Finding Home (4 page)

She was always trying to come up with new versions of coffee for the Valentis to sell. Some had been disastrous, but many had become regular menu items.

“Shouldn’t they be done with the peppermint by now?”

Andrea asked. “Wasn’t it a Valentine’s Day promotion?”

Natalie furrowed her brows. “I think it was.”

• 31 •

GEORGIA BEERS

“Well, that was weeks ago.” Andrea paused, then asked,

“What makes peppermint a Valentine ß avor anyway?”

“How should I know? The colors? Because it’s red and white? I have no idea.”

Andrea waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’m glad Valentine’s Day is over.”

Natalie grunted her agreement, still watching the clientele mill about the shop.

“I have a new goal for us for next Valentine’s Day.”

Natalie slowly brought her gaze back to Andrea. “This ought to be good.”

Andrea took a playful swipe at her. “I’m serious. Next year, by Valentine’s Day, we are both going to at least be dating somebody.
At least
. What do you say? Agreed?”

Natalie studied her for several long seconds. Finally, she sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “How exactly do you expect to reach this
goal
”—she made quotation marks in the air to emphasize the word—“if you can’t even manage to make a date to meet your e-mail friend face-to-face after chatting with her for weeks?”

A ß ash of anger shot across Andrea’s features so quickly, Natalie would never have seen it if she didn’t know her so well.

Andrea mimed picking up the handset on a telephone and dialing.

Putting the invisible receiver to her ear, she said, “Hello, Pot?

This is the kettle. You’re black.” She hung up her fake phone and went on. “Don’t you dare give me your shit, because I happen to know for a fact that you haven’t gotten in touch with Tommy or Jenny to meet the woman they mentioned.”

Natalie studied her coffee, feeling properly chastised. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“Yeah, it was, Little Miss Waiting for My Princess to Come.”

Andrea snorted and sipped from her own cup.

“I just hate the whole dating thing, Andrea. I can’t help it.” It was the truth. Just the thought of sitting through endless dinners and drinks, chatting with somebody for the express reason of

• 32 •

FINDING HOME

Þ nding out whether or not she’d make a good mate, completely exhausted her.

“Guess what? We
all
hate the whole dating thing. But don’t you think you should at least try? Do you really think the perfect woman is going to just drop out of the sky and into your lap?”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” Natalie asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Andrea wasn’t falling for it. She remained serious, determined. “You have to put forth some kind of effort, Natty.

You’re going to make some lucky girl very, very happy, but she isn’t going to magically appear. You have to go looking for her.”

“I hate that.”

“Join the club.”

As they sat and watched the activity around them, Natalie reß ected on their friendship. Spanning more than Þ fteen years, it had had its ups and downs, but they always came out holding on to one another, standing up for one another, and loving each other.

Even Andrea being a year older than Natalie didn’t keep them apart in high school or in college. It was as if they were destined to be friends. Nobody had been stronger during Andrea’s bout with breast cancer than Natalie. Andrea was such a young case that she and her family spent most of her treatment shell-shocked that this could even be happening to a woman barely thirty. So while they sat in waiting rooms looking blank and helpless, Natalie questioned the doctors relentlessly, took copious notes, and spent a huge percentage of her time at Andrea’s apartment. The day she’d walked in with the pink streak in her hair signifying breast cancer support, Andrea had cried.

After a few minutes of silence, Andrea suddenly asked,

“Hey, have you seen Hot Business Exec lately? I haven’t noticed her.”

“Me, neither,” Natalie said. Unexpectedly, she was hit with a mental image of the attractive brunette, always in some gorgeous designer business suit, always looking so elegant and professional and put-together. Natalie had entertained more than one fantasy

• 33 •

GEORGIA BEERS

that involved seriously wrinkling those perfect clothes and tousling that expensive hairstyle. Furrowing her brow, she said,

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen her in quite a while. I hope I didn’t piss her off with my comment to her that day.”

“About her hangover?”

“I didn’t actually use that word, you know.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to.”

“True.” She took a sip from her cup, then added, “I suppose maybe she’s found a better cup of coffee elsewhere.”

“Not possible.”

