 
Sundays on Squire's Isle

Geonn Cannon

Smashwords Edition

Supposed Crimes LLC, Falls Church, Virginia

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2012 Geonn Cannon

All Rights Reserved

Published in the United States.

ISBN: 978-1-938108-11-2

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

January 8, 2012: Girl on a Bicycle (Nadine Butler/Miranda Powell)

February 12, 2012: Born to Run (Jill and Patricia Hood-Colby)

March 4, 2012: Scissoring (Alex Crawford/Rachel Tom)

April 8, 2012: Easter Parade (ensemble)

May 13, 2012: Mama's Girl (Nadine Butler/Miranda Powell)

June 24, 2012: The Waiting (Amy Wellis/Kate Price, Nicole Bronwyn)

July 22, 2012: Open Doors (Alex Crawford/Rachel Tom)

August 5, 2012: No Place Like It (Nadine Butler/Miranda Powell)

September 9, 2012: Candidate Bed Death (Jill and Patricia Hood-Colby)

October 7, 2012: October Surprise (Molly Page/Shane Sanborn)

November 4, 2012: Sunday Drive (Alicia Ryan/Laura Dugan)

December 9, 2012: A Warm December (ensemble)
**January 8, 2012**

**Girl on a Bicycle**

Nadine woke early and saw that it was just after seven.

She carefully freed herself from beneath Miranda's arm, then crawled out from under the blankets to sit on the edge of the bed. She shivered in the cold of the bedroom and blinked blearily at her bare feet as she decided whether she was really awake for good. After a week of unseasonably warm temperatures, it seemed the weather suddenly realized it was winter and started acting accordingly.

After a minute or two of wakefulness, she decided sleeping in wouldn't be an option. She tucked her hands up into the sleeves of her undershirt and padded barefoot to the thermostat. She pushed it up a few degrees, then went back to the bedroom and pecked her wife on the cheek. Miranda murmured, but didn't wake.

Nadine used the bathroom and then stripped out of her pajamas, exchanging them for jeans and a thick sweater over a long-sleeved T-shirt. She slipped quietly out of the bedroom, leaving the lights off as she moved through the house. She found her sneakers under the coffee table and sat down to slip them on. She tied them slowly, then put her chin on her fist and gazed out the window for a few minutes trying to wake up enough to stand again.

Finally, she sighed and forced herself to her feet. She went out through the back door, since it was farther from her sleeping wife and it was slightly quieter when it closed. Outside, the sky was still holding on to the darkness of night, but the sun was beginning to brighten the far edges of the eastern sky over the neighbor's roof. Her shoes crunched the dry fallen leaves as she walked around the side of the house to get her bicycle.

There was no guard on duty at the front gate, as he was usually only there for the morning drive and rush hour. She punched her code into the keypad, waited for the gate to slowly swing open, and rode through. She checked over her shoulder to make sure the gate closed behind her before she pedaled away.

December Harbor was still asleep except for her, so she took the rare opportunity to ride her bike down the middle of the street. Occasionally a car or truck came by, and she veered onto the sidewalk to let them pass. She was in no particular hurry, meandering down side streets on a trajectory that would end up at the harbor.

She could see the masts of sailboats over the buildings of downtown. When she arrived at the ferry lanes, which was once more a parking lot for people waiting for the first ferry of the day, she parked her bike in front of Gail's. She'd left it there before and knew it would be safe. She set off on foot down the boardwalk, hands in her pockets and face turned toward the water to watch as it slowly gained light and color from the sun.

A few months ago a new coffee shop had opened on the boardwalk, not far from Gail's, and Nadine sat on the bench outside. The ferry arrived through an early morning fogbank like a mythical carriage, golden light pouring from the windows and reflecting off the still waters. The cold and exercise had woken her up enough that she was feeling the cold. And she felt alert enough that she would remember how beautiful it was later.

The problem with going to work at ten in the morning was she never got a chance to appreciate the pre-dawn stillness. She lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and she never took the time to just sit and watch the day begin. She breathed in deep and sighed, smiling at a tourist couple who passed by her. It was solitary and peaceful, but she would have traded the quiet for the warm body of her wife to snuggle up against.

In rapid succession, the sky turned from dark violet to lavender to navy blue. As it paled to robin's egg, and the streets around her became more active, she got up and went into the coffee shop. She ordered Miranda's favorite coffee, and one for herself, and got a drink carrier to take it all back to her bicycle. She had a basket under the seat, and the carrier fit snugly inside. The sunlight was like white-gold, cutting strips up and down the streets. The buildings were outlined in sharp relief, every surface outlined with bold shadows.

The front gate was open when Nadine got home, and she waved to the guard as she zipped past. She parked at home and carried the coffee inside.

"Miranda?" She glanced into the kitchen, but the front of the house was still dark. She carried the coffees into the bedroom.

The bathroom door opened and Miranda emerged wearing a fluffy yellow towel. Her hair was wet and combed away from her face, which was devoid of makeup. She smiled and Nadine's heart did back flips.

"I knew you'd show up if I stopped waiting. Where were you?"

"Exercise, sightseeing... coffee." She checked the lids. "Here. I noticed you've been getting these since that place opened."

Miranda took the cup and sipped. "Mm. Oh, Dean, heaven. But I would have preferred having you wake me up."

"Well, drink the coffee and we can have a do-over with the benefit of being wide-awake."

"Oh, I like that." She stepped closer and kissed Nadine good morning. The kiss lingered. When they parted, Miranda stroked Nadine's hair and said, "You're cold. Hop in the shower. I'll be waiting."

"In the towel?"

"Doubtful."

Nadine grinned and patted Miranda's rear end as she ducked into the bathroom. She put her coffee on the counter for after the shower and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

It was still early, but it was shaping up to be a pretty good day.
February 12, 2012

Born to Run

Patricia pinched the knot of her tie, winced, and tugged it free to start over again. Her blazer was visible on the closet door behind her. Her hair was neatly braided, Jill's handiwork, and she was wearing her eyeglasses for a more professional look. She had saved the tie for last because she knew it would be a pain in the ass.

She glanced at the clock out of the corner of her eye, sneered at it, and went back to trying to make the perfect Windsor knot. She had to meet James Dugan at a lunch meeting that would be attended by the entire city council. It was there that she would officially announce her candidacy for mayor, and Mayor Dugan would endorse her. She figured having a sloppy tie would only count against her.

Jill appeared in the bedroom door, still dressed in sweatpants and a tank top.

"How's it going?"

"Once I get this tie figured out, I'll be fine."

Jill put a hand on Patricia's shoulder and turned her around. She undid the tangle Patricia had been working on and started over.

"You should have worn that red dress."

Patricia smiled, her chin in the air to give Jill room to work. "You just hate that I'm wearing a suit."

"I don't think a woman has to dress like a man in order to get respect."

"That's because you're not a man. The people I'm going to be speaking to this afternoon are set in their ways. The mayor's job may not be a traditionally male profession, but the people have this town have only known the past seven mayors as 'Mr. Dugan.' I need them to open their minds to the possibility of a woman in that role. A suit is traditionally a man's outfit. If they see me wearing one and wearing it well, then subconsciously it might be easier for them to see me as mayor."

Jill clucked her tongue. "Devious. Good thing you've never tried those Jedi mind tricks on me."

"Don't be so sure. You married me, didn't you?"

"That was _my_ mind trick on you. See how well it worked?"

Patricia chuckled, and Jill finished. "There you go. And your plan has one thing going for it; you do look fantastic in a suit and tie."

"Thank you, sweetie." Her arms slipped around Jill's waist and pulled her close for a kiss.

Jill pinched the tie between her fingers so she wouldn't wrinkle Patricia's clothes. When they parted, Patricia turned around to look in the mirror. Jill took the blazer off the closet door and helped Patricia put it on.

"Are you nervous?"

"About announcing my candidacy for the highest-ranking job on the island? A job that has traditionally been held by one family? No, why would you think...?" She exhaled sharply. "Don't be ridiculous."

Jill smiled and fished in the pocket of her sweatpants for the small item she'd been hiding since Friday. "You know the art period my class has every Friday? This week I decided to make something. I know that you're waiting until everything is official before you think about a campaign manager or bumper stickers, yard signs, whatever. But I wanted you to have this." She slipped her arms around Patricia and pinned the button to her lapel. It was yellow with black writing that said "HOOD-COLBY, 2012" in Jill's unmistakable handwriting.

"Aw, Jill." She blinked back her tears and brushed Jill's fingers. She turned in Jill's arms again and looked into her eyes. "Thank you for supporting me."

"You bet. I can't wait to be First Lady."

Patricia rocked her head back and forth. "Yeah, well, we still have the campaign to get through. And there's no guarantee the other Dugans are going to take the end of their dynasty well. I may have a fight on my hands. And if that happens, there's... a chance that some bad stuff may come out."

"Anything I don't know?"

"No. But I wanted to make sure you were prepared for the whole... affair issue will come out again. You may have to hear a lot more details than you want to know."

Jill sighed. "I know. I also know that's not who you are anymore. It wasn't even who you were then. Don't worry about me; you have my vote. No smear campaign is going to change that."

"Good. And hey, some of the smears might be about you."

"What?" Jill blinked. "What do you mean?"

Patricia leaned in and whispered in case someone was already bugging their bedroom. "Remember the time we were in the ferry lanes, heading over to the mainland to pick up Michael, and we slipped into the backseat and fogged up the windows? There were a lot of other cars around. Someone might have peeked in... I might get accused of public indecency."

Jill was blushing. "That was right after we got together."

"Our first weekend alone." Patricia brushed her lips over Jill's cheek. "I learned so much about you that weekend."

"Now what I meant..." Jill cleared her throat. "That was five years ago. You really think anyone would remember it?"

Patricia gave a theatric shrug. "You never know, when it comes to politics."

"I'll risk it. Let them say whatever they want, because it doesn't matter if you made love to me in a semi-public car or if you made some questionable decisions during your questionable first marriage. The bottom line is that you deserve to be mayor. The voters on this island can either reward your hard work, or they can hand it to someone just because he happens to have a certain last name. I have faith. Even if it's a hard road, I'll take it with you."

"Thanks, Jill. Are you sure you don't mind me skipping out on lunch?"

"Not a bit. Michael and I can hang out." Jill kissed the corners of Patricia's mouth, then kissed her solidly. "Knock 'em dead, Trish." She turned Patricia around and put her head on her wife's shoulder. "Mayor Patricia Hood-Colby. How's that sound?"

Patricia smiled and leaned her weight against Jill. "Plausible. Like it could really happen." She kissed Jill's temple and Jill slipped away from her.

"I'll see you in the kitchen. Michael's making you pancakes."

"I'll be there in a minute." She watched Jill go, then looked at her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted the collar of her shirt, careful not to disturb Jill's careful knot in her tie. Her fingers moved down the lapel to the handmade button on her chest. It was small enough to be unobtrusive, but the yellow drew her eye. She brushed her thumb over the top so that it shone even in the dim light of the bedroom and took a steadying breath.

Mayor Patricia Hood-Colby.

Definitely plausible.

March 4, 2012

Scissoring

Rachel was still in bed when Alex got out of the shower, but she was entrenched in her nest. Her legs were crossed under the blanket with her laptop resting on her thighs. The newspaper was dismantled and spread across Alex's side of the bed, and a plate with Rachel's breakfast sat amid the articles. Since Rachel had to have gotten up to fix her food, Alex decided the proper term was that she was _back_ in bed. She looked up when the bathroom door opened and began gathering the newspaper to clear Alex's side of the bed.

"Hey. You want to lie back down?"

"That's okay. Don't dismantle your nest." She hooked a finger over her shoulder. "Shower's free if you want it."

"Thanks." She typed one more thing and put her laptop aside. She had slept in one of Alex's fire department T-shirts, and she tugged the hem down over her thighs as she left the bed and walked on the balls of her feet as she followed Alex back into the bathroom. Alex had wrapped a towel around her torso and Rachel ran her hands over Alex's shoulders and up into her hair before tickling her neck and undressing next to the shower.

"You're getting shaggy, my sweet."

Alex looked at her reflection. Her bangs completely covered her forehead, twisting into separate strands above her eyebrows. It feathered around her ears and rested against her neck. She ran her fingers through it as the water started again and Rachel ducked around the curtain. Sally, the volunteer firefighter with the department, only had hair a little bit longer than this and she had to braid it when she went on a call.

She wet her toothbrush under the faucet. "Maybe I'll head down to the barber shop and get a trim."

"Okay." Rachel's voice echoed off the tile of the shower stall. "Or I could cut it for you."

Alex sighed and began brushing her teeth. "You're not giving up on that, are ya?"

Rachel's laugh was musical to begin with, but combined with the sound of falling water and the acoustics of the bathroom, it became something almost fairy-like. Alex couldn't help but smile. A few months after they became a couple, Rachel casually mentioned she knew how to cut hair. Alex wasn't as protective as her hair as some women could be, but she was terrified that if it came out wrong, Rachel would be upset or hurt.

She turned her head from side to side as she brushed her teeth. Now that it had been pointed out, she couldn't stop noticing how long her hair had gotten. They had planned a nice, quiet Sunday at home, and now she would have to take another shower to properly wash her hair, then get dressed, drive down to the barber shop, wait for her turn...

"Okay."

Rachel peeked around the shower curtain. "Okay what?"

Alex spit out the toothpaste and turned around. "Okay. You want to cut my hair, I'll give it a shot."

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"You've been bugging me about it for... what, three years? Why not. If it's bad, I'll just get it fixed in town. It's been warm enough lately that it won't be horrible to have an extremely short cut."

"What if you come out of it looking like Rachel Maddow?"

Alex snickered and rinsed out her mouth. "You could do worse than Rachel Maddow."

"When do you want to do it?"

"As soon as you're done showering. We want to give the poor barber in town enough time to fix whatever atrocity you're going to visit on my head."

The echo of Rachel's mock-laughter followed Alex out of the bathroom.

#

Alex moved a stool from the kitchen and sat it in front of the French doors that led out to their deck. Ostensibly it was for the extra light from the sun, but it was also so she could watch the boats while Rachel worked. Rachel found an old sheet and wrapped it around Alex like a cape and brought a pair of shears and a comb from the bathroom. On her way back into the living room, she turned on the stereo and put the CD player on random.

Once she was in position, Rachel steadied Alex's shoulders and straightened her neck before she ran her comb through the still-damp strands.

"So what are we doing today? Just a trim, or do you want something radical?"

Alex smiled. "You're the one who has to look at it every day."

"True." She adjusted the scissors and used the comb to mark a line before she cut. "Don't worry. You're in excellent hands."

"Did you do this for a lot of people?"

"Oh, sure. Never heard a complaint."

Alex grinned. "Because your clients were all dogs?"

Rachel scoffed and slapped Alex's shoulder. "No, silly. They were people." She waited a beat. "Barbie dolls count as people."

Alex snorted.

"Hey, they're good practice. Barbie's hair doesn't grow back, so I had to make sure I did it right the first time."

"Well, don't worry." She adjusted the sheet over her lap. "I have a lot of hats, and I can wear a helmet at work. And if anyone asks, I can just say the ends caught fire and I had to slice it all off or risk my head catching fire."

Rachel snickered under her breath. "Well, as long as you have a plan."

The music continued, the hiss of Rachel's scissors adding harmony to the music. When she moved to cut Alex's bangs, Alex spread her knees apart and hooked her fingers in the belt loops of Rachel's slacks to pull her close. Rachel snickered and combed Alex's hair forward as Alex cupped Rachel's rear end.

"That's not necessary."

"Don't care."

"I might get distracted."

"Worth it."

Rachel snickered and carefully cut Alex's bangs. She squirmed out of Alex's grasp, blew her a kiss, and bent down to make sure the sides were even. She ran her fingers through Alex's hair, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she tried to ignore the fact Alex was staring at her. Once she was confident the hair was cut evenly, she pulled Alex's head forward and kissed her soundly before letting her go.

"You don't get _that_ at the barber shop."

"Well, not every time. But Frank can get very affectionate."

Rachel backed away. "All right, you're done." She picked up a mirror and presented it like a shield. She bit the thumbnail of her other hand as she examined the finished product. "What do you think? It's a little choppy."

"It's great. It looks like, uh..." She squinted and smiled. "It looks kind of like Audrey Hepburn if she was alive now. And kind of a punk." She ran her fingers through it, messing up the straight lines so they looked more natural. "It's amazing, Rachel."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She let Rachel unclip the sheet and fold it so that her hair was captured in it like a bag. "What do I owe you?"

"Well, since you're such a faithful customer, I'll give you a discount. One kiss."

"No discounts. Quality work deserves full price." Then she took the mirror from Rachel and put it down on the table, drawing her back between her legs. Rachel blew a few stray hairs off Alex's forehead, and then tilted her head down to capture Alex's lips. "And just so you know, you will be cutting my hair from now on."

"I think I can make that happen."

Alex put her arm around Rachel's waist and grabbed her wrist with the other hand. "And thanks to the time you saved, we now we have the whole afternoon ahead of us. What do you want to do?"

"I want to think about it in bed. And if neither of us comes up with anything, then we can just lay down together in bed for a couple of hours."

"I like that plan. You go on ahead. I'll be there in a minute."

They pulled apart and Alex went into the bedroom. Rachel gathered the sheet and carried it to the deck, opening the door and letting it flap free. The hairs caught on the wind and blew out into the harbor as the ferry slowly pulled in to dock. She watched as the massive ship lined itself up and rolled toward land, then turned and went inside.

