Finding Home (19 page)

“Then I need my eyes checked.”

“It happens.” She could hear the smile in Natalie’s voice.

“Maybe she just doesn’t do it for you.”

Sarah shifted her pelvis, double-checking the state of her panties, noting their continued wetness. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”

“Then…maybe you’re still not ready to move on from Karen,” Natalie suggested with tenderness.

Sarah wandered back into the kitchen and stared at her drink some more. “God, it’s been over a year. She’s marrying somebody else in a few months. I
have
to move on.” She shook her head, refusing the possibility altogether. “No. No, that’s not it either.”

“Okay. Hmm…” Natalie was quiet for several long seconds, obviously thinking. “Maybe you’re not the kind of person who can sleep with somebody you don’t love.”

Sarah ß ashed instantly to the couple of women she’d picked up while overseas, on how she’d had no trouble at all with nostrings-attached sex, and made a sound that was a combination of a grunt and a hum.

“That’s not uncommon. I’m kind of like that,” Natalie conÞ ded.

“You are?” Sarah wasn’t sure why she was surprised.

“Absolutely. I always had trouble with the casual sex thing.

I always
wished
I was better at it,” she said with a laugh, “but it’s just not the way I’m built. Maybe you’re like that, too.”

“I suppose anything’s possible,” Sarah said with a sigh, touched by Natalie wanting to make her feel better but not wishing to burst any bubbles. Changing the subject, she said, “So, tell me about your day. How’s our boy?”

By the time they’d exhausted all conversation and Sarah caught Natalie midyawn, they’d been on the phone for over an hour.

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“I’m sorry, I should let you get to sleep,” Sarah said. “I forgot how early you have to get up.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Natalie said. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too. You made me feel better.”

“I did?”

“DeÞ nitely.”

“Good. I’m glad. Are you meeting us for our walk tomorrow?”

“I think so.”

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

Sarah was oddly touched by the invitation. “That sounds great. I’ll bring the wine.”

“Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Sleep well, Sarah.”

“You, too. Good night, Natalie. Give Bentley a kiss for me.”

She held the handset for a long time after Natalie was gone, staring into space at nothing, retracing the weird path of her day.

Fatigue set down on her shoulders suddenly, like a shawl made of lead, and she wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, sleep for days, and wake up to a life that was at least a little bit different in some way. Grabbing her untouched Bombay and tonic, she dumped it into the sink and turned off the kitchen light.

v

Saturday was overcast, but still uncomfortably warm and muggy, as if Mother Nature was giving humanity one last blast of summer before dragging it kicking and screaming toward winter.

Natalie normally tried to use her air-conditioning unit sparingly—

it really ratcheted up the electric bill—but she turned it on just after noon to make sure the apartment would be cool enough once Sarah came for dinner. She was nervous, and more than once during her top-to-bottom cleaning of the place wondered what on earth she’d been thinking inviting somebody as used to elegance and sophistication as Sarah to her tiny little shoebox of

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FINDING HOME

an apartment with the mismatched furniture and hand-me-down Corelle dishes.

At the same time, the entire line of worry got under her skin like tiny little ants, making her itchy and uncomfortable all day. It wasn’t like her to be concerned about what somebody else thought of her. That wasn’t the kind of person she was. She was happy in her life, comfortable in her own skin, and if Sarah Buchanan thought less of her because her ß atware was old or her kitchen table was marred, so what? She’d never been self-conscious about her home or her belongings before. Being so now was nothing short of aggravating, and she vowed to push all that angst into a box and shelve it, at least for the rest of the day.

By the time she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and donned a decent pair of shorts and a T-shirt that wasn’t stained or ragged, and she and Bentley made it to the park, the air had only cooled a few degrees and was still thick and heavy. Natalie commended herself for springing for air-conditioning, certain that Sarah’s place had central a/c and she was used to it. She threw the ball for Bentley, but not as far or as often as she normally would have, not wanting to overheat him. His fur was thick and he had begun panting almost immediately. She pulled out the bottle of water and collapsible bowl she had in her shoulder pack and poured some out for him, which he slurped down almost immediately.