“It’s too bad, though. She was deÞ nitely fun to look at.”

“Amen to that.”

They returned to sitting silently, people-watching and enjoying one another’s presence, something they’d done ever since Natalie could remember. She didn’t really see any of the patrons after that, though. She found her thoughts strangely preoccupied by a tall, sexy business executive with dark hair, a designer suit, and legs to die for.

v

Sarah felt good and it surprised her, so much so that she almost lost that good feeling by worrying too much about why she was suddenly feeling good. She shook her head at herself, wondering how she had managed to survive the past year as such a freak, and took a slug of her Steinlager. It was okay as far as beers went, but she mentally decided she would switch to something else once the bottle was empty.

She’d found the little lesbian bar online, pleased that it was so close to the complex of suites in which she was staying. It made stopping by after a long day in the ofÞ ce easy, once she managed to dodge the almost daily dinner invitation from Patti Schmidt. She liked the woman well enough and felt bad turning her down as often as she did, but there were times when all Sarah

• 34 •

FINDING HOME

needed was a little time to herself, and the last thing in the world she wanted to endure was Patti accompanying her to a gay bar.

God, I’d rather stick needles in my eyes
, she thought as she took another sip. Though she didn’t keep her sexuality a huge secret at the ofÞ ce, she also didn’t walk around with a rainbow on her forehead. Being dragged to a gay bar by her boss seemed well beyond the requirements of Patti’s job description. At the same time, Sarah hadn’t wanted Patti to know she was going out on the town without her. They were both strangers in a strange land and Sarah felt a little guilty for leaving her to her own devices.

As she sipped her beer and let herself unwind, she wondered, not for the Þ rst time, if she was Þ nally beginning to come back to herself, and it was a pleasantly positive thought. The key, though, was going to be
how far
back. Until the whole Derek issue, the most common argument Sarah and Karen had had was about Sarah’s need for control, her need to have everything run on her clock, on her schedule, to her liking.

“When did you become so rigid? So predictable? Don’t you
get bored with being in command of every single thing in your
universe?”

When Karen had asked her that, she’d reeled back as if she’d been slapped, astounded by how much it stung. Was she that bad?

She knew now that she was, and Sarah was reasonably sure that after that particular argument, Karen had decided she wanted out. Derek had simply been another fun wrench tossed into the gears of Sarah’s neat and orderly life. After that, all semblance of control was ripped away and Sarah had felt like she’d been set adrift in a vast ocean of nothingness.

But now…now there was land in view and she could almost touch bottom with the tips of her toes. Taking this trip to the other side of the world, throwing herself into her work, exploring a new country, had been the smartest thing she’d done in ages, and she was immensely proud of herself. And while she was looking forward to Þ nding the old Sarah Buchanan again, the woman

• 35 •

GEORGIA BEERS

who was solid and familiar and competent, she was also very cautious about letting her take over. She’d be more careful this time. She had to be.

“Here you go, love.” The bartender was a large woman with smiling eyes and cropped salt-and-pepper hair who’d begun calling Sarah by name when she came in. She placed a shot glass upside down in front of Sarah and gestured toward the other end of the bar with her chin. “That lovely blonde down there’d like to buy you a drink.”

“Would she now?” Sarah drained her beer. “I think I’ll let her. Bombay and tonic. With a lime, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Sarah had been in New Zealand for more than a month and this wasn’t the Þ rst drink somebody had sent her way at this bar.

It was, however, the Þ rst time she considered the fact that it was a Friday night and maybe spending it in the company of a beautiful blonde would be preferable to spending it alone. The bartender slid the drink in front of her and Sarah wrapped her hand around the cool moistness of the glass. She held it up in a salute to the blonde. Then she gestured with her eyes to the empty stool next to her. The blonde smiled, picked up her purse, and headed in Sarah’s direction.

Yes, a little company might be just what the doctor ordered.

• 36 •

FINDING HOME

CHAPTER FOUR

Natalie banged the back door open much more savagely than necessary, taking her anger and frustrations out on the innocent building rather than on her coworkers or customers, much to her own relief. She knew the drill, had been working in retail long enough to understand that no matter what her mood might be, if she gave out rudeness, she’d get rudeness back in spades. So she swallowed her foul disposition until she got a chance to let it loose on something that could take it with no hurt feelings…in this case, the door.