The haircut may look nice, but it didn't receive her seal of approval until she knew how it felt to run her hands through it. She was willing to do rigorous testing to find out the answer.
April 8, 2012

Easter Parade

"You look... cute."

Molly turned and glared at Shane, who quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Molly rolled her eyes and looked into the mirror as she adjusted the elastic strap currently biting into both of her cheeks. The small rubber rabbit snout covered her nose and most of her upper lip, with two buck teeth hanging down in front. When she moved her mouth to speak, the whole thing twitched. It could have been worse. The bunny ears at least looked good; they were small enough to be mistaken for an unfortunately large, pink bow. She and Shane wore matching tuxedo shirts with pink bowties, handing out refreshments with crisp white Mickey Mouse-type gloves.

There had been a white cotton tail on the seat of their black pants until Molly saw it could be removed without ripping the fabric. Some things were just unacceptable.

Molly left the bathroom and Shane followed her out of the bathroom. "You're the one who agreed to this."

"For time and a half," Molly reminded her. "Sunday plus holiday pay? I couldn't say no."

"You didn't mind the Mrs. Claus getup."

Molly turned and faced her. "That's because Mrs. Claus and Santa's elf had a lot of fun on Christmas Eve, when the fat man was away."

Shane slid her arms around Molly's waist. "Well, you know what they say about bunnies, and how they spend their free time." She wiggled her nose and bumped it against Molly's.

"Oh?"

Shane made a strangled noise in her throat and then furrowed her brow. "What noise to rabbits make?"

Molly thought for a second and then sucked her teeth. "Fft fft fft."

Shane poked out her tongue. "Sexy."

"I thought so."

They kissed, tilting their heads so that their bunny noses wouldn't get in the way. Shane broke the kiss and tugged on the ends of Molly's bowtie. "Afterward. If you're good."

Molly groaned, but with incentive like that, she thought she could survive the day. She linked her fingers with Shane's and let herself be led out of their apartment.

#

Nadine bobbed her head to the music coming through the speakers overhead as she carried the portable microphone to the edge of the stage. She normally didn't use a producer, but Billy had gone to a technical school and had proven to be a godsend on these remote broadcasts. She smoothed the hem of her yellow floral dress against her thighs as the wind threatened to give her a wardrobe malfunction. She carefully descended the stairs to the soft green grass of the park.

Five kids were standing near the platform with parents standing beside them, and Nadine smiled as she approached them. "Is everyone ready to be on the radio?"

Five heads bobbed up and down, and Nadine turned to watch Billy. REM was singing about how everybody hurt and, as the music faded out, he motioned to Nadine. The microphone in her hand went live, and she turned to address the people with her. "That was REM back in their heyday. I still can't quite believe they've broken up. Anyway, we're broadcasting live from the thirteenth annual December Harbor Easter Festival at the city park, and I have with me five participants in this year's Easter egg hunt. I'll let them introduce themselves to you."

She crouched and offered each kid the microphone in turn.

"Charlie."

"Anna."

"Michael."

"Pamela."

"Cindy."

Nadine winked at them and gave them a thumbs-up. "Thank you all for being here. Charlie, have you participated in the hunt before?"

He leaned toward the microphone and spoke louder. "Yeah, I did it last year with my big brother but he's too big to do it this year."

"Ah, I see. So you'll be bringing home the treats and he'll have to beg you for some if he wants any. You can make him do all your chores for you." Charlie grinned and leaned back against his father's legs as Nadine turned the microphone to Anna. "Hi, Anna. Are you excited for the hunt?"

Anna looked over her head at her mother. "Mom said that having chocolate all the time is bad, but today is an essuption."

Nadine smiled and widened her eyes behind her glasses. "Ooh, yes, I definitely like bending the rules when chocolate is involved." She smiled up at Anna's mother, who patted her daughter on the head as Nadine continued down the line.

She spoke with each child and then brushed some windblown hair out of her face as she stood again. "I'm going to let these kids go and develop their strategy for coming out with the most Easter treats, and I thank them and their parents for taking the time to talk with us." She turned to look at the platform. "We've got a lot of great music for you, including David Bowie, Cher, and your requests. Stay with us."

When the commercial for Gail's Seafood Shack started playing, she turned back to the kids and their parents. "Thank you all so much for talking to us. If you go over to the booth, Mr. Billy is will give you some buttons and stickers for your bikes. Good hunting!" The kids and parents hurried off save for one, Pamela's mother Jaime. Nadine smiled at her. "Hello, Ms. Morgan. Thanks for letting Pamela talk with me today."

"Of course." Her eyes darted to one side to make sure her daughter was out of earshot and she stepped closer. "We're new to the island and I've just started listening to your show... I have to say, it's really fantastic."

"Thank you so much. I've heard people say I'm the voice of the island which is... daunting. And flattering. I'm glad I gave a good impression."

Jaime nodded. "Oh, you definitely did. Um. Pamela's father and I are divorced. I came here for a fresh start. Maybe you could give me the official tour."

Nadine's hair was caught in her glasses. Sweeping it away gave her an extra moment to consider if she was misunderstanding the situation. "Oh. Uh, I-I'm married." She held up her left hand to show off her ring.

"Oh! I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not." Nadine grinned and shook her head. "I'm flattered, really. If you're interested, there are always some single events going on down at the library. The island has a pretty big gay and lesbian community."

Jaime smiled. "And since the first one I hit on was taken, the odds can only improve."

Nadine winced. "Sorry about that. Put yourself out there and..."

"It's fine. I broke the ice, so the next time will be easier."

"Yes! That's the spirit." She looked and saw Billy handing Pamela some stickers. "Your daughter is adorable. Fifth grade?"

"Fourth, going into fifth next year."

Nadine nodded. "It's a great age. And a great grade! I know one of the fifth grade teachers; Jill Hood-Colby."

"Hyphenated. That means--"

"Married. Yeah. Sorry."

Jaime laughed. "One more down! I'm bound to run into someone single before too long." Pamela rejoined them and showed Jaime the stickers she'd gotten. "Those are great, honey! Thank you, Nadine. You really made her morning."

"Just setting her up for the big Easter egg hunt. I hope you find lots and lots." She bent down and cupped her hand by her mouth. "Look for the big white flowers. They like to use those to cover them up."

Jaime grinned. "Thanks."

"No problem. Welcome to the island, Ms. Morgan."

Jaime nodded. "Thank you for the welcome."

She walked off, and Nadine went to the platform to check with Billy. After the commercials, they would go straight into an eight-minute block of music. Plenty of time for her to track down Miranda and tell her about Pamela Morgan. It wasn't every day she got hit on. And if she played her cards right, she could fire up rarely-seen the possessive and jealous parts of Miranda's brain. At worst, she would end up getting taken out to dinner. At best she hoped for dinner, a movie, a walk on the harbor, followed by debauchery and sexual shenanigans once they were home.

Nadine loved it when Miranda tried to win her over again. It was wholly unnecessary of course, but who didn't like a little post-nuptial wooing? She smiled as she made her way through the crowd in search of her wife.

#

A little girl was talking.

"--favorite is rabbits."

Nadine Butler said, "Oh, mine too. Do you like the hollow ones or--"

"Noooo, I like _all chocolate_."

"All right!" Nadine said with a laugh. "I like how you think, Pamela. How about you, Cindy?"

Rachel pushed up and reached for the alarm clock, silencing the radio before she dropped back to the mattress. She pulled the pillow to her chest and tried to fall back to sleep. Her shift had officially ended at four-thirty, but paperwork and a last minute ER arrival (nail-gun accident) kept her from clocking out until almost six. She literally pulled into the driveway as Alex was getting into her truck. They reunited in the driveway, kissed good morning/goodnight, and Rachel went inside to sleep alone again.

A part of her mind rationalized that the alarm had been on for a reason. If she'd gone to sleep at six-thirty, why would she set the alarm to go off less than five hours later? She was about to drift off again when the other shoe dropped and she remembered. "Oh, shit." She sat up and pushed the pillow away. The day was warm enough that she had only worn a pair of boxer shorts and one of Alex's shirts to bed, and she hopped into a pair of jeans that she buttoned as she headed down the hall to the living room just as the doorbell rang.

Why hadn't she given herself more time to prepare? _Because setting an alarm to sleep for just four hours was barely better than just staying awake._ She ran her fingers through her hair and opened the door to find a woman standing on the stoop, turned to face the street. She wore a pair of crisp, brand-new blue jeans underneath a cream-colored blazer. When she turned back toward the house, her long blonde hair curling like a wave, Rachel saw a pin on her lapel that read: "HOOD-COLBY - 2012." According to Alex, her name was Leah Kincaid.

Her smile wavered when she noticed Rachel's messy hair and baggy shirt. "Oh... my God. I'm so sorry. You were sleeping."

"No." She realized it was pointless to lie. "Yes. But don't worry, it's fine. Alex told me you would be stopping by."

Leah kept the apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to bother you, and I'll be brief. Is Ms. Crawford home?"

"She's out. She was hoping to be back by now, but um..." She stepped into the house and retrieved an envelope off the end table. "She told me to give you this. It's, ah, her signed statement of support. You can use that in the newspaper, in ads..."

"Thank you so much." She took the envelope. "Would you like to offer your statement of support for Patricia Hood-Colby's mayoral campaign? I'm sure the opinion of a respected doctor such as yourself would go a long way."

Rachel looked at the envelope and tried for a graceful escape. "The fire chief's statement isn't enough?"

"Every little bit helps."

Rachel squirmed. "Oh... um, no, I'm sorry."

Leah blinked. "You're not voting for her?"

"I haven't decided yet. I know she's been doing a good job in her current position, but I don't think she's made the case for being mayor. I think it requires more than, you know, her gender or sexual orientation. Change for the sake of change is as bad as being stagnant."

"Okay. Thank you for your honesty, and your feedback. I'll be sure to tell Patricia what she needs to do to secure your vote."

Rachel smiled. "Sorry."

"You're certainly allowed your opinions. And you have a valid argument. I'll let Patricia know, and I'm sure she'll address it at a town hall meeting. Thank you for your candor." She held out her hand. "And I'm sorry again for disturbing your sleep."

Rachel shook her hand. "No problem. And, ah... good luck. No matter what happens, I'm glad she's running. If nothing else, she's showing the Dugans that they can't just expect to have the job handed to them on a silver platter. Whoever runs against her is going to have to work just as hard for my vote."

Leah grinned. "Great to hear it. I'd rather have your honest criticism than insincere support any day. Hopefully we can win you over by November."

"I'll keep an open mind."

She waited until Leah was back in her car before she shut the door and shuffled back down the hall. She was on the precipice now, the point where she could either go back to sleep or start the day knowing she would be cranky and exhausted. She went back into the bedroom and put on the radio, stretching out on top of the covers as she considered her options.

She fell asleep in the middle of an ad for Gail's Seafood Shack, and she dreamed of swimming with the orcas.

#

Patricia rechecked her makeup in the rearview mirror for the eighth time and touched the lapel of her purple sweater to make sure her pin was still in place. She took a deep breath, let it out, and then opened the door to step out into the sunshine. Her floral skirt reached almost to the ground, but there was enough of a breeze that it was comfortable.

Physically comfortable, at any rate. The festival had usurped the parking lot of a nearby church, and the sun glinted off a row of windshields like shields of an advancing army. She adjusted her hair and made sure she had the little bag of buttons Leah had gotten made up. She eyed the crowd and grimaced. This was the part she hated. If only there was a way to get elected without having to shill like a politician. Catch-22.

"Hey. There you are." She didn't turn at the sound of her wife's voice, looking at her only when Jill's hand came to rest on her arm. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah." She turned and Jill's arms automatically went around her in a loose embrace. "Church with the parents all morning, and now selling myself to everyone whether they want to hear it or not. I feel dirty."

"It's politics. If you don't feel dirty, you're not doing it right." She took the buttons from Patricia and stuffed them into her own pocket.

Patricia wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Can I campaign for the other guy? I'm not so sure I want the job."

Jill adjusted the collar of Patricia's sweater and teased her hair. "You've been doing the job for a long time. You're only running for the title. You'll get it. People love you."

"Sure."

"Do you know how many people I had to fight off to be the one who married you? The whole town. Every single woman in town."

Patricia smiled. "Did you hurt them?"

"Clawed their eyes right out." She pecked Patricia's lips. "Go on. You're not selling yourself, you're defending the job you've been underpaid for doing for two years. You deserve the title and the perks that come with it."

"You'll be an excellent First Lady."

Jill stepped back and took Patricia's hand. "I'll campaign with you for a while. At least until the Easter egg hunt."

"You don't mind trying to sell me like I'm a product?"

"When you love the product, you don't mind pushing it." She squeezed Patricia's hand and led her into the swarm of people. "Hi! I'm representing Patricia Hood-Colby for mayor, and I'm hoping we can count on your vote this November." She took a button out of her pocket and offered it to the woman she'd spoken to. One of the other people in the small group asked for a button, and Jill handed out five without breaking a sweat. When the people moved off, Jill smiled at Patricia. "See? Not exactly selling ice to Eskimos."

"I guess not... oh. Hold on." Nadine Butler passed by with her wife in tow, and Patricia hurried to catch up. "Mrs. Butler."

Nadine turned. "Oh! Madame Mayor."

"Not yet, but thank you. I was, um, ordered by my campaign manager to see if I could get a few minutes on your show. An interview, or just a quick who's-who at the Easter festival..."

"Um." Nadine glanced at Miranda.

Miranda shrugged. "The station is run by the Dugans, so I'm sure they'll try to push your opponent on the air at some point. Equal time and all that. Come on by the booth before the Easter egg hunt and you can have a few minutes to speak with each other."

Nadine smiled. "Great. Can I have a button? The station may be equal time, but I'm not." Jill handed her a button and Nadine fastened it onto the front of her dress just underneath the blue KELF button. "I should probably get back on the air. I'll see you later?" Miranda nodded and they kissed goodbye. Miranda waved and followed Nadine through the crowd.

Jill grinned. "They're so sweet."

Patricia put her hand on Jill's shoulder and squeezed. "I think you're a better campaign manager than Leah. Thank you for being here."

"Sure thing." She looped her arm around Patricia's and pointed toward the Gail's Seafood Shack lemonade stand where two women dressed as well-dressed rabbits were working. "Come on. Pretty much everyone will pass by there at some point today. Let's see if the bunnies will support you."

#

Kate had one foot on the pavement, her other foot hovering as she leaned into the car. The balancing act was made even more dangerous by the fact she was wearing a rather flimsy dress - stupid Spring, stupid Easter - and she was trying to keep the display strictly PG-13 without dumping her delivery all over the backseat of her car. She almost had it free when she heard footsteps on the grass behind her and a woman said, "Can I give you a hand with that?"

She twisted and saw Alex Crawford, the town's fire chief, standing a few feet away. She sighed with relief. "Yeah, if you don't mind. I'll take all the help I can get." She stepped to one side and Alex joined her in front of the back door. They each took a side of the large covered plate and hauled it out of the car with little effort.

Alex breathed deep as she handed the plate over to Kate. She took the other plate out by herself, kicked the door shut, and followed Kate across the green grass of the hill by the parking lot. "Oh, wow, that smells delicious. What is it?"

"Cookies, fresh from the oven."

"Cookies... oh! You're, uh... your wife runs Coffee Table Books."

Kate's smile wavered. "Uh... sort of. My girlfriend owns the place. We're-we're not married."

"Oh. Sorry. I hate when people make assumptions like that about me and Rachel. They still smell delicious, regardless of your relationship to the woman who made them."

Kate grinned. Marriage was a point of contention in their household. Now that Washington had legalized gay marriage, Amy seemed to feel it was necessary they take the plunge. Kate wasn't so sure. She loved Amy and couldn't see ever leaving her or being with someone else. The only thing she could claim she desperately wanted was to spend the rest of her life with Amy at her side. It was the idea of marriage, being married, being spouses... she didn't like the sound of wife-and-wife, but what else could they call it?

Her real argument was actually ridiculous, even to her own mind. If they got married, she would feel like she was putting a leash around Amy's neck. In a year, two years, ten years, she would start to wonder if Amy stayed because she wanted to or because it was just easier than leaving.

They arrived at the Coffee Table Books area, which had three tables set up underneath a tent awning. Amy and two of her employees were standing behind a buffet-style table, and she waved when she spotted Kate. Kate hoisted her armful and stepped under the shade of the awning to deliver the fresh supplies.

"You're a lifesaver. Just when we were running low."

"Thank Stephanie. She's running the place like a dictator. Hi." She kissed Amy hello. "Do you know Alex?"

Amy smiled. "We've met. Hi, Alex." She picked up a rabbit-shaped cookie. "If you carry, you get a free cookie."

"Well, I'm not going to turn that down." She took the cookie with a nod of thanks. "I should probably head out. Rachel's expecting me home..." She looked at her watch. "Ah, shit. Well, I still have to go home to get my ass kicked. Thanks for the cookie. It'll be a nice peace offering." She waved goodbye and headed off.

Kate stepped behind the buffet table and picked up a pair of plastic gloves. "We have a while before the next batch is ready to be picked up. What do you need me to do?"

"We need a backup pitcher of iced tea if you don't mind making it."

"Nope, not at all." She thought about what Alex had said, and her own ruminations on the topic, and slipped her hand around Amy's elbow to pull her into a semi-private corner. "Hey. The marriage thing."

