The Touch of a Woman (15 page)

“Seriously, Tracie. I enjoyed meeting you tonight. You’re going to make lots of friends here. You’re fun to talk to, you’re attractive.” She had to be careful not to go overboard, lest Tracie redouble her efforts. “We could end up being good friends, don’t you think?”

Tracie wrinkled her nose as she nodded. “I have to admit, you’re pretty good at the old ‘let her down easy’ trick. We need to bring you into our office when it’s time to fire people.”

Summer laughed heartily as she grabbed the check.

“Oh no, you don’t. Friends go dutch.”

As Tracie tossed her bills across the table, her bracelet caught the edge of her wineglass and tipped it over, spilling what little was left. Yet the resulting mess was enough to confirm for Summer that she’d dodged a bullet.

* * *

“Merry freakin’ Christmas,” Ellis mumbled as she confirmed her online credit card payment. The holiday had taken a toll on her meager bank account, even though she’d cut back sharply on the extravagance of her gifts for her children. Everyone else—her parents, her brother and his family—had gotten only a Christmas card.

It didn’t help that spring tuition was due, but at least it was the last time for Jonathan. She’d made it clear he couldn’t depend on her help for law school. He’d have to get his own scholarships and loans.

January’s bills wouldn’t be much better. She’d blown way past her weekly grocery budget to stock the kitchen for Allison, who was spending the first week of her Christmas vacation at River Woods before heading off to visit her grandparents—Bruce’s parents—in Napa. The extra cooking, lights and hot water would show up in the utility bill.

It was the emergency column of her ledger that had her most worried. She needed to build it up quickly. That could be anything—doctor visits, car repairs—not only for her, but for her kids as well. Thank goodness Summer had come to her rescue when she’d had the flat tire.

She resisted the urge to check the parking lot again for Summer’s car. It was only ten after nine, hardly a late night for a dinner across town that started at seven. If she’d gone to Tracie’s apartment for an after-dinner…chat, or whatever…she wouldn’t be home until—

The doorbell caused her to jump, drop her pen and stub her toe on the table as she leapt from her seat. Summer smiled back at her through the peephole, still dressed in the outfit she’d worn to dinner.

“You’re home early.” Ellis realized too late she was grinning. There was no socially acceptable reason to be happy about her date ending so soon. “How did it go?”

“Two words—borderline disaster.” After migrating to her favorite barstool, she told the story of Tracie’s four or five glasses of wine, and how that led to an invitation to dinner at her place. “There’s no way in hell I’m getting involved with someone else who drinks like that. I’m telling you, she wasn’t slurring, she wasn’t confused. Rita was the same way until all of a sudden she wasn’t. She got so she could drink a whole bottle of wine and act perfectly normal. Then on the next glass it would hit her and she’d be shit-faced. No thanks.”

Ellis took the other stool and raised her foot to see if her stubbed toe was broken.
“Maybe she was just nervous.”

“I don’t think so. Most people get defensive. She didn’t push back at all, except to ask if we could date if she stopped drinking. Then I found out when I took her home that she’d lost her license for driving drunk. The judge only lets her go to work and back.”

From the sound of it, she was more sensitive to seeing people drink than she’d let on. “Does it bother you when I have a glass of wine? You said it didn’t, but now I’m thinking you were just being polite.”

“No, you’re different.”

Different
…because they were just friends. “So you’re okay with it in general, but not if it’s someone you’re dating.”

“Right…no, wait a minute. I’m perfectly okay with you and your glass of chardonnay. It’s one glass, not four. I don’t want to date somebody who doesn’t know the difference. I could date
you
in a heartbeat, girlfriend. All you have to do is say the word.”

Ellis felt a surge of heat rush to her face as she tried in vain to hide her smile.

Flirting was like teasing—it was meant to be playful. If Summer really wanted to ask her out, she’d have done it already. She certainly wouldn’t have invited her over to help her get ready for a blind date.

“Yeah, well…
the word
, as you say it, is I need to get back to work. I have bills to pay.” Ellis bopped her gently on the nose and slid off her barstool. What she really needed was some space before she did something idiotic—like ask her what word she needed to hear.

The highway noise nearly drowned out Rosemary Winslow’s voice. “Here, say hi to your daddy. You have to yell because he’s driving.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Summer felt silly screaming so loudly in her apartment, but her folks were adamant about not holding the phone while driving, and their pickup was too old to have a Bluetooth connection.

