The War Within (26 page)

“She should be able to answer any job-related questions you may have,” Tatum said. “In the meantime, do you have any questions for me?”

“Just one. How’s Lincoln?”

Tatum’s laugh was low-pitched and unbelievably sexy.

“Hold on. Let me check.” After a brief pause, Tatum said, “He says he’s fine, but he wants to know when you plan to take him for another walk.”

Tatum was calling from the hotel, which meant Lincoln was in her office with her. Did he provide protection during the overnight hours of her shift or did she simply enjoy his company?

“I don’t know what his schedule looks like this week, but tell him we could give it a try next weekend if he doesn’t have to work.”

“Hold on.” Another pause. “He says he’s looking forward to it.”

“So am I,” Jordan said, though she couldn’t decide who she was looking forward to seeing more, Lincoln or his master. “Thank you for the opportunity, Tatum.”

“No need to thank me. You earned it.”

Jordan ended the call and covered her face with a throw pillow as she let out a delirious scream. After two weeks of gloom, things were finally looking up.

*

Natalie trailed her fingers over the Bronco’s pockmarked metal hood as she walked around the front of the car to open the passenger’s side door. She pulled the door open and held out her hand. Meredith accepted the offer of help. Feeling Natalie’s hand in hers made her feel young again. Fortunately, the callowness of youth had been tempered by years of experience.

“I wish we could go somewhere and find a quiet place to talk.” Meredith continued to hold Natalie’s hand long after she needed its support. It was contact she sought instead. A chance to reestablish the connection they had once had. “But your friends are waiting for you to make an appearance.”

Natalie glanced toward the house. Beverly, Mary, and their guests were standing with their faces pressed against the living room window, not bothering to hide their blatant efforts to spy on her and Natalie.

“I never expected my private life to be the object of anyone’s fascination,” Natalie said, “but in a small town like this one, uncovering fresh gossip is the most popular spectator sport. Nosy old biddies.”

Chuckling, Meredith finally let go of Natalie’s hand and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “If they annoyed you as much as you pretend they do, I doubt you would have accepted Beverly’s invitation to join them for dinner or still consider them your friends.”

Natalie reached into the backseat for her pot of food and slammed the car door shut with her elbow. Meredith accompanied her up the azalea-lined walkway. Eight potted begonias led up to the painted concrete steps to the front door.

“I’ve known most of the women in this house longer than I’ve known some members of my own family.” Natalie climbed the steps as an overfed domestic gray did figure eights through her legs. “They may get on my nerves from time to time, but I know they’ll always be there for me when I need them and there’s something to be said for that.”

“I feel the same way about the members of my bridge club. We may talk about each other when someone’s back is turned, but if anyone else tried to disparage a member of the group, she’d have a fight on her hands.”

Natalie’s lips curled into a smile. “I feel like I’m falling. Not hard and fast like before but gentle and slow as if in a dream. This time, maybe I’ll find a softer place to land.”

Meredith felt Natalie’s previous iciness toward her begin to thaw. “Here’s hoping.”

Beverly opened the heavy oak front door before Natalie or Meredith came close to ringing the bell. In full hostess mode, she was wearing a flowing caftan worthy of a ’40s-era movie star. All she needed was a spiral staircase to walk down, a cut crystal highball glass to wave around, and the witty words of a talented screenwriter to spout.

“Now that you two are here, the real fun can begin. Come in and stop standing on my doorstep like you don’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.”

Beverly pressed a cheek to Natalie’s in a semblance of a hello kiss. After Beverly treated Meredith to the same greeting, Natalie and Meredith stepped into the foyer. A few women were talking quietly in the living room. From the looks of it, the rest had escaped to the backyard, where Tiki torches burning mosquito-repellent citronella wicks bathed the area in a festive glow.

“Natalie.” Beverly waved a bejeweled hand as she led them into the living room. “You know how this works. The rest of the food’s spread out in the dining room. Find a place to set your dishes down and introduce Meredith to everyone while I fix you two a couple of drinks. Gin and tonic, right?” She stepped behind a fully stocked bar that took up most of one wall. “Well, go on. I’ll have your drinks ready before you know it and meet you out back. Now off with you.”

