Chapter Twenty-Three 7 page

Paula sat up and removed her Joan Jett T-shirt, exposing her lacy black bra. “Take yours off, too,” she said, using a voice Steph had only heard in the movies—low, breathy and very sexy.

Steph hesitated for only a second, too nervous to think and too excited to disobey. Paula flung Steph’s Polo shirt onto the floor and cupped her breasts.

“Do what I do,” she said in that same infectious voice.

She circled her nipples with her thumbs and Steph mimicked the action, her mind fractured by the sensations of giving and receiving pleasure. She couldn’t decide which she liked better until Paula’s fingertips stroked her exposed cleavage. Her hands dropped to her sides and she closed her eyes.

“I can’t keep going,” she mumbled.

“That’s okay. I can.”

Paula pushed her down on the bed and unclasped her bra. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she said, before her mouth covered her chest with kisses. “You’re beautiful, Steph.”

Paula took off her own bra and they spent another hour kissing, their nipples pressed together until they heard her mother’s car drive up.

They didn’t speak of it again, but each afternoon their tickling sessions evolved into kissing that led to stripping off their tops. Eventually they discovered that making out behind the granite rock was equally fabulous and they alternated locations. One afternoon Steph arrived at Paula’s house and found her in bed—completely naked. Steph stood in the doorway, torn between terror and delight.

“C’mon, Steph, get in here with me.”

Gone was all of the subtext and the situation was as bare as she was. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth had been abandoned back in the nineteenth century. It was too much. Steph ran out of the room, worried that she had destroyed their relationship.

But the next day Paula arrived at her house, smiling and acting as if nothing had happened. She took her back behind the rock and kissed her passionately, assuring her that they were okay. Then the Berkeley letter came.

Steph finished her tea and returned to her own room, still lost in the memory of Paula’s perfect breasts. She flipped on the lights and quickly leaned against the doorjamb to steady herself. On a table next to her laptop was the missing loaf of banana bread.

Chapter Twelve

Steph’s alarm buzzed an hour after she’d fallen asleep, reminding her it was time to get up and prepare breakfast for the guests, which now included Paula. She glanced at the banana bread sitting on the desk. If she showed it to Caroline, she’d never hear the end of it. Rue had finally played a practical joke on her, and if Eric was right, then she was trying to tell her something.

Paula’s laugh floated into her room and she lingered at the door listening to Paula and Caroline rehashing old high school memories. She glanced at the dresser mirror. She couldn’t stop smiling and giggling. She tried to readjust her expression to something less incriminating but the memories from the past night flickered and the smile returned. Caroline would know. She hid her face in her hands, counted to five and made her entrance into the kitchen just as they finished a story about Old Lady Lumpen, the cafeteria lady who dropped her dentures into the soup.

When Paula saw her, she immediately stopped laughing—and stared. “Hey.”

Steph was positive the goofy smile had returned and she didn’t care. “Hi.”

“Earth to Stephanie!” Caroline called. “Hello!”

“Huh?”

She whipped her gaze toward Caroline who was chuckling and shaking her head. “I’ve said good morning three times.”

“Oh, sorry,” Steph replied, totally embarrassed.

Caroline sighed. “No comment. But let’s get to work.”

Steph busied herself with preparing the breads, trying to ignore the sparks that continued to fly between her and Paula, who leaned against the counter in an incredibly sexy pose while she bantered with Caroline.

“Do you remember the day Mr. Kring’s hairpiece nearly fell off during the music performance?” Caroline laughed.

“Oh, that was so funny,” Paula agreed. “He was bobbing his head up and down while he directed the orchestra. I don’t think he realized what happened until it fell into his eyes and he couldn’t see the music.”

“And then he ran off the stage,” Caroline said. “I played the cello that year and I was sitting in the front row. I was trying so hard not to miss a note, but I was laughing—everyone was.”

“He couldn’t get it back on,” Paula added. “He ran to a corner where there was a mirror and tried to center it but it looked like he was wearing a dead squirrel. I think he gave up then.”

They laughed until Rick walked in, scanning the pegboard for the keys to the truck. “What’s so funny?”