She needed to calm down. She took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, trying to remind herself that people were often assholes and she couldn’t let the assholes get the better of her, even if they were completely and unnecessarily rude.

Hauling the wheeled garbage cans across the back lot to the Dumpster none too gently, she muttered angry words under her breath, wishing she hadn’t let the guy get to her.
Am I PMSing?

she wondered, thinking that would explain why a customer who claimed she’d screwed up his order completely had sent her so dangerously close to the verge of tears. She inhaled again, willing herself to calm down and let it go.

A rustling behind the Dumpster stopped Natalie dead in her tracks. Garbage pick-up was due this morning, and between Valenti’s and the pizza joint next door, the Dumpster was Þ lled to

• 37 •

GEORGIA BEERS

overß owing. Despite being in a well-populated area of the city, it wasn’t unheard of to have a raccoon or a possum rooting around in your garbage. Even a skunk was a possibility.

Not wanting to worry the Valentis and bring them out in the chilly almost-spring air but uncertain exactly what to do, Natalie stood there, one hand on the edge of a garbage can, one hand pressed Þ rmly to her chest, as if making sure her heart wouldn’t beat itself clean out of her body.
Okay, moron, do something. Be
that tough dyke who was going to knock another person senseless
just a minute ago.
She squinted, trying to see what was making the noise. What if it was a raccoon? What exactly did she think she was going to do about it? Ask it nicely to be on its merry way? She rolled her eyes at herself as the rustling continued, but nothing appeared.

“Psst!” She made the sound loudly, feeling like an idiot.

Under her breath, she mumbled, “Oh, good. Hiss at it, whatever it is. That’ll help. Maybe it’ll think you have a secret and come out to see what it is.”

The rustling stopped and both Natalie and the rustler remained still and silent for what seemed like hours. Then the sound began again and Natalie repeated her hiss.

“Psst!”

Unaware of the fact that she was bent almost totally forward at the waist, she jumped back and straightened up at the startling sight of the blue eyes that peered around the steel Dumpster to take her in.

They stared at one another, blinking, and Natalie could only see its head, Þ nally Þ guring out that it was a dog making all that noise, a much smaller one than she would have expected. It was chewing on what looked like a dirty piece of pizza crust and eyeing her warily, as if it expected her to pounce at any second and it wanted to be able to sprint away in a ß ash. When she moved, the dog ß inched, so she was careful to move slowly, not wanting to frighten it away.

• 38 •

FINDING HOME

“Hey, there,” she said softly as she squatted to be closer to the dog’s level. It continued to chew slowly, its unexpectedly colorful eyes never leaving her face. “Are you lost?” She held out her hand as it contemplated her and she cooed soothingly at it. “Come here, buddy. It’s a little chilly to be out here all alone, don’t you think?”

The dog licked its lips as it Þ nished the crust and continued to study her. As it inched slowly out from behind the Dumpster, its gaze shifted from her eyes to her outstretched hand, then back to her eyes again. Remembering a documentary she’d seen recently on the Discovery Channel, she shifted her gaze away, then back, then away, not wanting to issue any kind of challenge by staring directly in the dog’s eyes. This seemed to ease its tension just a touch and it took a step toward her. Its moist black nose twitched, and Natalie knew she was being sized up by smell as well as sight.

Despite the eventual tingling in her bent legs, she did her best to remain still, to let the dog set the pace and decide when to approach, which it did with painfully slow progress. It wasn’t a very large animal at all, maybe twenty or twenty-Þ ve pounds, and looked scrawnier than Natalie suspected it normally was. Its coat was matted, a mishmash of white, black, gray, and a few dabs of brown, and she had the feeling that when clean and brushed, it would shimmer and shine like silk. One ear was black, the other a speckled gray and white, and if it didn’t look so wary and cautious, Natalie knew it would be a beautiful, possibly loving animal. She had the sudden, almost irresistible urge to Þ nd out.