In the formal dining room, Meredith placed her casserole between a bowl of potato salad and a platter filled with sausage balls. “I’m guessing Beverly’s partner doesn’t talk much.”

Natalie nudged a hash brown casserole closer to a plate of cheese straws to make room on the table for her chicken and dumplings. “Mary learned a long time ago the only word she needs to know how to say is yes. Because as we say in the South, if Mama ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.”

Meredith laughed long and loud. “Unlike most of the expressions I’ve heard since I’ve been here, I don’t have to be a local to understand that one.”

“No, but like most things, it certainly helps. Are you ready to meet everyone, or would you prefer to have some liquid courage first? It isn’t too late to back out, you know.”

Meredith took Natalie’s arm. “It seems to me,” she said, wrapping both hands around it, “you’re more nervous about tonight than I am. What gives?”

“According to you, you’ve been asking a lot of people a lot of questions the past few weeks but didn’t get any answers. Now it’s their turn to question you. Except in their case, I don’t think they’ll allow you to plead the Fifth.”

“Are you afraid of what they’ll ask or what I might say?”

“Both.”

Natalie opened the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. Women ranging in age from forty to eighty sat in weathered Adirondack chairs haphazardly arranged on the broken-tile patio or on the lush green grass covering the large lot.

Mary rose to greet them, then pointed out two available chairs. After Natalie and Meredith were seated, she led everyone through a round of introductions.

“Don’t worry, Meredith,” Mary said after the last woman had taken her turn. “There will be a quiz later, but I’ll give you a chance to earn extra credit to improve your overall grade.”

Meredith laughed dutifully at the retired teacher’s variation on an old joke. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what would I have to do?”

Mary sat back in her chair as Beverly settled into her lap. She patted Beverly’s leg possessively. “Thanks to Sherlock Holmes here, we’ve managed to deduce a few things about you. You and Natalie met during the war. She was interested; you weren’t. You did one tour, came home, got married, and started a family. Nat stayed and continued to fight the good fight. Am I right so far?”

Meredith took a sip of the drink Beverly had given her after she’d made her way onto the patio. “So far.”

“Since you’re attending our little soirée tonight,” Mary continued, “I’m assuming your interest in Nat has taken a turn from the platonic to the Sapphic. I have only one question for you. Have you ever been with a woman before?”

Natalie shifted in her seat as her friends circled Meredith like a school of sharks zeroing in on dinner. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“I know,” Meredith said. “I want to.”

Except she wasn’t sure she wanted to give the answer in this environment. The question should have been Natalie’s to ask, and the answer should be Natalie’s to hear. Natalie’s alone.

Natalie downed half her drink in one swallow and retreated into the darkness, ceding the spotlight to Meredith.

Meredith set her glass on the wide arm of her chair and leaned forward in the sharply angled seat. “Yes, I have been with a woman before.”

“When? Who?”

The questions might have been on the tip of Natalie’s tongue, but they hadn’t spilled from her lips. They had come from someone seated to her right.

“Last year. Enough time had passed after George—my husband—died that my friends felt comfortable enough to ask me if I was ready to start dating again. The idea of returning to the fray at my age held very little appeal to me, and I told them so. I’ve loved two people in my life. One was gone and the other I thought was equally lost.”

She saw more than one set of eyes turn in Natalie’s direction.

“I went to visit my granddaughter before the start of her junior year at Berkeley. I spent a weekend touring the campus and meeting her friends. On a whim, I decided to make a side trip to San Francisco before I returned home. I had made several friends in the area when I was stationed there before the war and I sought out one who had decided to make it her home when she got out of the Army. When I called her up, she invited me to her house for dinner. We split a couple of bottles of wine and reminisced about old times. Then we brought each other up to date on everything that had happened in our lives since we completed our respective tours of duty. She and her partner ran a small screen printing business for several years before they sold it to a mid-sized corporation and retired off the proceeds. She said she and her partner had broken up since then but were still on friendly terms. They met once a month to have what she called ‘ex sex.’”