“Hot, huh, buddy?” she said softly to him as he drank. There were very few other people out today, she noticed as she looked around.
Too damn stiß ing.
Just as she decided they wouldn’t stay long and wiped the sheen of sweat off the back of her neck, Sarah’s voice cut into her thoughts and Natalie smiled as soon as she heard it.

“Good God, it’s like an oven out here.”

“Welcome to late August in upstate New York,” Natalie said as she stood and turned around to face her. “Southerners would never believe it…” Her words trailed off as her eyes landed on Sarah. Sarah and her new, very sexy haircut. “Oh, my God.”

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Sarah’s long hair was gone—well, a lot of it was. She must have had a good six inches cut off the overall length. It now fell an inch or so above her shoulders, the cut sleek, stylish, and professional, the front swooped down to the side, the deep dark color shimmering in the sun. “Wow.”

A gentle tinting of pink blossomed on both Sarah’s cheeks and she raked her Þ ngertips over her temple and behind her ear, tucking the hair there in what had obviously already become a new habit. “What do you think?” she asked, and the shy uncertainty in her voice surprised Natalie.

“I think it’s fabulous.” She closed the distance between them and reached out gently, using the same tucking motion Sarah had, but on the other side. Sarah’s hair was incredibly silky to the touch. “It looks amazing. It’s the perfect cut for your face.”

“Yeah?”

“DeÞ nitely. What made you decide to do it?”

Lifting one shoulder, Sarah said, “I wanted a change.”

“You got one.” Natalie grinned at her. “Let me see the back.”

She drew a circle in the air with one Þ nger. Sarah obeyed and turned slowly. “It’s gorgeous,” Natalie pronounced when she Þ nished.

“Thanks. I almost had a heart attack in the salon. There was a lot of hair on the ß oor.”

Natalie laughed as Bentley pushed at Sarah’s leg with the ball. “I bet there was.”

“My stylist was happy, though.” Sarah took the ball from Bentley’s mouth and tossed it.

“I’m sure. They love to chop off a lot of hair and do something new. I’m sure mine’s waiting for me to have her do something other than pink.”

Sarah smiled down at her and shook her head. “Nah. I like the pink.”

v

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FINDING HOME

Cinammon, chocolate, coffee. The stairwell to Natalie’s apartment smelled delicious and Sarah felt like Bentley, snifÞ ng the air as she climbed.

“God, does it smell this good all the time?”

Natalie’s chuckle rolled down from a few steps above.

“Yeah, pretty much. And sometimes, Mrs. V. makes her dinner for home down there, too. You should come by sometime when she’s making spaghetti sauce.”

“I lived above a bar for one semester in college. I’ve got to say, the aroma of cigarettes and stale beer doesn’t really compare to this.” She followed Natalie into the apartment, pleasantly surprised by the cool air as it caressed her damp, heated skin.

“Make yourself at home,” Natalie said, gesturing to the small living space. “Can I open that?” She pointed with her chin at the bottle of wine Sarah held.

“That would be great.”

Natalie’s living room was tiny, but it said a lot about her, and Sarah enjoyed taking it all in. There were stacks of books that told her Natalie was partial to mysteries and suspense. She squinted at a couple of textbooks on an end table. “Are you taking an accounting class?”

“Next semester, I think,” Natalie responded.

“You like numbers?”

“I taught high school math for a few years.”

“You did?” The surprise was clear in Sarah’s voice before she had a chance to try to catch it and she winced. “Sorry.”

Natalie laughed as she pulled the cork. “It’s okay. I know I don’t exactly look like the teacher type. I hated the politics of the job. It drove me nuts. I wish I’d realized I wasn’t cut out for it before I went through four years of college to be a teacher.”

“Why accounting now?”

“I keep the books for the Valentis. I just want to brush up on a few things, make sure I’m doing it right, you know?”

