by Leigh Hays
“Great.” She stood there for a minute, trying to figure out how to end the evening after the physical and emotional intimacy they’d shared. Was it a date? It felt like a date. But did it feel like a date to Rebekiah? Was she the only one who came on to Rebekiah after the pictures? Or did those other women experience similar feelings? How could they not?
Rebekiah took the lead and cut through her doubts. “Thanks.” She made eye contact and added, “For everything.” She leaned in and kissed her cheek.
Lindsey turned her head and captured her lips with her own. Rebekiah responded immediately, wrapping her hands around her waist and drawing her close. The kiss ignited the passion from before, and if she’d been home, she might have dragged her upstairs. Instead, she pressed her against the brick wall and kissed her with all the pent-up emotions of the night. Rebekiah matched her ferocity. When they finally pulled apart, resting their foreheads against each other, Lindsey said words she didn’t want to say: “I should go.”
Rebekiah leaned in and nipped her lip. “Are you sure?”
No. But instead she said, “I don’t want to rush this.” And as those words left her mouth, she wondered what this was, but it felt too new and precious to ruin by not slowing down.
Rebekiah tucked a strand of Lindsey’s hair behind her ear and said, “Okay.” She moved away, and Lindsey felt her loss.
“Good night.”
Lindsey managed a smile. “Good night.” Sera pushed through their legs, and she scratched her head. “Good night, Sera.” She walked away feeling horny but happy.
Chapter Fifteen
Rebekiah booked a ten a.m. flight for Christmas Eve. Elena had been both shocked and grateful that she’d left Sera with someone else. Elena loved Sera because Rebekiah loved Sera, and Elena loved Rebekiah. Theirs was a relationship born of shared affection. They had moved beyond tolerance toward acceptance, but neither was the other’s favorite. She had, however, grilled her over her choice of guardian.
“Doesn’t she manage your money?” Elena’s tone echoed her disbelief.
Rebekiah regretted answering the phone almost as soon as she picked it up. She should have texted from the airport. After the initial concern for her well-being and Thea’s, Elena zeroed in on her dog sitter with an accuracy she’d wanted to avoid.
“Yeah, sort of.” Rebekiah switched ears and stuffed a couple pairs of shorts in her suitcase. She palmed the SD chip on her nightstand and tucked it into an interior pocket of her camera bag. “Among other things.”
“Other things? Like what?”
“We’re friends.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“Yes.” Rebekiah tossed a few more shirts into the suitcase and realized what she’d said. “No.” Elena always caught her off-guard. She wasn’t ready to talk about Lindsey just yet.
Elena laughed on the other end of the line.
Rebekiah stared at the mismatched mix of thermal and summer wear. She needed to get off the phone and actually focus on her task before she left for the airport. “It’s complicated.”
“Sounds it.”
Rebekiah sighed. “I’ll fill you in when I get back.” The doorbell rang, and she said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll text you when I get there.”
They exchanged Merry Christmases and hung up. Rebekiah opened the door and ushered Lindsey inside.
Lindsey glanced around and said, “Nice place.”
Rebekiah smiled. “Thanks. Let me get her stuff. I really appreciate this.” She leaned aside and handed Lindsey a gym bag stuffed with Sera’s dog food and other doggie goods. Nodding toward the bag, she said, “I tucked Elena’s number in there. Along with her vet.” She paused, wondering why it felt so awkward. “I could pay you.”
Lindsey pulled back in horror. “You’ll do no such thing.” Sera butted her hand. She crouched and put her hand back on Sera’s neck.
Rebekiah gently ruffed Sera’s fur. “Don’t be rude.”
Sera barked and flopped. Lindsey gave up her half-sitting position and settled on the floor. Sera turned so that she had unobstructed access to her belly.
