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Chapter Thirteen

One week after Thanksgiving Anne stood staring in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. She had just finished showering.

Today was her fortieth birthday and she was surveying the damage.

She kind of wished this year her birthday had fallen on a Friday or Saturday night so she could party and then start the weekend. She decided she didn’t look so bad for someone her age. Her breasts were still perky, her arms had muscle tone and her stomach wasn’t puffy like a lot of her married-with-kids friends. She ran her hand down her stomach and toward her groin, wondering what it would be like to have a woman touch her, or more specifically, to have Hilton touch her. Was it greedy or stupid to think that she could have two great loves in her lifetime? She had loved Gerald so deeply that at one point she couldn’t have imagined her life without him in it, but now her feelings for Hilton ran deep as well. Did this mean that love was transferable, that all the joy and pain of what you thought was your one great love could occur again? It was this part that frightened her.

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She got dressed, having decided on her charcoal gray wool pantsuit with a black silk blouse. It was one of her favorite winter outfits. It was a typical cold rainy day, so she wouldn’t be too warmly dressed. She tried not to think about bad gag gifts and black balloons, to be followed by a lunch date with her parents.

She hoped Victoria would abstain from discussing Gerald. She didn’t want another fight like on Thanksgiving. Birthdays were serious. They were meant to be points of reference and reflection on what a person was doing with her life and where her life could go in the future. She knew this birthday was one of bifurcation, the quintessential fork in the road. This next year of her life would determine more things about her life than any others and she didn’t want edible underwear and tacky comments on aging to shroud its importance. If she was changing sides of the sexual preference fence she needed to face it with seriousness she had yet to know.

When she got to the office Ed met her at the door with a card.

“Just a little something to get you through the day,” he said. He winked at her and left her to her day. In the studio she found a dozen red roses and the place filled with helium balloons. Not one of them was black.

Hilton, Dave, Veronica—even Liz and Jessie, who had obviously taken the morning off from school—all sang “Happy Birthday.” Jessie inhaled some helium and sang the final verse in a Chipmunk-style crescendo.

Lillian walked in and looked around. “What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s Anne’s birthday,” Hilton said.

“Earth Day, what a stupid holiday. Nothing but a bunch of kooks trying to take our money. The whole group of them are nothing but a bunch of leftover Commie bastards. I dated one once. Horrible man—didn’t bathe, didn’t shave,” Lillian muttered.

On the way to the control room she snagged a cup of sparkling cider and eyed the angel food cake that Veronica had made.



“What is she talking about?” Hilton asked Anne.

“Environmentalists. She hates them. It has something to do 147

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with the Alaskan Pipeline, mating caribou and an Eskimo,” Anne replied in Chipmunk talk. Jessie had given her a quick lesson on how to inhale just enough to get through a couple sentences. Anne wondered if she’d spend her lunch hour with the helium tank.

That would really irritate her mother.

Hilton laughed. “Happy birthday.” She gave her a hug.

“I suppose you’re the one responsible for this little soiree?”

Anne whispered in her ear.

“I had a lot of help.”

Dave did the honors. “So, we all chipped in and got you a little something.” He handed her a small box wrapped in silver paper with a red bow.

Flattered, Anne opened it. People didn’t usually do things like this for her. She was always the one who arranged parties and sent flowers. It felt kind of odd and yet special to be on the receiving end. Inside the box was an iPod. “Hey, this is neat.” She stuck an ear bud in.

“You can scroll down like this,” Hilton said, showing her how.

“Dave downloaded all your favorite bumper music, you know, the whole song.”

Jessie handed her another box. “This is from the girls at the house.”

Anne tried not blush at the pleasant surprise. She opened it to find an electronic key locator. “You didn’t.”

“I’ve never known anyone that loses their car keys so much.

Here, hand them over and we’ll see if this thing works,” Jessie said, holding out her hand.

Anne frisked her pockets. She couldn’t find them.

“Are you serious?” Hilton said. She started to laugh.

Veronica picked them up off the reception desk counter. “Here they are.”

Anne laughed. “Okay, I guess I really do need one.”

“Let’s have cake,” Jessie suggested.

“Is that all she ever thinks about?” Anne asked. She took the 148

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knife from Veronica and cut the cake. There were no candles and she thought that was tasteful.

“No, there’s one other thing,” Hilton replied.

Veronica blushed at the implication.

Anne handed Jessie the first piece. “Veronica, this looks stunning.”

“Thank you. It’s one of my specialties.”

