by Karis Walsh
“No, it’s just…Brooke told me you were staying for a few months, so I didn’t expect you to be living in a hotel. That sounds very expensive.”
“It’s only temporary, until I find an apartment or something,” Tina said. Or something. Like ditching the whole stupid plan and getting the hell out of Spokane.
“You mean you came here without arranging for a place to live?”
Tina could hear Jan’s disbelief even over the phone. She was certain Jan was the type to have every aspect of her life planned, down to the minutest detail. “I like to be spontaneous,” she said. By spontaneous, she meant foolish and poor. Paying rent on her Seattle apartment and racking up bills in a fancy hotel. She made decent money at her job, but she could only afford to live in one city at a time. But she wasn’t about to admit any of that to Jan.
“Well, I’m sure something will come up,” Jan said, sounding about as convinced as Tina was.
“Something always does. Say, I think I hear room service at the door,” Tina lied. She needed to get off the phone. Now.
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Tina ended the call and dropped onto the bed. That went well. And now she had to call Peter and invite him for drinks. Suddenly, a shower and meal didn’t seem strong enough to erase the stress of the day. Instead, she opened her fiddle case and took out her instrument. She ran a hand over the carved maple, shaped into the barest outline of a violin and painted flame red. She untangled the mess of cords and plugged her headphones into the violin so she could play as loudly as she wanted and no one else could hear. Volume on high.
She started with a simple Scottish tune about bluebonnets, her mom’s favorite lullaby. She played it again, over and over, adding embellishments and trills and double stops. Blending in bits of other songs, changing keys. Improvising until the song was her own, until she was back in control, until she had played out all her feelings except hunger. Only then did she stop playing and order dinner.
*
Jan hung up and perched on a kitchen stool. Tina had managed to catch her at the worst possible moment. She had been moving her dad’s belongings into her master suite—with its dormer windows and cozy reading nook and high ceilings—and her own things into the small spare bedroom upstairs. He’d need the extra space and the en suite bathroom while he recovered. She didn’t care about the size of the room and she wanted her father to be comfortable, but it was yet another unsettling change in a long series of them.
She had raced to get the phone, expecting a call from the doctor, and managed to bang her shin on the coffee table hard enough to make her want to kill someone. Anyone. She had struggled to control her breathing and her temper while she half listened to Tina, and the mention of a hotel bar had caught her off guard, her thoughts unprotected. Most of the fantasies she had concocted about Tina during Brooke’s botched wedding weekend had started exactly that way. Except she was the one who called Tina and invited her for a drink in her hotel’s bar. What happened after that—whether in the hall, on the elevator, or in her room—varied, but the overture was constant.
Hearing her fantasies echoed in Tina’s voice had been too much to take, and Jan realized she would have to be vigilant and not let her libido take control. She was stressed by all the recent changes, and even considering a relationship that promised only to be temporary and inconstant was ridiculous. Thank God, Tina’s cousin would be there. Even so, she picked up the phone again and called Chloe. There’d be safety in numbers, the more the better.
Chapter Four
Tina sat alone in the Peacock Room, sipping a Jameson on the rocks and rocking her heel in time to the down-bow of a fiddle tune that played in her mind. She had told Jan she chose the Davenport’s bar because it was conveniently located in the hotel, but she secretly loved the ambience of the stuffy room. At first glance, it looked elegant and grand, with wood paneling, brocade-covered walls, and granite-topped tables. The peacock-inspired royals, purples, and deep greens in the fabrics and paint blended smoothly with the dark wood tones and rich leather chairs. But closer inspection revealed the truth. The patterned carpet was worn, the gilded fixtures looked inexpertly spray painted, and the cracked edges of the granite and wood furnishings exposed them as nothing more than veneer. Patrons were invited to stay a short time, enjoy the illusion of depth and luxury, and then move on. Stay on the surface. Exactly the tone Tina wanted to set for the evening.
