November Rains (A Year in Paradise Book 11)

by Hildred Billings

  Soon to be 2020… which meant the end of the first tax quarter.

  Maybe I have a bit of a crush on her…

  There was only one person she could talk to about this.

  “So I had a hot woman come into my shop this weekend…”

  “Is that so?” Fran – hm, wasn’t that a coincidence, indeed? – was quick to respond. “I told you things would work out. See? If your business goes under, you’ll still have that fleeting look at love. Or, you know, she’ll become your wife.”

  “It’s not like that! You know that’s not how it works.” Still, Elaine couldn’t help but giggle beneath the soft light of her bedroom. One floor below her, Tea & Thyme awaited to be opened again. So far, she hadn’t been doing too badly without Christina. With any luck, however, business would pick up to the point it simply made good financial sense to hire a couple more employees to work throughout the week. Elaine was nowhere close to being in the position to hire someone fulltime – since that would cost her a pretty penny in benefits – but she could dream! “People don’t waltz into your business and become your wife! Has that ever happened to you?”

  “No.”

  “See?”

  “Tell me about her, then. What kind of woman catches your eye?”

  Was this Fran asking Elaine a personal question? That line they weren’t supposed to cross? Do you know how many times I was bursting to tell her details about my business? All Fran would hear was that Elaine was going into food service. After that? She swore somebody was listening in on their conversation and about to report them to the FBI. Or, at least, that’s what she made it sound like!

  “She’s black, like us.” Elaine realized what that looked like as soon as she hit send. “I mean, I only tell you that because you have to understand the tiny town I moved to is whiter than some Caribbean sands. By the way, did I ever tell you that my grandmother was from…” Elaine deleted that last part. That fell into too much personal info territory. “What does it mean if I’m instantly attracted to the other black woman in town?” She made it sound like no other black people existed in Paradise Valley. All of Meadow and… what was his name? Dominic?

  “It means you’re in good company, apparently. Besides, is that the only description you’ve got for me?”

  “You must be bored…”

  “Another night parked in front of the TV. Starting to think I’m too old and too tired for any hobbies outside of work.”

  “Aren’t you the one who told me that if I think of work as a hobby, I’ll never accomplish anything?”

  “Hey, you gonna tell me about this woman or what?”

  “Well…” What should Elaine say? She didn’t want to give too many physical details about Frankie. That made it sound like the attraction was strictly in body. “She’s been apparently running her own business in this town for a while. Which gives me hope, you know? I admit, I kinda worried that people may be a bit much about me when I first started. I know how homogenous these small towns can be. You never know how they’ll react when someone new comes to town, so to speak.”

  “Has this other woman warned you about something, or are you filling your head with more things to worry about?”

  “Aren’t you in a small town like this one? I’d think you know what I’m talking about. This place is a big difference from where I’m from.” That was an understatement. The urban Midwest was the most diverse place in the world compared to Paradise Valley. The town may have been run by lesbians, but they couldn’t fix the other problems.

  “Yeah,” was all Fran said at first. “It’s a trip, but you get used to it. Nobody really gives me crap. They also know I’m the only place in town they can get what they want.”

  Without knowing exactly what Fran did, Elaine had to be relieved. “I’m glad to hear it. Hopefully it will be the same for me.”

  “I’m sure it will be. And, hey, sounds like this other lady you’re talking about may be able to help you out. You think she’s into you at all?”

  Elaine lost whatever good momentum she had in her mood. “No… she’s a little older than me. Not so much it would be inappropriate, but I don’t think she’s into me. Then again, we’ve only met a couple of times. She’s kinda hard to read, anyway. She came in with her brother, who had been in before, but you would have thought he personally dragged her out of bed and lugged her down to my place. She didn’t take it out on me, but I think she would’ve rather been a lot of other places.”

  Fran didn’t automatically respond. Elaine rolled over in her bed, staring at her phone screen, wondering where Fran was right now. Let alone what she looked like…

  Fran and Frankie. You know, Frankie does remind me of what I imagine when I think of Fran. Strong. No-nonsense. Set in her ways and not about to uproot her life for anyone – or anything – unless it was her idea. There was great appeal in confidence like that. Having a steadfast partner in Elaine’s life would be a boon. A rock. A post to which she could hitch herself and instantly feel right at home in the middle of a great storm.

  Elaine got up and went to the bathroom. When she returned, her sinuses cleared and something picked out of her teeth, she saw a light flashing on her phone.

  “I see,” was all Fran had written.

  Elaine had to scroll up in their conversation to see what Fran had responded to. “Also, I forgot to mention this, and it has nothing to do with cool women in my shop…” Elaine inhaled a deep breath for strength. “There was a regional reviewer in my shop today. I have no idea what to expect. Why do I get the feeling that this woman could make or break me?”

  She switched to another app while waiting for a response. It was either that or obsess over things beyond her control.

  While she scrolled through Facebook and Twitter, she tried not to think about Fran’s possible reactions to everything going on in someone’s life. I wish I had a better picture of her after all these years… Was it normal in this day and age to not know what your online friends looked like? What their real names were? All I know is that her name is Fran. Fran. Frankie. One of the only black women in a small town…

  Nah. It wasn’t possible.