“You don’t wear a hairpiece do you?” Paula asked, pointing at Rick’s thick head of hair.

They laughed again and Rick looked at them like they were stupid. He quickly found the keys and headed for his morning ritual at the gym.

“How’s the house coming?” Caroline asked pleasantly.

“Not well,” she said, sipping her coffee. “It doesn’t look like we made a dent.”

“You did,” Steph said, joining the conversation, “but there’s a lot of stuff. Your mom saved everything for decades.”

“Do you remember my Tinkerbell comforter?”

Caroline glanced up at Steph, a slight smile on her face that only she could see. “Yeah.”

“Well, don’t report me to the sheriff but last night I took a whole bunch of stuff and made a bonfire in my backyard.”

“Whoa!” Caroline exclaimed. “That’s pretty radical. You’re not harboring some terrible angst from childhood are you?”

Steph knew it was meant as a joke but Paula’s smile evaporated. “No, growing up was fine,” she said slowly. “I just hated all of the outdated stuff my mom kept, like that set of funky wooden chip bowls or the ten cent salt and pepper shakers she won at the market when I was seven.”

“You mean the ones shaped like fish?” Steph asked.

Paula nodded slowly. “I thought they deserved a proper death. Anyway, I’ll just keep packing until it’s done.”

“How long do you have off work?” Caroline asked absently, emptying a bowl of beaten eggs into a muffin pan for frittatas.

The question hung in the air and Paula didn’t answer at first. She finally said, “I have a week and then I need to go back. I’m thinking about changing jobs. There’s a prospect in Portland.”

“Portland’s a fabulous city,” Caroline replied. “Personally, I like it better than Seattle.”

Paula shrugged. “I don’t know. My life is there.”

Steph busied herself with a batch of muffins, avoiding her gaze. She knew Paula’s departure was inevitable. Her life was somewhere else and Steph’s life was nowhere. She just needed to enjoy the moment.

Paula sidled up next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Do you think you could help me today? I need to go to the lawyer’s office and I imagine Shelby’s heading home to move out. And after last night with you, I’m glad.”

Steph smiled automatically but quickly caught herself. “I’m sorry about Shelby. I know what you’re going through.”

“And you’ve got it worse. My relationship was destined to crash and burn.”

Steph was confused. “Then why get into it? If you know it isn’t right, why subject the other person to misery?”

Paula pressed her lips together and Steph could tell she was debating her response. When she spoke it was slowly and carefully. “At the risk of having another woman scream at me, I’m wondering if you could ask yourself that same question.”

Steph’s mouth went dry and anger swirled inside of her.

Paula saw her expression and caressed her cheek. “Hey, this is me, Steph. No secrets.”

She took a breath and nodded. “I’ll be happy to help you today.”

“Thanks. And maybe we can catch up some more.” She pecked her on the lips before she headed up to her room to change.

Circling the pile of charred remains covered in white-gray soot, Steph was concerned that Paula was losing it. The pile was large but it was apparent that she’d doused the fire before it got too big, leaving much of the detritus totally intact. Most of the fringe items, though, were incinerated. She recognized the corner of a hideous end table that Francine had brought home from a garage sale, a swath of ugly green drape—and Mr. Piddle’s eyes.

“You burned Mr. Piddle?”

Paula didn’t answer. She looked down and kicked some of the powder with her shoe.

“Jesus, Paula, you could’ve burned down the whole place.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Steph,” she said, hurrying into the house.

Steph assumed the tears were flowing again so she gave her a second before she followed behind. Perhaps she was regretting the bonfire or at least destroying one of the last memories of her dad. She waited in the kitchen and realized there was far less clutter than the day before. She imagined the reason was sitting in the white pile outside.

“Can you come here,” Paula called. Steph found her in the office, squatting behind her mother’s old desk. “Take a look at this.” She looked calm, composed She’d opened a cabinet, revealing a small safe. “Do you know anything about safecracking?”

“Not really. You haven’t found the combination anywhere?”

Paula shook her head. “I’ve gone through all of her personal papers and I haven’t seen any random sets of numbers. I’m sure it’s here somewhere but I’ll probably be dead by the time I find her hiding place.”