She wasn’t looking forward to socializing with her cousin, but he had sounded pleased to be invited. She hoped three would, indeed, prove to be a crowd, and Peter’s presence would keep the conversation from turning personal. And, likewise, Jan’s presence would keep Peter from asking Tina about her thoughts regarding his business, because she wasn’t prepared to answer him yet. She had been determined to spend the afternoon planning her PR campaign for his nursery, but instead, she had played her violin most of the day.
The bar’s name had triggered a nagging memory, and she had searched online until she found someone playing Winston Fitzgerald’s version of the Cape Breton fiddle tune “Peacock’s Fancy.” She’d listened to the interpretation and mimicked it on her own fiddle before starting to add her own flair, and then she’d combined her version with the air about bluebonnets she had been playing the night before. A few happy hours later, she had the grace notes and accents just right, and the new medley was her own. Now, she rehearsed it in her mind while she waited, adding tapping fingers to the beat of her heel as she rethought the bridge between the two tunes.
Andy always looked a little nervous when Tina talked about changing melodies or notes in her music. Classical music was more Andy’s style, and Tina appreciated her ability to pull nuance and meaning out of the notes exactly as they were written. But the old fiddle tunes Tina loved best had been passed down by ear from generation to generation, changing with each person who played them, belonging to no one and everyone at once. She was free to alter them to fit her style and her mood, but she never felt more connected to her family than she did when she played an old Irish jig or reel. Connected to her mother’s side of the family, of course. She’d rather forget any ties she had to the other side.
“Are you dancing?”
Tina jumped in surprise. She’d been so caught up in her song she hadn’t noticed Peter approaching the table, and she hadn’t realized she was noticeably moving to her own beat. He seemed seriously concerned for her sanity, and she was tempted to play along. Dancing by herself in the middle of a bar ought to confirm the rumor that she was the off-kilter black sheep of the family.
“Oh, sit down. I’m not going to embarrass you,” she said in exasperation. “I spent the day practicing on my violin, and the song is stuck in my head.”
Peter sat across from her. He looked at home in the bar, with his navy suit and open-collared pale blue shirt. She was about to tease him for dressing too formally for a simple drink with friends, but she didn’t look any more casual. She had justified the effort of getting her black wool-blend slacks and red silk tank dry-cleaned and pressed this afternoon because she had been so scruffy the day before. Peter was putting the reputation of his business in her hands, and she wanted him to see that she cleaned up just fine. And, she had to admit, she liked the thought of looking her best when Jan saw her. She never put much effort into dressing for other women. She just showed up as herself, and no one had ever seemed disappointed. She wondered, briefly, why meeting Jan seemed different, but she didn’t want to examine the question too deeply.
“Glad to hear it. You seemed a bit…tense yesterday.”
“It was a long fucking drive,” Tina said, doing her best to warn him off the topic with her tone.
Peter just laughed. “Yeah, with Gran at the end of it.” He quickly changed the subject. “I should have known you’d be musical. Our whole family is.”
“My grandpa on Mom’s side was a fiddle player and music professor. That’s where I get it,” Tina said stiffly.
“I know. Your dad studied with him at W
SU, where he met Aunt Kathleen. I mean, your mom. But we all play something. Piano for Dad and Gran, clarinet for Mom, oboe for my sister.”
Tina had a flash of recognition while he spoke. Christmas. She must have been four or five. She could picture Uncle Nick at the piano, with everyone gathered around him singing and laughing. She shrugged it off. One happy memory did not a family make.
“So what about you?” she asked, twirling her drink so the melting ice chinked against the glass. “What’s your musical poison?”
“Um, I played french horn in high school and college. I haven’t kept up with it, though.”
Tina leaned her elbows on the table. He was a stranger to her, yet his mannerisms and expressions were too familiar. Too like her own. “You hesitated. Do you play something else, something I’ll think is funny? Panpipes? Bass guitar in a heavy-metal band? Are you a one-man band with a little monkey?”