  “This is totally out of the blue,” Elaine said, “but do you think if… well, if we live close enough to one another, we could meet up one day? I know we have this no personal info policy, but it’s been years, girl. I’d like to at least know your name. What if I told you that I don’t go by my real name in real life? My mom is Nigerian and named me… well, named me something that’s difficult for most people to pronounce. I never really connected to it, anyway. But that’s where the Z comes from. In real life, I go by Elaine. It’s my middle name.”

  She stared at her phone, anticipating a reply at any moment.

  She continued to stare, even after fifteen minutes passed and her eyelids grew heavier. Deep down, Elaine knew that Fran wasn’t going to answer. She had probably been spooked by the slew of personal information that she never asked for coming her way. Elaine wasn’t sure she could blame her. She did, however, blame their circumstances.

  I want to know who you really are… She plugged in her phone and left it on the nightstand before turning over onto her side. Is that too much to ask?

  Apparently.

  Chapter 11

  FRANKIE

  Frankie stared at her phone, still displaying the latest messages coming from Z’s way.

  You have to be… there’s no way… Frankie was a pro at putting on a pair of blinders if the moment called for it. Sometimes, it was necessary, yes? Like when her mother was very obviously pregnant with a surprise baby nobody – least of all teenaged Frankie – asked for. Put those blinders right on for four months while we all danced around the subject and my mother gradually wore baggier and baggier clothing. When they finally sat down to announce the pregnancy, Frankie had been in such deep denial that it took both her mother and father explaining it in clear words to finally make it sink in.

  She was getting a little brother, and eve
rybody was gonna think he was her son.

  Frankie felt that familiar sensation once again, staring at the messages Z sent her only a few minutes ago. Everything, from the description of the woman she crushed on, to the reviewer coming into her small town shop so shortly after opening, screamed It’s Elaine.

  Then the kicker. The one that ripped the blinders right off Frankie’s face.

  “In real life, I go by Elaine.”

  Holy frickin’ shitballs.

  Frankie tossed her phone onto the other side of the couch as if it were about to explode. Dominic glanced over his shoulder from where he played his computer game and lowered his headset. If there was anyone on the planet who recognized his sister’s tizzies, it was him. She might as well turn on a neon sign that said FRANKIE DELACOUR IS HAVING A MELTDOWN to get his attention faster.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” Frankie got up and went to her room. She didn’t bring her phone with her.

  Z was Elaine. Elaine was Z. All the signs had been there, hadn’t they? Slowly, over the course of the years they had known one another, Z had let slip a few key details that Frankie overlooked so she could keep up the façade that they were keeping things totally private. I’m so stupid. When will I learn that’s not a thing in this day and age? For all she knew, Z had used the phone number to stalk Frankie and moved to her location, all for the sake of what… opening up a shop to compete with her? All I told her was that I was in food service. I never said deli. I never went into details about what I did for a living. I never mentioned that I lived in a town founded by queer women or that by some weird stroke of super weirdness most of my customers were men and bored straight housewives. Now that was the kind of thing, aside from her phone number, to give her away.

  It had to be her phone number. Which meant Elaine was a stalky-stalker.

  Elaine. Not Z. this whole time, Elaine had been the name Z went by in the real world. That was one way to secure her privacy, when she had no problem with violating Frankie’s. This whole time, I thought Z was a terrible way to protect her privacy, or she had decided to pick a random letter she liked. Come to think of it, Frankie was more pathetic. Fran!

  Oh my God…

  It finally hit her. The moment she hit her bed, the facts hit her.

  Elaine not only knew who she was… but had been talking to her… and talking about her… this whole time!

  Did she really have the hots for Frankie? Was that why she snuck into Paradise Valley and opened a whole business to see her? No, no, I shouldn’t flatter myself like that… Frankie couldn’t be the only reason Elaine was now in town. Even the craziest of stalkers wouldn’t track her down like that and invest so much money into a business in a small town, right?

  Right?

  What was the alternative, then? What other reason was there for Elaine being there in Paradise Valley, of all places?

  She was going out of her way to tell “me” that she had a crush on the real me…

  Was that all a ruse? A joke? Or should Frankie assume that her online friend really, truly liked her?

  Was this all chance? Was this…

  Frankie couldn’t think about it. The more she pushed her thoughts in one direction, the more they rubber banded her in the opposite direction. Stalker? More like in love with her! In love with her? More like a stalker!

  Her head hurt.

  Only one thing was certain – she either had to confront Elaine about this, or she had to completely detach. Forever. One of those is a lot harder than the other. What in the world should she do?

  She couldn’t talk to Z… Elaine… whatever… anymore. But if Elaine knew who she really was, she could show up at the deli anytime and demand answers!

  Great. This was what a panic attack felt like.

  Frankie rolled over on her bed and slammed a pillow against her head. It was the only way to muffle her scream of disbelief.

  “It’s that bad, huh?”