“Maybe the attorney has it.”

“That’s possible but he didn’t mention it when I spoke with him this morning.”

“Have you tried all of the obvious combinations—her birthday, your birthday, her social security number…”

She nodded. “I’ve tried everything I can think of but I don’t know it.”

“Maybe we should call a locksmith.”

“I’ll do that if we don’t stumble upon the answer today but I’m not sure I want to know what’s in it. Does that sound bizarre?” she asked as they stood up.

Steph thought of the jars of coins and all the random cash. “No, I understand what you’re worried about. Your mother is totally exposed now. There aren’t any secrets left and you’re probably not going to like everything you learn about her.”

She nodded and smiled. “You always get it, Steph. You’ve always understood me.”

They held each other, listening to the radio Paula had switched on. Journey’s old song, “Don’t Stop Believin” wailed through the house.

“I know how hard this is. I want to help, Paula. I really do.”

“You are. It feels so amazing to hold you again. It’s not just about the sex but that was pretty incredible last night. Wasn’t it?”

Steph gazed into the wild blue eyes and she was certain she saw Paula’s soul. She nestled her cheek against Paula’s shoulder and they started to dance with the music, turning a slow box step in the messy office. When the song ended, Paula kissed her hungrily and Steph felt her chest pounding. It was as if last night never ended. There was no awkward morning after or regret, only passion.

“Are the others coming over today?” Steph asked between kisses.

“No, they all had to go back this morning. We’re all alone.”

“You’re sure Shelby’s not coming back?”

“Positive.”

“Did you save any of the mattresses or are they burned to a crisp?”

She answered by pulling her into her old bedroom. Although the Tinkerbell comforter had been sacrificed, the plain fitted sheet still hugged the old mattress. They slid on top, their hands greedily searching each other’s flesh, not satisfied until their clothes formed a heap at the foot of the four-poster bed.

“You’re absolutely beautiful. I love looking at you. And I must admit, that there’s a definite advantage to bedding a woman of substance.”

Steph laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”

Paula kissed her shoulder lightly. “It means that I’m so grateful for all of the fine oils, lotions and body wraps that you must treat yourself to. Your skin is absolutely delicious.”

Steph thought she remembered Paula’s touch but nothing she’d imagined compared to the soft fingertips that traced the curve of her neck. She suddenly felt terribly deprived, having spent years pressed against a rough beard and enduring smelly armpits.

Paula drew her body over Steph’s until their hips rocked together in unison.

“I’ve never made love in the daytime,” Steph said unsteadily. “Hell, I’ve never made love twice in twenty-four hours.”

“That’s just shameful,” Paula concluded as she fondled Steph’s breasts. “This body shouldn’t be ignored.”

“I’m probably a little self-conscious. I know this might sound ridiculous but Lawrence believed in a schedule and he had certain rules about sex, at least when it came to me.”

She traced a circle around her areola. “Ah, well this will be a new experience for you. I love sex in the daytime. Remember that day in my bedroom?”

Steph rolled her eyes. “Of course. I was terrified.”

“Are you terrified now?” she asked, the heat between them increasing.

Steph wasn’t sure how much longer she could converse. She imagined that soon her body would do all of the talking. “No, I’m not afraid but I don’t know you anymore. It’s been so long.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Uh, who’s your favorite rock group?”

“U2. What about you?”

She chuckled. “It’s still Rush.”

“I remember that. What’s your favorite food?”

“Anything French. I love French food. Where’s your favorite vacation spot?”

Paula smiled sadly. “I don’t have one, really. I’m always working. How do you feel right now?” she asked. Her fingertips roamed across Steph’s belly, flipping switches of passion that she had thought were off for good.

“Fabulous.”

“Does it bother you that we’re totally naked on a rickety old bed in the light of day? We’re not even hidden under a sheet. All of our wrinkles and crow’s feet are entirely exposed,” she added dramatically.

She gazed up at Paula whose face beamed in the sunlight. She grinned and flipped her on her back, settling their hips together like two puzzle pieces.

“What are you doing?” Paula asked innocently.

