Too Close to Touch

by Georgia Beers

  Not one to ask for help, Gretchen weighed the pros and cons of finding out if Kylie had any idea how to locate the bottom-line totals she was searching for. She had numbers for the individual sales reps but couldn’t seem to come up with any for office supplies, travel expenses, shipping, or any of the other items she would need if she wanted Margo Wheeler to approve next year’s budget. She certainly didn’t want Kylie to think she was having any trouble, but she was down to the wire, plus, chances were, Kylie knew a thing or two about Jim’s filing logic…or lack thereof.

  Ready to succumb to the inevitable, Gretchen swiveled her chair around to peek out the window in Kylie’s direction. Much to her dismay, her view was obstructed by a large woman in khaki pants, a burgundy polo shirt, and work boots. She was holding a box and talking to Kylie.

  Mick Ramsey.

  “Terrific.” Gretchen glowered at the intimidating figure. “Just what I need to top off a banner day.”

  Inhaling deeply to steel herself against a possible ice storm, she headed out to the hall and approached Kylie’s desk. Kylie’s bright blue eyes ping-ponged from her surly friend to Gretchen.

  “Hi,” she said to Gretchen, and her smile seemed genuine.

  Gretchen nodded once in Mick’s general direction. “Ms. Ramsey.”

  “Ms. Kaiser,” Mick responded in kind. No eye contact was forthcoming from her either.

  Gretchen turned her attention to Kylie. “I need your help.” Even as she pushed the words out, she wondered if Kylie had any idea how hard they were for her to formulate.

  “Sure.” Kylie stood.

  Mick backed up a step or two to allow Kylie to exit her cubicle, and said quickly, “So, this weekend, right?” Gretchen noticed that her eyes never left Kylie’s face.

  Kylie looked blank.

  “The Black Widow,” Mick clarified. “You’re coming out to meet us, right?”

  Kylie’s eyes flashed in what Gretchen could only describe as disbelief.

  Mick backed down the hall, talking hurriedly. “I think that cute little redheaded chick that bought you all those drinks last time is going to be there, too.” Winking, she added, “You know she wants you.” Then she turned and practically fled, leaving Kylie to stand in the middle of the hallway, blinking, her face a bright red.

  Gretchen could feel the embarrassment emanating like heat from Kylie and suspected that a minor power play had just taken place between the two women. Wasn’t that interesting? she thought to herself.

  Attempting to ease Kylie’s apparent shame, she said, “Wow. Has she got a thing for you or what?”

  Kylie gave a tiny gasp and stared at the floor, probably expecting it to open and swallow her.

  “I can’t figure out these damn reports of Jim’s,” Gretchen continued casually and headed into her office. “Can you show me where this stuff is hiding?”

  She glanced back at Kylie, hoping she’d made light of the situation sufficiently to relieve any awkwardness. But Kylie looked shell-shocked and seemed unable to make eye contact. Slowly, she trailed into the office.

  Gretchen sat at her desk and pointed to some items on her computer monitor. “What is this?” she asked. “And why can’t I find the expense reports? Shouldn’t they be here?”

  Kylie stood behind the chair, one hand on the back of it, and reached over Gretchen’s shoulder to take the mouse. A gentle scent tickled Gretchen’s senses, and she was shocked to find herself trying to identify Kylie’s perfume. They’d never been this close before and she had to fight to keep from squirming. She gazed down at Kylie’s hand on the mouse, finger clicking. The skin on her forearm was covered with a soft-looking layer of blond, downy hairs, and several freckles marked a path to the bend of her elbow. Only when Kylie spoke did Gretchen begin paying attention to what was happening on the screen.

  “Jim liked to hide his files here.” Kylie moved the curser down a list of headings. “I have no idea why. He was sort of funny like that. I can help you find the rest of the stuff. I know where most of it is. He wasn’t terribly organized.”

  “Maybe we can work out a system together that we can both follow easily?”

  “Sure.” Kylie backed away slightly from Gretchen’s chair, her expression still just shy of mortified.

