re the one who deserves the congratulations,” Jill said, her voice cool again. “It takes a lot of work and persistence and talent to make it to the top of the opera world.” She lifted her own coffee cup in a toast, but Terry couldn’t tell if she was being ironic or not. “Nice work.”

  With sudden vehemence, Caroline said, “Jill, don’t be like this. I’m in Denver now. I’m staying. We could be friends.”

  Jill set the cup down on the saucer with a clatter. “I really don’t think so,” she said tersely.

  Caroline reached across the table to take Jill’s hand on the table top. Jill jerked back, as if the touch burned her.

  “Jillian,” Caroline said again.

  “No,” Jill said. “Just…no.”

  Oh, hell’s bells, Terry thought, figuring it out at last. Not rivals. Jill loved her. Once.

  Guilt rushed through Terry. She’d thought she was doing something wonderful for Jill, and all she’d done was bring her a reminder of some long-ago pain. She turned to Jill and said, “Well, as terrific as this has been, I have an early day. Jill, will you take me home?”

&nbs
p; She’d meant it innocently, just to get Jill out of there, but the stricken look on Caroline’s face was a surprise. Without a flicker of emotion, Jill said, “Of course. Caroline, it was nice to see you again.”

  Caroline was on her feet. “You don’t have to leave,” she said.

  “I think we do. Goodbye, Caroline.”

  Terry paid the bill on the way out, then joined Jill on the sidewalk. The air outside the restaurant had turned chilly. Terry said, “Damn it, Jill, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Jill was back to her collected self. “The car is this way.”

  “I really was trying to do something nice. She didn’t tell me she knew you.”

  Jill answered, “Terry, it’s fine. It wasn’t your fault.” She tucked Terry’s arm under her own and slowed her walk.

  Terry said suddenly, “I really think you should come home with me.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Jill said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why not? It’s not like there’s anybody we’re cheating on.”

  Jill slowed down even more. Without looking at Terry, she said, “You know how I feel about you. And we both know that you deserve more than I can give you. Tonight, especially.”

  They got into Jill’s BMW, and Terry said, “I know what you’re worried about. And you don’t have to be. Worried, I mean.”

  Jill turned on the engine, her face dimly lit by the orange-red dashboard lights. “Do you?” she asked. “What am I worried about?”

  “Making love to me when you’re thinking about someone else,” Terry said bravely.

  She caught her breath, wondering if she’d said too much. Jill’s dark profile was immobile for a long minute. Terry said, “You had a crush on her, didn’t you? You were kids, right? You probably loved her from afar. And she didn’t give you a second look, and now you’re thinking about her and you don’t want to go to bed with me while you’re remembering how you used to feel about her.”

  Jill turned and gave her a little ironic smile. “Got me all figured out, don’t you?”

  Terry nodded. “And it’s all right. Take me home, Jill. It doesn’t matter who you’re thinking about. Being with me will help. Believe me, I know. I don’t mind.”

  “Don’t you?”

  Terry covered her hand on the steering wheel. “No,” she said. “I don’t. Take me home,” she said again.

  After a moment, Jill pulled the car away from the curb.

  * * *

  Jill let Terry lead her through the darkened house. They didn’t talk anymore, they didn’t need to speak. When they got to Terry’s tiny bedroom, Terry turned to Jill and kissed her.

  Jill put her arms around Terry and wondered, one last time, whether she was cheating Terry. Despite her reassurances, Jill thought Terry would be hurt if she really knew what Jill was thinking about. She didn’t love Terry, but she did care for her, and she didn’t want to hurt her.

  But Terry was kissing her possessively, and unbuttoning her blouse. Jill pulled Terry’s sweater off, unhooked her bra, and got her onto the bed. Once Jill’s mouth found a nipple, she doubted very much if Terry cared about anything Jill might or might not be thinking.

  Terry stroked Jill’s hair, tangling her fingers and crooning her pleasure. Jill returned to kiss her deeply, tasting her mouth with familiar thoroughness and letting the heat build, trapped between their bodies. Terry pushed herself into Jill, offering her lips, her throat, her breasts, for Jill’s careful attention.

  Jill blanked out her thoughts as best she could, focused only on soft flesh, and then the smooth points of firm flesh. Terry was making little cries of pleasure above her. It’s Terry, she reminded herself. Sweet Terry.

  It was easy, then, to forget Caroline Prince. Terry didn’t feel anything like Caroline. She didn’t smell like Caroline, or move like Caroline, or sound like Caroline.

  And it was only after Terry whimpered happily and relaxed again that Jill let herself remember.

  * * *

  It was a perfect June afternoon, sky bright blue and clear as a springtime lake in the mountains. Jill rode her bike over to Aunt Renata’s house. It was only a little over a mile from her parents’ home, and she made the trip almost every day when school was out. Today she was carrying a tablecloth and matching napkins her mom had found on sale somewhere for her sister. Jill had volunteered to take them over. She liked being outdoors, and the church softball team was practicing in the park nearby in an hour, so she took her mitt with her, too.

