by Lee Winter
After a long look, Meemaw cleared her throat. “Okay. You got what you needed. I hope that story’s worth it if you’re warring with my granddaughter over it.”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Then what are you standing around yapping to me for?”
Catherine settled on the bed beside Lauren, who was typing furiously. “That first draft? Your story’s good.”
“So you said.”
“Hickory’s quotes are astonishing.”
“Yes.”
“John says you can run it.”
Lauren froze and turned. “What?”
“You can run it. I showed him your story, and he changed his mind.”
“Just like that?”
She nodded.
Lauren exhaled. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I see that. Why?”
“Because I’ve spent most of the day worst-case scenario-ing everything and imagining my life ahead without my family’s love. That was a terrifying thing to have in my head while I’m trying to write a story.”
“Ah.”
Lauren glared at her screen. “It’s what you have in your head all the time, isn’t it?”
Catherine’s lips thinned. “I prefer not to dwell on them. Not worth it.”
“So that’s a yes?”
Rising and walking to the window, Catherine leaned against the frame, staring out. “How long do you plan to stay angry at me for?”
“I don’t have a timeline.” There was a hard stab on the iPad. “You put me in a terrible position.” Stab. “You didn’t discuss our story; you just made a decision for both of us.” Stab. “I thought we were supposed to be equal partners, but no…” Stab. “Catherine Ayers decides everything.” Stab. She looked up. “Is that how it goes?”
“I thought it would go quite a bit differently, actually.”
“Oh, yeah, I know. Well, that’s another humiliation for me, isn’t it? It’s what you always assumed about Iowans. We are insular and only care about our own issues. Now you have absolute proof.”
“Except John just refuted that.”
“Probably only after you held his feet to the fire.” Lauren gave a pained huff. “It’s been a thoroughly sucky day—you showing me my family’s failings while throwing me to the wolves for my own good, apparently, while also—and here’s the really fun part—not considering me important enough to talk this over with first.”
“Lauren—”
“No, don’t bother. So… help me with work or leave.”
Sighing, Catherine turned. “How can I help?”
“I need to figure something out. Michelle Hastings.” Lauren reached for her notepad. “What was her motive in all this? Everything she’s done suggests she really did want us to pursue the story. But what was her agenda? If I didn’t know her, I’d say she actually was trying to be a whistleblower—well, in her own oblique, useless way that didn’t tell us much. So what was really in it for her? Have you wondered?”
“I have.”
“And? Any conclusions?”
After a moment, Catherine said, “Michelle’s Jewish.”
“How do you know?”
“She told me she was, back…then. She had no reason to lie about it.”
“Fine. Relevance?” Lauren flipped her notepad to the next page.
“She told me her grandmother used to say ‘never again’ to her. A lot.”
“Right…” Lauren scribbled a note to herself.
“A data chip under everyone’s skin. A number tattooed on everyone’s wrist. Do these things not sound a little similar?”
Lauren froze and looked up. “She really did want us to stop this? She wasn’t just playing with us?”
“Not this time. I am starting to believe she really was appalled when she found out about Lesser’s scheme. Maybe it’s just as she claimed. She was at the State Fair, saw an opportunity when she recognized me, and decided to make sure…never again?”
“Maybe.” Lauren bit her lip and puzzled over that. “That’s a pity. I so wanted to screw her over somewhere in all this.”
“I know the feeling. That would have been poetic justice. She screws me over, I screw her over.” She gestured at Lauren’s story. “Well, by proxy.”
“About that, I’m still mad at you.”
“I know.”
“Although, having now listened to the recording of you and your parents, I know how shitty your day was, too. And you might have more than a small case for being pissed at me for the mean thing I said about your family. How yours doesn’t come first.” Her eyes were softer, and there was regret in them.
“Ah. That.”
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t wipe the floor with me for my cheap shot.”
Catherine gave her an intense look. “I love you, Lauren. Why would I do that?”
Lauren’s composure crumpled. Tears pricked her eyes. “Oh hell. You…”
Pulling her into a hug, Catherine murmured, “I’m sorry, Lauren.”
“Ugh. Damn you. Me, too. But you left me,” Lauren said, muffled against Catherine’s chest, which was feeling wetter by the second. “Right when I needed you. Whatever happened to solidarity? You just tossed me the story like a grenade, left me to face a nightmare with my family, and disappeared.”
“I did no such thing. I never left.” Catherine strengthened her grip. “But I’m very sorry you saw it that way.”
“I do love you, by the way,” Lauren said. “But I’m still so mad.”
“I know.”
“And you have got to stop doing this.” She arched her head back to meet Catherine’s gaze with watery eyes. “Deciding my fate for me. You did this in LA, too. Deciding we had no future, because you were off to DC and you’d just assumed I was staying behind. What will it take?”
“I am sorry. I’ll try. I know we’ve been living together for a year, but I’m still so used to making decisions on my own, it’s hard to remember sometimes that I don’t have to solve everything myself.”
“Well, you’re on notice,” Lauren said with a fierce look. “That excuse only flies until the wedding.”