Meredith had never heard the term prior to the night in question, but a few women laughed in apparent recognition.

“I told her I couldn’t imagine sex without love. I couldn’t imagine sleeping with someone without my emotions getting involved, especially old ones. She said it was easier than I might think. The wine must have made me adventurous because I put my glass down, walked over to where she was sitting, took her hands in mine, and said, ‘Show me.’”

“Did she?” Beverly asked.

Meredith grinned. “Several times.”

The femmes clapped and the butches whistled to show their admiration. Meredith felt like the belle of the ball.

Beverly stood and held up her hands to get everyone’s attention. “The only thing left to say after a story like that is, ‘Dinner is served.’”

Everyone headed to the dining room and filled their plates. Dinner was informal, so they ate balancing their plates on their laps or their upraised palms. By the end of the night, Meredith felt like part of the family.

“When is the next get-together?” she asked as she hugged Beverly good-bye. “I have a pork tenderloin recipe I’ve been meaning to try if you don’t mind me experimenting on you.”

“Not at all. Nat will give you the details. Won’t you?” Beverly opened her arms for a hug. Natalie leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek, but Beverly latched on and wouldn’t let go. “I’m so happy for you,” Beverly said in a stage whisper. “Until Meredith came back into your life, Mary and I thought you were waiting for Billie to die before you allowed yourself to live.”

Meredith flinched at the reminder of Billie’s imminent passing. She didn’t know what to say to refute Beverly’s statement. By appearing at the potluck together, she and Natalie had been branded a couple. The designation was far from official, but Natalie seemed increasingly amenable to the idea of making it a reality.

“Same time next month?” Natalie asked as she walked Meredith to the car.

“I can’t wait.”

Even though she had plenty of company, working the night shift made Jordan nervous. She had seen too many grainy surveillance videos of late-night holdups not to feel a bit of trepidation every time someone walked through the automatic door.

She double-clicked an icon on her computer desktop. Four viewing panels appeared on the screen, filled with live feeds from the Remember When Inn’s security monitoring system. She took herself on a virtual tour of the property, starting with the grounds and ending with the hallways, lobby, and common areas. She looked for signs of unusual activity, but was greeted by the same old-same old—guests frolicking in the pool, lounging in the late afternoon sun, pumping quarters into the vending machines, filling coolers with ice despite the posted warning that such activity was prohibited, and puttering along on rented bikes or souped-up golf carts.

“That takes care of that.”

With the security check out of the way, she closed the program and plastered on a smile as she prepared to check in a late-arriving guest. After she completed the transaction and handed over the guest’s key card with what she hoped was the right amount of good cheer, Larry Nixon beamed like a proud father. Larry had been with the Remember When for nearly fifteen years, and Riley had asked him to give her some hands-on training.

“Nice job,” he said.

“I had a good teacher.”

Their training sessions had gone well. Larry was knowledgeable about the job and willing to share everything he had learned. He wasn’t willing to hang around after his shift was over, however. Jordan took a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall. A few minutes before seven. Almost time for Larry’s shift to end. At the top of the hour, not a minute before or a minute after, he’d clock out and head home. Then she’d be left to man the desk alone.

The walkie-talkie on Larry’s worn leather belt crackled, and Tatum’s voice carried through the speaker. “Larry, come see me before you leave.”

Larry unclipped the walkie-talkie and thumbed the microphone. “You got it, boss.”

“Ooh, somebody’s in trouble.”

Larry placed the walkie-talkie next to Jordan’s workstation. “She probably wants an update on your progress. Do you want me to lie or tell the truth?”

“Whatever gets me a raise.”

Jordan had expected her addition to the team to be met with friction from some members of the staff—it had taken her several weeks to earn her co-workers’ trust at some of her previous jobs—but the staff of the Remember When had welcomed her with open arms. She was still getting used to some of the quirks in the reservation system, but Larry had worked at the hotel longer than anyone else, and he occasionally had problems with the system, too.