Sarah nodded, her wheels turning as she processed this new information about Natalie, realizing that it had never occurred to

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her that Natalie might have bigger plans and more responsibility than slinging coffee and baked goods for a living. Chewing on that, she went back to exploring the room. Several plants crowded each other near the front windows, trying to soak up the most sunshine. All were green and lush, with rich, dark earth in their pots and no trace of dust on their leaves. Framed snapshots dotted the entire room and every available surface. Two or three were obviously of family. The rest seemed to be people Natalie’s own age. Sarah picked one up in particular. There were eight women, counting Natalie and Andrea, all dressed in windbreakers and jeans and surrounded by camping gear, all smiling and with their arms wrapped around one another, as if they made up one living, breathing entity. The pang of jealousy that struck Sarah was so unexpected, it made her ß inch.

“Are these the people you’re camping with next weekend?”

she asked, holding up the picture so Natalie could see it as she brought two glasses of red wine.

“Yep. We’ve been camping together for years. Well, actually…” She set her wine down and gave Sarah hers so she could point out faces in the picture. “These four have been going for ages. Then she joined them. Then the next year, me and Ellen went. Andrea just went for the Þ rst time last year and she’s going again this year. And I think three or four newbies are coming this year, too.”

“Sounds like fun,” Sarah said. “Except for the camping part.”

“What kind of lesbian doesn’t like to camp?”

Sarah waved her hand in the air. “This one.”

“They could revoke your membership card for that offense, you know.” Natalie arched a brow.

“So I’ve been told.” Sarah held up her glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Sarah returned her gaze to the photograph, wanting to know more. “And are these people couples?”

Natalie pointed out the original four. “They are. Andrea’s

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FINDING HOME

single. I think the new chick is, too. I am and so is Ellen, though sometimes we like to…share a tent.” She winked.

“Wait…you? Little Miss I’m Not a Fan of Casual Sex?” She found her eyes pulled toward this Ellen, the high cheekbones, the dirty blond hair poking out from under a baseball cap, her arm locked tightly around Natalie. She was not unattractive.

Natalie laughed, and waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve known Ellen since college, so we’re not exactly strangers. We both decided that as long as we’re both unattached, there’s nothing wrong with…helping each other out once a year, if need be. You know?” Her eyes twinkled, and they seemed more green than hazel in their mirth today.

“Hey, what are friends for, right?” Sarah set the photo back in its spot and sipped her wine.

“Exactly.”

Dinner was delicious. Sarah wasn’t sure why she didn’t have high expectations of Natalie’s ability to cook, but the chicken was tender, succulent, and juicy. When she asked about the spices, she was told it was Mrs. Valenti’s secret recipe and if Natalie told her, she’d have to kill her.

“Do you cook?” Natalie asked as she picked up Bentley’s dish and prepared his dinner. He sat quietly at her feet, paying very close attention to every move she made.

“Not really,” Sarah replied, watching her. “Karen did all the cooking and she was so good at it and she enjoyed it so much that I never felt I needed to pay attention. After she left, I got myself a subscription to
Cooking Light
and started trying my hand at it.”

“And?”

“Well, I kind of like it. I don’t know that I’m any good at it and I certainly can’t wing things off the top of my head like my mother, but I do okay. I’d probably do more if I had more time.”

“Working late?”

“Exactly. Sometimes, by the time I get home, I don’t have the energy for more than popping a Lean Cuisine into the microwave.”

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“I understand that.”

“What are you giving him?” Sarah watched as Natalie upended a plastic baggie into Bentley’s dish on top of his dry dog food.

“Oh, Mrs. V. made chicken soup last week and gave me all the scraps she didn’t use. I call it Chicken Blech.” Sarah smiled at that, loving how Natalie took such good care of her—of their—

dog. “Bentley loves it. And it’s good for him.”

Sarah rested her eyes on her dog, who waited patiently in a sit, a tiny dribble of drool hanging from his anticipating mouth.

“She spoils you rotten,” she said to him. He was unable to pull his eyes from the bowl as Natalie set it down for him.

“He’s so cute,” Natalie said in a baby voice, rufß ing his fur.

“How could I not spoil him?” She looked up at Sarah, only to Þ nd her staring at her. “What?”

Sarah shook her head, unable to put into words what she was feeling. “Nothing. I just…weird and stressful as it all was, I’m happy things turned out the way they did.”