Mine (16 page)

Rachel poured the last of the wine evenly into their glasses. “Tell me about your family.”

Courtney picked up her glass and sat back in her chair. “My family. Let’s see. My parents are both retired. My dad was a plumber. My mom was a receptionist at a dentist’s office.”

“Are they still together?”

“Believe it or not, yes. I ended up being a minority in high school because I was one of the few kids whose parents weren’t divorced.”

A grimace crossed Rachel’s face. “Yeah. I was in the majority.”

“I’m sorry. How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Ugh. That’s a tough age. Not that any age isn’t tough to have your parents split up, but when you’re thirteen…”

“I know. You’re old enough to know there’s something wrong, but your parents think you’re too young to talk to about it.”

“Do you have siblings?” Courtney asked.

“A younger sister. Emily. She’s pregnant. You?”

“Two older sisters. You’re going to be an aunt?”

“Yup. For the second time. I’m going to go into the delivery room this time, too.” She shot a smirk at Courtney. “So. You’re the baby.”

Courtney grinned, aware that Rachel was keeping the focus off herself, but enjoying the banter just the same. She sent a mock-glare back across the table. “That’s right. So what?”

“You youngest never know how good you have it.” Rachel ’s tone held a teasing lilt.

“You oldest always say that.”

“Because it’s true. We pave the way, test the rules, and gauge the punishments. You babies get spoiled rotten and by the time you’re teenagers, the parents are too tired to uphold the same rules us oldest had to follow.” She shrugged. “It’s an age-old imbalance.”

“Please.” Courtney snorted, smothering a grin. “The oldest got to do everything first. You got to stay up later, stay out longer, never had to wear hand-me-downs. Imbalance is right. In your favor.”

They each sat grinning at the other.

“What was your last big splurge?” Courtney blurted out. “Something you bought just for yourself, just because you wanted to be spoiled?” She watched Rachel over the rim of her glass as the thoughts whirred through her mind almost audibly.

“Hmm…” Rachel squinched up her nose and lips in a face of concentration. “I’d have to say…my plasma television.”

Courtney sat up in her chair and her jaw dropped open in envy. “You have a plasma television?”

“I couldn’t help it. I’m sort of an electronics whore.”

Courtney laughed. “Yeah, me, too. Is that a lesbian thing? Straight girls like jewelry and expensive clothes, lesbians like power tools and electronics?”

“Makes sense. What about you?” Rachel’s eyes twinkled. “What was your last splurge on yourself?”

“Definitely my pistol.”

A gulp of wine went down the wrong pipe and Rachel choked. Regaining her composure, she asked, “You have a gun?”

“Yep. Want to see it?” Courtney started to rise, but Rachel stopped her with an outstretched hand.

“No. No, no. That’s okay.”

Noticing Rachel trying to hide a grimace, Courtney felt the heat of embarrassment. “You don’t like guns, I take it,” she ventured.

“No, not really.”

“How come?”

“Well…because I think they’re dangerous and unnecessary.”

“In the wrong hands, sure.”

“Guns don’t kill people. People kill people, right?” The light note of sarcasm that crept into Rachel’s voice poked irritation at Courtney.

“That’s right.”

“Why did you want one? Why do you have one? What’s the draw?” The questions were undeniably accusatory.

The way Rachel’s eyes bored into Courtney, she suddenly felt like she was on trial, her head spinning from the weirdly abrupt change in mood. “I like to target shoot,” Courtney explained. “My dad belongs to a gun club and we go there to shoot. Theresa and I always talked about getting pistols, but didn’t get around to it before…” She trailed off.

“Do you shoot animals?”

“You mean do I hunt?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Rachel folded her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair. “Did your father?”

“Yes, but I’m not into that. I could never shoot a living thing.” She studied Rachel’s face, wondering where this had come from and taking a wild guess. “What about you? Did your dad hunt?”

Rachel inclined her head once in affirmation. “Yeah, he did. I’ll never forget the first time I walked into the garage and there was a deer carcass hanging there.” The horror of that discovery was written all over her face. “It was appalling. I felt so awful for the poor thing, so degraded, all his dignity gone. They’re such majestic creatures and people just…shoot them. I hate it.” She looked up at Courtney then, her eyes glittering with moisture. “You know?”