Rebekiah glanced at her watch. She had to finish up soon, but Elena’s conversation still rattled in her head. She wanted to touch base with Lindsey before she left. Lindsey’s desire to slow things down had hit home for her. There was something deeper going on between them, and she wanted to talk about it. She stared at the woman lavishing love on her dog and said, “Last night…the pictures—”
Lindsey’s shoulders hunched, and she didn’t look up. “Please, let’s not.”
Rebekiah crouched. “Don’t be embarrassed. I wanted to thank you.”
Lindsey looked up and stared. “Really?”
“That was a gift you shared with me. Don’t you see that?” She didn’t know the right words to convince her.
Lindsey rolled her eyes.
With a frown, Rebekiah pulled out her phone. Unable to sleep, she’d spent half the night tinkering and touching up the picture until it was just right. “Look.”
Lindsey touched the phone. “Is that how you see me?”
Rebekiah smiled and pulled it back. Of all the women she’d shot, Lindsey had been the one she thought would need the least convincing. She was so strong and confident. “Yes.”
Lindsey shook her head and took a deep breath. “I’m not very good at navigating between professional and personal boundaries. I like to keep them separate.”
“I don’t want to.” Her stomach hurt at the idea of a purely professional relationship with them.
Lindsey stilled. “What does that mean?”
She settled on the direct approach. “Do you think I signed with you for purely professional reasons? What the hell do I know about wealth management?”
Lindsey shook her head. “I’m bad at relationships.”
“Then let’s not call it that.” The fact that she didn’t do relationships the way most people did wasn’t the issue. The connection with Lindsey was so much realer than any label. She reached for her, and Lindsey put a hand in her palm. “Let’s talk when I get back. Okay?”
Lindsey nodded and squeezed. “Okay.”
* * *
Lindsey walked to work with Sera in tow. She couldn’t stop thinking about that picture. She’d seen it the night before, but it was not the raw shot anymore. The light was softer, the tone richer, the contrast gentle. It was open and sensual, stark in its beauty and strong in its intimacy. Once again, Rebekiah had captured a part of her she’d never seen. But what did it mean? Rebekiah had a gift for seeing people; Lindsey was no exception.
She arrived at her building a little after ten and entered the lobby. She nodded toward the security guard at the front desk, who smiled for her and gave an even larger one to Sera. She pressed the button, and the doors opened. Just as they started to close, she heard someone shout, “Hold the elevator.” She juggled the leash and pressed the open button.
“Thanks.” A slightly rumpled woman ducked in carrying a coffee cup and discreetly shaking her hand free of spilled liquid. She glanced up and her eyes widened. “Ms. Blackwell.”
Lindsey smiled. “We meet again.” Six months ago, Vanessa had flirted with her and also asked for a job before knowing who she was. She’d studiously avoided eye contact since. “Alone at last.”
Vanessa groaned. “Great.” She took a deep breath. “About that. I wanted to apologize. If I’d known…”
Lindsey chuckled. “You might want to stop right there. Either answer hurts my professional or personal ego.”
Vanessa’s shoulders sagged. “I think I’d rather you didn’t remember me.”
Lindsey laughed. “It’s okay, Vanessa. If I had an opening, I’d encourage you to apply.”
She straightened and said, “Thank you.” And that recovery—coupled with her honesty and earlier confidence—was the reason Lindsey would hire her, provided the references checked out. Lindsey valued all of those traits in her staff.
Sera nudged her leg, a
nd Vanessa looked down. “Oh, what a gorgeous dog.” She held out a hand, and Sera sniffed it before giving a tentative lick. She gently petted her. “How long have you had her?”
Lindsey shrugged. “About an hour.”
Vanessa stopped petting. “Oh.”
“It’s okay. She’s not mine. She’s my…” She pursed her lips. Girlfriend? Not really, but… “Friend’s. I’m dog sitting.”
“Hmm.” Lindsey watched a part of Vanessa wall off and knew that a door with her had closed. She felt a momentary pang of regret, and then it passed.
Vanessa’s floor opened, and she stepped off. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “It was good to see you.”
Lindsey winked and smiled. “You, too.” Just as the doors closed, she spoke without thinking. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Vanessa nodded. “Understood.”