  When Jill dumped the bike on the front lawn, scooping out the package from the wire basket, she saw someone waiting on Aunt Renata’s front porch. Jill heard the piano playing from the back room her aunt used as her music studio, and knew that the girl on the front porch must be waiting for the next lesson.

  She came up to the porch, listening through the open windows. Whoever was playing was attempting Bach, but instead of actual counterpoint, the two melody lines sounded as if they were syncopated. Jill shook her head knowingly. Aunt Renata had her hands full with this student.

  “Not so good, is it?” the girl on the front porch asked.

  Jill looked down at her. She had a mass of unruly red-brown hair carelessly tied back, and she wore capris under an oversized T-shirt that said “If it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it.”

  “Not so good,” Jill agreed, and sat down next to her. “Are you the next victim?”

  The girl laughed, and Jill looked at her more closely. She’d never seen eyes that color before. The girl said, “I guess so. I’m Caroline. Caroline Prince.”

  She clutched her music book with one hand and stuck out the other hand. Jill shook it awkwardly and said, “Wonder Woman.”

  “Um, what?”

  “That’s Wonder Woman’s name, Prince. Diana Prince.” Then, feeling stupid and childish, Jill said, “Any relation?”

  The girl laughed again and Jill thought it was the best sound she’d ever heard. She wasn’t laughing at Jill, but laughing as if they were sharing a joke. “Not that I know of,” she answered. “But she might be handy to have around.”

  The playing stopped, then began again, even more out of rhythm, if possible. Jill winced and said, “I don’t even think Wonder Woman could help that.”

  Caroline said, “Probably not. But I promise not to tell my little brother you said so.”

  Jill wanted to crawl under the porch. “Oh, crap, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” she began.

  Caroline waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I know he hasn’t got any musical talent, and he knows it, too. Only my mother hasn’t caught on yet.”

  Jill saw the book of music in Caroline’s hands. “Are you a pianist, too?”

  The beautiful eyes sparkled at her. “Oh, no,” Caroline answered. “I’m a singer. I’m going to be an opera singer someday.”

  Jill didn’t know what to say. This girl was making her feel happy and nervous all at the same time. “That’s cool,” Jill said.

  “Are you here for a lesson, too?” Caroline looked at her, and Jill was suddenly acutely aware of her old cut-offs and ratty sneakers, short dark hair stuffed under a ball cap. Caroline seemed to be about the same age, but she already looked like a woman. Jill could see the curves of breasts beneath the T-shirt. Jill was all angles and long limbs, still coltish.

  “No,” she answered Caroline. “I take lessons, but I don’t have one today. I play piano. A little. Aunt Renata teaches me.”

  “Oh,” Caroline said. “Mrs. Anthony is your aunt?”

  “Yeah.” Unaccountably she added, “I’m over here a lot and stuff. I haven’t seen you before.”

  Caroline was looking at her steadily, and Jill felt acutely uncomfortable. “We just moved down from Fort Collins last month,” she answered. “I don’t really know anybody yet, you know, like from school. But I wanted to go on with my music lessons right away.”

  The painful piano playing mercifully ended, and the girls could hear Renata’s voice.

  Caroline st
ood up and said, “I should probably go in and rescue Tim.”

  Jill swallowed and said, “Yeah, okay. It was really nice to meet you.” She sent the words out in a rush, still afraid this stunning creature would laugh at her for some reason.

  Caroline said, “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  “I’m Jill Allen,” she said, unreasonably pleased that she wanted to know.

  Caroline went inside, but Jill stayed on the porch to listen. She wanted to know what Caroline Prince sounded like.

  They started with scales, low to high. She sounded like a sixteen-year-old girl at first, though with a lot of power. The transition from chest voice was rough. Jill could hear that she didn’t trust her head voice yet.

  The singing stopped, and Jill could hear Aunt Renata giving instructions. They did scales again, and they were better. After a minute or two, there was shuffling of pages, and Aunt Renata began to play a Schumann lied.

  Then Caroline began to sing, and Jill wrapped her fingers around her knees as if to keep from floating away, up into the blue sky. A few of the high notes were a little strained, and the transitions were still tentative, but she had the voice of the muse of music. Jill didn’t understand the words, but it didn’t matter. She knew it was a love song, and she could feel every note piercing her to the heart.

  Jill sat in the sunlight, and hugged her legs to her chest, and listened to an angel singing, just to her.

  * * *

  Terry shifted in her sleep, muttering incoherent words. She always slept sprawled out, taking up as much of the bed as possible. Jill carefully moved one out-flung arm back toward Terry’s side, then moved to spoon in behind her. Terry snuggled back against Jill’s body, her incoherent noises happy ones. Jill dropped a light kiss on her neck. She tried not to think about Caroline again.

  Caroline had looked wonderful, her presence as charismatic as ever. Her jaw line was a little softer, perhaps, her voice a little huskier than Jill remembered. But she was still the most stunning woman Jill had ever seen.