Aware of nothing other than how much she wanted to get up, walk around the table, and hug Rachel until that sad, pained look on her face was gone, Courtney nodded her agreement. “I do.”

They sat in silence.

“You okay?” Courtney asked after several long minutes.

Her question seemed to spur Rachel into action. She cleared her throat. “It’s getting late. I really should go.”

Courtney tried unsuccessfully to hide the disappointment that filled her. Rachel was right. It
was
getting late and they both had to work in the morning. Still, there was part of her that didn’t want the evening to end, despite the unpleasant tangent they’d gotten off on. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

They stood at the same time and Rachel began to clear her place setting.

“No, no. Leave it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” Courtney said with sincerity as they moved toward the front door. “I’m glad you came. I really had a great time.”

“Me, too. Thanks so much for dinner. It was terrific.”

“Oh! Wait.” Courtney left Rachel standing in the foyer as she ran back into the kitchen. A couple minutes later, she returned with an enormous slice of chocolate cream pie covered in plastic wrap. “Don’t forget your dessert.”

Much to Courtney’s relief, Rachel allowed a smile to peek through. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They held one another’s gaze, but before Courtney could make any sort of move, Rachel bent quickly and kissed her cheek. “Good night.” With that, she was out the door and down the front stairs to her car.

Courtney waved as the BMW backed out of the driveway and gave a soft toot before heading down the street. She stood framed in the screen door for several long minutes, replaying the evening, weighing the good and the bad, trying to figure out if it could be considered a successful date. While the exact path to their weird conversation about hunting was unclear to her and only served to make Rachel more of a mystery she wanted to solve, she was certain of one thing. She wanted to see Rachel again. She definitely wanted to see her again.

Definitely.

Chapter Eleven

“Seems pretty simple to me.” Jeff shoveled a forkful of chocolate cream pie into his mouth and closed his eyes. “God, this is good.”

“Don’t hog it all,” Rachel whined, pulling the plate toward her with her fork. They were sitting at Jeff’s small table, sharing the enormous slice of pie Courtney had sent home with Rachel the previous night. “Simple how?”

“You’re afraid.”

“I’m afraid?” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Dr. Phil, what am I afraid of?”

“As you said before: her baggage.” He pointed his fork across the table at her. “If you can sabotage this now, you won’t have to deal with it. Therefore, you started in with the gun talk, which naturally led to the hunting thing. Nothing like starting light and moving on from there, by the way. You see what I’m saying? It can’t be easy to take the place of a dead woman. If you screw it up first, there won’t be any possibility of you getting hurt down the road.”

Rachel’s eyes popped open wide. “What? Don’t you think you’re rushing things a bit? Who said I wanted to take the place of a dead woman? When did I say I wanted that spot?”

Jeff shrugged, obviously not at all deterred by Rachel’s increase in volume. He knew her well and could read her like a book, whether she cared to admit it or not. “You haven’t been at all interested in anybody in ages. Not a soul. This one? You like her.”

The idea of slapping the smirk right off his face held sudden great appeal for Rachel at that moment. She pressed her lips tightly together and glared at him as he chewed another piece of the pie and looked far too satisfied with himself. He was right, God damn him. He was right and she knew it. She
did
like Courtney, more than she was comfortable dwelling on, more than she was ready to deal with. She had no idea if Courtney felt the same way, had no idea where to go from here, and wondered if she’d wrecked everything at dinner with her overkill of disapproval.

When she thought back to the night before, she was mortified by her own behavior, by the way the idea of Courtney’s sympathy had embarrassed her.
My God, what the hell was wrong with me?
She had no idea what had set her off, causing her to flay herself open in such a way that Courtney could see everything inside. Dead deer carcasses.
What a charming discussion for our second date.
She’d been utterly disgusted with herself, and the sudden need to get away had been so strong, she was still amazed she hadn’t sprinted out of Courtney’s house without looking back. She could still see the look on Courtney’s face, the compassion in her eyes. It made Rachel feel weak. And worse…vulnerable.