“So you still want to get married tomorrow?” The faintest hint of uncertainty in Catherine’s voice came as a surprise.
Lauren’s eyes widened. “Catherine, we are gonna fight sometimes. Come on, we fell in love while fighting. But even when you’re being extra impossible, like today”—she poked Catherine’s chest—“it’s always been you for me. My love for you isn’t just painted on. Even if I’m still mad with you.”
She sounded so adamant that Catherine laughed. It was also a release over how relieved she felt at hearing the unmistakable humor in Lauren’s voice.
Her laugh earned a light slap to her chest, and then Lauren slid out of her arms, twisted, and hit a few buttons on the iPad.
“Okay, enough of you distracting me with those big, impossible-to-hate eyes. I’m sending my story.”
“Would you like me to have one last look at it first?”
“No. You said it was my story, right? So I’m taking ownership of it. For good and for bad.” She glanced up. “I think it’s time I stepped out of your shadow anyway. Journalistically speaking…” She tapped the Send button and slid back into Catherine’s arms. “Physically speaking, however, for some reason, my shadow’s extremely fond of yours.”
“Is that so?” Catherine took a chance at feathering kisses along her jaw.
Lauren’s breath hitched. “Mmm…yes. It is.”
Catherine lost track of the time she spent reacquainting herself with the softest of skin along Lauren’s neck.
A soft ping sounded.
Lauren twisted away again, reached for the tablet, and tapped a few buttons. “It’s from my boss.” She tilted the screen Catherine’s way and
they read it together.
Are you kidding me, King? I turn my back for five mins and you give me the story of the year. Well done! JESUS. Knew I was right about you. Running this when the lawyers OK it. Probably Monday – Theo
PS Since you’ve obviously been working all week, you can take next week as your vacation. I’ve cleared it. Once again—great job.
“Well,” Catherine said. “I see he appreciates talent.”
Lauren grinned. “Yep. Even better, I’m now a lady of leisure. If only I had someone to be leisurely with.”
After pulling out her phone, Catherine tapped out a message and sent it. “I believe that makes two of us.”
“Just like that?”
Catherine smiled. “Neil will approve it. He owes me, and he’s been on me to take some more of my overdue vacation time for ages. Besides, he loved the My Evil Twin story, so he’ll be in a good mood. Now, where were we?” Her fingers slid along Lauren’s sleeve. “I can’t help but think there’s something we could be doing instead of fighting.”
“You’re right,” Lauren said with a firm nod. “Planning a wedding.”
“If it’s not planned by now, we’re in a great deal of trouble.”
“Oh my God.” Lauren’s eyes widened.
Catherine leaned back to eye her. “You forgot we’re getting married tomorrow?”
“No. I just remembered all the people coming in for it. The whole ‘worlds collide’ concept.” Lauren’s expression turned dubious. “I wonder what Tad will make of Iowa.”
“What will Cynthia? Or Phoebe? If she’s coming.” She frowned. “She never replied to my texts.”
“Has it occurred to you how many high-strung people we know?” Lauren asked. “And how will they all get along? Cynthia Redwell versus Meemaw? My God, think about that match up. Your acidic, snobby oldest friend versus my sharp-tongued, proudly Iowan grandmother.”
“My money’s on Meemaw,” Catherine said with a soft snicker.
“This is serious! You know, I think I preferred things when I was focused on a national conspiracy to end privacy in the US and put us all in a mammoth government database. Maybe I should start planning the follow-up now.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Lauren, you might have to just accept that you can’t always get the end-times story you want, whenever you want it.”
“Spoilsport. But seriously…” Lauren considered her for a beat. “Your money’s on Meemaw?”
Chapter 25 –
Kith and Tell
Catherine stared into the full-length oval mirror in Meemaw’s bedroom, where she’d been isolated for her preparation. Her goddess-style ivory wedding dress flowed to her ankles. It had intricate embroidered silver brocade at the waist. She spread her hands down her stomach, not that there was a wrinkle in sight. It was a perfect fit. She turned, catching a look at herself. What will Lauren think of it?
“Well?” she asked her silent observer.
“Gorgeous,” Tad said, admiration warming his tone. “I’m just sorry Mom’s not here. She’d love to be in on the zhuzhing and fluffing up. All the girly stuff.”
“Zhuzhing is not a word.”
“It is when Carson Kressley says it.”
Catherine looked at him blankly.
“From that really old cable show they remade? Queer Eye for the Straight Guy? Bravo had a marathon of it a few months back.”
“You know, it is mystifying to me how you’ve stayed in the closet for as long as you have.”
Tad laughed and then glanced at his phone. “Ooh, gotta go. I’m on guest pickup duty with that dishy King brother. We’re helping all the older family members get here who don’t have transport.”
“The dishy brother? They all look the same to me.”
“Oh, fine—the gay one.”
Catherine turned in astonishment. “Lauren has a gay brother? Who?”
“Pfft. Like I can keep track of names. Anyway, he legit checked me out. He’s so on our team. I’ll point him out later. Okay, see you at the ceremony.”