“Well, after my abrupt departure from this room seventeen years ago, I owe you. And you’re gonna love the way I pay you back.”

Chapter Thirteen

Paula pulled into the small parking lot behind the lawyer’s office, a converted house that served three different tenants. She admired the beautiful old columns and sturdy bricks, grateful that Eugene was smart enough to change the zoning laws when the center of town shifted. All of the businesses that lined the one-way streets were residential homes in a past era, but instead of destroying them in the name of progress and erecting tacky strip malls, the city planners opted to preserve the history. It was one of the things she loved about Eugene.

“Hey, thanks for coming with me,” she told Steph. “I’m not sure what Ted’s going to tell me. It could be really bad news. Maybe Mom owes a ton in back taxes.”

Steph laughed. “I seriously doubt that, given how frugal and careful she was, and if she does owe anything, I think you’ll be able to cover it with all the quarters, dimes and nickels sitting in the hallway.”

“You’re probably right. I’m just glad you’re here. I know I keep saying that but I am.”

“I need to thank you for the best morning of my life. I’ve never felt so…refreshed.”

Paula stroked her cheek. “That’s what morning sex can do for you. It’s totally invigorating.” She quickly added, “I mean I hope you thought it was great. I shouldn’t be so presumptuous.”

Steph answered with a sizzling kiss before she hopped out of the Malibu. Paula blinked, steadying herself before she tried to exit. Steph completely unraveled her every time they touched. She was lost in a black hole, caught between the love she felt for Steph—and it was love—and the common sense that ruled her personal life and told her that straight women always go back to their husbands. But was she really straight? What about those afternoons behind the rock?

She closed the black hole and joined Steph on the sidewalk. When they entered the Law Offices of Ted Ruth, Esquire, no one was there to greet them in the waiting area but a man’s laugh resonated from the interior office. He was obviously on the phone and speaking to a client. Paula felt slightly uncomfortable listening to someone else’s confidential business and she hesitated to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs.

“Do you think we should wait outside?” Steph asked. Her conscience was clearly facing the same dilemma.

Paula shrugged. “I don’t know. You’d think he’d close the door if it was important.”

Steph nodded and they sat. Paula couldn’t help herself. She leaned over and kissed Steph, savoring her lips.

A deep cough caught her attention and she realized that Mr. Ruth had a clear view of their display of affection. His eyes met hers but his expression showed no sign of disapproval, merely curiosity. He was obviously a multitasker, able to listen to his conversation and absorb information visually.

She’d always remembered him as a smart man and he’d spent a lot of time at their house, especially after her father’s death. He and Francine had been incredibly close and he’d enjoyed plenty of her mother’s cooking, usually arriving thirty minutes before dinner with papers in his hand. He’d always worn a three-piece suit, as he did now, but in the casualness of their home, he’d taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, offering to help her mother prepare a salad or a side dish.

“I always wondered if there wasn’t something between Mr. Ruth and my mom,” she whispered to Steph.

“What?” she asked, looking up from the old magazine she’d grabbed from the coffee table.

She threw a glance toward Ted. “I mean he was always around looking dapper and well…very traditional.”

Steph nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. I remember one time my mother tried to get him to write a nasty letter against one of our neighbors who’d called the police about her singing on the porch. The guy said she was a public nuisance.” Paula laughed, remembering Debbie’s endless serenades. “She must’ve thought that a letter from an attorney would get him to back off but Ted wouldn’t do it.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“Nope. He quizzed her about how loud she was, and she said she was as loud as the song demanded, and he asked her when she sang, and she said whenever she felt like it. And he asked if that included early in the morning or late at night and her response—”

“Was that it depended on the song?” Paula guessed.

Steph pointed at her. “Exactly. Ted wouldn’t help her because she was violating the law. She was hopping mad at him but she also respected his scruples. Told him he was a stand-up guy and if she ever really needed an attorney, she was calling him. He was the most honest man she’d ever met.”

Paula nodded, thinking about why they were there. “Good to know.”

They heard him finish the phone call and he appeared at the door. He’d buttoned his jacket to greet them and Paula thought he looked dapper.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Please come in. Can I offer you something to drink?”