Lindsey and Sera stepped into a mostly empty office. Most of the staff took the day off, but that didn’t mean the financial markets slowed or end of the year stock sell-offs and buybacks didn’t happen. It just meant that there were fewer people to do it. As a result, Lindsey worked the holiday week in town and spent most of January traveling.
She wound toward her office, comparing Vanessa and Rebekiah. Vanessa was more her type: a slightly younger version of herself and focused on her career. Rebekiah was outside her norm, less business oriented and more emotionally focused. “Let’s talk when I get back.” Lindsey wanted to believe her, but she’d heard those words before. A few months later, they were followed by other words, accusing words, hurtful words, words that demanded more time or attention than she could give.
Sabine stood, then crouched, and Sera barked. Lindsey pulled up short, and Sera sniffed Sabine’s hand before she surrendered to a head pet. “Hey, you.” Sabine cocked her head and smiled. “Did you get a dog?”
Lindsey shook her head. “No, I’m just dog sitting.”
Sabine laughed. “Wow, that’s very…”
Lindsey wondered where Sabine was going with that. She’d worked for her for many years, and they shared a deep professional trust, but their relationship always stopped short of the truly personal details. Lindsey suspected that Sabine was queer, but other than that, she knew nothing about her.
“Domestic of you.”
Laughter bubbled up, and Lindsey shook her head. “It is, isn’t it?”
Sabine gave Sera one last pet and grinned. “It looks good on you.”
Lindsey’s face burned, and she mumbled her thanks before heading into her office. Safely buried in her work, she thought about her conversations with Vanessa and Sabine. Both women she’d held at a professional distance until today. Bringing Sera to work had broken the ice, but after that, it was her letting her guard down. Maybe mixing the personal and professional wasn’t all that bad.
Chapter Sixteen
Rebekiah parked her rental car on the street and headed up the front walk to Thea’s bungalow in Key West’s Old Town. Thea bought the house three years after Rebekiah graduated from RISD, but the bungalow had been in Rebekiah’s family for two generations before that. Her childhood was spent playing in the old shell and sand backyard. She felt strange just opening the door, but it felt even weirder knocking, so she did a little bit of both. “Hello?” She turned the knob and stepped into the tiny foyer. A light shined from the far end of the hall. Closing the door, she dropped her carry-on and walked toward the light.
She stepped into the large back living room with its open kitchen on her left and the small dining room tucked in the corner. Not much had changed since her childhood. The bones of the house were the same; only the décor was updated. Holiday decorations were scattered throughout the room with a fake but tastefully decorated tree in the far corner. The entire back wall was a mix of French doors and plate windows looking out to a covered porch and the small L-shaped pool beyond that. Thea had renovated the backyard and put in the pool, surrounding it with heavy foliage and hidden fences to make it completely private. She missed the sand and shell of her youth.
Collette stood up from the couch in the living room. “You should have called. I would have picked you up.”
Rebekiah shrugged. “It’s okay. I wanted the time to myself.”
Collette smiled and nodded. “Of course.” Meaning that, as usual, Rebekiah did something just like Thea, and Collette was the first one to notice it. “Are you staying here?”
“If you have room.”
Collette smiled. “Of course. Take whichever room you want. I’m heading back to the hospital soon. But the upstairs is all yours. Are you hungry?”
Rebekiah started to tell her no but thought better of it when she had already begun moving toward the kitchen. “Sure.”
“Sit down. I’ll make you a sandwich.” She pulled plastic bags and condiments out of the fridge. Rebekiah settled on a stool and looked out the window. The pink and red sunset was visible over the fence. Collette sighed. “I was just about to go on the back porch and watch the stars come out. Even with all the light pollution you can still see some of them. It gets so hot that sometimes I only go out at night.” She unscrewed the mustard and slathered a piece of rye bread. “Did you take a cab?”
“I rented a car.”
“Oh, good.”