  Her consternation was distracting and Gretchen sighed. “Kylie, relax. I’m not really sure what that was all about out there, but I don’t care. I suspect Ms. Ramsey informed you that she and I met at the Black Widow the weekend before I started working here. So, you can see how your sexuality is no big deal to me.”

  “Okay.” A small sliver of relief tried to push its way onto Kylie’s face. She blinked and looked directly at Gretchen. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Who’s the guy in the picture?” Kylie pointed to the frame on the desk in front of her.

  “Him?” Gretchen held up the picture in question. “This is Pete. He’s my ex-husband and my best friend.” As she set the picture back down, she smiled. “Actually, he’s my best friend first and ex-husband second. That was a long, long time ago.”

  “You were married?”

  “A long, long time ago,” Gretchen repeated, still grinning.

  Glancing up, she said, “You look surprised. Why? Didn’t you have a boyfriend in high school or college?”

  Kylie nodded cautiously, and Gretchen could see she was disconcerted by the somewhat intimate turn the conversation had taken.

  Though she certainly hadn’t planned to lay out her life story, she felt safe confiding in Kylie, and continued.

  “I was not only a late bloomer, but it took me well into my twenties to accept who I was. Who I am.”

  “And who are you?” Kylie seemed more at ease all of a sudden and Gretchen suspected this was her kind of conversation…personal and genuine. She was more surprised to realize that she was enjoying it herself. She normally made it a habit to avoid such discussions.

  “A big ol’ dyke, that’s who.”

  Kylie laughed openly, her eyes twinkling as if Gretchen had bestowed a great secret upon her and trusted her to keep it. The funny thing was, though her sexuality wasn’t exactly confidential, Gretchen did trust Kylie to be careful with the information. There was no fear at all, no doubt in her mind that Kylie would respect her privacy. She didn’t think, for a second, that Kylie would be off at the Black Widow that weekend telling all her friends that her boss was a big fat lesbian.

  Why do I trust you? she wanted to ask. Instead, she said, “Feel better?”

  “Knowing our sales region at Emerson is being run by two lesbians? Absolutely.”

  Kylie’s glowing smile made Gretchen inexplicably happy. “Good,” she said. “Now show me how to generate these reports before Wheeler comes down here looking for my head on a silver platter.”

  * * *

  The phone was ringing as Gretchen slid her key into the deadbolt on her door. She hurried in, dropped everything on the floor in the foyer, and made a dive for the handset.

  “Hey, big sis. How’s life in the little city?” Gretchen’s entire body relaxed, as it always did when she heard the warm tones of her younger brother’s voice. “It’s good. It’s really good. What’s going on? To what do I owe this phone call?”

  “I can’t just call to talk to my sister once in a while?” She could hear the smile in J.J.’s voice, could picture his rugged face in her mind.

  He was probably unshaven and his dark, curly hair was probably too long. Both facts would make him seem much younger than his forty years, and still a chick magnet.

  “Sure you can. You never do, though.”

  “Oh, now that hurts me.”

  Gretchen laughed, deciding to ease up. “How’s Jenna? And the kids?”

  They chatted about J.J.’s son and daughters, and about other members of the small Kaiser family. Gretchen poured herself a glass of wine and plopped onto her buttery-soft leather couch, propping her stockinged feet up on the oak coffee table as she listened to her b
rother describe the latest school projects, dance recitals, and soccer games.

  She hadn’t felt so peaceful since she’d arrived in Rochester, and part of her wished he’d just talk all night.

  “So, how’s work?” J.J. asked her after exhausting his supply of new information. “How are they treating you at Emerson?” Her brother didn’t have the same business mind or experiences in the corporate world as Gretchen did—he was a school guidance counselor at their old alma mater—but he was a good listener and often came up with valuable suggestions or solutions to issues that she just hadn’t seen. So she filled him in on her job—how she was not exactly a favorite among the sales reps, and Jim’s record-keeping was disastrous.

  She also talked about Kylie’s competence and value as an employee.