They both shook their heads and took a seat. Ted returned to his chair and quickly scanned a yellow notepad full of notes before folding his hands on his desk.

“I’ll be blunt, Paula. Your mother’s will is shocking.”

“Really? Why?” She shifted in her seat and didn’t even realize she was bobbing her leg until Steph placed her hand on her knee.

“Your mother’s generation, my generation, is very private about personal matters. If you knew the particulars of today’s discussion, you probably would’ve contacted me sooner. And when we’re done, I hope you won’t hate me. Remember that I’m just the messenger.”

“I understand that, Ted. Please just tell me what’s in there. I’m beginning to think my mother was an ax murderer.” She tried to be funny but her voice cracked.

He picked up the Last Will and Testament and held it out to her. The first few pages were introductory, line after line containing confusing legal jargon. She hoped Ted didn’t expect her to read or understand all of it. She got to the fourth page which listed the assets. There were several numbers and addresses, much more than she thought.

“I guess I don’t really understand what I’m reading, Ted. What are these three other addresses underneath Mom’s house?”

“Those are your mother’s holdings.”

“Her what?”

“She owned other pieces of property, Paula, not just the house.”

She looked at him incredulously. Had he mixed up this will with someone else’s?

“What are you talking about? My mother wouldn’t spend money on real estate.”

“Oh, she did,” he said, opening his own copy of the will. “After your father died I advised your mother that she needed to diversify her portfolio. Your grandparents left Francine a sizeable inheritance and when Paul was killed at the prime of his life, your mother received a substantial settlement. She couldn’t leave all that money sitting in a savings account, which was what she was inclined to do.”

Paula instantly thought of the coin jars and cash hidden throughout the house.

“I convinced her that real estate was the best investment and she listened. And I was right,” he added, with a note of pride. “Eugene has grown significantly and her investments proved quite profitable.”

She couldn’t believe it. Her mother had never said a word about investments and she’d always lived like a pauper. “So, you’re saying my mother had some money,” she summarized.

“Paula, your mother had a lot of money. These three other addresses are a commercial property, a rental house near the university and a lighthouse.”

“My mother owns a lighthouse?”

He nodded.

She fumbled with her collar and craved a cigarette. “I just don’t understand. How can this be? She was a tightwad who never spent a dime unless it was entirely necessary.”

“I know,” he said softly. “She could be quite stubborn.” His professional tone vanished.

She knew he’d been close to Francine and quite upset at the funeral, arriving late and leaving early. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to pardon me. I knew your mother for a long time and I’m sorry she’s gone.” He set three large file folders in front of her. “Each of these contains the pertinent information about the other properties I’ve mentioned. I assume you’ve located all of the paperwork on her house.”

Paula nodded. “Yes, it was in her desk.” Along with eight hundred dollars in cash.

“Then you should have all of the necessary documents. There will need to be transfers of title, new deeds, et cetera, and I’ll be happy to help you with that or you could hire your own attorney. It’s up to you.”

The idea of wading through voluminous documents and paperwork made her ill. “I’m fine with hiring you, Ted. You’ve navigated my mother through these investments so you’ll have the most familiarity. She also spoke very highly of you so I trust you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, unsteadily.

She saw tears in his eyes.“Is everything all right? You seem distraught.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine. I suggest that you review these files so you can see exactly what you’re going to own and we can discuss options.”

“What if I just wanted to sell everything?” she asked.

Ted shrugged. “I suppose we could do that but I’d advise against it, considering these are tangible assets making money. And it wouldn’t be easy to unload a lighthouse in this economy.”

Paula sifted through the folders until she found the one labeled Tillamook. Her eyes widened as she read the first page.

“My mother owns the Tillamook lighthouse?”

“That surprises you?” Ted asked. “You knew she loved lighthouses, correct?”

“Well, yes, and I love shoe shopping but that doesn’t mean I’ve gone out and bought a boutique.”

“You could now,” he replied. “Apparently the lighthouse is where your mother would like her ashes to go. A few years back she and some other investors made Tillamook a final resting place for people who loved lighthouses or the sea. It’s proven quite profitable.”