Amy blinked, surprised at the change of subject, but nodded. "What about it?"

"My problem is with marriage. Not the idea of being married to you. If I were to marry anybody on this planet, it would be you."

Amy pressed her lips together in an effort to contain her smile. "Good to know. Because I don't see myself walking down the aisle to anyone but you."

Kate frowned. "Who said you got to walk down the aisle?"

"You? In a wedding dress? Oh, Kate, _please_."

Kate had to concede that point. She hugged Amy briefly before she looked at the table to see what needed to be done to make tea.

#

Leah Kincaid closed the car door and tucked her hair behind her ears as she scanned the festival. She spotted a lot of people wearing Patricia's buttons, which was good. This was her first official political campaign, and Patricia had shown a lot of trust and faith in hiring her. If Patricia failed to get the office, Leah didn't want to be the one to blame.

There were speakers set up to broadcast the egg hunt sponsored by KELF Radio, scheduled to begin in just a few minutes. She hurried across the field, smiling to everyone who caught her eye. It wouldn't do for someone to see the highest-ranking member of the Hood-Colby campaign looking frenzied or dour. Her search for Patricia was cut short by the sound of the Pixie coming through one of the tower-mounted speakers she passed under.

"Welcome back and, before we get this Easter egg hunt under way, we have a very special guest joining me. Our current deputy mayor, soon to be top dog, Patricia Hood-Colby, wanted to wish luck to all the contestants today."

Leah made her way toward the broadcast booth as Patricia started talking. "Thank you, Nadine. I would say this isn't a political message, but who would believe me?" She and Nadine laughed. "The truth is, I've been coming to this hunt every year for the past decade because my son used to participate. I loved coming out, seeing all my friends, getting sunburnt--"

"I think I've got enough of one to share, if you're feeling nostalgic."

"No, thanks. But really, coming here today to campaign was just an excuse for me to participate now that Michael says he's too old to join in."

Leah turned a corner and saw a small group had gathered around Nadine and Patricia. Nadine said, "You're never too old for Easter. You and I are evidence of that, I think. Thank you for stopping by, Patricia, it was really nice talking to you. And we're going to have a sit-down interview with you before the election. We'll have to work that out with your campaign and our management and blah blah blah."

She turned to face the crowd. "But you're not here to listen to politics. You're here to find some eggs, am I right?"

The crowd cheered and whooped. Patricia snuck away from the platform and found Leah. "Hey. I thought I saw you over here. Sorry about that. I saw Nadine and--"

"No, it was great. I was just a little disappointed I didn't see you before you went on. We got Alex Crawford's written support, but her partner brought up some concerns. We haven't earned her vote yet, and I think she made some valid arguments. We can win her and other people with the same problems over if we get the speeches right."

Patricia nodded. "Okay. I think, uh, Jill is still around here handing out buttons."

"Great. I'll leave you alone... you've done enough politics for today. Go, be with other human beings."

"Thanks, Leah. I'll glad-hand a little while I'm enjoying the day."

"That's all I ask." Patricia disappeared into the crowd as Nadine carried her microphone toward the roped-off egg hunt area. She untied the rope from the stake in the ground, and three dozen pre-teens came to life with a frisson of energy. "Ah, ah, ah, kids! Not until I blow the whistle! As soon as I blow the whistle and drop the rope, it's a free-for-all. No punching or pinching or violence; egg hunting is a sport of ladies and gentleman. Be polite and generous. Now, is everyone ready?"

A cheer went up.

"Okay... the egg hunt begins... right... after the seventeen-minute version of _In-a-gadda-da-vida_!" The crowd jeered and Nadine rolled her eyes. "Oh, you guys are so impatient! Fine!" She closed her lips around the whistle, held the microphone behind her back, and dropped the rope as she blew a staccato little song through the whistle. As the kids rushed forward, Nadine did knee-lifting, arm pumping dance and waved them past her.

Leah chuckled and turned to walk away, nearly colliding with another woman. "Oh, my gosh. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. No harm done."

Leah looked at the swarming kids. "Is one of them yours?"

"Ah, yeah. The little girl right there." She pointed. "Pamela. You?"

"Oh, no. I'm here on work, but I thought I'd get a little fun in." She turned and stood next to the other woman. "Remember when you could be happy just because you found a plastic egg with little chocolates inside? Was that ever really all it took?"

"My memory is hazy, but I seem to recall giddiness, yes." She held out her hand. "I'm Jaime. Jaime Morgan."

"Leah Kincaid. Hood-Colby for Mayor." She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder. "Do you want a button?"

Jaime hesitated. "Um. Sure. I'll take one... I'm not sure how invested I am in the election, though. I just moved here, so politics. Hood is the woman, right? And Colby is her deputy? Or--"

"No, no. It's a little confusing, I guess. Patricia Hood-Colby is running for mayor. It's her married name. She hyphenated."

"Oh! I see. I'll get educated on it but, for the time being, I'll wear the button. I've always supported women in politics."

Leah nodded. "Excellent. There's going to be a few debates between now and the election, at the town hall... Have you been here long enough to know where that is?"

Jaime smiled. "Not really. But I think I'll be able to find it."

Leah hesitated. The campaign was going to be going full-swing until November, and she couldn't afford the time to start any kind of meaningful relationship. Still, if she didn't have something to take her mind off the election from time to time she might go crazy.

"Listen, if you ever need someone to show you around town, like where to eat or... just to show you the sights... I'd be happy to lend my services."

Jaime had been watching her daughter, but she turned to look at Leah as if gauging her question. Finally she said, "The campaign won't keep you busy?"

"Not every single night. I'm bound to have some time free. I-if you wanted. I mean, sometimes part of the pleasure of moving to a new town is exploring it on your own, and--"

"I'd love a tour. Or even just a dinner. I think it would be lovely. Thank you, Ms. Kincaid."

"It's Leah."

Jaime nodded. "And you can call me Jaime. But it's 'Ms. Morgan.'" She smiled. "Just so you know."

Leah smiled and ducked her chin, too shy to believe what had just happened. She watched as the kids swarmed the field, while Nadine ascended back onto her platform and took a seat. Near the entrance, Patricia and Jill were speaking with a pair of supporters who promised Patricia their vote, while Kate hurried back to the parking lot for another trip to Coffee Table Books.

At the Gail's stand, Molly pushed the plastic bunny nose up onto her forehead and scratched the side of her real nose frantically. Shane watched her, stifled a laugh, and started to say something.

"If you say I look cute again, I swear I'll kick you right in your cottontail."

Shane laughed, and so did the people waiting in line for their lemonade. Shane sighed. Any mockery Shane doled out today was keep Molly too angry to be truly embarrassed. She was grateful for that. Once they got home and doffed the ridiculous outfits, she would show Shane just how much she appreciated it. She put the nose back into place, poured a glass of lemonade, and handed it out the window to the next customer in line. She faked a smile and a chirpy voice.

"Happy Easter!"
May 13, 2012

Mama's Girl

Butler Photography was always closed on Sundays, but Tamara Butler tended to go in just to make sure everything was ready for the start of the week. The morning light through the front windows was enough to see by, so she left the lights off as she checked orders and made sure all the prints were ready to be picked up. Once everything was in order, she left through the back door, tugged on the knob to make sure it was locked, and slipped the keys into her pocket as she walked down the narrow alley to the street.

Her eye caught on the building across from the studio she and her husband had run for nearly thirty years. It had always been there, but she'd never paid much attention to it until a few years ago. Tamara crossed the street and stood in front of the building's glass entrance. No one was on-duty at the receptionist desk, but she knew it was open. A sign hung in the building's front window, next to the glass door, identified it as KELF RADIO - 1220 AM.

She wondered how many times she had walked past that sign without even noticing it. She didn't like classic rock even when it was just rock, so she hadn't listened to the station before Nadine started working as a disc-jockey. She hadn't particularly liked the idea; who wanted their little girl to grow up to be a DJ, of all things? But Nadine loved the work, so Tamara supported her. And then the whole... situation... a few years ago, when Nadine had truly shown what she was made of... well, now Tamara looked at the radio station with pride. She was even starting to enjoy the music. The Beatles weren't exactly the best band she'd ever heard in her entire life, but they were passable.

She took the long way around the block, going down the pedestrian side street where tourists rarely ventured. She passed Coffee Table Books, their front doors open to accommodate the swelling line of customers waiting to be served. A sign in the window proclaimed that "MOTHERS EAT FREE! Fathers Pay Double" and Tamara couldn't help but smile. She had never loved Mother's Day until one morning about thirty years earlier when a tiny little girl in braids and pink overalls brought her a handful of Easter candy and stood silently by the bed for Tamara to wake up before she handed it over.

She smiled at the memory. Nadine had always done Mother's Day so right that Tamara almost looked forward to it more than her birthday. Even when they were fighting, if May rolled around they put aside their differences long enough to have lunch together. Usually by the time the meal was over the argument had been settled and they were hugging.

Tamara reached Spring Street and joined the stream of people. Tourists and citizens mingled together, everyone eager to show their mother a wonderful day, and Tamara was reminded of the one afternoon she'd spent in New York. She understood the need for tourists on the island, but that didn't mean she had to like sharing her paradise with them. She went north on First Street, choosing to approach Gail's from the far side rather than risk getting swarmed in the ferry lanes.

The restaurants she passed were all filled to bursting. When she reached the boardwalk, she saw boats in the harbor with people enjoying their meals out on deck. How they managed to eat on a boat without getting seasick was beyond her. As she approached the restaurant where she was supposed to meet Nadine and her wife, she craned her neck and scanned the al fresco dining area and spotted her daughter almost immediately.

Nadine had gotten a haircut since their last meeting; it was cut extremely short on the sides and back, left a little longer and feathered across the bangs. Two tufts of hair hung in front of her ears, and the stems of her glasses disappeared into them. She was sitting at the railing with her back to the harbor. Miranda was seated beside her, close enough that they could have shared a single chair. Her arm was around Nadine's shoulder, and Nadine's right hand was turned up to lace their fingers together.

Tamara stopped and let the other people on the boardwalk swarm past her. She remembered worrying about Nadine during her teen years. While all her friends were pairing up and going out and breaking up and making up, Nadine had stayed in her room and gone out either not at all or in groups. Tamara had tried to prompt her to date, but Nadine didn't show any interest in the idea. When Nadine grew up and seemed to have the same feelings about relationships, Tamara began to fret and form images of her daughter as a spinster.

Now she knew the truth. It had been shocking at first, of course, to discover her daughter was attracted to women. But the revelation had come not long before Miranda entered Nadine's life. Seeing them together... Tamara thought of struggling over a crossword puzzle clue and then having someone tell her the answer. The sudden insight, the "Oh, of _course_. I should have known that" feeling was how she felt when she saw her daughter with Miranda Powell.

Nadine wasn't dedicated to remaining single. She had just been waiting for the right person to come along. Enter Miranda Powell. Nadine may have had an 'oh, of _course_ ' moment of her own.

Because other than gender, Miranda was exactly the partner Tamara would have chosen for her daughter. Caring, challenging, strong, sweet, and so in love with Nadine that it was obvious to see even standing thirty yards away. And as for gender, well... whatever difficulties that might create, Nadine had made it more than apparent she was willing to stand up for herself and her love. After years of worrying and fretting about her little girl ending up alone, she was now suddenly married to the best candidate Tamara could have hoped for. That was worth all the Mother's Days in the world.

Tamara smiled and continued forward. When she was a little closer, Miranda spotted her and shook Nadine's hand. Nadine turned, smiled, and waved her free hand in greeting. Tamara waved back and sheepishly slipped past the line of other children waiting with their mothers as she approached the hostess stand.

"I'm meeting, um, Nadine Butler."

"Of course! Right this way."

She was led through the crowded restaurant and out onto the deck. Miranda and Nadine stood on her approach, and Nadine greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Momma."

"Little girl." She turned to Miranda and hugged her as well. "Hello, Miranda."

"Mrs. Butler. Is your husband not joining us?"

Tamara laughed as she took a seat. "His idea of a Mother's Day gift is leaving me alone for one morning. He dresses himself, feeds himself, and spends the day watching golf in the bedroom. I try not to let on how much I _love_ the gift."

Nadine and Miranda both laughed, and Nadine gestured toward the kitchen. "We went ahead and ordered. We figured they would be swamped, so it would save some time."

"I'm surprised you were even able to get a table, let alone one so nice."

Miranda said, "The perks of being a local celebrity."

Nadine rolled her eyes. "The perks of making a reservation two weeks ago before people turned their calendars and realized what day was coming up. We ordered you the usual."

"Thank you, dear. Now, let's get our gossip out of the way before the food arrives. How have you girls been?"

Miranda started talking, with Nadine occasionally offering detail or clarification. Tamara smiled and listening, laughing and offering advice when necessary. Around them the outdoor dining area filled, and the wind continued blowing off the water, and the deluge of people continued flowing to and fro on the boardwalk behind Nadine and Miranda's seats, but all of that was outside of Tamara's notice now. She was focused on her daughter-in-law's right hand, the fingers of which were still laced around Nadine's, and she couldn't stop herself from thinking:

Oh, of _course_. Once again, it all made sense. She smiled and went to join them.
June 24, 2012

The Waiting

Amy nearly always went to bed before the digits on the clock hit double digits, always out before prime time was over. Occasionally she would burn the midnight oil, staying up until that witching hour before she finally rubbed her partner's thigh, leaned over to kiss her goodnight, and trudged to bed. Coffee Table Books opened at five-thirty and she needed to be in the kitchen by no later than quarter to five to start getting things ready for the first rush.

Since it was Saturday, she stayed up a little later than usual and was in bed a few minutes after midnight. The curtains were drawn, but she could see the glow of the streetlight outside, and occasionally a car passed to remind her the island wasn't really abandoned. She still had the light on, wearing only a basketball jersey as she read a chapter of her book.

Kate came down the hall and Amy glanced up as she turned the page. "Nothing good on TV?" she asked as she went back to her book.

"Nothing as good as cuddling with you." She undressed and crawled under the blanket in her underwear. "How's the book?"

Amy marked her spot and rolled onto her side. "About as good as TV." She stroked Kate's cheek and leaned in to kiss her. Clothes were quickly done away with, and Amy's head disappeared under the blankets. Kate pushed the blankets up, her knees hilling the blanket on either side of Amy's head, and she closed her eyes as her lover went to work. Amy's hand appeared from below, caressing Kate's breast. Kate covered Amy's hand with her own and whispered encouragement.

Something buzzed and, for a moment, Kate wondered how Amy had gotten the vibrator from the drawer without her noticing. The second buzz was more readily identifiable as a cell phone, and she uttered a curse as she looked to see if it was hers or Amy's. She grunted and dropped her hand to rest it on the blanket bulge of Amy's head.

"When you call back whoever this is, tell them it's rude to call after midnight."

Amy's reply was muffled by Kate's thigh. She lifted her head and repeated, "Answer it."

"Oh, you _freak_." Kate laughed as Amy's tongue ran down her thigh to go back to work, and she steadied her breath as she reached for the phone. She checked the ID and frowned. "Honey, cut it out for a second."

Amy whined. "Why, who is it?"

"Amy Wellis' phone, this is Kate." Amy burrowed up, her head emerging from the blankets just above Kate's breasts. Kate was looking off to one side, listening to a voice that, to Amy, sounded tinny but female. "What? When?" She glanced at the clock. "Is she...? No. No, it's good, I'm glad you called. Amy will be, too. When will you know anything-- right. Okay. Can you call us when you know anything else? Thanks. Okay. Thanks, Dana." Amy mouthed 'Dana who?' but Kate didn't see her. "Do you want to talk to Amy? She's right... okay. Right, yeah. I'll tell her. Okay. Take care of yourself... bye."

"Dana who?" Amy said once Kate hung up.

Kate reached up to stroke the side of Amy's head as she returned the phone to the nightstand. "Dana Cabot. Nick Bronwyn's ex-girlfriend."

"What did _she_ want?" She did the mental calculations. Nick and Dana lived in Chicago, so it wasn't quite as late there as it was here.

"She's still down at Nick's emergency contact. Nick started having abdominal pain, and she kept waiting for it to go away. She thought it was just gas or indigestion. Finally she got a friend to drive her to the hospital. Her appendix was about to burst."

"Oh, my God." Amy felt the color draining from her face. "Is she okay?"

"She's in surgery right now. Dana's at the hospital and she found your number in Nick's address book. She thought we would want to know."

Amy was sitting on Kate's middle, her feet curled back underneath her, but thoughts of sex flew from her mind and was replaced with worry.

"Dana said she would call when they know more. Should be a couple of hours." She rubbed Amy's arm. "I'll sit up with you."

"You don't have to."

"I know." She sat up and kissed Amy's lips briefly. Amy cupped the back of Kate's head, fingers tangling in the strands of her black hair. She needed another haircut; it was starting to get shaggy again. Amy liked playing with hair, but only when it was short, and Kate liked Amy playing with her hair. "We should probably get dressed."

Amy nodded. "Sorry about leaving you..."

"It's okay. We'll finish up later."

"Yeah."

They rolled away from each other but didn't go far. Kate retrieved her shirt from the floor and slipped into it. Amy got up and put on her robe. "I'll go make us some coffee."

"I'll come with."