  “They have no idea what they got when they hired you,” J.J. said.

  “You’re going to whip that sales force into shape in no time.” Gretchen smiled at the show of faith. “I hope so.”

  “How about personal stuff? Have you gone out yet? Met any new people? Any hot babes live in your building?”

  “Jesus, J.” Gretchen couldn’t help but laugh, not only at her brother’s talent for changing the subject in a split second, but also at his ability to get right to the heart of the matter he really wanted to address.

  “I haven’t noticed any hot…er… babes in my building, no. I have met a couple of lesbians, though. Two of them right in my new place of work, as a matter of fact.”

  “Really?”

  “If you can believe it, my assistant’s gay.”

  “This Kylie you mentioned?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Is she good-looking?”

  “Extremely.” Gretchen grinned at how true the statement was.

  “I say go for it.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m her boss, J.”

  “I notice you didn’t say she’s not your type, or ‘No way, she doesn’t interest me.’”

  Gretchen let her silence speak for itself.

  “Oh, come on, Gretch.” Her brother lowered his voice, conspiring playfully. “A little clandestine interoffice affair? Might be just what you need. Rock your buttoned-up little world a bit.”

  “Excuse me, but I am not buttoned-up. And my world doesn’t need any rocking, thank you very much. I certainly don’t need to get involved with anybody at work.”

  “Okay, okay. Just a suggestion.”

  Gretchen changed the subject. “How’s Dad?”

  “He’s good. Busy. You know him—golf, board meetings, and poker. You should give him a call.”

  “He could call me.” The retort was out before Gretchen could catch it, her bitterness coating the words like a powder. “I’ve been here for almost a month.”

  “I know.”

  Gretchen’s relationship with her father was an old sore spot, and J.J. had been the buffer for years. He was used to it and knew where conversations like this one were going.

  “I don’t know why I give a damn,” Gretchen said.

  “Because you love him and you’re a good person,” J.J. said. “You know, he’s really proud of you. Just last week, he was telling his poker buddies about your big, fancy new job and how Emerson chased after you and offered you gobs of money to come and work for them…what a big decision it was for you. He always tells people that stuff.”

  “Would it kill him to tell me once in a while?” Gretchen could hear the hurt and anger in her voice. The discussion was ancient, and the thought of going around and around the same old track one more time made her tired. “I’ll never understand it, J.”

  “Maybe you’re not supposed to understand it. Maybe it just is.” After a beat, Gretchen said, “What is that, your version of dime-store therapy?”

  J.J. laughed heartily, a sound Gretchen had always loved. “Hey, my therapy is worth way more than a dime, missy.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Before I let you go, Lex wants to say hi.” Gretchen rolled her eyes and grimaced. Lex was her two-year-old niece. She was not at all adept at talking on the phone and attempts at conversations were usually exercises in futility, but the fact that she wanted to talk to “Aunt Getch” warmed Gretchen’s heart in inexplicable ways.

  Gretchen uh-huh’ed and oh-my’ed her way through three minutes that felt like twenty of indecipherable conversation with the little sweetheart before J.J. mercifully took the phone back.

  “Did you get all that?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “I don’t think I got any of it,” she responded gleefully. “But she certainly went on and on, just like a little boy I used to know way back when.”

  “She’s learning new words all the time. She said ‘fuck’ the other day. Jenna almost killed me.”

  Gretchen burst out laughing, remembering the first time she taught her little brother to swear.

  “All right, big sis. I’ve had enough of you.” It was his standard closing line and it always filled her with love for him. “When are you coming home for a visit?”

  “I actually have a couple of old boxes to pick up from Dad’s basement, so I do need to make a road trip.”

  “And you want to see your nieces and nephew.”

  “And I want to see my nieces and nephew. I’ve got budget numbers due next week and then I’m going to need to sleep for days. Maybe the second or third weekend in June?”

  “Let us know. Jenna will be thrilled.”

  They signed off and Gretchen hung up, a smile still clinging to her lips. Her brother was a good man, the glue that had held their family together after their mother died ten years earlier. If it had been left to Gretchen, she would have seen her father almost never. The fact made her feel ashamed.