Tired of the small talk, she screwed up her courage and finally asked, “How’s she doing?”
Collette took a deep breath. “I told you they put the stent in last night.” Rebekiah nodded. She’d called Collette back to get an update. “If she shows progress, she should be out in a couple days.”
She watched Collette’s movements as they engaged in more small talk about the trip and then the weather. Rebekiah followed her hands as they traveled the path of pastrami to bread, lettuce to bread, bread to bread, and then knife to bread. Putting the finished product on a plate, she put a pickle on the side. “How’s your work coming along?”
Rebekiah picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “Okay. I am putting up a show in June at the Cohen Gallery.”
“Aldina’s gallery?” Rebekiah nodded. “That’s great. I’m glad you’re showing again.” She touched Rebekiah’s hand.
“Me, too.” Rebekiah swallowed a bite. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in Collette’s kitchen eating a sandwich. Just after college? She smiled. “This is really good. I didn’t know I was this hungry.”
“It’s Thea’s favorite. Pastrami on rye.” She looked down for a minute and then back up.
Rebekiah put the sandwich down, her appetite gone. “How’s she doing otherwise?” She couldn’t bring herself to say Alzheimer.
“Better.” She put her hands against the counter. “Sometimes I think she’ll outlast us all and then…” She paused, taking a deep breath, and brushed the edges of her eyes. She squeezed Rebekiah’s hand. “I’m glad you came.”
Rebekiah squeezed back. “I know.”
Collette pulled back and nodded at the plate. “Finish your sandwich.”
* * *
Lindsey extricated herself from the fourth conversation on the same topic with another distant relative and slipped out the sliding glass doors to the rock garden. She smelled the bay’s salt water lapping against the docks forty yards away. In the summer, she’d wander those docks and dangle her feet in the water. It was too cold to do either. Her feet crunched on the thin crust of snow as she walked the gravel paths. A small bench stood in a semi-circle, looking toward the dark water but shielded from the wind. She tucked her jacket under her and sat down. Light from the house bounced off the snow and provided her with just enough illumination to see around her.
Every year she felt more and more like a stranger in her own family. She pushed that familiar feeling aside and returned to the conversation that had been on repeat since yesterday, her conversation with Rebekiah when she picked Sera up. She found it difficult to think about anything else. She had surprised herself by texting a Merry Christmas to Rebekiah sometime after brunch and was slightly disappointed not to hear b
ack.
Another set of shoes crunched behind her. Her father stepped into view. His genes dominated her features; both her gray eyes and slight built came from him. He was smaller than her mother; people often underestimated his iron will. “Avoiding your mother?”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Are you?”
“Just getting a little fresh air.” He pulled out a cigar and trimmed the end.
“I thought you’d quit.”
“Don’t tell your mother.” He lit up and inhaled. Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, “How’s work?”
“Good. You?”
He sighed and puffed his cigar. “Still traveling nine months out of the year. I’m looking forward to retirement.”
Lindsey smiled. “Does Mom know?”
He cringed. “Not yet.” He cut her a sideways look. “I worry that we might do each other bodily harm if we actually lived together.”
“Me, too.”
Her father hummed his agreement. He sat down beside her and huddled in his jacket. “Brr. It’s cold.”
She shrugged. It beat hanging around inside. “You get used to it.” Lindsey stared at the stars for a bit, trying to pick out the Big Dipper. She’d always found her parents’ relationship to be a bit of a mystery. They existed on two different ends of the emotional spectrum yet somehow made it work. “Do you ever regret getting married?”
Puffing a long line of smoke, he said, “No.” He took another drag and finally said, “I regret the choices I made. In particular with you. Especially now.”
“What do you mean?” Stung by his comments, Lindsey pulled back, and he reached out.
“Oh, honey, I don’t regret having you. Not at all. But I chose career, and so did you. Your mother and I modeled a very specific lifestyle, and you have adopted it as your own. Your work is your life.” He squeezed her hand. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
A little taken aback, she said, “What makes you say that?”