“Wait until you taste it. She let me sample the filling. I didn’t know cherries could taste like that,” Jessie said.

“Jessie, you better watch your backside if you keep hanging out with Veronica,” Hilton said.

“Not with the gym and our extracurricular activities,” Jessie said.

“We’re taking a cycle spinning class together. You wouldn’t believe the amount of calories you can burn pedaling your brains out,” Veronica said.

“Yeah, and in our class you get to watch reruns of the L Word.

On the big-screen television no less,” Jessie added.

Liz rolled her eyes, “As we were saying—her stomach and her nether regions.”

“Nether regions?” Jessie asked.

Liz pointed to her crotch.

“Oh, that.”

They all laughed.

Anne centered that day’s radio show around the best and worst birthdays. Why not? she reasoned. There were some poignant stories from the callers—the romantic balloon ride to getting dumped on your birthday. After the show Anne’s parents came by to take her to a late lunch. Later on she and Hilton were going to Gerald’s for dinner.

“Hilton, I want you to meet my parents,” Anne said, drawing her near.

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Hilton shook hands with both of them.

Victoria eyed her intently. “Hilton, you look familiar. What’s your last name?”

“It’s probably from the billboard all over town that advertises the cast of the radio program,” Anne said.

“No, I don’t think so,” Victoria said, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s Withers isn’t it?” her father said innocently.

Anne gave him a look that he obviously didn’t get. She wanted to keep Hilton’s identity quiet for a little while until some things had ironed themselves out.

“Hilton Withers. Aren’t you Senator Percy Withers estranged, lesbian, heiress daughter?”

“Yeah, that’d be me.”

“Funny, Gerald didn’t mention that,” Victoria said.

Anne smiled at her. That’s because he’s too polite. I don’t introduce you as my control-freak, psychotic, tactless mother even though that’s what you are. “It probably slipped his mind,” she said sweetly.

“Why doesn’t Hilton come to lunch with us?” Malcolm said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m already taxing her for dinner tonight with the boys,” Anne said.

Hilton looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“You know, let me go to the restroom and then we’ll go,” Anne said.

Anne left and Malcolm said to Hilton, “I really like what you’ve done with the Web site. I think it definitely enhances the program.

This new trend, it’s very spot on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Counterman.”

“Call me Malcolm.” He winked at her. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

“All right, Malcolm.”

“I think the Web cam is changing the face of radio. It’s like the new formatting style of FM; they’re using the train-wreck method of running all kinds of music together.”

“You know a lot about radio.”

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“I love it as a medium, and of course I listen because of Anne’s show. But it has to evolve in order to keep vibrant.”

“Like in the early eighties when everyone thought MTV would kill radio. Instead some songs made it big because the video was so good,” Hilton said.

“Precisely,” Malcolm said, beaming at her.

Victoria was still staring at her like she was an alien. Her cell phone rang. She pulled it off her belt. “Excuse me,” she said as she turned away.

It was Anne. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t want you to come to lunch. It’s just my mother.”

“You worry too much. Everything will be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Great. You know, I’m looking forward to this.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Are you always this weird on your birthday?”

“Yes, be kind to me.”

Hilton laughed. She couldn’t wait for tonight. She had an extra-special present for Anne and she wanted to meet Gerald. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person Anne had loved.

Anne came by promptly at six. She had changed from her charcoal gray suit to linen pants and a yellow cashmere V-necked sweater. Hilton had decided after much contemplation on black leather pants and a white silk shirt that Liz had kindly ironed for her.

“You look nice,” Anne said.

“I wouldn’t want Gerald to think you were hanging out with a slob,” Hilton said, grabbing her coat and checking her breast pocket for Anne’s present. She picked up the two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon that she’d chosen earlier and placed in the foyer.

“Is Shannon going to be okay with this?” Anne asked as they made their way to the car.

“Yeah, she’s hanging out with the girls. They’re going to watch 151

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this movie called Good Boy. It’s about a boy and a dog that’s from outer space. Jessie is into appropriate movies when she baby-sits. I think Shannon is just really interested in the huge hambone I got her.”

“Great, thanks for doing this. I’m not sure I’d go if it wasn’t for you.” Anne started the Chevy Avalanche. She was about to drive off when Hilton stopped her.

“Wait, I want to give you something.”

“Another present?” Anne said, raising her eyebrow.