“All right.” She paused. “Tad? I’m glad you could come.”
He smiled and it was pure warmth. “Me, too. Us pink sheep of the family have to stick together.” He hesitated, biting his lip, then opened his arms.
My family does not do hugs, her brain protested, even as he pulled her into a hug, warm and fierce, like the ones she’d become accustomed to seeing the Kings offer each other.
We should have, her brain murmured a moment later, as love for her good-natured nephew welled up in her.
He held her for a few moments until she relaxed and her hands came up to his back. “If you think this means a rent discount…” she whispered in his ear.
Tad gave a hearty laugh and stepped back. “Not sure how you can discount zero. Ooh, unless you plan on paying me to live in your LA digs?”
“Thadeus.” She gave his back a playful slap. “Now go, be useful.”
“Yes, Aunty C.” He chuckled.
As his long legs whisked him from her sight, another shape passed him at the door.
Catherine’s gaze returned to the mirror. She still felt a little emotional; as a general rule, she did not do emotional displays any more than she did hugs.
The new arrival came to stand behind her and watched with appraising elderly eyes.
“Just beautiful. She’ll love that dress,” Meemaw said.
“I hope so.”
“She will. But I’ve yet to see you step a foot wrong when it comes to this fashion business. Is it all just effortless to you?”
“Grooming and deportment classes—four years.” She turned to Meemaw, lips tugging upwards. “My mother ensured from a young age that I would never embarrass her.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? What parent hopes for that?”
“I’d have thought most.”
“Nonsense. Children need to make mistakes and satisfy their curiosity. Insisting on them doing nothing embarrassing is just raising a robot. And yet…” Meemaw tilted her head. “You’re not like that, are you?”
“No.” She gave a rueful sigh. “My sister, though, didn’t have quite the level of defiance I had.”
“A pity. Where is she?”
Catherine wished she knew. But given Phoebe’s track record on never defying their father, she would probably call in a few days and claim she’d only just found the wedding invitation text.
“I had thought she’d be here, but she’s probably been ordered to make herself scarce.”
“Well, at least that splendid nephew of yours is here,” Meemaw replied. “An actor, you said? Good heavens, he’s handsome. Could be a model. What’s he been in? I’m sure I’ve seen him in something.”
This time Catherine’s smile was full. “Infomercials.”
Meemaw nodded earnestly. “That’d be it, then. You look lovely, by the way. Any mother would be proud to see her daughter looking so fine.” She brushed some lint off Catherine’s sleeve, then patted her, looking pleased. “All set. You’re perfect.”
It was such a familiar gesture, one her own mother did often. But it felt so different. She didn’t feel like a flaw to be corrected. Catherine had never been declared “perfect”, either.
Meemaw’s expression changed to affection.
How do the Kings do this so easily? How do they offer acceptance to people like it’s nothing at all? She remembered Meemaw once suggesting she look at who her allies really were. But it was easier said than done.
“What are you thinking in that wiry brain of yours?” Meemaw’s eyebrows lifted. “Because your face is shifting like the sands. To places not so pleasant, I’m guessing.”
“I am considering your family. It’s so at odds to mine. I’m also weighing up what you said earlier. About noticing what’s right in front of me.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
“It may take me a while.” Catherine stepped back from the mirror and turned to slip her heels on. “It’s not you or your family. I’m just not good at…trusting.”
“Lauren loves you, and that’s one thing you can trust with your life. I know you said at the vote that you’re not one of us. I suppose that’s true.”
Catherine felt her stomach twist. It felt surprisingly unpleasant, given while she believed it, she’d never expected the stark admission from Meemaw.
“We are from different worlds,” the other woman continued. “I suspect on many things we won’t understand each other.”
Nodding, Catherine looked away, unwilling to show her dismay. Had Meemaw suddenly changed her mind on embracing her into the family?
“But that doesn’t matter. Look at me, dear.”
Glancing back, Catherine was caught in the other woman’s intense warm gaze.
“You love Lauren, and we love her, so this”—Meemaw waved her finger between the two of them—“is a done deal. You’re stuck with us now. I mean it. You’re ours.”
Catherine’s stomach unknotted itself. Relief flowed through her, the strength of which was almost shocking. It was a surreal sensation being claimed by this imposing woman. After a lifetime of feeling not good enough, not worthy enough to love, she didn’t know quite what to feel now.
“Plus…” Meemaw lowered her tone to conspiratorial, “I caught Miss Chesterfield cheating on me with you.”
Surprise shot through her. She’d been circumspect around the fickle cat, careful not to be too obvious in giving it attention within Meemaw’s sight.
The other woman’s eyes crinkled. “She’s a bit like me and you, I suspect. Doesn’t give her affections lightly. If Miss Chesterfield thinks you’re worthy, that’s more than enough for me. I can tell you this: that fussy madam never liked any of Lauren’s other girlfriends.”
Catherine felt absurdly pleased at that tidbit. She regarded Meemaw under her lashes. When she’d first met her, she’d assumed that at best they’d have a cool truce forever more. That would have been fine with her. But this was far out of her wheelhouse.