Geoducks Are for Lovers (4 page)

Gil's coming to the island.
 

Of all the friends in the group from college, Gil and Maggie have been the worst at keeping in touch. Neither one believes in Facebook, so they don't get the constant updates, snarky online cards, and pictures of children and pets of each other’s lives. Forced to rely on the old school methods of leading questions to mutual friends, vague and infrequent updates disappoint. Because Selah and Gil both live in Portland, she’s the best source of information. Selah’s the one who told Maggie Gil and Judith got divorced three years ago. She also told Gil when Maggie’s mom died and he sent a card. Maggie wonders if she should have sent a card when he got divorced. Do they make cards for divorces? She makes a mental note to ask Pam at Island Hallmark. She'd know. 

Quinn comes back and eyes the shrimp in his Bloody Mary. 

“Shrimp for your thoughts.” He waves the speared prawn at her.

“Just wondering what it’ll be like to have everyone together again. It's been, what? Five years? Since we've all been together? I see you and Selah often, and Ben when he comes through Vancouver on business, but Lizzy’s funeral was the last time we were all together.”

“So you haven’t seen Gil since he had the Judithectomy?”

Maggie laughs. “Judithectomy? She wasn’t that bad.” 

He gives her a look. “Yes she was and you know it.” 

“Okay, okay. Judith was horrible. How did he ever marry her?”

“Maybe she was a conciliation prize because the one he wanted got away.”

“Ha! Well, at least he came to his senses.” She sighs. “Gil is coming.” The disbelief in her voice matches the look on her face.

“You’re overthinking. We're going to have a blast. It will be like
The Big Chill
without Kevin Costner and with better music.”

“Did you make your ‘Lost Youth’ playlist? Lots of Hole and music inspired by boys in flannel?”

“I did. I also made an old skool with a ‘k’ Hip Hop mix. Cause we used to own that shit.”

Maggie laughs at his statement. Quinn never owned Hip Hop back in the day. His long hair and hippie style in college earned him the nickname Aslan from
The Narnia Chronicles
.

“Listen, Aslan, you were never going back to Cali, so don't even start. You were much more Bryan Ferry than LL Cool J.”

“True. Remember Lizzy dragging us all on that road trip to see Bryan Ferry at the Greek in Berkeley?” That road trip was the beginning of her closest friendships.

“I do. I found my old vinyl copy of
Avalon
the other night.” 

“Maybe it’s a good sign. Happy memories then, happy times now.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. 

“Hey, I know you’re freaking out about seeing Gil. I can see it and that poor napkin can feel it… what’s left of it.”

She looks down at the shreds of what used to be a cocktail napkin. 

“You’re both adults and old friends. Don't let the what-ifs of the past get in the way of enjoying this weekend. We could all use a little fun in our lives.”

He's right. Quinn is her conscience—a pervy, gay, conscience.

“Speaking of lives, how's Ryan? Still in the honeymoon phase?”

“Dr. Gooding is dandy. Who would’ve thought I'd be the one to marry the dreamy dermatologist? I mean, did you ever think? Dr. and Mr.?”

“I am happy for you, but there are plenty of women doctors out there—lots of doctors and their misters. However, I never thought we'd see the day we'd have Mr. and Mr. in this country.”

“Right you are. How sexist of me. Lots of mister-misters now.”

Laughing at his word play, she says, “The wedding was amazing.”

“The wedding was perfect, wasn't it? Cape Cod in the summer. Sublime. Can’t believe it’s been two years already.” Quinn gets a dreamy look on his face. 

“Your wedding was one of the few bright spots in my life over the past three years. Is Ryan still coming out this weekend?”

“He'll be here Saturday morning, and he’s really been looking forward to seeing you. We have some news to share with everyone.”

“News? Care to give me a hint?”

“No hints for you. Everyone will hear it when we’re all together.”

Maggie pouts and wonders what his news could be. 

“Fine, as long as you promise it’s good news. I need more good news in my life.”

“It’s great news. I promise. Maybe not as good as Gil crashing the weekend, but it’s right up there.” He winks at her. “You’ll just have to wait until Saturday.”