“This is a me-to-you kind of present.” Hilton avoided her gaze as she handed her the box.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.” This time Hilton looked at her. She wanted to kiss her and whisper, “I love you—okay, I admit it, I love you,”

but she knew she’d do neither. She took a deep breath and smiled.

“I hope you like it.”

“Hilton, it’s beautiful.” Anne pulled the ladies Rolex watch out of the plush jewelry box. “And very expensive.”

“I’m an heiress, remember.” Hilton had spent a solid week searching jewelry stores for the ultimate one. She’d finally decided on a thin gold band with an oyster-shell face and a small diamond inset at twelve o’clock.

Anne slipped it on her wrist and then held it out to admire it.

“You know, sometimes I actually forget. Wow, this is awesome.”

“It looks good on you.”

“How’d you know I’ve always wanted one?”

“All lesbians have the ability to read secret desires. It comes with the territory.” She was teasing but wished it was true. She wanted to peek in Anne’s brain and search the place that held her desires, shuffle around a bit and find one with her name on it, like rummaging through the sale rack and locating the one treasure it contained.

Anne furrowed her brow. “You’re joking, right?”

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

“Other than a secret desire for a Rolex?”

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“Yes.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

She wrapped her arms around Hilton and held her. “Thank you.”

A hundred erotic images raced through Hilton’s brain but caution ultimately won out, screaming in panic, “Be careful, be careful, don’t mess this up.” It was like there were yellow caution signs everywhere telling her to let Anne lead the way.

When they got to Gerald and Philip’s immaculate and tasteful house, Hilton whispered, “He really is a fag.” The yellow bungalow had a large front porch complete with a swing. The yard was well cared for and terra-cotta pots lined the stairs up to the porch.

They contained topiary plants.

“I know,” Anne said. She handed Gerald her leather coat and white scarf.

Philip came to greet them. His blond hair was spiky on top and his high cheekbones and thin nose all contributed to his good looks. He was wearing a blue-and-white twill apron over khaki slacks and a dark blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Hilton, it’s been so long. You look great. Gerald was surprised I knew you. I told him, ‘How many dykes do you know named Hilton who makes money from pickles.’”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be me. Philip, I haven’t seen you in ages.” She hadn’t equated Anne’s description of him with the grad student she’d met during one of the Queer Nation protests. She’d liked him. He seemed sweet and intelligent.

He gave her a big hug. Anne looked quizzically at Hilton.

“No, all gay people do not all know each other,” Hilton said.

“She’s teaching me things,” Anne said.

Gerald and Philip stood holding hands and looking at the two of them with what seemed like fraternal warmth. Hilton studied their gaze. Did they look like they wanted them to be together or was she imagining it? This was like the ten other questions she 153

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asked herself every day about her relationship with Anne, starting with was this the beginning of a love affair or simply her desire to make it so?

“Hilton and I worked together, or rather volunteered, for some Queer Nation stuff,” Philip explained to Anne.

“Yeah, we got really good with a staple gun,” Hilton replied.

“Speaking of staple guns, how’s your thumb?” Gerald asked.

“It’s fine,” Anne said, sticking her hand in her pocket.

“Let’s go have a drink in the living room,” Gerald suggested.

“I’ll drop the wine off in the kitchen with Philip, who needs to check on things, I’m sure,” Hilton said. She really needed to talk to him.

“Perfect,” Gerald said. “Anne and I will pour drinks and await your arrival.”

When Hilton and Philip were safely in the kitchen, Hilton said,

“Tell me I’m not nuts.” She set the wine on the granite countertop.

The kitchen had a black-and-white checkered floor and all the appliances were stainless steel. There was a huge rack of copper pans hanging over the kitchen island.

“Clinically or metaphorically?” Philip chided. He opened the oven door and peeked in. She could see the rack of lamb. He had obviously braised it, reassembled the rack and wrapped the bottom half of it in tin foil. Her grandmother had done it much the same way. It was always delicious. Hilton hoped this was a good sign for a successful evening. She wanted Anne’s birthday to be as perfect as possible.

“Philip, I need your help.”

He turned around. “I know. She’s been to talk to Gerald.”

“About what?” She could feel her heart begin to race. This was like the quintessential moment of truth. Were her hopes to be scattered? She took a deep breath.

“About you, silly.” Apparently satisfied with the progress of dinner he turned his full attention to her.

“Really?”

“Really. Look, I was in your situation once and it’s freaky, but you two already act like you’ve got the U-Haul hitched to the car.”

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“What if I’m imagining this and she’s just one of those touchy-feely kind of straight women.”

