A Charming Brew

by Robin Roseau

  I hadn’t introduced my precious niece to very many of the women I’ve dated in the past, but her parents and I had always agreed we wouldn’t keep something like that from her. It was enough we were keeping her heritage from her, a decision I hadn’t agreed with, but I had to honor my sister’s wishes. And when we finally did tell Lydia, I wouldn’t sabotage her relationship with her mother by blaming Merry for the decision.

  “The women I’ve introduced you to weren’t a hint? What’s going on, Lydia?”

  “Nothing,” she said. But she didn’t look at me. “How do you tell someone is gay?”

  I reached out and pulled her chin towards me. “Are you afraid you’re gay?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I am. Do you think Mom and Dad would care?”

  “They don’t care that I am,” I said. “Lydia?”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Jackie. I’m not coming out to you. This isn’t about me.”

  I studied her carefully before nodding. “Sometimes it’s obvious,” I said. “There’s a sort of uniform, if you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “But that’s a stereotype, and you can’t depend on it. Sometimes you notice a woman checking out another woman.” I sighed. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

  “Should I ask my mom instead?”

  “No. Sometimes I get caught checking someone out, and her reaction tells me a lot.”

  “Do you ever let yourself get caught?”

  “Yeah, if I want to know.”

  “How else?”

  “Sometimes there are just clues. The music someone likes, for instance.”

  “There’s lesbian music?”

  “No, but there are lesbian singers. And sports stars. Some lesbians will drop a prominent lesbian’s name into the conversation just to see how other people respond.”

  “Like Ellen.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Like Ellen. Older lesbians might mention Billie Jean King.”

  “Who?”

  “Exactly,” I said with a smile. “She was a tennis player. Why are you asking about this, Lydia?”

  She paused, and I wondered if she was going to tell me. “Ms. Mathis was really happy you volunteered to help.” I was sure she was changing the topic. “She remembered you from last year, even if you didn’t remember her.”

  I smiled. “I remembered her just fine.”

  “You do like her!” Lydia grinned. “I think she might be gay.”

  “Oh, honey,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? Because she didn’t talk about Billie Joe King?”

  “Billy Jean,” I corrected automatically. Lydia grinned again. She’d done it on purpose, the brat. “No. I let her catch me checking her out, and she didn’t even react. So at least she’s not a homophobe.”

  “I think she’s gay,” Lydia said. “And I think she likes you, too.”

  “I’m almost certain that’s not true.”

  “Well,” Lydia said. “I think you should talk about Ellen to her.” She grinned again. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  She didn’t hook my arm. That wouldn’t be cool. But she bumped me with her shoulder just before we got to the front door of the school. That was almost as good.

  * * * *

  I wasn’t the only adult volunteer, but I was the only aunt. That was nothing new. It actually worked to my advantage. Parents were stodgy, according to their teenage offspring. But an aunt could be cool. Lydia introduced me to her friends, saying to one group, “That’s her yellow convertible in the parking lot” and “she took me hot air ballooning last weekend” to another.

  One girl said, “My dad has a Corvette.” But the other girls were a mix of, “Oh, that’s so cool” or “I’d be too afraid. How do those things even fly, anyway?”

  “Um. Hot. Air.” Lydia’s sarcasm carried through with each word. “It’s right in the name.”

  “My dad says politicians are full of hot air, and they don’t fly.”

  “My dad says Hillary Clinton is full of hot air.”

  “Your dad is just afraid of strong women who are smarter than he is,” Lydia said. Hotly, I might add.

  “He’s married to my mom,” said the other girl. “I’m not sure I blame him.”

  There were chuckles at that. I gathered the girl’s mother was a little stern.

  Lydia finally brought me to Phoebe Mathis. She was exactly as I remembered: tall, blond, sharp features, and striking green eyes that would certainly make my knees grow weak if she ever focused them on me in just that special way.

  We shook hands. Her skin was smooth and soft.

  But there was nothing about her that twigged my gaydar. I didn’t get any special looks. She didn’t remotely linger in the handshake. Her tone didn’t change. Nothing. But I was pretty sure she’d caught me checking her out last year. I hadn’t actually tried to hide it. I was sure I’d outed myself with her. If she were interested, she’d had opportunity to express it.

  I was more than happy to chase a woman, but only a woman who had done something to encourage me.

  And so I smiled warmly and kept my libido at home.

  I met a few more of the volunteer parents, and a few minutes later, Ms. Mathis called our meeting to order.

  “Thank you all for coming.” She made a point of counting. “Excellent. We have fourteen kids and eight volunteer parents—or aunts, perhaps.” She added the last while looking at me. “Twenty-three people seems like a lot of people, but there is so much to do, so we’re all going to be very busy making this a special event for the entire school.”

  She paused for a moment. “Before we really get started, I want the kids to take a moment to thank our adult volunteers.” She paused a moment. “Go on. Hugs are appropriate.”

  Some of the kids laughed. I heard one parent mutter, “Yeah, that will happen.”

  But Lydia turned to me, wrapped her arms around me, and squeezed tightly. “Thank you, Auntie Jackie. You’re the best.”