  Refilling her wineglass, she picked up her briefcase and headed for the bedroom, stopping at an end table to look at the wedding picture of her parents. They seemed so happy. Her father was regal and handsome in his tux, his dark hair slicked back away from his forehead, his perfect posture making the suit look like it had been invented just for him. Her mother was devastating in her off-the-shoulder white gown, her black ringlets the only physical attribute Gretchen had inherited from her.

  Her smiling green eyes and olive-toned skin had been passed on to J.J.

  Gretchen’s dark, charcoal eyes—right down to the shape of them, the thickness of her lashes, and the arch of her brows—were replicas of John Kaiser’s, as was her pale, alabaster skin and the ability to seem taller than she was just by the way she carried herself.

  She hadn’t been what she’d call close to her mother, but she loved and missed her very much. Emma Kaiser had been a kind and gentle woman, a housewife who baked cookies and looked out for all the children on their street. She and Gretchen didn’t have a lot in common, but Gretchen admired her strength and generosity. Even ten years after breast cancer had claimed her life, Gretchen found herself itching to talk to her, sometimes going so far as to actually pick up the phone and punch in the first number before realizing that telephone lines wouldn’t reach her where she was. The feeling knocked Gretchen back on her heels every time.

  Running her fingertips over the picture, she sighed. Mother’s Day had come and gone and she hadn’t even thought about it. Guilt settled over her like a fog. She’d have to make sure to visit the cemetery next time she went home and leave some flowers.

  * * *

  “Thanks, Frank,” Kylie said with a smile as she passed through the employee entrance Frank held open. Her arms were loaded with bags smelling of smoked pork and cornbread.

  “Working awfully late tonight, Ms. O’Brien.” Frank walked ahead of her and pushed the call button for the elevator. He was a retired policeman who now spent three nights a week working security for Emerson. His balding head and rotund build reminded Kylie of a younger version of her late grandfather.

  Kylie shrugged her shoulder to reposition the duffel bag hanging from it. “Somebody’s got to keep this place running, you know.”

  �
��True enough,” he smiled, reaching into the elevator and punching her floor. “You give a holler if you and Ms. Kaiser need anything, all right?”

  “Thanks, Frank,” she said again as the doors slid closed.

  She had to admit how much better she felt being out of her work clothes. Eight hours in panty hose and heels was her limit; any longer than that and she started to get cranky. It was amazing to her that she felt almost revitalized simply by changing into her sweats. Certainly not even close to proper Emerson business attire, but once it was past eight o’clock at night, nobody cared.

  The office was a little spooky at this hour. Not only did the absence of the usual hustle and bustle make the silence seem creepy, but the lack of most of the lighting made things seem even eerier. She could see Gretchen’s office light throwing a rectangular yellow square onto the tile down the hall and she picked up her pace, mentally laughing at herself for acting like an eight-year-old who’s watched one too many horror movies.

  “I smell food.” Gretchen’s voice reverberated through the hall, causing Kylie to flinch, and then chuckle at her own reaction.

  “I come bearing gifts,” Kylie said as she entered the office.

  Papers were strewn everywhere. Gretchen sat at her desk, squinting at the computer monitor, which showed endless lists of numbers. A laptop in sleep mode was perched on the small round table in the corner meeting area that would be Kylie’s workspace for the night. They’d decided it was easier to be in the same room.

  “Well, don’t you look comfortable,” Gretchen commented with a wry grin. “I’m jealous.”

  “Don’t be.” Kylie set down her armload of stuff on the floor and cleared off the table. Swinging the duffel off her shoulder, she sat it on the table and unzipped it. “I brought you some, too, just in case.”

  “You did?”

  Kylie pulled out another pair of navy blue sweats, a gray University of Rochester sweatshirt, and a cozy-looking pair of white socks. Handing them over the desk to Gretchen, she felt herself flush a bit at the look of touched surprise on Gretchen’s face.