“Anne Counterman?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“All right, that’s not exactly how I’d characterize her,” she conceded. “So how do I go from point A to point B?”

“Oh, this is perfect. I’ll have Gerald tell the story of us over dinner—that’ll get the ball rolling,” he said mischievously.

“Oh, I get it. This is a recruitment dinner.”

“We don’t recruit the unwilling.” Philip looked at the bottles of wine. “Very nice. Still have the wine cellar, I see.”

Hilton smiled. “Stocked to hilt.”

He touched her shoulder. “Don’t worry, for as bad as you’ve got it, she’s got it worse.”

“Okay.” She could feel herself relaxing.

“Come on, let’s go see what they’re up to.”

The first thing Hilton noticed at the long mahogany dinner table was that everything matched—the napkins and the table-cloth, the glasses, the silverware. If she and Anne did do the U-Haul thing they’d have matching accessories. She actually liked what Jessie was doing with the house. It had class. It had style. She was ready for that now. Nat hated shit like that because it reminded her of her upbringing, and Gran always thought it was pretentious and overrated. Couldn’t pleasantries be a part of their lives without being showy?

“That’s a nice watch,” Gerald commented as he carved up the lamb.

Hilton studied him for a moment. He was an attractive man, well-dressed in that elegant, understated way. He was everything Hilton would imagine Anne had wanted in a man.

“It was a present from Hilton,” Anne said, looking at her instead of him.

That was a good sign, Hilton thought. She put some of the mint pesto on her pepper-crusted lamb and told Philip that he was an outstanding cook. The lamb was cooked to perfection. She’d 155

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never had lamb with mint pesto but it added to the flavor. The new potatoes and peas with pearl onions all accented the meal.

He passed her fresh rolls and beamed at her. “Gerald, it appears that Hilton is interested in our story as well.”

“Is that all right with you?” Gerald asked Anne.

“Hello, I’ve been trying to get this story out of you for the last year,” Anne said.

Hilton took her hand under the table. She wasn’t sure if Anne was expressing false bravado or if she wanted to know, as Hilton did, how one crossed the line.

“So it goes like this …” Philip prodded.

“This is difficult. I don’t really know exactly how it starts. We’re friends. We do guy stuff together … a lot. Philip didn’t tell me he was gay for a long time, and when he did it didn’t matter. Guys can be kind of weird about that stuff. Then there comes this day, this time, and it all seems right, it all makes sense and then you jump,” Gerald said. He had been looking at Philip but now he looked at Anne.

“And then you come home, pack your clothes and tell your wife you’re gay,” Anne said.

“I knew storytime wasn’t a good idea,” Gerald said. He took a sip of wine.

“At least it’s out in the open now,” Philip said cheerfully.

Hilton was mortified that Philip’s plan had seemingly gone awry. It wasn’t what she had intended.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m glad you found the love of your life and your true self,” Anne said diplomatically.

Gerald looked relieved.

Hilton watched as Anne also seemed to relax. She had two glasses of wine and seconds on the new potatoes. She took this to be a good sign.

After dinner Philip dimmed the lights and went to the kitchen to get the dessert. He came out with key lime pie and four candles.

“I thought cake might be too heavy after lamb and Gerald said key lime was your favorite.” Philip’s cheeks were highly colored and Hilton could tell he wanted to make this work.

“You can do the math,” Gerald said gently.

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Anne smiled. “And I still look fabulous.”

“Incredible,” Hilton said.

Anne took a deep breath and blew out all the candles. Philip cut the pie expertly and handed out the slices.

Hilton took a bite. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you. Oh, we have a present for the birthday girl.” He pulled a beautifully wrapped box from the chair next to him and handed it to Anne.

Gerald smiled at her benevolently. “I hope you like it.”

“There’s a demonstration after you open it,” Philip said.

Anne opened the box. Inside was an ornately cut crystal bowl.

She pulled it out carefully and examined it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Okay, now wait.” Philip took the bowl and disappeared into the kitchen. Gerald dimmed the lights until the room was almost dark. Philip brought the bowl back in. It was filled with water and had small scented tea candles floating in it. The crystal glowed with light. He set it down before Anne. “It’s for romantic dinners.”

He looked pointedly at the two of them.

“How nice, isn’t it, Hilton?” Anne said.

“Lovely,” Hilton replied. She tried to imagine romantic dinners with Anne. Was she capable of being romantic? She hadn’t learned much from Nat, whose idea of romance was to fling you on the floor and fuck you silly. Perhaps she’d quiz Anne on what she envisioned as romance.