They went through the apartment to the living room. It was odd returning from the bedroom without sleep or, really, without even sex. She turned on the light and Amy went around the counter into the kitchen. Kate had brought their cell phones out of the bedroom and put them on the coffee table, then stretched out on the couch. She smoothed the material of her shirt over her thighs, still sensitive from her belly button to her upper thighs thanks to Amy's interrupted exertions. Neither of them would have stopped for just anyone but... this was Nick.

Nicole Bronwyn was a photographer who traveled from city to city on different assignments, often finding a warm bed and a soft body to share it wherever she was. Amy's bed was her port of call in Squire's Isle, an arrangement that almost ended when Nick returned to discover Amy was now in a committed relationship. But Nick was too charming to turn away, Kate decided she was a good egg, and... well. Sometimes these things just happen. She and Amy welcomed Nick into their bed.

For a while, Nick was in a happy relationship with Dana. There was commitment, there was a "world tour" of Nick breaking the news to the women she'd kept in every port, and she came home every night to a woman she loved and who loved her back. Kate and Amy were both sad about losing their occasional partner, but Nick remained their friend. For a few months, maybe even a whole year, the relationship was serious enough that Amy had even stopped making U-Haul jokes and started sincerely asking when they were going to make things official.

Then one day, out of the blue, Nick had shown up on their doorstep asking for a place to stay. Her hair was cut very, very short, showing off her long neck and slightly too-big ears, and her dark eyes were a little too wide. She seemed manic, her happiness forced, her entire demeanor jumpy. Over dinner, she let the bomb drop. "Dana left me. She met someone else. Fell in love with her. Didn't want to cheat." She suddenly rubbed her face and Kate had seen the mask slip. "But she couldn't go on. She loved this other woman. More than me." She laughed then, a little hysterically, and closed her eyes as she started to cry.

Kate realized she had fallen asleep just before Amy came around the couch with two mugs of coffee. Kate propped herself up on the arm, and Amy lifted her legs just long enough to slip under them.

"I love when you make me coffee." She breathed in the steam and hoped it would help wake her up. Her body felt cheated of more than just sex; she'd been in the sleep mindset. It was hard to switch gears so suddenly no matter what news they were waiting for. "Everyone else on the island has to pay for the privilege, but I get it for free."

"See? There are perks to sleeping with me."

"More than one or two."

Amy smiled and held her coffee in her left hand, her right sliding up and down the inside of Kate's thigh. Kate closed her eyes and enjoyed the touch.

"Most people on the island have to pay when I do this, too."

Kate's lips curled into a smile. "Whore."

Amy squeezed and then looked toward the curtained window. "It's not going to happen like this."

"What's not?"

"Nick. She doesn't... die because some stupid unnecessary little organ decides to explode on her. She goes to war zones. You saw that picture of her in Bagram, with the turtle shell helmet, the goggles, the..." She waved her hand over her chest. "The damn body armor. No. Nick is not going to die from something stupid and simple and... ordinary."

Kate took Amy's hand, linking their fingers together. "Are you okay?"

"Death scares me." She smiled at how ridiculous that was and shrugged. "I know. Who isn't? But it's always out there. And I always know that if it can reach someone close to me, then maybe it can... it will come after me next."

Kate sat up. "It won't. I won't let it. And I've fought death and won before, remember?"

Amy smiled and bumped her forehead against Kate's. Usually the topic was off-limits; the word 'suicide' was as verboten with Kate as 'prison' was with Amy. But here, in the middle of the night waiting on word about their friend and sometimes partner, it seemed safe enough to bring it up.

"That's one of the reasons I asked you out. You went up against it and survived. I thought you could protect me."

"Always." They kissed, and Amy moved her hand higher on Kate's thigh. Kate pulled back and hissed with her eyes closed tight. "Honey, stop. I'm still a little edgy from..."

"I know," Amy whispered. She kissed the corners of Kate's mouth and then pushed her down. "We're alive. And I was in the middle of proving to you just how alive you were when we got interrupted." She kissed Kate's chin and then eased down her body. Kate slid one leg up the back of the couch, letting the opposite foot drop to the floor as Amy settled between her thighs. She lifted Kate's shirt and kissed her pubic hair, then went back to what she had been doing before the call came in.

Kate reached up and cupped the back of her own head, eyed closed as Amy began to tease and stroke with the very edge of her tongue. Her finger, wet and dexterous teased her folds as her lips closed around Kate's clit and sucked. Kate's breasts rose and fell with her steady, sharp breaths. She wet her lips and her toes curled in the carpet. She turned her face to the crook of her elbow and gently brushed her mouth against the warm skin, and uttered Amy's name in a stuttering three-syllable cadence.

"A-hay-mee."

Amy pressed the flat of her tongue against Kate and moaned; Kate arched her back and ran her palm down her side, over her breasts and stomach to grab a handful of Amy's hair. Amy made a contented sound, moved her tongue in a circle, and Kate came with a trembling groan of pleasure. She pulled her hand forward without lifting it, drawing her hair over her face as she sucked her pinkie and ring fingers into her mouth.

Amy sat up and kissed Kate's belly, then her breasts, and settled with her head on Kate's chest. Kate wrapped her arms around Amy and closed her eyes.

"Your heartbeat is rapid."

"Your fault," Kate murmured dreamily.

Amy chuckled. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She stroked Amy's back and settled more comfortably against the couch cushions. The phones were on the table; they would hear if anyone called with news about Nick. For right now, they were happy to just doze.

#

Amy was leaning forward with her elbow on her knee, chin in hand, the nail of her pinkie finger between her lips as she nibbled on it. Kate was slumped against her, head on Amy's shoulder, more asleep than awake despite her eyes being open. Amy squinted her eyes at the TV and tilted her head to the side. "See?" She pointed with the remote control. "There is no way she's enjoying that. They're putting themselves in painful positions and they'll make faces that _look_ like they're enjoying themselves, but really--"

"Uh huh."

Amy turned and smiled when she saw Kate's eyes were closed. "Come on. Watching porn alone is just sad."

Kate yawned and reached for her coffee. "Porn, or Positions Outside the Regular Norm." Her eyes were open now, and she wrinkled her nose. "No one in history has ever fucked in that position."

Amy chuckled. "Right?"

"No, I mean, ever since Caveman Og realized that the girl-next-cave had parts that interlocked with his, even he knew that _that_ \--" She pointed at the screen. "--is just unfeasible. Holy crap. See what else is on. Maybe there's something on Tivo."

"Aw, come on. This is funny."

Kate took the remote from her and said, "If we're going to watch porn, we have higher quality DVDs in the bedroom. Want me to go get one of those?"

"No. I'm not horny. I just need something to take my mind off Nick."

"You could go down on me again. I'm willing to let you. For your sake."

"Saint Kate." She slumped back, guiding Kate's head from her shoulder to her lap. "No, just find something on TV that won't melt our brains."

Kate scanned the channels while Amy kneaded her shoulders. "You could just go to bed. You have to be up in three hours anyway. I'll wake you the second Dana calls."

"Eh. I'd just toss and turn. I'd rather sit up. I feel like if I go to bed, she'll know and think I don't care. Stupid, huh?"

"Hey, I'm up, too. I know exactly what you're talking about." She lifted her head slightly and blinked at the TV on-screen guide. "Whoa. When did they start showing _Quantum Leap_ again?"

"I dunno."

Kate clicked on it, and they watched Scott Bakula for a while. Halfway through the episode Amy's phone began to ring, and both women immediately woke up and lunged for it. Kate got it first, and twisted to hand it to Amy. Amy answered it and immediately put it on speaker.

"Hello? This is Amy Wellis."

"Go to bed."

Amy grinned, and Kate surprised herself by tearing up at the sound of Nick's voice. She sounded weary, but she was herself.

"Hey! You're--"

"I'm fine. They got it in time, but it was very close." She was quiet for a minute. "They said Dana called and let you know, so I threatened them until they let me use the phone to tell you to please, please go to bed. I knew you'd be waiting up for me."

"Kate's here, too."

"Hi, sweetie."

"Hey, Katie Bear. You go to bed, too. It means a lot to me, but..." There was a sharp intake of breath and Amy's heart broke.

"You okay, Nicole?"

"I'm still... I'm just a little woozy from the drugs." She sniffled. "I love you guys."

"We love you, too. Get better and come out to see us, okay? It's been too long."

"I definitely will. I love you, Amy. Love you, Kate."

Kate said, "We'll go to sleep if you will. You had a big night."

"I was asleep for most of it. They gave me lots of great drugs to make sure of it. Although I think I am a little loopy."

"Well, get your loopy ass to sleep. We'll do the same. See you soon."

They hung up and Amy fell into Kate's arms. Kate held her, kissed her, and whispered that Nick would be okay. Amy turned her head and nuzzled Kate's ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Want me to carry you to bed?"

"No. You go on. I'll rinse out the cups and I'll be there in a second."

"Okay." She kissed Amy, letting her lips linger, and then stood up and turned off the TV. She padded into the bedroom. Amy sat on the edge of the couch and looked at the window. She had to be up in less than three hours to get the store ready for the day. She scratched the back of her neck and took the cups into the kitchen to rinse them out, then turned off the lights and followed Kate down the hall.

Kate was lying down, blanket pulled to her shoulders but still revealing she had undressed completely. Amy undressed and joined her under the blankets, pulling Kate to her so that their bodies slid deliciously together.

"I don't think I'm going to get to sleep..."

"Not even if I sing you a lullaby?"

Amy smiled. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course. Lullaby... and goodnight. Go to sleep little Am-ee..." She ducked under the blankets and started humming. Amy chuckled. The rest of the song was too muffled to hear, but Amy quickly decided it was her favorite song ever composed.

She could think of worse ways to start a Sunday.
July 22, 2012

Open Doors

_April 16, 2012_

"Ah." Beverly stayed perfectly still, staring at her left hand in that dumb, frozen-time moment where the brain tried to convince her body it wasn't really hurt. But then the blood began to well up, running from the middle of her wrist up to the meaty heel of her hand. "Damn it. Keith? Are you still here?" Her voice echoed through the studio as she grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it against her wound. Asking had been stupid; she knew Keith was gone. She'd heard the door close when he left, but she held out hope.

The reception area was empty, as she knew it would be, and she cursed quietly. They had a small public restroom next to the office to wash the wound and wrap it more securely. She locked the door behind her and went to her car, watching as the towel slowly reddened. For a moment she considered calling someone to give her a ride, but the hospital was just down the road from her studio. It would take longer for someone to come pick her up than it would to just drive herself.

She drove to the hospital and parked near the Emergency doors, lifting her arm to see blood was smeared on her arm and the hem of her shirt. "Ah, great."

The nurse checked her in and told her a doctor would be with her in a moment. She barely had time to settle on the foot of the exam bed before a woman in a white coat was in front of her. "Hi. I'm Dr. Tom. You cut yourself?"

Beverly nodded and gingerly lifted the towel. "I'm Beverly Meade. Just a stupid accident."

"You can tell me if it wasn't." She was examining the wound. "People come in with cuts on their wrist, we have to make sure."

"Oh. No, it was definitely an accident." She smiled self-consciously. "Job hazard. I'm a wood carver. One of my tools got away from me."

Dr. Tom nodded. "I'll say it did. This isn't too bad. I can go ahead and suture it, set you up with a nice bandage."

"Some people like the drugs, but I come here for the service."

The doctor smiled. She looked for a cart and stretched for the nearest one, pulling it close. Beverly looked away as she worked, unable to stomach the sight of her flesh being poked and prodded and stitched. "It's okay," Dr. Tom said. "Just relax. I've done this hundreds of times. Thousands if you count teddy bears when I was a little girl."

"Ever lost a patient with this treatment?"

"Suturing? No. Well, a couple of teddy bears suffered massive padding loss. Very sad. My Little Ponies couldn't make it through the funeral."

Beverly chuckled.

"So what kind of wood carving do you do?"

"Doors." She cleared her throat, grateful for the distraction.

Dr. Tom tilted her head. "Doors? What do you mean?"

Beverly cleared her throat. "The things you open to get into rooms."

"Hey, I didn't have to numb this."

"Sorry. I carve designs into them. Usually something simple like leaves, vines, fleurs-de-lis. But a couple of people want something more ornate. I've done mountains, animals, people. I'm not terribly good with people. But I make nice doors."

"That sounds very cool. You do designs?"

"Yeah. I got into it in college. Art major, Dad was a woodworker, so the two went together well. I found a way to make it work."

"Do what you love, right?" Dr. Tom smiled at her and finished bandaging the wrist. "There you go, almost good as new. Hopefully it won't affect your work."

"Not so long as I keep the chisel on the wood and not my skin."

Dr. Tom grinned. "That's the preferred way, I hear."

Calmer now, Beverly gently massaged the clean gauze that covered her wound as she slipped off the edge of the bed. She expected Dr. Tom to leave, to move on to other patients, but she lingered and seemed to be contemplating something. Finally she said, "About how long does a project take? You probably have a few projects in the pipeline, and then the actual work probably takes... a while. Would you be able to do a custom job by late July?"

Beverly did the mental mathematics. "It would depend on how ornate you're thinking, and how this heals, but I think I could get something ready by then. What did you have in mind?"

Today

Alex's knee was sore. Even though she'd been dealing with messes for the past twelve hours, she was certain her pain was mostly in her head, stemming from the fact she had reduced their anniversary dinner to a quick lunch together and a promise of sex that night. It wasn't their actual anniversary, the real date they became lovers, since that time period was all tangled up in horrifying death and destruction. Instead they celebrated the day Alex had moved to the island and taken up residence in Rachel's home.

And they honored it by meeting for lunch at a café on Spring Street while tourists swarmed around them like gnats. Hardly what Alex really wanted, miles from what Rachel deserved, but two of her volunteer firefighters had quit and the department was running low on funding. She knew that Patricia Hood-Colby, if elected, would make things a little easier, but the election seemed so far away.

Now she was finally home, too late to actually treat her partner to a night out, and her knee was throbbing as if to remind her of how far she had once gone. _Like Wonder Woman through a skylight. Now you chain yourself to a desk and give her the bare minimum._ It wasn't true, it wasn't fair, and yet she still couldn't make the little voice shut up. She took off her shoes in the hallway, one hand braced against the wall as Rachel came out of the kitchen.

"Hey. I'd ask how your day was..."

"Same as every other day. Tedious, with beauty at the end of it. Hi, baby." They kissed hello, and Alex realized she smelled something delicious. "Are you cooking dinner?"

"It _is_ our anniversary. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"I didn't want you to be put out. I wanted to take you out, I wanted--"

Rachel put a finger on Alex's lips. "And I wanted to pamper you. I have someone I love, who loves me back, and who appreciates when I make her food. I love cooking for you, Alexandra. It still has some time before it's done, so why don't you hop in the shower and change into something a little less... worn."

Alex bowed her head to sniff herself. "Bad?"

"Nah, but... shower, babe." She patted Alex's rear end and pulled away from her.

Alex smiled, the stress of the day already fading as she turned to go down the short hall to their bedroom. She almost didn't lift her head when she gripped the knob, but she noticed the door seemed to be a different color than she remembered. She stepped back, fingers resting limply on the knob as she focused on it.

"What do you think?" Rachel asked from behind her.

The door was blonde oak, with four panels. The top panel on the left showed dancing flames, while the right had a caduceus. In the panel below the fire were the letters AC. The letters under the caduceus were RT. Alex moved her hand to trace one of the flames, breathless as she backed up to get the full picture. She bumped into Rachel, who put her arms around Alex's waist.

"This is amazing. How...?"

"There's a woman in town who carves doors. I treated her for a cut on the wrist a few months back, and I checked her catalogue, and I decided this would make a good anniversary gift for you. For us." She kissed Alex's neck. "It's been done for a few weeks. It's been driving me crazy not to say anything."

"The flames. You... having flames on your bedroom door won't be a little strange for you? Considering..."

"I'm not scared of fire anymore, Alex. Not since you came along."

Alex turned around and kissed Rachel. "Thank you. It's really gorgeous. You're really gorgeous. But you're more gorgeous than the door."

Rachel smiled. "Glad we have that clarified." They kissed again, slowly, and Alex pulled back. "Are you really cooking dinner?"

"I am. And you really should shower. We have plenty of time for anniversary stuff after we eat."

Alex nodded and stepped back, letting her hands trail down Rachel's arms to prolong contact. They finally had to separate, and Rachel went to tend to the food. Alex turned and looked at the door again. She traced the smooth, curved lines of the caduceus, unable to believe it was actually their bedroom door. It looked like something that belonged in a palace or some museum display. Just the sight of it made her feel calm, and it made her feel like the room was more special than it already was.

Not just their bedroom, their sanctuary. Their safe place. Already vastly more relaxed than she'd been when she got home, Alex finally turned the knob - which was also new, but aged - and let herself into the bedroom to prepare herself for a proper anniversary celebration.
August 5, 2012

No Place Like It

Nadine stood on the sidewalk, hands on the fencepost, and stared. The story said that the house was almost as old as the town itself, one of the first homes built when people came to Squire's Isle and decided to stay. But something over a hundred years was really just the sum of its parts. A new roof put in twenty years ago after a big storm, a chimney that had to be reconstructed, a porch added during World War II... the house itself was ageless. Partially new, partially old, but it had stood in the same spot and wore a similar face for all its years, so it got the title of landmark.

As far as Nadine was concerned, the house was ancient. It stood her entire life, a three-story sentinel on the edge of town, facing the harbor. Great people of the island had once lived there. They stood at the window, or on the original porch, or strode slowly on the widow's walk, and they plotted the town as it existed now.