  She wouldn’t have hugged her mother in public, but she hugged me. It wasn’t because she loved me more than Merry, but my sister and I had different relationships with my niece, and for some reason, Lydia was more comfortable with PDA around me than her mother.

  That wasn’t the only thanks I was to receive. Two of Lydia’s friends clustered around us. “Thanks, Ms. Janes,” they said together. And then one added, “Can I get a ride in your car?”

  I laughed. “If your parents give permission.”

  “All right,” called out Ms. Mathis. “That’s great.”

  From there, she discussed the budget and broke down what we needed to do. “We’ll break into subcommittees. We have food, decorations, the haunted house, and games. Let’s get a tentative look at which adults want to work on which committee. If you can move underneath the appropriate sign, we can see how things look.”

  Lydia grabbed my hand and immediately began dragging me in one direction. There were small signs hanging from the ceiling, and I let her drag me to the sign labeled “Haunted House”. Our arrival coincided with that of the only father in the group.

  “Ron, right?” I asked.

  “You’re Auntie Jackie,” he replied. “This is my daughter, Jenny.”

  “I believe Jenny and I have met,” I said.

  Ron was looking at me with apparent skepticism. I decided to cut off his concerns. “I know my way around a toolbox.”

  “Aunt Jackie can fix anything,” Lydia said in my defense.

  “Great,” said Ron. “That’s great.”

  Ms. Mathis was working her way around the room, chatting briefly with each group. She arrived at us last. “You two have the hard part,” she said. “And a small budget.”

  “We’ll make it work,” I said.

  “I hoped for a few more adult volunteers, but we’ll get you a couple more kids if you think you can use them.”

  “Sure.”

  “Hey Janie,” Lydia cal
led out. “You want to help with the haunted house?”

  “You bet!” was the reply, and a moment later Janie and Rose joined us.

  “Excellent,” said Ms. Mathis. “Information packets are here, and I look forward to your design.” She squeezed my arm as she stepped away. I turned to watch her walk to the next group.

  Lydia leaned over to me. “I told you,” she whispered into my ear.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I replied.

  By the time I turned around, Ron had the information packet open. He paged through it for a minute then looked up. “We get the entire gym. There are notes from previous years and a list of rules to follow. Otherwise we have carte blanche, as long as we stay inside the rules and budget.”

  I moved beside him, and we went through it together, the girls watching on. Finally I nodded. “Ron.” I tapped the feeble number representing the budget. “I have some building supplies gathering dust I’m willing to donate.”

  “Yeah, I might, too,” he said. “Maybe I could stop by and see what you’ve got.”

  “Well, mine are gathering dust at Home Depot. So I kind of have whatever we might need.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, mine are there, too. Great minds think alike. How do you want to do this?”

  “We should all get together at Aunt Jackie’s,” Lydia volunteered for us. “We can make an awesome plan.”

  Ron looked at me, waiting to see my reaction.

  “Um. Sure.”

  “When?” Ron asked. “The sooner the better.”

  “We’re free tonight,” the girls said with a glance at each other.

  “And this weekend we can build everything,” Lydia added. “Slumber party!” Ron stepped from foot to foot, but Lydia handled that, too. “You’ll have to go home after dinner, but you can come back for breakfast, and we can finish. Aunt Jackie makes awesome pancakes.”

  I turned to Ron to see what he had to say. “Um. Sure.”

  “There’s a problem with that plan. If I have to have my, um, spare building supplies delivered, there isn’t time.” But then I had another thought. “Oh, never mind. We’ll just rent a truck for an hour. We’ll need it again when we deliver back here.”

  “We don’t have to do that,” Ron said. “I’ve got a pickup and a covered snowmobile trailer. I can’t imagine we’ll make anything bigger than fits in the trailer.”

  Lydia was watching me carefully, biting her lip. “And we should invite Ms. Mathis. I bet she’d love to help.” She didn’t wait but ran over to her teacher and began tugging on her arm.

  Little matchmaker. I’d have to talk to her about it later.

  Apparently Lydia explained the entire plan before the two of them returned to our little circle.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as they stepped up. “Someone-“ and I glared at my niece,” is jumping the gun. These two need to call their parents and see if they’re free.”

  “I don’t have to call my mom,” said Rose. “She’s right there.” She pointed then ran to one of the adults sitting down underneath the “Food” sign. The two talked earnestly for a minute, and then they walked back over.

  “My daughter explains there is a Haunted House planning session tonight and a building session spanning the weekend, with a slumber party Saturday night.”

  “That’s right,” said Lydia.

  Rose’s mom barely glanced at her before turning her gaze to me. She held out her hand. “Rachel Adams.”

  “Jackie Janes,” I said, shaking briefly. “Lydia’s aunt.”

  “I do not know you, Jackie,” Rachel said. She glanced at Ron and frowned.

  “The slumber party is girls only,” I explained.

  “I can vouch for Ms. Janes,” said Ms. Mathis. “I have nothing but glowing things to say about her.”

  Rachel nodded. “Very well. I will need complete information. Home and cell phone and address. How will Rose get home tonight? Do I need to retrieve her?”

  “I was wondering if I was invited tonight,” Ms. Mathis said.