“Have you called her yet?” Jeff asked, snapping her out of her flashback.

Rachel grimaced, hating that she could hide nothing from him.

Jeff sighed. “It’s been twenty-four hours. You need to call her.”

“I know.”

“It’s only polite for you to call her.”

“I
know
.”

He popped the last piece of the pie into his mouth and smiled at her as he chewed.

“I want to punch you right now,” she said to him.

“I know,” he responded, still smiling.

*

The next morning, there was a typical October chill in the air. Summer was officially gone and autumn was finally making itself known after taking its good old sweet time arriving. Rachel didn’t mind it, though. Upstate New York would surprise many a Southerner with its high humidity in the thick of summer. Those months were beautiful, lush and green, the smells of fresh-cut grass and blooming rosebushes permeating the air. But they could also be very sticky months and Rachel didn’t do well at all with sticky. It sapped all her energy and made her cranky. That’s why she loved the fall. She loved the way the heaviness of the air eased, the relief it brought. She loved the crisp mornings and the crunch of fallen leaves under her feet. She waited all summer for September to arrive so she could breathe again.

It was Friday, which didn’t mean the same thing to realtors as it did to other people. The weekend was their busy time, and Friday was more the beginning of her week than the blessed end of it. She inhaled deeply, loving the scent of the autumn air. Just that smell alone lifted her spirits and made her smile. She felt good. It was a good day, nice weather, and she’d decided she would call Courtney when she got a free moment, maybe see if she was free at all in the next few days. She avoided dwelling on things too much…what Jeff had said, how she actually felt, the color of Courtney’s eyes. Instead, she simply inhaled again as she crossed the street to the parking lot designated for her building. Not for the first time, she entertained the questions of what it would cost and would it be practical to have some kind of carport built for her tenants, just enough of a roof to keep the better part of the winter snow off their vehicles.

As she got into her car, she wondered if waiting longer than twenty-four hours to call Courtney was considered an etiquette faux pas. Did people even pay attention to etiquette any more? The kind, gentle face of her paternal grandmother crossed her mind then. Grandma Hart was nothing if not generous and polite. Anything Rachel knew about manners, she’d learned from Grandma Hart growing up. Which side of the plate the fork went on, the simple act of saying “please” and “thank you,” holding the door for people, placing your napkin in your lap at meals. Grandma Hart was the sweetest woman Rachel knew. And if she were here right now, she’d not only scold Rachel for neglecting to call and give a proper thank-you to Courtney for dinner, she’d berate her for not going a step beyond.

Without another thought, Rachel picked up her cell and dialed a number she knew from memory.

“Hi, Sandy. It’s Rachel Hart. How are you today?” She fit the key into the ignition. “Good. Good. I’m great, thanks. Listen, Sandy, I’d like to place an order. Can you take care of it for me?”

*

Thank God it’s Friday.

It was the only thought going through Courtney’s head as she sat at her desk at the front of her classroom and fiddled with a pen. The clock ticked loudly in the silence of the room, the only sound aside from the gentle scratching of pens on paper as her class took a pop quiz. She actually felt a little guilty now about hitting them with it, but they were restless—typical behavior for both a Friday and the proximity to the fast-approaching Homecoming—and she hadn’t the patience to deal with them. She’d caught Andrew Gray yet again texting on his phone. She knew he’d reached his limit, that she should toss him out on his ass, send him to the office, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She just wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation with him. She’d confiscated his phone as usual and that was that. Quiz time. Andrew glared at her from the back of the room like always, but she really didn’t give a shit.

What she
did
give a shit about was that she hadn’t heard from Rachel since their dinner Wednesday night. Hurt, anger, and confusion mixed sourly in her stomach as she tried unsuccessfully not to think about it. Aside from the icky conversation about guns and hunting, hadn’t the evening been a pleasant success? She thought so, but maybe she was mistaken. A sudden thought hit and sent her into a momentary panic. Racking her brain, she thought back, trying to remember if she’d mentioned Theresa in any way. She’d been careful about the pork, not saying anything about it being Theresa’s favorite…wait. The pistol. She was pretty sure she’d mentioned Theresa during their gun conversation.