“You are a mean one, Mr. Dayton.”

Quinn laughs at her, ignoring her pout. 

“I hope we have good weather this weekend. I plan to introduce Ryan to the entertainment of the geoduck hunt.”

“Somehow I suspect he’s already acquainted with your geoduck.” She laughs at the old island euphemism.

“The man knows a thing or two about geoducks.”

“Strange given he’s a dermatologist and not a marine biologist.”

“Or a urologist. Thank god.” After making a sour face, he sucks the last of his drink through his straw.

Outside the ferry pulls into the dock. “Time to go, funny man.”

* * *

After getting Quinn settled in his room upstairs, they head out to the deck. The tallest buildings of Seattle sparkle to the south like the Emerald City of its nickname. The high tide is still hours away.

“Home, sweet home,” Quinn says, taking a big inhale of salty air. “Now that’s island fresh.” He coughs, then laughs. “Yeah, tidal flat on a hot, sunny day must be an acquired taste.”

Beyond the beach, kids are building mound of wet sand taller than a man, more mountain than castle. A game of king of the hill ensues. All of their hard work will be washed away once the tide comes back later in the day, but they don't seem to mind.

Sitting on lounge chairs on the deck with tall glasses of iced tea, Quinn and Maggie catch up about the little things going on in their lives. They Skype, Facetime, text or chat nearly every day, but it's different talking in person. 

What seems like minutes later, Maggie realizes the tide is in and the time is later than she thought.

“We should eat. I have salmon to grill and a couscous salad in the fridge. Sound good? Plus, both white and red wines, and a Spanish Rosé.” She turns on the propane on the gas grill sitting in the far corner of the deck.

“Sounds great. Especially the wine part.”

“I'd hate for you to dehydrate.”

“Is Rosé a fancy way of saying White Zinfandel?” 

“Shh. Maybe. Pretty label and doesn’t give you the hangover like the stuff we drank in college.”

“Speak for yourself. I never drank White Zin. I’m not that much of a gay stereotype.”

“Right, you preferred ‘Mountain Rhine’. I can still see the jugs in the fridge.”

“Mountain sounded masculine. Manly mountain men who drink wine in Germany. Kind of hot, as hot as you can be in lederhosen.”

“Way to avoid stereotypes, Q.”

Her phone chirps with a text. Looking at the screen she sees Selah’s name.

*Decided to come up tonight. On the ferry now. Surprise! Don't hate me. All good. xoxo*

Quinn's phone chirps.

“Don't bother. It's Benedict Selah. She and Gil are on the ferry. Don't suppose you knew this?”

“I didn't. Swear. Should I open the wine? Or do you need something stronger?”

“Wine will be fine. Wanna keep my wits about me.” Maggie nods to herself.

Shit.

Five

“White or red?” Quinn’s voice carries upstairs.

With sunny days turning to cool summer nights on the beach, Maggie decides to change clothes. Normally she’d throw on a pair of skinny jeans and a hoodie, but Gil will be arriving at her house in less than a half hour. This information throws her into a dilemma. Gil. Probably still hot Gil is coming over.
Probably still hot?
Ha. It hasn’t been that long. He’s definitely still hot.

“How about the Rosé?” She shouts down to Quinn

“Glass or bucket?”

“A glass to start. I’ll save the bucket for later.”

“Wear your jeans and a hoodie, Magpie. This isn’t a formal occasion.”

Maggie laughs, Quinn knows her so well. She grabs her favorite dark jeans and a blue hoodie. She brushes her hair out of its tangled bun and even bothers with lipgloss and mascara. Sitting on the deck all afternoon means her face shows some color and her hair is wavy from the bun. Looking in the mirror she thinks she looks pretty good for forty-one. 

“You don’t look a day over twenty-five,” he says as he hands her a large glass of chilled Rosé. “Your ass hasn’t aged a day.”

“If only it was true. I miss my twenty-something ass. I didn’t appreciate it while I had it.”

“We never appreciate what we have at the time.” 