  The pillow fell off her face. There, taunting her with his presence, was Dominic in her doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, thumbs hooked into his pockets and head shaking. A boy so much younger than her should not have exuded so much know-it-all-ity.

  That was totally a word. Frankie would swear by it.

  “Get outta here,” she moaned. “Whatever you think this is about, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  He held up her phone, still left on her chat screen with Z. Oh, my God. Are you kidding me? “Don’t think you’re getting outta this one, Sis,” Dominic said. “I’ve got some questions.”

  “What right do you have to demand questions out of a woman twenty years older than you? Some people think I’m your mom, you know. Would you talk to our mother this way?”

  “Uh, if I found out her old-ass friend was a cute lady who had recently moved into town? Duh. I’d ask her so many questions she’d have no choice but to kick my butt over to Dad for some real explainin’.”

  Times sure have changed since I was a kid. Frankie definitely wouldn’t ask her parents about that. It was their business. Like having another kid right before menopause was her mother’s business.

  “You’re too damn much,” Frankie finally said. “What do you know about this? I just found out!”

  “Apparently. What, you’re really trying to tell me that you’ve been talking to Elaine online for however many years and you never realized she was moving to Paradise Valley? Did ‘I’m opening a teashop in a town full of lesbians?’ not tip you off or something?”

  “First of all, we never shared those kinds of details,” Frankie insisted. “You know how protective I am of my identity. I wouldn’t let you use my credit card to pay for your game when you were a minor.” That had been the easiest way to do it, with him paying her back in cash he earned, but Frankie had been so distrustful of most online sites that she took her brother down to the credit union and asked for Baby’s First Debit Card. If he wanted to test the fates with his cards, so be it. Frankie had other fish to fry.

  “Really, though? You never figured it out?”

  “She called herself Z online! How was I supposed to know? See? Look on my phone there, since you insist on snooping. Elaine is her middle name. Her real name starts with a Z, and that’s what she went by online! Hell, that’s how I met her! She was just Z!”

  “And you’re Fran… which means she totally knows who you are. Hey, check it out…” The little dummy kept scrolling through the chat. “She’s got a crush on you. So, when do we go by her place and make this relationship happen? Because I’m totally down for that. I told you, she’s cute. Totally your type, Sis.”

  “Hell, no! She’s a stalker! If anything, I should be calling the police on her!”

  “The police? Come on. Like the deputy will do anything but laugh you out of the sheriff’s office. This is the kind of matchmaking shit the Greenhills live for. It would be like adding fuel to the fire if you called Candace up and told her to kick the new girl out of town. Great optics, too!”

  “Don’t get started with me about optics.” Frankie pushed herself up, groaning. “Give me back my phone, would you? Stop snooping!”

  “Are you kidding? This is the best thing I’ve seen since Trace West tried to flirt with you at the deli.” Did he really have to bring that up? Trace was at least three years ago. A guy doing construction work in town who dropped by every other day to get lunch from Frankie’s. Apparently, he was so into her dry wit that he thought courtship included black roses and a promise to take her to a spooky horror event that upcoming Halloween. Frankie had not been inclined to go with him, but Dominic was so amused he wrote about it in his next English paper.

  Because what Frankie needed was Anita Tichenor at the high school knowing her business…

  “Hey, but seriously, you have to do something about this.” Dominic gestured to the phone he handed back to his sister. “What are you going to do? Confront her?”

  Frankie furrowed her brows. “I’m not going to do anythi
ng. Avoid her for a little while. Wait to see what happens. Yeah, that’s what I should do.”

  Dominic shook his head. “You’re crazy, sis. Don’t you think she’s gonna flip if you don’t respond to her soon? At least go down to her shop tomorrow and tell her you’ve figured it out.”

  “Figured what out? That she’s a stalker?”

  “Maybe don’t go in swinging like that…”

  Frankie scoffed. “What do you know, huh? This is my business.”

  “If she really is a stalker, I want to know about it. I’ve gotta protect my big sis if possible, right? It’s the least I could do for all you’ve done for me in my life.”

  That was perhaps one of the sweetest things he had ever said to her. Too bad it was tainted with the toxic feelings welling up inside of Frankie.

  Because deep, deep down she considered the possibility that Elaine really was innocent. Innocent of full-blown stalking, anyway, because Frankie couldn’t believe the coincidence that they happened to move to the same small town in the middle of nowhere was real. If Elaine truly were innocent, or had a big ol’ crush on “Fran,” then that meant… well, it meant she had a crush on Frankie!

  That was simply unacceptable.

  See, I’m not the kind of person people, especially women, have crushes on. They didn’t go out of their ways to meet her. They didn’t give two shits about her, really. She was there. Sometimes she was helpful. Oftentimes, she was caustic. Don’t mind me if I keep people at a respectable distance. That went double for people who might be “into” her. That was how defense mechanisms worked.

  Ever since her last two serious relationships, both of which ended in flames for one reason or another… well, relationships weren’t worth it. Women crushing on her was a bad sign. Frankie didn’t want to go through that shit again.