“Fine. I’ll take her out there myself.” She glanced at Steph who nodded in support.

Ted leaned forward on the desk. “Now there is one more thing.”

His voice sounded ominous, whereas a minute before he’d been welcoming and friendly.

“Just say it.”

“I said your mother’s will was shocking. I’ve shared with you the holdings that you are to receive but there is a condition. And please remember that I’m only the messenger.” He took a deep breath before he said, “About three years ago your mother came to me and added a codicil to her will after she learned you were a lesbian.”

The room seemed to get a little smaller and warmer and Steph pressed her hand against Paula’s knee. This time Paula took her hand and held it. Ted dropped his gaze to their laced fingers.

He opened another folder and handed Paula a paper. It was a short paragraph of only a few sentences. She scanned it, unsure if she understood the legal jargon sprinkled among the words she knew—lesbian, relationship, forfeit and charity.

“Why don’t you just say it plainly,” she said.

“Essentially your mother has decided that if you pursue a long-term lesbian relationship, the bulk of the estate, except for the house you grew up in, will transfer to several charities that she’s designated.”

“I see.”

Her mind was reeling and she thought she might be sick. She yanked her hand away from Steph’s, as if her mother were watching her. When she looked up at Steph, she expected to see a look of reproof but all she found were her kind eyes. She repressed the urge to run out of the room.

“You might as well start contacting those charities, Ted. I don’t think I can stop being a lesbian.”

“I understand but I would be remiss if I didn’t urge you to think about this carefully. You’re a very wealthy woman and you could be set for life. I suggest you take some time to learn about what you’ve inherited before you make any rash decisions. And I’m happy to help you, once you’ve had a chance to process all of this. I know this is a shock to you.”

She watched his eyes, full of sadness. His hands busied themselves by rearranging the other papers on his desk, as if he were preparing for his next client meeting and her exit.

“Ted, can I ask you a personal question and you can tell me to mind my own business if you want.”

“Of course,” he said, unwilling to meet her gaze.

“How close were you to my mother?”

“Very close.”

“More than just attorney and client?”

“Yes. I considered your mother a friend, a dear friend.”

“Were you lovers?”

“Paula,” Steph said sharply.

While Steph had been offended, Ted showed no emotion. He fingered his gold pen, not answering. He still had not looked up.

“It’s just that I remember when I was growing up that you were around a lot, especially when my dad died. But even after his death you spent time with my mom.”

“I always wanted to support your mother,” he said softly. “She was a wonderful woman, except for this decision. Please know how hard I tried to get her to reconsider. I find her decision absolutely reprehensible,” he added, his voice filled with anger. He wiped a hand across his face to steady his emotions. “Why would you think we were involved, Paula?” He finally looked up and she smiled slightly. His face fell. “How did you know?”

“Mostly it was little things. You showed up to deliver papers right when we were sitting down to dinner and then you’d stay after I went to bed. Once I saw you holding her hand when she was crying. And that wasn’t anything significant in itself but I remember that you didn’t let go for a long time.”

“Just so you know, your mother and I didn’t get involved until after your father’s death. I wanted to marry her but she wouldn’t.”

She should have guessed the truth but she’d never wanted to know. She couldn’t imagine Francine giving up her freedom, her weekends when she went off to lighthouses alone. “I like my independence,” she’d once told Paula.

“I wasn’t good enough for her,” he concluded.

She shook her head. “I don’t think that was it.” She didn’t want to know any more. She had her own grief and he had his. She held up the folders. “So, bottom line. How much will the charities get?”

Ted tilted his head. “Um, well, I’d guess about one and a half.”

“One and a half what?”

“One and a half million dollars, Paula. Your mother was a millionaire.”

She nearly fell backward. Then she looked at Steph, who was shaking her head.

“You’ve got to be kidding? My mother? The woman who never bought a single item that wasn’t on sale or clearance? Was this lighthouse a Blue Light Special because that’s the only way my mother the cheapskate ever would’ve paid for it!”

She laughed heartily while Steph and Ted remained stoic. But there was nothing amusing about any of this, and she abruptly stood up, taking Steph’s hand in her own.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 489