Letting the deeper meaning of his words sink in, she sips her wine, and surveys the house. Everything appears to be in place. From the wall of windows in the living room, she notices the sun starting to dip towards the horizon. Sunset won’t be for a few hours. 

“I turned off the grill. Figured we should wait for Selah and Gil to get here, then all eat together. Knowing you, you made more than enough for four, let alone two.” 

Quinn is right. Inheriting her mother’s gift for hosting, she is more than prepared for extra guests.

“I’m going to make some snacks. Nuts? Olives? Cheese straws? Everyone loves cheese straws, right?” she says as she heads into the open kitchen. 

Quinn pulls up a barstool at the end of the island. “Everyone but the lactose and gluten intolerant.”

Maggie gives him a dirty look.

“Fine. As far as I know neither of our dinner guests is either. Relax, drink your wine. It’ll all be fine.”

She organizes a tray with spiced pecans, cheese straws, olives, and a roll of salami. 

“Q, will you take this out to the table while I grab the wine and an ice bucket?”

They make their way out to the deck. Biscuit joins them and lays at Quinn’s feet, looking up at him adoringly. With the high tide the boats in the bay bob in the water once again and small waves lap the shore.

“You and Biscuit are having a fine romance. Are you sure you didn’t line your pockets in bacon? Bacon cologne? I hear they make such a thing now.”

“Biscuit is an excellent judge of character. No other explanation.”

She raises her glass. “To good characters.”

He clinks her glass with his own.

“I can’t believe you two didn’t wait for us to start drinking!” Selah’s voice carries over from the stairs leading down to the side lawn.

“Showtime!” Quinn says with a little too much enthusiasm for Maggie’s liking. She finishes her glass of wine and stands to face the new arrivals.

“Hi!” she greets Selah, matching Quinn’s exuberance.

Selah wears one of her typical flowing skirts and tank top accessorized with a huge necklace, which draws attention to her large chest. Oversized sunglasses hold her dark bob away from her face.

More distracting than even Selah’s breasts is the tousled brown hair of the man behind her. A few steps behind Selah stands Gilliam Morrow. Maggie’s heart flips at the sight of him.

Biscuit barks out a greeting at the new guests and scampers over to sniff them. He’s the world’s most friendly dog and more apt to lick than bite.

Selah walks over to hug Quinn, giving Maggie a clear view of the man walking up the stairs. His brown hair is shorter, and it might be sprinkled with a little more gray. The face shows a few more lines around his warm brown eyes than the last time she saw it, but it’s still a handsome composition of angles. Wearing khaki shorts and a faded Jane’s Addiction T-shirt, he is a mix of old friend and stranger.

Gil makes eye contact with Maggie and smiles. He runs his hand through his hair, and gives her a small wave. 

“Who’s this fine beast?” Gil asks.

Biscuit sniffs around the newcomers. Gil scratches the dog’s head, and from the way Biscuit leans into him, the two of them will be fast friends.

“That’s Biscuit. He’s a manwhore,” Quinn answers for Maggie who stands quietly staring at Gil.

“Hi, Maggie.” Gil strides over to her and gives her a friendly peck on the cheek. 

“Hi,” she says as she hugs him. It is a hug of two strangers who used to be friends, who used to be more. Gil’s tall frame towers over hers—she barely comes up to his shoulder. She inhales his clean scent with hints of sunscreen and salt. He smells like summer.

“Hi,” he says again and then laughs at himself. “I guess I already said that.”

“Hi.” She laughs along with him.

“Sorry to crash the weekend. Hope you don’t mind.” His deep voice is soft with genuine feeling.

“Of course not. It wouldn’t be the whole gang if you weren’t here.” She hopes she sounds cooler than she feels.

Selah comes over and saves them from the awkwardness. She steps between Maggie and Gil, and hugs Maggie. Gil walks over to shake Quinn’s hand.

“Forgive me?” Selah whispers in her ear.

“We’ll see,” Maggie whispers back.

Louder Maggie says, “How was the ferry? Where are your bags? Do you want wine? There’s a Rosé open. Or beer. You probably want a beer, Gil. I have beer. Or iced tea. You don’t have to drink.”