“Mandolin,” Peter admitted. “I’m in a period group, and we play all the local Renaissance fairs, Shakespeare in the Park, that sort of thing. And I’m so glad I could amuse you.”
Tina wiped her eyes and tried to control her laughter. The idea of prim and proper Peter strolling around in leggings and a feathered cap was too funny. “Even better than I imagined,” she said.
“Mock all you want, we have a great time. You should join us sometime this summer. We can always use another fiddle. And a few of us play at a pub called O’Boyle’s every Tuesday night if you want to come meet the gang.”
Tina’s laughter faded a bit. O’Boyle’s was the pub she had noticed on her way to the nursery. So much for the hope she had found a private place to enjoy music and maybe some female companionship. Neither would be as much fun with her cousin hovering nearby.
“Hey, is that your friend?”
Tina had been distracted by her conversation with Peter, and she had forgotten about Jan. She turned in her chair and saw two women in the doorway. Jan. She hadn’t changed much in two years. Her hair was longer, curling slightly and hanging just past her shoulders, and she was wearing dark jeans and a white shirt, sheer enough to barely show the outline of her bra, instead of the silk outfit she had worn to Brooke’s rehearsal. But, otherwise, she looked the same. The gold tones in her dark blond hair made the gilded fixtures appear even shabbier by comparison, and her intense eyes—the same deep, washed blue as her jeans—seemed to be analyzing and measuring everything they saw.
“Yep,” Tina said as she waved at Jan. She fought hard to keep from looking anywhere below Jan’s chin.
“Wow. She is absolutely gorgeous.”
The wistful note in Peter’s voice was enough to make Tina turn away from the sight of Jan walking toward their table.
“Yes, she is. And she’s gay. I thought I made that clear.”
“The brunette? I mean, I know your friend is gay, but isn’t she the blonde?”
Tina turned again to the two women as they neared the table. Sure enough, the other woman was a brunette. Tina hadn’t noticed.
Jan watched the exchange between Tina and her cousin as she led Chloe to the table in the back of the bar. Tina was frowning, and Jan wondered if she was about to interrupt an argument. Brooke had mentioned Tina’s estrangement from her family, so she had been surprised to hear a cousin would be joining them. It didn’t look like a happy family reunion. Great. An unwanted invitation to drinks and a family argument as a bonus. At least the cousin didn’t look as angry as Tina did. In fact, he looked mesmerized as he stared past Jan as if she didn’t exist. Straight at Chloe.
No one seemed inclined to speak first, so Jan decided to start. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Tina,” she said, reaching out her hand. Tina hesitated before she shook it. The first touch. Jan had imagined how Tina’s hands would feel way too many times over the past two years. A firm grip with soft hands, long and slender fingers wrapped around her own. The warmth of reality felt much better than anything her imagination had created. She pulled back a little too quickly. Barely enough of a handshake to be polite, let alone to be affected by Tina’s touch. “This is my friend Chloe.”
“Oh, your friend. I thought maybe you hired a bodyguard for the occasion,” Tina said, nodding at Chloe. “I take it you didn’t feel safe with me even with Peter here to protect your virtue.”
Jan stood still, unable to think of a retort. Had Tina read her mind? Did she somehow know about Jan’s fantasy of meeting like this and letting herself be seduced?
“What Tina meant to say is please, have a seat. And she’d like to introduce her cousin, Peter,” Peter said, with a frown in Tina’s direction. She stuck her tongue out at him, but he ignored her and stood up, pulling out a chair for Chloe. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I like red wine,” Chloe said. “Do they have anything from the Spokane Valley?”
“They serve a nice Latah Creek merlot. It’s one of my personal favorites,” Peter said.
“Then I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“Excellent. I’ll have the same. I try to support local producers whenever possible.”
“Drink local, and drink often,” Chloe said. She and Peter laughed at the joke.
“I’ll have a scotch and soda,” Jan said.
“Okay,” Peter said briefly. He went to the bar, leaving Chloe staring after him like a love-struck teenager. Jan rolled her eyes at Tina.