A small blue-and-white sign on the front gate announced it was for sale.

Nadine knew exactly how much it cost: too damn much. The house itself might have been buyable with some financial finagling, but Nadine knew houses like this sucked money. Upkeep, repairs, just keeping it looking nice would be like burning money. But oh, how she was tempted. She ran her hand over the wood of the fence and then walked to the gate. She touched the metal latch with two fingers and smiled as she thought back to the times she'd seen the house as a child.

She couldn't think of specific memories. The image in her mind was, she knew, a pastiche of a hundred different days. Summer, hot, racing her friends down the sidewalk with the house rising like a palace between two hedges. She still had the bicycle, leaning against the tree on the sidewalk, but now she was an adult. She had a good job, she was married, and she had a life. Was it so crazy to want a house? She loved their condo, but a house was a symbol.

After a moment of hesitation, Nadine opened the gate and stepped onto the brick path that led to the porch. She felt like she was crossing a threshold, breaking that thin membrane that existed between the hallway and her parents' bedroom when she was a little girl. She felt like she was breaking a rule, resisting the urge to look around to see if she was going to get caught. She was almost to the porch when she heard a car pull up and park at the curb, and it took all of her willpower not to flee.

"Hi! Sorry, I think I'm running a little late."

Nadine smiled over her shoulder. "No, I just got here a little early."

Gail Call trotted up the walkway, smiling as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She wore black slacks and a blazer with the real estate company's insignia on the breast. She held out her hand to Nadine as she approached, and they shook.

"Right this way, Mrs. Butler." She took the keys from her pocket and led Nadine onto the porch. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but I've learned I have to ask. Are you actually interested in buying this house, or do you just want to see the inside?"

"Um."

Her grin widened. "Don't feel bad. Part of the reason I was so glad to get the listing is because I was dying to take a tour myself. I think only two kinds of people have taken the tour: those willing to admit they're not going to buy it, and those who hold onto the lie to make me feel better." She shrugged. "I don't mind being a tour guide. Come on inside."

They stepped into a shadowy vestibule and Gail opened an inner door to usher Nadine to the main house. "You have the living room to your right, and the dining room..." She gestured to the closed doors at the left. A staircase directly ahead of them led up to an open second floor. Gail continued further in before she turned and gestured around them. "Where would you like to start first?"

"I don't even know." She opened the door to look into the dining room. "The people who own it now, they haven't been living here have they?"

"Oh, no. There's been talk of the town buying it and setting it up as a museum. The history of our little island. That's why we're not really expecting a private buyer."

"Who owned it before?"

Gail smiled. "I'm not supposed to say. But there are rumors it's being sold off in order to help pay for a certain... contest."

Nadine put the pieces together. The Dugans owned the house, and they were selling it to get money for the mayoral election. So whoever bought the house would be funding Patricia Hood-Colby's opponent. Any fantasy Nadine held of actually buying the house fled, and she relaxed enough to enjoy the tour.

"Wait." She tilted her head to the side. "If the city ends up buying the house, then..." That would mean the Dugans would be using city money to pay for their campaign. She raised an eyebrow, and Gail kept her face neutral. She shrugged, and Nadine clucked her tongue. She didn't know if it was illegal, but it was certainly shady enough to warrant a bookmark in her mind.

She walked into the kitchen. French doors looked out onto a wide patio, and she could see a well-tended backyard ringed by trees. Her footsteps echoed as she walked past the hollow spots where appliances would go. A walkway that ran under the stairs connected the kitchen to the living room, and she went through quickly, head ducked in case of cobwebs. She arrived on the other side as Gail pushed open the curtains to let the natural light in.

Nadine imagined the space filled with their furniture. A couch facing two chairs, a coffee table between them, and all seats facing the fire instead of a television. Bookshelves would line the back wall. And at night, they would sit together on the couch and read, cuddling before bedtime. She saw Gail watching her and smiled. "Can we see the upstairs?"

"Sure."

At the top of the stairs, Gail led her to the right. "This is the master bedroom." She turned on the light and stepped into the center of the space like a docent. There was a window seat built in, a place where she could see Miranda settling in to look down toward the harbor before bed. Nadine remained at the doorway and let her mind fill in the blanks again. Pictures on the wall of her parents, of her and Miranda... kids? Maybe one day. A house this big would need a kid or two just to fill the space.

"So, what would you like to know?" Gail said.

The images faded and Nadine was brought back to reality. She blinked at the real estate agent and smiled apologetically. "Sorry?"

"There are a lot of facts, stories, historical tidbits... fun things about the house that they made me memorize. In the summertime, you can see the whales from this window seat."

Nadine smiled. "Actually, I think I've seen enough."

Gail raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sorry to waste your time..."

"No, never a waste. I could never afford this place, but I feel kind of like its caretaker. I'm happy to guide people through. It's been sitting vacant too long. It needs people, and footsteps in its halls." She touched the wall briefly and gestured for Nadine to lead the way out. Nadine waited on the porch as Gail locked the door again, and they walked down the brick walkway together.

"May I ask you something? You don't have to answer."

"Go ahead."

"What made up your mind? Even when you knew it was too expensive, you were still looking at it like there was a chance. But then all of a sudden it wasn't even a viable fantasy. I guess I'm just nosy."

Nadine smiled and looked back at the house. "It's a great house, and I would be honored to make it my home. Miranda and I could make this our home, if we wanted to. But it would take work." She turned and scanned the town, the peaked roofs and the green lawns, the steps leading from the hill down to the water. She shrugged and said, "There's a place that's waiting to be our home. We'll find it one day, but for now it's fun to play the fantasy."

Gail was smiling. "I like that. I might steal the concept for my next customer."

Nadine laughed. "You do that. Thanks for showing me around, Gail."

"My pleasure. Truly."

Nadine waved goodbye when Gail drove away, then climbed onto her bicycle and began the ride back to town. She was going to meet Miranda for lunch in an hour, after Miranda was done with her weekend errands. She decided to kill time by taking a swing through the neighborhoods to see if there were any For Sale signs that spoke to her. She and Miranda weren't exactly in the market for a house, but if the right house came calling they couldn't be caught unaware. She couldn't wait to find the place where they would spend the rest of their lives.

She smiled and lifted her feet from the pedals, coasting around a corner with a smile on her face as she thought of the future.

September 9, 2012

Candidate Bed Death

Michael was building up to something. Patricia could read it on his face; the way he contemplated his dinner and gave brief but concise answers to anything he was asked. The look had originally belonged to Nick, her ex-husband, and she'd first seen it when he was working up to asking her to marry him. She doubted what Michael had to say was quite that monumental, but she was prepared for anything.

They were at the dining room table, a rare family dinner that had happened almost spontaneously. Jill brought home chicken, Michael and Patricia were both there to eat, and Patricia suggested cleaning off the table to eat it properly. Jill's lesson plans went to the living room, Patricia's campaign debris was stacked on the counter and Michael's homework was deposited on the floor next to his backpack.

Now, poking at his potato salad with his fork, he took a deep breath. Patricia braced herself and locked her eyes on him so he'd know he had her full attention. He looked up, met her eye, and then looked at Jill to make sure she was paying attention, too. "So, um... there's this band. Radiation Canary. Callie really likes them, and they've said their next album will be their last one for a while. They're doing a tour to say goodbye to their fans." He tapped his fork against the edge of his plate. Patricia let the pause last; speaking up would only break his concentration.

"They're doing a concert? In, um, Seattle, in two weeks. I've got enough saved up for some tickets, and I thought that maybe I could ask Callie if she wanted to go. It could be her last chance to see them live but I don't think she can afford the ticket on her own, so." He cleared his throat. "And since the concert ends so late, I was thinking that, um, we could ask Dad if we could stay with him overnight and then just come back in the morning."

Jill looked at Patricia, passing the hot potato to her. Patricia closed one eye. "You want to go on an overnight date with your girlfriend?"

"Well, we'd... Dad has a guest room, right? And I would sleep on the couch or whatever. It's just easier than leaving the concert and driving up to the ferry and riding back... I mean, we'd be getting back at around two in the morning, if not later, so it just makes more sense."

"Have you talked to your Dad about it?" Jill asked.

Michael shook his head. "I wanted to make sure it was okay with you before I asked him, and I wanted to make sure he said it was okay before I bought the tickets, and I wanted to have the tickets before I brought it up to Callie."

"Good plan." Jill looked at Patricia. She raised an eyebrow saying she was okay with it, but she wasn't going to say so out loud until Patricia had weighed in. Patricia was grateful for that; Nick would have agreed immediately and tried to make her the bad guy.

"I don't know, Mike. It's kind of a big deal."

"I know. I should have brought it up before, but I didn't know how to... I had to figure out a way it would work. I just know Callie would really want to go, but she's not letting herself because she can't afford it. And I can, and I want to take her." He pushed around his food with the tines of his fork and Patricia caved.

"Okay." He looked up, and his expression of gratitude was enough of a reward for her. She smiled. "The tickets will probably sell out pretty quick if it's a farewell concert. Why don't you go ahead and jump online, see if you can get some good ones. If they cost too much, Jill and I can help you out."

Jill nodded. "Yeah. We'd love to."

He shook his head. "No. I mean, thanks. But I didn't want you to pay for any of it. I know you've been spending a lot on the campaign. I don't want to ask for anything else. The concert money is saved from the money Dad sends me and my allowance. Which, I guess technically--"

Jill laughed. "Just go on before all the good seats are taken."

"But I haven't okayed it with Dad yet. If he doesn't want me to stay with him--"

Patricia said, "He'll want to meet Callie. And he'll be _thrilled_ to have you overnight. Come to think of it, what day is the concert? A Friday?" Michael nodded. "Maybe he can show you and Callie around the city on Saturday. Make a weekend out of it."

"Really? Cool. But I don't want to buy the tickets and then get stuck without a place to stay. Just in case. Is it too late to call him tonight?"

"Yes," Jill said. "But how about this? If your Dad says no, I'll chaperone."

"Thank you." He stood up and hugged Patricia, then Jill. "Can I be excused?"

Patricia waved him off, and he went to retrieve his laptop. Jill grinned and picked up a piece of chicken. "You made the right decision. I went to a concert with a girlfriend when I was Michael's age, and it was amazing."

"And you behaved yourselves the entire time?"

Jill nodded. "Well, we got a little rambunctious during the Bible reading, and we held hands for five whole seconds on the bus there, but it was a different time."

Patricia laughed and craned her neck to make sure Michael wasn't lingering in the living room. "I'm just having horrible flashbacks to when I was his age. I lost my virginity around that time."

"Oh?" Jill raised an eyebrow. "On an overnight trip?"

"No, in my bedroom while my parents were downstairs watching TV." She smiled and shrugged in surrender. "It'll happen no matter how many barriers you put up. Since we're making such a big deal about it, trusting him to behave, odds are probably better that nothing sexual happens while he's away." She rested her elbows on the table, her hands folded together. "Of course, it means you and I will be home alone for an entire night. Maybe an entire morning, too."

"Hm." Jill licked some grease from her thumb. "I could do a load of laundry."

Patricia pressed the arch of her foot against Jill's ankle and slid her toes up under the cuff of Jill's pants leg.

"Your foot is on me."

"Is it?"

Jill nodded, her face the picture of innocence. "Is it sexually suggestive contact?"

"Could be."

Jill smiled. "Well, you can understand how I might be unfamiliar with the concept." Patricia pressed her lips together, but Jill sidestepped the coming apology. "Hey, I'm not blaming you. You've been running a hundred miles an hour on the campaign, and I've been dealing with school starting up again. As tired as we are at the end of the day, just spooning takes it out of me. But I do love the spooning."

Patricia chuckled. "It's a very nice way to end a hectic day. I've just felt bad since we... 'missed' our anniversary."

Jill nodded. They had planned to end their celebration by making love, but a day of shopping for school supplies with Michael, plus Jill trying to get her lesson plans squared away for the shockingly-fast approaching first day of school, and Patricia had been stuck on the phone with her campaign manager for most of the evening. They had a glass of wine, made out in bed for a while, but eventually begged off. They were both too exhausted to make it worthwhile. Things hadn't really settled down since, and they were setting a personal record for dry spells.

Patricia said, "So if Nick agrees... that night's just going to be you and me. No papers to grade, no speeches to prepare, just you and me."

"Sounds like a very nice plan." She leaned in and kissed Patricia, lingering until she heard Michael's bedroom door close. When he came back into the dining room, Jill smiled when she saw how relieved he looked. "Well? Got the tickets?"

"Yeah. I'm going to call Dad tomorrow, and then depending on what he says, I'll ask Callie."

"She'll say yes," Patricia said.

Michael nodded. "Yeah. She's crazy about Radiation Canary."

"She's crazy about you, too," Patricia said. Michael blushed and ducked his chin. "Why don't you go ahead and call her tonight? She could probably use the extra time to convince her parents to let her go, and you know you're going no matter what Dad says. You can take your food into the bedroom if you want some privacy. Just this once, and remember to put your dishes in the sink when you're done."

He thanked her again and hurried out. Jill chuckled and said, "You know, there's a chance Nick will say no and I'll be stuck chaperoning him."

"So I'll just go with you. We'll get a hotel room, and then... what, concerts are about two hours? It's not a whole night, but it's plenty long enough to get to know each other again." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I can't believe my sex life is once again dependent on Nick."

"Ew," Jill said.

"Sorry." She took Jill's hand and squeezed. Whatever happened, their dry spell was coming to an end. All they had to do was work out the details. She had a feeling they could handle it, whatever Nick said.

#

Jill was in bed with her laptop, one earbud in while the other dangled. Patricia came in and quietly closed the door. "I texted Nick to kind of feel him out. I told him Mike was considering an overnight trip with a friend, and wondered if his guest room was available." Jill raised her eyebrows in hope. "I think the only problem will be getting Michael and Callie back before school on Monday."

"Awesome," Jill said. "Michael's going to be thrilled. And as a bonus, we get our weekend." She made fists with both hands and shook them excitedly.

Patricia mimicked Jill's little celebration, then started toward the bathroom. "What are you listening to?"

"I'm on Radiation Canary's website, listening to some of their samples. They're actually really good." Patricia left the bathroom door open as she undressed. "It's an all-woman band, and the two leads are gay. And very, very hot."

Patricia's laugh echoed off the shower stall. "Don't get any ideas."

"Hey, I'm not getting anything from you. I need my fantasies."

"Take out the headphones. I want to hear them, too."

Jill put her laptop down on the bed and turned it so the speakers faced the bathroom. She restarted the song, then found a way so that all the songs would repeat. According to the site, it was "thirty full minutes of free music!" She slipped out of bed and took off her pajamas, stepping out of the baggy pants and tiptoeing to the bathroom. Patricia had her head bowed under the spray, one hand resting against the tile as she idly plucked at the curls to keep them from tangling. Jill stepped into the stall and embraced Patricia from behind.

"Hey..." Patricia stroked Jill's arms where they crossed her stomach, spreading moisture over the dry skin until they were both dripping.

"I decided not to wait until the concert to break our dry spell." She kissed Patricia's ear. "I've missed you."

Patricia turned around in Jill's arms and they kissed. Jill had done the math before going to bed. The last time they made love was April, a few weeks after Easter. A whole summer gone by, a wasted three months. They pressed hungrily against each other, moaning directions rather than taking the time to form words. Patricia kissed from Jill's mouth to her cheek, to her earlobe and down her neck. Her hand moved from Jill's hip to her thigh, and Jill leaned to one side. She looked down, careful to put her foot on something non-slippery as Patricia's hand pressed against her.

"Trish..."

Patricia pressed against Jill, who put her arms around Patricia's neck and sagged against her. She arched her back, their cheeks pressed together as Jill thrust a few times and then tensed.

"Sh, it's okay," Patricia whispered into the shell of Jill's ear, her breath ragged. "Just come for me. It's okay..." Jill came, and Patricia shuddered as the muscles relaxed around her fingers. They pulled apart, Jill's weight still resting against Patricia, and they kissed softly. "It has been a while."

"Yeah." Jill chuckled. "Pretty quick. Sorry."

"No." She kissed the corners of Jill's mouth. "It was an appetizer. Wash my hair... we can finish up in bed."

Jill grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

They reluctantly pulled apart and Patricia turned around. She closed her eyes as Jill's fingers began moving through her hair, and she felt warmth spreading in her belly. She knew they wouldn't be too tired tonight, and the anticipation was familiar but unusual. She felt like she used to when she was about to sleep with someone for the first time. After, what, five months? Had they really gone nearly half a year without making love? That was unacceptable. They might as well be virgins again. She rocked her hips back, fitting them against Jill's as her hair was lovingly shampooed.

Mayor or not, she wasn't going to let another night go by without being with her wife, and five months was a record they were never, ever going to get close to breaking.

It was the one campaign promise she knew she would work tirelessly to keep.
October 7, 2012

October Surprise

Though the volume was usually turned down so low it was barely audible over the sounds of cooking, tonight Molly had moved the radio to a central location and turned it up so they wouldn't miss anything. The mayoral debate was happening across town in the Rose Theatre, and KELF was broadcasting it live to anyone who couldn't make it. Business was slow enough that listening didn't get in the way of their work, so Clifton was fine with having it on.

"Do you think she'll win?" Shane asked as she placed her last order on the pass-through. A waitress appeared as if conjured and whisked it away.