After dinner, they had brandy in the living room. Philip and Hilton told them Queer Nation stories. Both Gerald and Anne wiped their eyes a couple of times from laughing.

“I’m thinking I didn’t miss much,” Gerald said. He sipped his brandy and smiled at Anne.

“No, my first experience with a staple gun wasn’t that successful,” Anne said. She looked down at her thumb.

Gerald glanced over. “Will the nail grow back eventually?”

“What are you implying, that it looks like the head of a penis?”

Anne asked.

Philip leaned over to look at. He was sitting on the couch next to her. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it does.”

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“Well, don’t worry, boys, I won’t be competition for you. It’s going to grow back,” Anne said.

Hilton smirked.

Later in the car, Anne looked over at Hilton. “Do you think Philip is a bit of a control freak?”

Hilton, who had been sucking on an after-dinner mint that Philip had insisted they have from a vintage silver tray he kept in the entryway, was taken aback. She started to laugh, almost choked, then sent the dinner mint projectile-style into the wind-shield. It bounced back and landed neatly in her lap. “Gee, what makes you think that?”

It was Anne’s turn to laugh. “I thought you were going to put your eye out with that thing.”

Hilton opened the car window and flicked the mint outside.

She hadn’t wanted it in the first place, but Philip was so insistent she’d felt obligated. “You know, I simply asked Philip how he got together with Gerald. I didn’t expect him to tell the story in front of you. I would never do that to you.”

Anne stopped at the light. She took Hilton’s hand. “I knew that.

It was territorial of him.”

“Good. I felt bad.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not like that, right?” Anne turned onto the expressway.

“Not like what?”

“A control freak,” Anne said.

“Uh, no. You’re kind of the opposite. You have a control freak for a producer, you have a slacker for a broadcast engineer and a deaf call screener. That is like the most uncontrolled work environment I’ve ever seen and I like it. It pretty much sums up your personality. Some people like control freaks. They feel safer with someone who can take care of things. Look at Jessie.”

Anne pulled into Hilton’s driveway. “What do you want in a relationship?”

“Vaginal sobriety.”

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Anne laughed. “Now, that’s an original term.”

Hilton looked at her. “What do you want in a relationship?”

Anne was silent for a moment. “I want to be that special someone that your lover wants to come home to, wants to wake up next to, wants to share your dreams with, that’s what I want.”

“That’s beautiful. Do you want to come in? It’s only ten.”

Hilton hoped she appeared casual and not pleading, but it seemed that tonight was the night for the big jump.

“Please, I need to unwind. Can I see the wine cellar?”

“Of course,” Hilton said.

When they got inside Liz and Jessie were lounging on the couch watching a DVD of last season’s the L Word. This was Jessie’s new obsession, but it did beat out reruns of old shows on cable.

One more episode of June and Ward Cleaver and she was going to scream.

“I’m telling you, they had to bring her down like that. It’s like the classic Greek hero who falls in those bullshit stories,” Jessie said.

“You did learn something in college,” Liz said.

“What are you talking about?” Hilton asked.

Anne sat down on the ottoman and stared at the television. Two of the characters were seriously going at it.

“How Bette ended up screwing around on Tina,” Liz said.

“See, Bette was always the one playing high and mighty and it’s all about the rules and monogamy. Then bam, the hot carpenter chick comes along and all Bette’s morals go flying out the window,” Jessie said.

“If she’d been smart she never would have hired her because Bette knew that she was attracted. If you want to keep it together, don’t tempt yourself,” Liz said.

“Because lust always wins out?” Anne inquired. She had managed to pry herself from the television.

“Let’s go see the wine cellar,” Hilton suggested, noticing that Anne’s curiosity seemed a little more than academic.

“Can’t we just finish this part?” Anne said. She tilted her head to one side as she studied the position of the two women on the screen making love.

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Hilton gave Liz a look. Liz grabbed the remote and flipped it to the blue screen. “I think that’s enough for one night.”

“Where’s Shannon?” Hilton asked, suddenly aware that her dog was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, you’ve got to see this,” Liz said, getting up. “She’s in my bedroom.”

Liz and Hilton were about to leave the room when Jessie flicked the show back on and Anne went to sit by her. Hilton frowned at Jessie.

“It’s tasteful,” Jessie said.