“Do you think he even heard me?” she asked.
“He’s cute,” Chloe said at the same time. “So, is he single?” she asked Tina.
“I doubt it,” Tina said in Jan’s direction. “And I think so, but I really don’t keep up on his love life,” she said to Chloe.
“Really? Pickup lines like those, and he’s single?” Jan muttered. “Hard to believe.”
“No shit,” Tina said. She leaned toward Jan. “Hey, baby, maybe we should order an appetizer,” she spoke in an uncanny imitation of her cousin’s voice. “They have nachos—my personal favorite.”
“I’m sure I’ll love anything you love,” Jan answered, matching the seductive tone of Tina’s voice. “And I’ve heard the cheese is locally sourced.”
“Ooh, that is so hot,” Tina said before she broke into laughter. Jan joined in, surprised by this teasing side of Tina. Jan had only been in the same room with her two times, but already she could see something so unrestrained about Tina, whether she was flirting or irritated or joking. Every expression played across her face, as if uncensored. Jan could never let herself be so open. And she definitely shouldn’t find the trait so appealing.
Chloe crossed her arms over her chest while they laughed. “Shut up, both of you, or I’ll…I’ll call your friend Brooke.”
“And tell her what?” Tina asked, looking unconcerned as she polished off her drink.
“I’ll tell her I definitely saw a spark between the two of you, and I think you’ll fall in love if she just pushes you together more.”
Jan stopped laughing as quickly as Tina did. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said to Chloe. She realized she sounded horrified by the suggestion, and she turned to Tina. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Tina said with a casual shrug. She looked slowly up and down Jan’s body. “You’re not exactly my type, either.”
Jan knew she shouldn’t care if Tina didn’t want her. Shouldn’t care if Tina’s gaze seemed to take in her body and her personality, and find both of them lacking. But the rejection hurt more than she expected, and she spoke without thinking. “So what is your type? Someone with no morals and a couple hours to spare?”
“Sure beats uptight and frigid.”
Peter returned with four glasses precariously balanced in his hands. “Here we are,” he said. “Tina, I got you another drink while I was…Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” Chloe said, reaching out to help him with the glasses. “We were just talking about work. I was telling Tina that I teach French at Spokane Heights.”
“Really? I spent a semester in Paris when I was in college
. Let me see if I can remember anything…”
The two of them started chatting in French, obviously unconcerned about Jan’s and Tina’s inability to follow the conversation. Jan listened to Peter’s stilted phrases and Chloe’s laughter-laced corrections. She had invited Chloe to help her keep the conversation with Tina casual, not to distract the only other neutral person at the table. She was frustrated. She continued to make plans, but other people seemed inclined to disregard them.
“I think we lost them,” Tina said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of her fresh drink.
“Seems that way,” Jan said. She ran the tip of her finger over her glass, drawing a tessellation of triangles in the condensation. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m just not looking for a relationship right now, and Brooke can be, well, persistent.”
Mesmerized, Tina watched Jan’s finger trace a series of shapes. “Obsessive,” she suggested.
“Crazy,” Jan added with a small grin. “Especially if she thinks there’s a chance we’re going to get along. We seem so different.”
“And we barely made it five minutes before we were insulting each other,” Tina said. She stared blankly at the table behind Jan, anything to keep from gawking at her. And the way her fingertip kept moving slowly over her wet glass.
Jan glanced over her shoulder and then looked back at Tina with raised eyebrows. “Go ahead and talk to them if you want. I don’t want to cramp your style.”
“What?” Tina asked, confused until she realized she had been staring at a table full of women wearing business outfits and name tags. Most likely at the hotel for a convention. On a typical day, she would already have singled out her choice and would be about to make her move. But tonight she felt too tired to stage a seduction scene. “Don’t worry about it,” she said dismissively, turning her attention back to Jan and struggling to find a pleasant, or at least neutral, topic. “Do you like teaching?”
“I love it. The Heights is a wonderful school—very progressive, and the kids are great.”