"She has it locked up." Molly turned and rested her hips against the edge of the prep table. "Why? You have doubts?"

Shane shrugged. "The Dugans have a lot of money and influence. They're not going to give up that seat willingly, and they wouldn't have brought in Tobias Collins if they didn't believe he could get the job done. He has supporters. You've seen the same signs I have."

"Yeah. Ten Collins' signs and thirty Hood-Colby signs."

"I'm just saying that there's a chance he could pull the rug out from under her. Haven't you ever heard of the October surprise?"

"I try to ignore politics." Another order came up and Molly took the slip. She turned her back to Shane and began preparing it. "What's an October surprise?"

"It's a big news story or a revelation that can upset the election. Like in '08 when the economy tanked. McCain never recovered from that and Obama stepped in to win the whole thing."

"So you're saying the economic downturn was a campaign maneuver?"

"No, I'm saying it was... like a natural disaster that one campaign handled better than the other."

Molly shrugged. "It's still a win. The other side made a mistake, you didn't, so you make the extra goal and get carried off the field."

"Well, whatever happens, I'm just saying we can't get Patricia Hood-Colby fitted for the hat just yet."

Molly twisted and raised an eyebrow at her. "What hat?"

"The mayor hat."

"Really. What does it look like?"

"It's a purple top hat with a big red sunflower on the band."

Molly laughed. "Well, if anyone can pull it off..." She focused on her cooking for a few minutes as they continued to listen to the debate. Kate Price was the moderator on behalf of the island's newspaper, and she presented her next question to Patricia's opponent, Tobias Collins.

"Mr. Collins, there has been a lot of speculation about your arrival into the race. Some people claim that you're only serving as a figurehead for the Dugan family. How do you respond to these allegations?"

Collins was six-seven and carried himself like an SUV, and his voice seemed to fill the room even when filtered through a radio speakers. _"I'm glad you asked me that, Kate. It's true that I was brought here by my dear friends, the Dugans, and it was their hope that I would take the seat vacated by their kin. But any implication of impropriety is simply false. To claim so is to imply I could win any election I wanted, and I'm not the President of the United States."_

Patricia said, _"The right money in the right places can buy you a lot of things, Mr. Collins. The Dugan family might not be able to get you into the White House, but they can certainly get you a mayor's seat in December Harbor, Washington. Those are the allegations, sir."_

"Thank you, Mrs. Hood-Colby, for clarifying the issue. I came to this island on behalf of my friends because they thought I could serve this town well. And upon arriving, I found a beautiful town full of gracious and friendly people. I've only been here six months and yet I feel like this is my home. I've grown to love this island, and I've become truly passionate about it's future. That's why, for the last four weeks until the election, my campaign is cutting ties with the Dugan family."

Molly turned to look at the radio and then glared at Shane.

Shane shook her head. "I did not jinx anything."

_"That's a bold statement, Mr. Collins,"_ Patricia said. _"One that perhaps would have carried more weight at the beginning of the campaign than it does now, in the home stretch."_

"I do admit this is more of a good faith gesture than actual hardship. But surely even you, as humble as you are, Mrs. Hood-Colby, can't claim we're on equal footing. I've been playing catch-up with you since I entered the race and I daresay I'm only now coming within arm's reach of your poll numbers. Cutting myself off from the Dugans now is definitely putting myself at a disadvantage."

Patricia said, _"That's the kind of disadvantage I would like, to be honest."_

Some laughter was heard from the audience, but Collins' laugh overpowered them all. _"You have a point. But I wanted this last stretch of the election to be about the truth. Since I've been here, you have been running on the prospect that you're two different things. You're a breath of fresh air, but you're also a remnant of the outgoing administration. Regardless of how I came into the race, I am the only outsider choice here. For the past handful of years, the Dugans have bequeathed their office to a family member of their choosing. When I look at you, Mrs. Hood-Colby, I see a unique continuation of that history."_

Molly whispered, "That bastard. He turned it around on her. Now everything she's been saying about the Dugans legacy can apply to her."

"Patricia, would you like to make a rebuttal?"

_"Yes, Kate. Thank you."_ There was a pause before Patricia said, _"But there's no need for one. People on this island know me, and they know the differences I will bring to the table. If they've listened tonight, and if they've paid attention to my campaign at all, they'll know that I'm offering them something besides more of the same."_

"There's your October surprise," Molly muttered.

Shane said, "Yeah. What a douchy move."

Another order came up, and they put aside political talk to focus on their work. Forty-five minutes later, Clifton came into the kitchen and knocked on the side of the counter. "Molly, Shane. You two mind sticking around a little late tonight? We have a special party coming in that might push us past closing."

Molly said, "I don't know. My girlfriend doesn't like it when I work late."

"She sounds like a bitch," Shane said. "You should dump her and date me instead."

"I'll just screw around with you."

Clifton whistled. "Is that a yes?"

"Sorry, Clif. How big is the party?"

"They think around ten to fifteen."

"Whoa. Sure. If you're willing to pay us to be here, we'll be here."

He waved his thanks and ducked back out to the main room.

An hour later the dining room was mostly empty when the 'special party' arrived. Molly was at the kitchen door to get a look at who it was and, when she recognized the guest of honor, she motioned Shane over. "Look who we're cooking for."

Shane pressed against Molly's side and looked out. She didn't recognize most of the people, but a tall brunette was being led across the room to a large table by the window. She was tall and olive-skinned, wearing a black dress suit over a jade-green blouse. The woman tugging her along was shorter and dark blonde, also dressed to the nines. Considering where they had come from, it wasn't surprising that they were so dressed up.

"That's Patricia Hood-Colby and her wife."

Molly nodded. "Looks like we're the post-debate dinner destination for the Hood-Colby entourage."

Two waitresses had stayed to take the orders, which Molly and Shane attacked with military precision. Clifton came back to help out. When they were down to only three orders left, Clifton told Molly she could take a quick smoke break if she wanted. She agreed and finished her current order before she went into the alley through the back entrance. She had just lit up when she heard a quiet, sharp intake of breath.

The alley behind Gail's led to Joe Lack's Pizza and also contained an exterior staircase that led to the private apartment above the restaurant. Late at night, when the shadows were deep enough, the occasional adventurous couple would try to steal a few romantic moments in the darkness. Molly held her cigarette by her side and stepped forward.

"Hey. Come on, get out of there."

"Shit. Sorry." A lone woman emerged from the shadows. From the way she was wiping her face, Molly realized the woman had been crying. "I didn't think anyone would come back here."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just a little, um. Overwhelmed. That's all."

The streetlights were angled so that there was only a slender triangle of light in the alley, and the woman was standing just outside of the glow. Despite being an obscure blur of shadows, Molly recognized the voice. She had just listened to it on the radio.

"Why are you out here by yourself? You have a room full of supporters..."

"Yeah. They're why I'm out here alone. Tonight was bad. It was bad, and I feel like shit, and I just needed to get it out and I didn't want any of them see me." She sighed heavily. "They're all counting on me. They've put ten months of their lives into this campaign, and they're wearing buttons with my name on it, and if I fail... what can I say to them? Sorry? Better luck next time? And my wife... my dear, sweet wife who told me to take this leap. I took her with me. I jumped out of an airplane with her and now I'm just hoping that we have a parachute. How can I let her see that I'm worried? How can I let anyone see that I'm scared to death we're going to fail?"

Molly took a drag off her cigarette. "Well... they know. They know how scared you are. You're only human. They're waiting for you to come to them and say... 'Hey. I need your help and your support.'" She scuffed her shoe on the ground. "No one expects you to do it alone. Lean on them. It's what they're there for."

Patricia was quiet for a long moment and then nodded. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right." She smiled. "Go on. You're the woman of the hour. They're probably waiting for you."

"Yeah. And... hey. Can this just be between us? I don't want to see some gossip piece about my breakdown in the paper?"

"The paper? Lady, I can't see your face. I have no idea who you are."

Patricia chuckled. "Right. Thanks."

She started to walk back toward the boardwalk, but Molly stopped her. "Hey. When you get back in there, get the Ice Orca. It's made of brownies and vanilla ice cream covered in hot fudge. It's big enough for two. Share it with your wife and tell the waitress Molly says it's on her. It isn't consolation for a bad night... it's a premature victory snack."

"Thank you, Molly."

Molly said, "You don't have to win for your supporters. I know, I'm one of them. All you have to do is fight against the people who have had a stranglehold on this town for as long as I've been alive. As far as I'm concerned, you've done that job already. You've shown that they're not a foregone conclusion. No matter what happens a month from now, you've won."

Patricia stared at her, now in the light but backlit so that she was still faceless. "Thank you, Molly."

Molly lifted her cigarette in a quick salute. "You're welcome, Madame Mayor."

"Let us pray." Patricia waved and turned to leave, the light finally shining on her face. Molly had to admit the candidate was beautiful. She finished her cigarette and went back inside to relieve Clifton.

"Charge me for an Ice Orca. Patricia Hood-Colby is going to order one for dessert and I told her it was on me."

Clifton agreed and went out to get the dessert from the freezer. Shane whistled as she put a dish on the pass-through. "Pricey gift."

Molly shrugged and smiled. "You know me. I'm happy to do my part for the campaign." She winked at Shane and finished the meal Clifton had been preparing.
November 4, 2012

Sunday Drive

The house seemed cavernous, the halls echoing with the sound of moving men carrying the last few boxes out to the car. Alicia stayed in the front hall, offering to help carry whatever boxes the moving men needed an extra hand with before returning to her post at the bottom of the stairs. Laura was in the kitchen supervising the packing of their china, so Alicia was content to wait as long as it took. It felt odd to see the mansion so gutted. All that remained were fixtures that belonged to whomever owned the house; couches, chairs, a few clocks hanging on the walls, and most of the bedroom furnishing.

It didn't matter which candidate won the election on Tuesday. Whichever it was would inherit the mayor's mansion, so Jameson Dugan and his wife had to vacate the premises. They didn't technically have to be out by Election Day, but James wanted to get it done as soon as possible.

Laura's arrival in the foyer was announced by the click of her shoes on the tile floor. Alicia turned and smiled as her employer's wife entered the foyer. She wore an old sweatshirt and jeans instead of her usual finery, her hair pulled back into a lazy knot. To Alicia's eyes, she was beautiful. Laura paused and rolled up her sleeves, then offered Alicia a tired smile.

"Thank you for waiting. I wouldn't have been able to relax if I didn't watch them with my own eyes."

"I understand."

Laura rubbed her hands together. "Supervising anything else would just make me sad. I think I'm ready for that drive I asked about earlier."

"Of course, Mrs. Dugan."

They walked out of the house together and Alicia opened the back door of the sedan. Laura thanked her with a dip of her chin, then bent down and slid into the car. Alicia shut the door, got behind the wheel, and took off her chauffeuse cap. She tossed it into the passenger seat but let her hair up as she guided the car down the circular driveway and toward the property's front gate. She used a button on the sun visor to click the gate open, and it rolled away just in time for Alicia to pass through it.

"You've gotten pretty good at that."

Alicia smiled. "I've had a lot of practice, ma'am. Where would you like me to take you today?"

Laura was gazing out the window. "For now, just drive north, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

She took the scenic route down Spring Street, turning left after they passed Coffee Table Books. After they passed the rows of tourist shops and the whaling museum, she took a side street and circled the high school before taking one of the small two-lane roads that led out of the small town. They were quickly surrounded on both sides by trees, arterial gravel roads branching off every now and again before disappearing into the darkness.

When they neared Sholeh Village, Alicia glanced in the rearview mirror. "Should I find a place to park?"

Laura looked away from the window, hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Drive on, please?"

"Of course, ma'am."

Laura smiled. "We're outside town limits, Alicia."

"Right." She smiled back at her. When they were in December Harbor, Alicia was the driver for the Dugan family. Outside of town and within the sanctity of the Dugan mansion, Alicia and Laura had been lovers for the past four years. Jameson Dugan was well aware of their relationship and approved of it. His marriage to Laura was one of convenience, a necessity to cover up the fact that he also was gay. It was the closest-kept secret on Squire's Isle, and Alicia wondered if there was any relief that the administration was ending without it being leaked or exposed in some way.

She took a side road that took them near the northern tip of the island. Pleasure craft and whale watching boats zipped across the strait between Squire's Isle and their neighbor, cutting across the still blue waters without making the narrow passage look crowded. It was easy to overlook the boats to focus on the natural beauty that surrounded them.

"Do you think I'm a gold-digger?"

Alicia was startled, both by the sudden question and the unexpectedness of Laura speaking. "Are you asking as my employer or my lover?"

"I would hope your answer is the same either way."

"It is. I would just sugarcoat it a little more if I'm talking to my boss. As your lover, I'll say definitely not. You and Mr. Dugan both used each other, but it was mutually beneficial. You both got what you wanted and no one was deceived."

"Hm."

Alicia looked at Laura in the mirror. "Are you okay, Lo?"

"Yes. It's just been a hectic few weeks." She stroked her hair and looked at her watch. "Do you mind continuing further south?"

"Of course not."

"Stay as near to the coastline as you can. I want to see the water."

They continued south along the island's western edge in silence. Alicia made a mental note when they passed the road that would have taken them back east toward December Harbor. Laura didn't comment, so she continued on.

Where the road cut to the south, Laura began to scan on either side of the car until she spotted a rest area. "There. Pull in there."

Alicia did as she was told. The parking lot was empty, since they were in the middle of the slow tourism season, so she took a central spot and climbed out of the car. Laura opened her own door and got out before Alicia could do it for her. She shivered in the cold, so Alicia slipped off her uniform jacket and draped it over her lover's shoulders. It left her in a thin white dress shirt, but she could handle the cold.

Her black tie whipped in the breeze as they walked to one of the picnic tables that stood in a clearing with a view of the water. Laura sat on the bench, but Alicia perched on the table's top. Laura scooted closer to her, using Alicia to block the wind, and put her head down on Alicia's thigh. Alicia stroked Laura's hair and looked out at the water, imagining she could see the cold air skimming the glassy surface with a threat of turning it to ice.

"Have you thought about what happens on Wednesday?"

"Nothing happens on Wednesday," Alicia said. "Whoever is elected doesn't take over until January, so that's what I've been thinking about."

"What have you come up with?"

Alicia curled one loose strand of Laura's hair around her finger. "I want to go where you go. But if that's... I mean, if it doesn't work with your plans, I have other options."

Laura sat up and turned to look at Alicia. "James and I are getting a divorce."

It was hardly a surprise, but Alicia still hadn't expected to hear it. "Oh."

"Yeah." She looked out at the water again. "It's been a tough year for him. His family has only stood by his side because it would look bad if they completely cut him off, but they're furious with him for giving up the mayor's office. They still have the paper, the radio station... they have a lot of power in this town. They're going to make it hell for him if he stays, so he's decided to leave. I'm not going with him."

"Oh."

"You said that already."

"Are... a-are you staying for me?"

Laura looked at her again. "Is that okay? I don't want to put pressure on you."

Alicia cupped Laura's face and bent down to kiss her. Laura stretched, putting her hand on the back of Alicia's head to prolong the contact. Her tongue brushed over Alicia's bottom lip and then into her mouth. Alicia held the kiss and then pulled back as far as she could, resting her forehead against Laura's.

"I'm going to stay here. I'm going to drive a cab again." She stroked Laura's hair. "You're sure you won't be shell-shocked? Going from the most powerful woman on the island to dating a cabbie? I can't buy you jewels or put you up in a mansion."

"I only need one room as long as you're in it. Give me a jail cell with a bunk bed and a hot plate, I'm happy. And don't worry about the Dugans making life unbearable for me. James has agreed to play the outcast, so we can act like I'm siding with his family."

Alicia looked out at the water. "Poor Mr. Dugan."

"He accepted how it was going to be long before he backed Patricia. He thought it was more important to do what was right, rather than what was easy."

"Where's he going to go?"

"Spokane. The family has some cousins out there who can get him back on his feet. And moving to a new town, it'll be easier for him to... to be himself." She slipped her hand into Alicia's and brought it to her lips, kissing the knuckles. "And I can be myself. I'm going to come out on Nadine Butler's radio show. Not in the next few days or weeks, but when the dust from the election has settled. Then you and I can be together the way we should have been four years ago. If you'd like that."

Alicia was grateful for the sharp wind blowing off the water. She blinked rapidly and nodded, then wrapped her arms around Laura.

"Yeah. I'd like that a lot."

Laura nodded and wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Well. Good." She settled against Alicia's side and looked out to sea again. "And maybe once we're settled, I can drive _you_ all over town once in a while."

"Hey, now. Don't get crazy." Alicia smiled and kissed the top of Laura's head. "I love you, Lo."

"I love you, too, Sha."

"When do you want to head back?"

"When it gets too cold to stay."

Alicia nodded and slid down to join Laura on the bench. They put their arms around each other and watched as the wind began pushing up waves and dropping the temperature. Some people might have argued it was already too cold, but body heat made a lot of difference. They were pressed tight against each other, shivering but not yet ready to give in, both silently deciding that they could bear the weather for just a few more minutes.
December 9, 2012

A Warm December

Thanksgiving was long enough in the past that people had resumed their normal everyday routines, albeit with one eye on the big holiday that loomed at the end of the year. Hanukkah marked the exact day when Christmas was as far into the future as Thanksgiving was in the past, the tipping point of holiday cheer. Stores had time to restock their turkey, ham, pumpkin pie, and cranberry reserves, and people still had time to shop without hitting the Black Friday rush or the pre-Christmas panic.