“No, it’s borderline porn,” Hilton replied. She didn’t want Anne’s first look at lesbian sex to be on cable. She’d kind of envisioned showing her the ropes in a sensual setting at just the right moment.

They went down the hall to Liz’s room. Shannon was sleeping on an old sheet with her paw tucked protectively around her bone.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Liz said.

“She’s a good dog.”

“How was dinner?” Liz asked quietly.

“It was fine. Gerald is a nice man.”

“That’s it?” Liz said, raising her eyebrow.

“All right, he’s really good-looking, smart, and well-mannered.”

Hilton sat on the bed and stroked Shannon’s head.

“He’s not your competition, you know.”

“You’re right, of course. It’s just kind of hard meeting someone’s ex-husband.”

“Did Anne like her present?” Liz leaned in the doorframe.

Hilton could tell she was being studied.

“Very much.” Hilton smiled at the thought of it.

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Hilton asked nervously.

“Only when you’re together,” Liz teased.

“I want this to work out,” Hilton said, looking intently at Liz as if she might have some clues written on her face.

“It will. Shall we leave her?” Liz asked, pointing to Shannon.

“If it’s all right with you.”

“That dog is the best electric blanket on the planet.”

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Hilton agreed and they rejoined the others.

“Wow, I had no idea,” Anne said. Jessie was apparently pointing out some of the finer points of the show.

Hilton could only imagine. “Let’s do the tour,” she suggested.

“Sure,” Anne said. She popped up instantly.

They went downstairs to the wine cellar. Anne stood in the middle of the room lined with cabinets full of bottles. Recessed lighting gave the room a warm glow.

“This is amazing.”

“It was one of Gran’s joys. She taught me everything and left behind a wicked reorder list so it’ll never be lacking.” Hilton picked out a Concha y Tora Cabernet Sauvignon and grabbed two wineglasses from a rack that hung over the bar. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. It’s from Chile and it rocks.”

“For us?” Anne said.

“But of course. Let’s go to the cottage and really celebrate your birthday,” Hilton said. She could have sworn Anne was almost being flirty.

“You mean without stress?”

“And dinner mints on silver trays,” Hilton said.

“Oh, we forgot about my lovely lunch.”

“How did that go?”

“My mother spent an entire two hours quizzing me about you.”

“Do I have that much of a biography?”

“She seems to think you do.”

They slipped out the kitchen door to the cottage, where Hilton put on a Nora Jones CD and poured the wine. Anne sat on the bed and propped the overstuffed pillow behind her. She looked quite comfortable. Hilton handed her a glass of wine.

Anne took a sip and then another sip. “Oh my, this is absolutely marvelous.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Hilton sat next to her. She wanted to tell Anne that she loved her, that she wanted a life together, to really be a couple and make a future, but she didn’t know how. The only other woman she’d loved was Nat and the only time she uttered 161

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those words was flat on her back having the daylights fucked out of her. She couldn’t envision that with Anne and didn’t want to.

“Hilton,” Anne said, breaking her train of thought, “I really like spending time with you.”

“I’m glad.” Hilton blanched, berating herself for finding the lamest response on the face of the earth. You’ll have to do better than that, you idiot.

Anne stroked her cheek. “And this is the best birthday, dinner mints and all, that I’ve ever had, thanks to you.”

“Anne …” Hilton started to say.

“Just hold me for a minute.”

Hilton put her face against Anne’s smooth, lightly-scented neck and tried not to think about what it might be like to kiss her neck, her throat, her breast.

Anne took Hilton’s face in her hands. Hilton could see that her pupils were dilated, and she remembered a class in Medieval literature. Ladies, she learned, took belladonna to dilate their pupils so it would appear they were always interested in their suitors. She was certain this was the moment. Anne would kiss her now.

“I’ve got to go,” Anne said. She got up abruptly.

Hilton was still in her about-to-be-kissed mode and Anne was out the door before she had a chance to utter one syllable in protest. Instead, she sat there feeling like her heart had just been expertly extracted from her chest. Her throat got tight and she had that same sinking black feeling that occurred when her mother died, when Gran got sick and the day Nat moved out. It was like she was almost happy and then something awful happened. She lay back on the bed and let the tears come. She wished Shannon was there. She would nestle her face in her soft white fur and listen to her even breathing and go to sleep and forget this all happened.

She knew she was expected to reinsert her mutilated organ and go on with life forgetting that what was red and glowing with love was now black with the death of her dream. She didn’t think this was going to be possible. She curled up and prayed for sleep.

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Date: 2015-04-20; view: 737


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