  “Of course you are,” Lydia said immediately. I nodded, amused with my niece.

  “Then I will drive the girls home.”

  “Very good,” Rachel said. “I presume there will be no boys at the event this weekend.”

  “Only Ron,” I explained. “And he’s leaving after dinner.”

  “Before dinner,” Ron corrected. “I have to leave about 4, but I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Very good,” Rachel said. “Rose, you may attend. You know the rules.” She turned back to me. “My daughter does not drink soda pop.” I then received a list of other things her daughter wasn’t allowed to enjoy. I smiled and agreed there would be healthy choices available for the girls. Rachel nodded, sniffed once, and returned to her table.

  By then, Janie had called her mother, and she held out her phone. “My mom wants to talk to you.”

  “This is Jackie Janes,” I said. “I am Lydia Davis’s aunt.”

  “This is Summer Winter,” was the reply. “And I’ve heard all the jokes. If I didn’t love Wes as much as I do, I never would have taken his name. I understand there is a dinner event at your home tonight and a slumber party on Saturday.”

  I reviewed everything. Summer only verified travel arrangements and what time to expect her daughter tonight, with a reminder it was a school night. And that was settled.

  Janie’s mom was definitely a lot easier to deal with than Rose’s.

  Easy Looks

  “Lydia,” I said in the car. “Stop matchmaking.”

  “But-“

  “She’s straight.”

  “She likes you.”

  “She’s straight.”

  “But-“

  “She’s straight, Lydia.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “I think you’re thirteen.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve never been an ageist before!”

  “Where did you even hear that word?”

  “You’re not going to distract me that easily,” Lydia said. “Are you calling me stupid?”

  “You’re anything but stupid.”

  “And I think I know her better than you do.”

  “And I think she’s straight.”

  “And I think you’re wrong.”

  “Lydia...”

  “What do I get if I’m right?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re so convinced I’m wrong. What do I get if I’m right?”

  I sighed. “What do you want?”

  “You have to take me to a concert.”

  “What concert?”

  “I don’t know. There will be one. You have to buy the tickets and take me.”

  “It has to be a band your parents can handle.”

  “Why? I’m not making them come.”

  “Lydia...”

  “Fine, fine. It won’t be some gangsta band or anything. I hate that kind of music anyway.”

  “And they have to play music that doesn’t suck.”

  She laughed. “Fine.”

  “And what do I get when she verifies she’s straight, or at the best, completely uninterested, which is almost the same thing.”

  “She’s gay, and she’s interested, but if I’m wrong, I’ll clean your garage.”

  I immediately stuck out my hand. “Deal.”

  “But you’re buying the pizza afterwards.” I didn’t take my hand back, and she shook. “Deal.”

  “Not stop matchmaking.”

  “But-“

  “If she is, indeed, both gay and interested, you’ve done enough, and the two individuals involved will figure it out from there.”

  “So you’re going to ask her out.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Aunt Jackie-“

  “I said we’ll see.”

  “Fine. But if you turn into a spinster, it’s not my fault.”

  “I’m already a spinster, but I’m still your favorite aunt.”

  “Yeah,
yeah. So, are we having pizza tonight?”

  “I think we should make something instead. I’ve got supplies.”

  “Excellent!”

  * * * *

  I’d ask for a fifteen-minute head start, and, well, I was the one driving the sports car, one glyphed to repel police radar no less. I wasn’t sure if it worked, but I hadn’t been ticketed yet.

  As soon as we pulled into the house, I turned to Lydia. “We need to, um, purify the house.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m pretty sure Rose’s mom will have a heart attack if Rose reports I have anything remotely smelling of a religious symbol any less mainstream than a crucifix.”

  “Oh. That’s just stupid.”

  “Grab that bin,” I said, pointing. “Come on. We have twenty minutes on the outside.”

  We stepped into the house, and I said, “You get the dream catchers. I’ll grab the tapestries and good luck charms.”

  “What about that big pentagram in front of your bed?”

  “Funny,” I said. “Ha, ha.”

  Together, we scurried around the house. Oh, it was an ordinary house, and most of my decorations were quite mundane. And there wasn’t a single religious symbol in the house. There certainly wasn’t a pentagram; I didn’t consort with evil, after all, and the magic I performed didn’t even require a protection circle.

  But I had dream catchers and protection charms, and I knew not everyone would have an open mind to something like that, even if I laughed them off as a joke. There was a protection charm in front of each window and hanging over each doorway. I had to use a chair for those, and I was just stashing the last one into the plastic bin when the first car pulled into the driveway.

  “Lydia!”

  “Upstairs is clear,” she said, dropping one last dream catcher into the bin. “What are you brewing in your craft room?”

  “Oh shit!” I said. I shoved the bin into her arms. “Go put this in the garage.”

  Without a backwards glance, I tore up the stairs.

  My craft room, as we call it, is in in the back of the house, somewhat separate from the rest of the rooms. I ran back and checked on the room. Merry was going to kill me when she heard that Lydia had been in here while I’d had a brew bubbling. It was the last of the current batch of luck charms for her, and it was coming nicely. I checked it, gave it a quick stir, and turned the heat down another notch.