Callie Marcus was bundled up in her thick coat and scarf, tugging off one mitten with her teeth as she fished the keys from the pocket of her jeans. Her cheeks were almost as red as her knit cap, teeth already chattering just from the short walk from the parking lot to work. Butler Photography was usually closed on Sundays, but Mrs. Butler had given her permission to use the darkroom for a personal project.

She let herself in and took off her winter gear, draping it on the front counter that was her usual domain. She checked the overnight deposit to see if anyone had left any film to be developed, but the box was empty. The radio behind the counter was tuned to KELF, since the owner's daughter worked there, but Callie switched it to a different station since she'd be alone. The school had a Photography Room that she could use, but the teachers had succumbed to the domination of digital, and their equipment for film was dated and obsolete.

Callie loved digital film. She loved that she was able to pull out her phone and take a picture whenever she wanted. But something about the weight of an actual camera, the snap of it, the brilliant flash of light... it all combined to make her feel like she was actually capturing a memory rather than just taking a picture. She had an old Nikon camera - a fact that always put Paul Simon's voice in her head when she mentioned it to someone \- with a strap that let it hang around her neck. She was so used to the weight that once she put it on she could ignore it with ease.

The last time she'd worn it was the night of Patricia Hood-Colby's watch party. She'd held off developing the film during lunch breaks because she didn't want to take up time or equipment that could be used for paying customers. She wanted to take her time and develop them right. Just because it was possible to print a perfect shot with the punch of a button didn't mean the old-school process deserved to be forgotten.

Her father was surprised to learn she'd gotten the job, mainly because he was shocked photography shops still existed. But even with a camera in everyone's pocket, the shop provided other services that kept them relevant. They sold camera equipment for people like Callie who wanted to preserve the craft of picture-taking, lenses and replacement parts and film. They also provided portrait-taking for graduation, yearbook photos, Christmas cards, birth announcements, and the like.

In the six months Callie had been working for them, she'd put together a website for the shop that educated people of what they offered. Photo restorations, scanning old pictures to preserve them online... The shop may not have been doing exactly the same work as they'd done twenty years ago, but there was a lot of work left for them to do.

She spent the morning developing the pictures she had taken on election night. Some of them were posed - Michael and some of her friends, the Hood-Colby family standing in front of a large poster with Patricia's name on it, partygoers displaying their "I Voted" stickers - but she was after the candid shots. She had discovered the treasures that were possible by keeping the camera at chest level and snapping a quick, unframed photograph of a general area.

One of those pictures was of Patricia and Jill Hood-Colby, and she was dying to see how it had turned out. She watched as it faded into being and smiled at the result. It was definitely going to be a successful picture.

When she finished with her roll, she left the photos and bundled herself back up for another jaunt into the freezing air. Coffee Table Books was just down the street and she was dying for a cup of that new hot chocolate they were selling, the Spyhopper. Michael had bought her one after school the day it was introduced, and she'd fallen in love immediately. It was--

*

"--really easy to make. Okay, pay attention."

Amy Wellis placed the two cups of hot chocolate on the counter in front of her newest employee, a girl named Sofia. "The whipped cream, you want to apply in a circular pattern so that it leaves a divot in the middle." She demonstrated, leaving a frothy circle of wavy white around the rim of the cup with a dip in the center. She plucked a full-sized marshmallow from the bin and placed it in the perfectly-shaped hole, and the whipped cream seemed to surround it. "And the chocolate sprinkles..." She dusted them in the cream all around the marshmallow

"And that," Amy said with a smile, "is how you make a Spyhopper."

"But why is it called that?" Sofia asked.

Amy handed the two demonstration glasses over the counter to the customers. "It's named after something orcas do. They stand straight up out of the water to take a look around. It's not a breach, it's just a little look-around. When the harbor is icy like it is now, it makes the water look like whipped cream. And there you have it. Think you can handle it?"

"Sure," Sofia said with a smile.

Amy brushed her arm and went to check on the next mini-crisis. The Spyhopper was the result of Kate's idle musing over a cup of cocoa the previous Christmas. She had bemoaned the fact that cocoa only came with tiny marshmallows. Amy had come up with the variation for Kate alone, but Kate had insisted it was something that needed to be sold. So Amy waited until the holiday season rolled around again and started selling it the week before Thanksgiving.

The result was an entire island of people who seemed addicted to the new drink. Her first fear had been that using large marshmallows would be cost-prohibitive, but she was making enough of a profit that the added expense was hardly noticeable. She spelled Casey on the cash register, taking payment from a young redheaded girl who was holding a book she'd retrieved from the shelves.

"Which one did you get?" Amy asked. She may have kept the books in the store out of ambivalence, but she liked seeing what her customers chose.

The girl showed off the cover. "It's a book on photography."

"Ah, very cool. Enjoy your read, and enjoy the drink. Happy holidays!"

"Thanks, you too."

Amy wished she could spend more time with the customers, but Sundays were always insane. The regulars knew to stay away during the peak tourism hours when the hordes descended. It was even worse in the weeks between Christmas and Thanksgiving. It seemed like she didn't have a chance to stop and breathe until the doors were shut and the sign was flipped to Closed. Amy smiled at the next person in line. "Hi. What was your--"

*

"--order up!" Molly Page slid the plate into the pass-through, rang the bell, and tugged another order slip off the wheel. She was grateful that her rhythm hadn't suffered since she was working with a replacement crew. Shane was home sick and, as much as Molly wanted to be there to take care of her, Gail's couldn't afford to have both of them out of commission on one of the busiest days of the week. The after-church lunch rush was still going strong, but her backup sous chef was handling it well. She had no reason to think he would do poorly; he was Shane's usual backup and had worked the same number of rush shifts. But she still missed Shane. The lack of their shorthand made the kitchen seem silent, even though it was anything but.

Before she could start on the next order, Shane's understudy held out his hand for it. "I'll take it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. We're on the downward slide. You can go ahead and take a cigarette break if you want."

"Sure." She handed him the slip and began untying her apron. "When I get back we can swap." He nodded and she went to retrieve her coat. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and stepped out, gasping as the wind swirled snow in through the door around her. She pulled the door shut and moved immediately toward the front of Joe Lack's pizza. The door was closed, of course, but the heat from their pizza ovens formed a small bubble of warmth in one corner of the alcove.

She took out her cell phone even though she knew Shane was probably napping. After two rings it switched to voicemail.

Shane's voice was tinny and metallic. "You've reached Shane Sanborn. Why?"

Molly smiled. "Hey, Shane. I just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything. I can probably get away for twenty minutes or so, or I could stop by somewhere on my way home and pick you up something." She remembered Shane's red nose and heavy eyelids as she burrowed into the blankets that morning, coughing and clutching a Kleenex like it was a life preserver. "I hope you're feeling better. I really miss you." She used the toe of her shoe to push sugar-fine snow around on the wooden deck. She didn't have much else to say, but she didn't want to hang up. "Call me back when you get this. Leave a message. I don't care if it's coughing and sneezing, I just want to hear you. I love you. All right. Get back to bed."

She hung up and stuck the phone back in her pocket. Her fingers brushed the side of her cigarettes, and she considered taking one out and smoking it. Technically her break was twenty minutes, and she'd barely been outside for a fraction of that. Finally she walked back to the kitchen door and stepped back into the warmth.

After she hung up her coat and scarf, she went back to her position on the line. The replacement was still working on the order he'd taken from her when she left.

"That was quick."

"I decided to skip it. I'll work through and go home a little early. My girlfriend is sick."

"Oh. That's too bad." He glazed the salmon. "Tell you what. I'll take my break when the rush slows down a little, and when I get back you can just head out."

Molly tried not to get too excited at the prospect. "I can't leave you hanging on Sunday afternoon."

"You're not. I got my crew, I got your crew, we'll be fine. Your girl is sick."

"Thanks." She looked at the clock. "I'll give you two more hours at least."

He nodded and went back to work, and Molly took the next order off the wheel. Now that she knew she was going home early, she had a new burst of energy. Part of her felt like if she worked fast enough, she could prepare a plate for every citizen of Squire's Isle and there'd be no reason to stay. A quick glance out to the dining room made her feel like every citizen might actually be out there. The cold was keeping the line from extending through the door, like it did on most Sundays during big tourist weekends, but it was still a daunting crowd. She put it out of her mind and brushed her hand against the stove.

She hissed and pressed a wet towel against it.

"You all right?"

"Yeah," Molly said. "Just a little--

*

"--burn. Basically just common sense tips." Alex Crawford looked down at the notes she was holding. She hated public speaking, and even giving winter safety tips to the Homeowners Association at Sandpiper Condos counted as a large group. "Keep your trees well-watered, make sure you always have plenty of water in the tree stands. This should go without saying, but lit candles are not a good decoration. I know it looks pretty, but they make those plug-in electrical kinds for a reason. And that brings me to overloaded outlets... just don't. Just because you can theoretically plug an extension cord into another extension cord doesn't mean you should."

The assembly laughed, at least those who were paying attention. Alex didn't blame the ones who had faded away. Most of the tips were plain common sense, but she knew that it all needed to be said. The previous Christmas she had responded to seven house fires caused by easily-preventable means.

"Heat sources will dry out your tree in no time flat, and then you've got a six-foot piece of tinder standing in your living room. So keep it away from vents, fireplaces, the kitchen. I've yet to meet anyone who put their tree in a kitchen, but hey, I'm no decorator." More chuckles. She scratched her neck and went back to her notes.

"I know we're not scheduled for a winter storm, but just in case... remember your safety in power outages. Generators can be a fire hazard, and in an enclosed space they can take you out a lot quicker than you'd think. Well-ventilation may seem counter-intuitive when it's this cold but it could save your life. I'm happy to report that Thanksgiving passed without any, uh, turkeys getting revenge by burning down anyone's houses. So well-done on that."

She rolled up the notes and rested her hands on the lectern. "I'm not going to treat you like you're little kids. The tips are all written out on the flyer you're going to get, so just heed those. Use common sense. I like you people just fine, and I'd love to be invited to your holiday parties, but I don't want to crash them even if I make up for it by saving your lives. Thanks for coming by today and listening to what I had to say, and I hope you all have a very wonderful holiday. I hope I don't drop by any of your houses uninvited this year."

The group chuckled and began to split up, and Alex gathered her notes. The head of the condo board, a silver-haired man named Arthur, came up and shook her hand.

"Thank you for taking the time to do this, Chief Crawford."

"It's my pleasure. If I can get paid for doing this instead of actually putting out the fires, I'm happy to do it. I just hope they didn't get too bored."

He scoffed and shook his head. "No, no. We used to have Don Bradley do these, and the man was so dry he constituted a fire danger. You kept it light, didn't try to act like you were telling them something they didn't know... it's like the safety instructions on an airplane, ya know? We can see where the exits are, but we like having someone point them out."

Alex smiled. "If you need me to do any refreshers, let me know. We had a pretty good group, but that couldn't have been every resident who lives here in Sandpiper."

"No, no." He looked at the empty chairs and the people who were leaving. "We have a couple of no-shows. But I'll put the ditto sheets in the front office and they can come by to pick them up at their leisure." He leaned forward and said, "Don't worry. I'm sure their decision to stay home has nothing to do with you."

Alex laughed. "Right. I'm not worried. This close to Christmas, I'm sure most people have better things to do than listen to me ramble on about fire safety. I'm just glad you didn't make it mandatory. It means everyone who _did_ show up actually wanted to--"

*

"--come... don't stop." Nadine closed her eyes, unable to believe she was close to her fifth orgasm in ten hours. The living room was the latest location in their recent debauchery, with Nadine slouched in the armchair with her legs draped over Miranda's shoulders. Her pants were on the floor next to the coffee table, her underwear held aside by two fingers while the other two joined Miranda's thumb and tongue in driving her absolutely crazy. Nadine had one arm curled over the back of the chair and pressed her blush-pink cheek against her bicep as she came again.

Miranda withdrew her fingers but kept her lips and tongue in place, gently stroking Nadine until her tremors stopped and she sagged against the cushions. Miranda pushed up the hem of Nadine's T-shirt, licking her stomach before moving higher to tease her breasts through the thin cotton. Nadine hunched her shoulders and tugged gently at Miranda's hair to pull her away.

"Stop. Stop, you're trying to murder me."

Miranda smiled and kissed the spot of Nadine's chest just above the scooped neck of her T-shirt. She licked up to Nadine's neck, and Nadine squirmed.

"What was that?"

"Counting last night, it was five."

She exhaled, still red-faced and giggling from her last round. It started as a typical Saturday night make-out session on the couch, which turned into full-fledged lovemaking in the bedroom. Then Miranda woke her with a slow and tender massage, they moved it into the shower, and between breakfast and lunch Nadine had pulled Miranda to her on the sofa to try repaying some of the kindness that had been done to her. And now her reading had been interrupted by an impromptu pantsing and her wife trying to write a coded message between her thighs. She stroked Miranda's hair and caught her breath.

"So. What brought that on?"

"Friday at work I saw you dancing in the booth. I don't even remember what song was playing." She turned her head and kissed the inside of Nadine's wrist. "You were standing in front of the console, headphones still on and your back to the window, and you were shaking your hips and rocking your shoulders. I wanted you so badly. And then you were tired on Friday, yesterday afternoon we had to get groceries, and I finally couldn't help myself."

"I'm glad you couldn't help yourself." She kissed Miranda's nose. "I love you so much. Help me sit up..."

Miranda helped Nadine sit up straighter, then climbed onto the chair and settled in her lap. Nadine stroked Miranda's legs from knee to ass, smiling up at her. Miranda brushed Nadine's hair away from her face and kissed her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry I've been mauling you all day."

Nadine furrowed her brow. "I'm... sorry... did you mistake some of what I cried out as pleas for you to stop?"

"No." Miranda chuckled. "I've just been thinking a lot about us lately, and a lot about how lucky I am you're with me. I wanted to spend a little time showing you how much I appreciate you."

"Well. I'll have to find the energy to repay the favor."

She lifted her head and pressed her lips to Miranda's, using the tip of her tongue to part her lips. Miranda moaned and moved her hands to Nadine's breasts. She squeezed through the T-shirt and Nadine squirmed, gasping at having her sensitive nipples manipulated. She hunched her shoulders and pulled back, inhaling sharply as the kiss broke.

"So what do you say, Miranda? Want to go for number--"

*

"--six times. And the worst part is that I know he's just making me repeat myself so that he can hand in something sub-par and claim he didn't understand the assignment. The kid is devious."

Patricia glanced toward Jill, watched her angrily type out a response to the student's email, and let the comment go without trying to appease Jill's anger. It felt wrong, like not blessing someone after they sneezed. Jill sighed as she hit send, shaking her head and reaching up to take off her glasses. Patricia focused on the sink in front of her. Normally she would go over and offer an impromptu shoulder massage, whisper something encouraging into her wife's ear, and generally try to alleviate some of the frustration as best she could. Hell, on an ordinary Sunday when Michael wasn't home, Jill wouldn't be grading papers. But this was no ordinary Sunday.

Patricia had no idea how the fight had even started. When Michael left on Friday night they were still planning on two days of walking around the house in their underwear and randomly attacking each other on any available flat surface. But Saturday morning phone calls from City Hall, an unexpected email from the elementary school's principal, and an overlong grocery shopping session, plus the stress of packing up the house to move across town to the mayor's residence finally reached a tipping point. They took their anger and stress out on each other and, by the end of the night, they weren't speaking. Their exchange of 'good-nights' were barely sociable, let alone the sort they normally gave.

She was mad at Jill, and Jill was mad at her, and neither of them could really pinpoint _why_. She was washing dishes and Jill was working at the dining room table because it had more light, but they had hardly spoken a word to each other even though they were only a few feet apart. Patricia could feel the pull, the want that came with being away from Jill for too long, but she wasn't quite ready to give in.

Jill looked at the dining room window in response to some noise. "Is that Callie?"

It was the first thing she'd said all morning that was directed specifically to Patricia, so she dried her hands and went to the back door. She arrived just as Callie knocked, opening it and forcing an 'everything is fine' smile. "Hi, Callie. Michael's not getting back until tonight."

"I know. I sort of came by to talk to you guys." She was wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf, her frizzy red hair hidden under a cap. She was clutching a large flat package to her chest. "Can I come in for a minute?"

"Oh, of course. Get in out of that cold, sweetie." She stepped out of the way and glanced toward Jill. Jill stood, her frustrated expression becoming neutral when she met Patricia's eye. In a split second they silently agreed to be civil for the duration of her visit. "Is everything okay?"

Callie nodded. "Fine. Uh." She looked down at the package. "You know on election night when I was going around taking pictures? I took a couple that I wanted to make sure were just right before I showed them to you, and I wanted to give you this one special. I was going to wait until Christmas, but..." She shrugged and held it out.

Patricia took it and opened the paper, slipping out a framed and matted picture. Patricia was framed in the middle of the image, looking at something to her right. A few strands of hair had fallen across her face in an arc, dipping down to her cheek with the ends tucked behind her ear. Over her shoulder, standing in a group of people about three feet away, was Jill. They were the only two things in the entire image with any color; everything else had been saturated and slightly blurred. But Jill stood out sharply, the smile on her face impossible to miss, her eyes locked on the back of Patricia's head. There were proud tears in her eyes. Her right hand was extended to grip Patricia's, which was stretched back without looking to meet Jill's grip.

"I call it Behind Every Good Woman." Callie shifted her weight.

Patricia felt Jill at her shoulder and angled the picture so she could see it. "Oh, wow. Callie, this is gorgeous. How did you do this?"

"Most of it was done on the computer, but I wanted to make sure the important part was highlighted. So you like it?"

Patricia handed the picture to Jill and put an arm around Callie's shoulders to pull her close for a hug.

"We love it, Callie. Thank you so much."

"You have so much talent," Jill said. "Thank you."

They both hugged her, and Callie shyly stepped out of their embrace. "I'm glad you like it. I was really hoping I could get something from that night that was really special, so. Um, I'll develop the rest of the pictures this week and I'll get them to you before Christmas."

Patricia nodded and looked at the picture again. "Okay. Thank you again. This is just beautiful, Callie. I'm blown away."

Callie's cheeks were red, but not from the cold. She smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. I thought it would be a nice thing. I'll get out of your hair. I have to get home, so... uh. Tell Michael he can call me tonight when he gets home, 'kay?"

"Okay. Drive safe, Callie. The roads might be a little slick."

"I will. Bye." She shut the door and turned to face Jill, wondering if they were going back to the silent treatment. She didn't know how they could after seeing that picture. "She has so much talent, doesn't she?"

"This isn't just talent," Jill said. "This is skill. She has such an amazing eye. I'm so glad she's working toward improving herself. She's going to be an amazing photographer. Hell, she already is one."

Patricia ran her teeth over her bottom lip and said, "I'm sorry." Jill looked up with a question in her eyes. "This past year, you've done nothing but support the campaign. Support _me_. And I took that for granted. I just assumed you would be there when I reached for you. And now that it's over, I think I'm still trying to lean on you more than I should. Marriage needs to be give and take, and I've just been taking. It's been selfish, and I don't blame you for being angry at me."

Jill exhaled and put the picture down. "That's not why I've been acting like a bitch. I don't know why, really. I've just been irritable and pissy. I was able to control it because I didn't want Michael to see us fighting, but when he went to the mainland with his dad, it all just boiled over." She crossed her arms and looked down at her sneakers. Suddenly she barked, "I hate that he's there."

Patricia's eyes widened. "Where? Who?"

"Michael. With Nichols. I know Nicholas is Michael's father, and I know it doesn't change anything, but when he goes to spend a weekend with Nicholas, I feel like the replacement. I feel like I'm cut out." She pressed her lips together and leaned against the side of the table. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "The rest of the time, I know where I stand. I know that I'm Michael's stepmother, and I know how much weight that carries. I adopted him, and he's ours, but when he's away with Nicholas..." She blinked away tears. "I don't like it."

Patricia gave in to the urge she'd been fighting all weekend and took Jill into her arms. Jill seemed to melt into her.

"I know. I'm not exactly a fan of Weekends at Dad's, either. When we divorced, Nicholas told me he wouldn't fight. He said that Michael shouldn't be forced to deal with that, and he knew how devastated I would be if Michael was taken away, so he let me have custody. That's why I okay all these weekends. If Nicholas had decided to be a jackass, I could have lost Michael for good. But he did the right thing.

"You're not cut out, Jill. Nicholas is. He's on the outside. No matter how many weekends Michael spends on the mainland, this is his home. We're his family." She stroked Jill's hair and kissed between her eyebrows. "I wish you'd told me you were feeling this way."

Jill sniffled. "I guess I just got into the habit of taking your burden. I forgot how to give mine away." She kissed Patricia's chin, cheek, and then lingered on her lips. Patricia couldn't help but moan; she'd missed Jill the past few days.

"Well, I'll try to get back in the swing of giving as well as taking." She looked at the picture, which was now lying on the table next to Jill's laptop. "It's so beautiful. I always knew you were there. Right there. Behind me, ready to take my hand or hold me up if I needed it. Thank you, bunny."

Jill laughed. "Wow. You haven't called me that in a while."

She kissed the top of Jill's head. "There's a lot of stuff I haven't done for a while. I've been selfish. It's time you got to lean on me."

"Thank you."

"No thanks necessary. It's my job." She slipped her hand into Jill's. "In fact... we've spent way too much of this weekend circling each other. We should take advantage of being alone." She backed up, lifting the picture with her free hand as she pulled Jill out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom.

Jill smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I have lots of ideas. I was thinking I was going to start with--"

*

"--tie you to the bed, or are you going to behave?"

The patient grumbled and sagged against the pillows. When she was convinced he would stay put, Rachel smoothed out his blankets and stepped back from the side of the bed. Matthew Rogan was seventy-eight, the victim of a car accident caused by icy roads. He was mostly fine, but Rachel wanted to monitor him overnight just to be sure there was nothing waiting to go wrong. Unfortunately he was demonstrating the hale and hearty constitution that had saved him from further injury by refusing to stay in bed.

"If you promise to stay put, I'll bring you a nice big dinner from the cafeteria. What do you feel like for dessert? Pudding or cake?"

"Spyhopper."

She sighed. "Mr. Rogan, I'm not sending an intern to Coffee Table Books just to get you a hot chocolate."

"Go yourself!"

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. "It would freeze by the time I got back here."

"Then I'll have to go." He started to throw the blankets back, but Rachel pulled them back across his narrow torso. "You're being unreasonable."

"I'm looking out for you. And I don't care how hard you make it on me, I'm going to keep on taking care of you until I decide you're healthy enough to go home. And even if you curse me out as you're wheeled through the doors, and even though I will be _thrilled_ to see the back of your head, I'm not letting you go a second before I'm satisfied." She pointed two fingers at her eyes, indicating he should look close. "You doubt me?"

He sucked his dentures, then crossed his arms and looked out the window. Pouting was fine. She could handle pouting.

"I'll be back with your dinner at four. Behave, Mr. Rogan."

He made a noise of irritation. Rachel turned and left the room. She assumed she could make a Spyhopper in the cafeteria. It was just cocoa, whipped cream, sprinkles and a marshmallow. And if it appeased him enough to leave her alone for an hour, it would be worth the effort. She made a note in his chart and glanced up as Dr. Zoe Hudson approached. Zoe was new to the island, having transferred from a hospital in New Hampshire.

"Has Mr. Rogan been making a fuss again?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Rachel finished with the chart and checked her watch. "I'm headed down to the cafeteria to see if I can put together a bribe for him. Want to join me?"

"I just had lunch. Rain check?"

Rachel nodded. "You have much longer on your shift?"

"I'm here until Doomsday. You?"

"Dinner with my sweetie."

Zoe smiled. "Ohh, I see. Do you want to head home and get ready? I could take care of the beastly Mr. Rogan and you can slip out early."

The offer was tempting, but she shook her head. "I only have an hour left anyway. And I have a change of outfit in my locker and we're planning to meet at the restaurant anyway. Thank you, though."

"Any time. I've got no one waiting for me at home, so it's not too bad if I'm stuck here all night. You can pay me back by hooking me up with one of your hot, single friends."

Rachel laughed. "I'll keep my eye out." She slapped Zoe on the arm as she passed by her. "See you in a bit."

"See you."

She thought ahead to the night they had planned. Yes, there would be dinner, but they were also celebrating Hanukkah. Alex had been raised Jewish but drifted from the religion after her mother died. They still celebrated Christmas, but they observed Hanukkah as well to keep in touch with Alex's roots. They would have an early dinner, then go home and light the candle and exchange their gifts.

The elevator door opened and Rachel almost ran into Alex. "Oh! I was just thinking about you."

"It's my superpower." She kissed Rachel's lips and stepped to one side to let her into the elevator. "Going down?"

"Maybe later." Rachel nudged Alex's arm and pressed the button for the second floor. "I'm going on a cafeteria run for a patient."

"Ah. I was going to see if you wanted to skip out early for dinner."

"I actually got an offer to cover the rest of my shift. Should I take it?"

Alex shrugged. "Up to you. I don't mind waiting when the reward is so sweet." She nudged Rachel back. "If you have something here that needs your attention I can hang out."

"Well, I have one patient who needs monitoring, but Zoe can do that. I think I can swing getting out early. I mean, as long as nobody is--"

*

"--dying."

"You're not dying." Molly was sitting with her back to the headboard, Shane's head on her lap. She was warm, weak, and whiny. Her hair was lank and her skin was clammy. She sniffled and brought a tattered Kleenex up to her nose. Molly made a face as Shane blew her nose; she thought only animals made noises like that. The radio was playing so quietly Molly couldn't even identify the artist, but it was better than silence.

Shane shifted on the bed, either trying to pull the blankets up or kick them away. There was a chance she was trying to do both. She grunted and thumped her head lightly on Molly's chest, snorted, coughed, and wiped her nose with the Kleenex again.

"You should go."

"Where am I gonna go? I live here."

Shane made a noise. "Somewhere you don't have to hang out with a sick and dying person. Sick and whining person."

"There's nowhere else I want to be." She realized it was true as she said it. "I don't care if you're moaning and groaning all night. I want to be with you."

"Masochist," Shane intoned nasally.

"No," Molly said. "It's just worth the disgust." She kissed Shane's hot forehead. "Try to sleep a little more. I'm right here if you need me."

Shane laughed weakly. "Oh. Cool. The only thing duller than hanging out with a sick person. Hanging out with an unconscious sick person."

Molly squeezed Shane's shoulder. "Just go to sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time to take your medicine."

"Mol..."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Molly smiled. "I love you, too. Just relax and get some sleep."

"Okay. For you, I'll try."

"That's all I ask."

Shane sighed and settled into a more comfortable position. She was snoring in under five minutes, her head heavy against Molly's chest. Molly watched her, examining her puffy eyes and the raw skin around her nose, the dry lips parted so she could breathe, and the sheen of sweat on her forehead and cheeks. It was disgusting. It was horrible. But she knew even if she could get free she wouldn't want to. She thought about the ring she had hidden in the drawer, the one she'd bought on a whim after the gay marriage bill passed, just to have it and see what it was like.

Having the ring didn't terrify her. And now, sitting in bed fully-clothed with a sickly half-alive girlfriend, she realized it was more than that. It wasn't that she was okay with having the ring, she wanted it. She could legally ask Shane to marry her. Maybe she would wait until Christmas morning. Maybe she would do it on New Years. She wasn't sure of the timeline. All she knew was that when the bad parts of a relationship were this tolerable, the good parts had to be pretty damn good.

"What?"

Molly looked down and stroked Shane's cheek. "I didn't say anything."

"Thought you said something. Don't go anywhere..." She smacked her lips and rested her head again. "I can hear your heart."

"Oh, yeah?" Molly tried to think of an appropriate response to that, but she couldn't. "What's it sound like?"

"Whump-whoosh. Whump-whoosh."

On the third recitation, her voice faded. She didn't make it to a fourth. Molly stroked her hair and rested against the headboard.

"I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not going--"

*

"--anywhere. I want a nice place, but something within the town limits." Nicole Bronwyn scratched the back of her neck with the cap of her pen, leaning forward to scan the newspaper's real estate section. She was in overalls and a thermal undershirt, her hair tied back so she could lean forward without it falling in her face. "I'm fine with small apartments as long as they're not shoeboxes with carpeting."

"You know you're more than welcome to stay here as long as you have to." Kate came out of the kitchen with two bowls of Hamburger Helper. She put one down next to Nick's paper and sat next to her on the couch. She looked to see the listings herself. "Are you completely dead set against renting a house?"

"The upkeep alone..." Nick shook her head. "Plus it would be too much like putting down roots."

"Would that be so bad? You've been here for a couple of months now. It might be nice to have a home base to come back to."

"You and Ames are my home base." She put her hand on Kate's knee and squeezed, and Kate leaned against her. Since Nick's less-than-triumphant return to the island, the three of them had renewed their polyamorous relationship. Kate couldn't list the ways it shouldn't work without a pad and pencil, since she had always thought herself the jealous type, but with Nick it just felt right. Nick knew she was the "extra," the one who would get cut out if their unique relationship came to an end, and she was fine with it. For the time being she was happy just being included.

To a point, anyway. She was fine with camping out with them for a few months, but she needed a place of her own if just to establish that she was the tertiary part of their group. It was a gesture that was easily planned than done, it seemed.

"You have the inside track, right? You work at the paper. You can get the real-estate listings before they hit the paper and give me an edge."

Kate faked a gasp. "So illegal, Ms. Bronwyn."

"Illegal?"

"Well, unethical at the least." She reached out and closed the paper. "For now, just focus on dinner. We can find you a place to live tomorrow."

Nick picked up her bowl and leaned back, placing her bare feet on the edge of the table. Kate leaned back with her and pressed the side of her foot against Nick's.

"You really like having me here?"

Kate chuckled. "You think I wasn't having a good time last night?"

"Well, last night. And Friday." She grinned. "I mean the other times. When I'm taking up your fridge space, or I'm in the shower and you're running late for work. This is a great apartment, but it's kind of stretching the limits for three people to live here. I'm sure I've been getting on your nerves. You and Amy both."

"You're worth the aggravation. I mean, anyone you love is going to be a pain in the ass from time to time. You just get past it."

Nick stared at her. "What?"

"You get past it."

"No. You said you loved me."

Kate nodded slowly. "I do. Amy does, too. We've talked about it."

Nick looked down into her bowl.

"Is that okay?"

"That is really... really okay," Nick said softly. "I love you, too. And I love Amy." Nick laughed and shook her head. "I didn't think I'd be saying that to anyone so soon after..." She waved her hand to indicate the entire thing that sent her fleeing from Chicago. "Let alone two people."

"Well, it's not just anyone. Amy and I predate--" She copied Nick's dismissive hand-wave. "So it's not as monumental."

"Oh, it's monumental, all right. I want to kiss you to commemorate it. But I think we should wait until Amy's here."

Kate nodded. "Yeah." She grinned and rubbed Nick's foot with her own. "And then we can commemorate with more than just a kiss."

"Mm. Can't wait." She stirred her meal and said, "So we're just going to act like it's a normal night until Amy gets home?"

"It is a normal night."

Nick smiled. "I could get used to this kind of normal, I think."

Kate said, "Yeah. Forget real estate. Right now we've--"

*

"--got everything?"

"I think so."

Michael checked to make sure he had all of his stuff, then slung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. His father was sitting in the booth and had twisted to look out the window at the island as it approached. He had only been back a few times since the divorce, and those times he hadn't stayed very long. He turned back to face his son and smiled.

"Winter wonderland, as always."

"You oughta try this new drink they have at Coffee Table Books. It's called the Spyhopper."

"Maybe next time." He slid out of the booth and hugged his son. "Hope you had a good time this weekend. Sorry to keep you away from your girlfriend for two whole days."

Michael scoffed and shrugged. "Whatever."

Nicholas grinned and playfully punched Michael's shoulder. "All right. Tell your mother congratulations on winning the election. I haven't had a chance to do it myself, but I'm really proud of her."

"I'll tell her. If I come to your place for Christmas, can Callie come visit?" He realize he was eliminating his manly dismissive attitude from earlier, but he wanted to be sure.

Nicholas said, "Actually, for Christmas, I think I'll let your Moms have you. I'll swing by and see you."

"Really? You'll come to the house and everything?"

"Yeah. It's been a while. It'll be nice. And I can try that, uh... Sky Hop thing."

"Spyhopper."

"Right." He put his hand on Michael's shoulder and walked him to the stairs. "Tell your Mom and Jill that I'm grateful for these weekends."

"They know."

"Yeah, well, tell 'em anyway. They should know I'm not taking it for granted." They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and he turned to face Michael. "All right. See you at Christmas, pal. Try to stay out of trouble 'til then, all right?"

He chuckled. "I'll try. Bye, Dad."

"See you, champ."

When the ferry docked, he waved goodbye to his father again and walked off onto solid ground. He expected either his mother or Jill to be there to pick him up, but he spotted Callie's station wagon parked off the main drag in front of Gail's and changed direction. She saw him coming and flashed the headlights, and he waved as he picked up his speed. Callie got out of the car and they kissed hello.

"Hey. I missed you."

"I missed you, too. I thought Mom was going to pick me up."

"She called and asked me to. I didn't mind." They walked back to the car and he got inside, grateful that the heater was already running. "I didn't eat before we got on the ferry. Wanna get some dinner?"

Callie nodded. "Sure. Where do you wanna go?"

"Vic's Subs?"

Callie's stomach growled in response and she chuckled self-consciously. "I think that's a yes. Vic's it is."

She waited for traffic off the ferry to pass and then pulled out onto the main street. Michael tossed his bag into the backseat and noticed there were a lot of empty picture frames. "Did you go to a rummage sale or something?"

"No. I was just trying to find the perfect frame for this picture I took."

"Oh." He watched the streets pass by. Coffee Table Books was lit like a ship lost at sea, a pale yellow glow shining through the icy glass of Callie's car. They seemed to still be doing a pretty brisk business even with the late hour. He decided if they were still open when they finished dinner he would buy Callie another Spyhopper. She seemed to really like them.

"So anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

Callie scoffed and shook her head. "Are you kidding? Nothing big ever happens here. Just another boring Sunday on Squire's Isle."
About the Author

Geonn Cannon was born on the fortieth anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. He writes to get the ideas out of his head so he won't mumble to himself in public (which he already does a little more than is socially acceptable). He currently lives in Yukon, Oklahoma, although his mind is still stuck in Washington state. If you see it wandering around the shoreline, just make sure it's warm and comfortable and leave it be. Read more at http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/geonn.