“We’re coming into Santa Fe right now,” her mother went on. “Wish us luck. We could use a good show. We hardly sold a thing last week in Tucson. Lots of people out but they were holding onto their wallets. But we’ll be back in Modesto next weekend. You’ll come over, won’t you? That’s always been a good fair for us, especially your daddy. People actually spend money. What a concept, huh? Okay, we’re here now, so I’ve got to go. You be sweet, Summer. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mama.”

Summer grinned, imagining the sly look her father would have given her had they been together. Her mom was a sweetheart, warm and kind to everyone she met. She also was a talker, a woman who verbalized her stream of consciousness. Summer and her dad were used to it, and actually found it endearing, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t share a giggle every now and then.

After a quick check in the mirror—new jeans and a thin red sweater with a snowflake pin—she picked up her humble offering of spinach dip and walked to the next building. Ellis’s invitation to have Christmas dinner with her family had come as a pleasant surprise. Her only other offer was the annual gathering at Queenie and Sam’s, but she was reluctant to deal with Rita. Reports of her rehabilitation were often overstated.

The door was answered by a teenage girl with silver studs protruding from her chin, nose and brow. She was thin with dark blond hair that fell past her shoulders.

“You must be Allison.”

“And you must be the neighbor who got arrested. Oops, I wasn’t supposed to mention that.” She covered her mouth for a second. “What’s in the bowl?”

Summer was taken aback by the girl’s manner until she noticed a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Spinach dip.”

Allison twisted her mouth with obvious displeasure.

“Don’t go making a face. It happens to be vegan because your mom told me that’s all you’d eat. So I expect you to savor every bite.”

“What’s going on here?” Ellis appeared behind her daughter sporting a green apron that read
Dinner Is Ready When the Smoke Alarm Goes Off
. Beneath it, she wore an open-collared white shirt with black jeans and silver flats. Her hair was pinned back on both sides with tortoiseshell barrettes. “Is she giving you a hard time?”

“Yes,” they answered simultaneously.

“Please come in, Summer. I’ll get a tray for that.”

Two young men rose from the couch and approached her. One was unmistakably her son, with the same oval face, wide blue eyes and slender nose. The male version of Ellis, twenty-five years younger. With tattoos.

“Hi, I’m Jeremy. Really glad you could come. Mom says you’ve shown her all the local food joints.”

“Just a couple so far. Sushi Koi and Julio’s.”

He put a hand over his stomach. “Julio’s! I hit that place every time I have a job in this part of town. Their burritos are gigantic.”

“And cheap,” Ellis added from the kitchen.

“This is my boyfriend, Bruno.”

Bruno had a face for
GQ
. Dark eyes and hair, smooth olive skin. Despite the chill outside, he wore plaid Bermuda shorts and a crisply-ironed blue shirt with a gray T-shirt underneath.

Ellis carried in a tray and set the dip and crackers on the coffee table. When she returned to the kitchen, Summer followed and took a seat at the bar. That way they could talk and she’d still be tuned into the living room conversation.

“Sounds like you told them all about my run-in with the law.”

“You forget, they witnessed it firsthand. And of course, they were worried about me falling in with the criminal element.”

Allison spoke up, “Mom told us everything. She said your old girlfriend showed up drunk while you weren’t home.”

“And made a spectacle of herself,” Summer cheerfully added. “Twenty-one years and still full of surprises.”

“Were you guys married?”

“Nope, never took the plunge.” She and Rita had been on the outs during the brief window in 2008 when same-sex marriage was happening in California. Then Proposition 8 put everyone on ice. By the time it came back around once and for all, she’d had too many doubts about their future to commit. “Turned out to be a good thing.”

“I think a lot of gay people got married because they could,” Jeremy said. “Some of my friends did it just to make a political statement. Now reality’s set in and the divorces have started.”

“Yeah, we’re just as entitled to screw up marriage as everyone else. Equality!”

“I’m holding out for a man with a lot of money,” Bruno said, grinning slyly.

Jeremy chucked his shoulder. “That’s okay. I’d never marry a man who dresses like Dad on vacation.” His comment brought a chorus of laughter.

“Oh God,” Allison shrieked. “Remember those plaid shorts he wore when we went on that cruise to Mexico?”

“I bought him those shorts,” Ellis said indignantly.

“Yeah, and the Hawaiian shirt too.”

“How was I supposed to know he’d wear them together?”

Summer was so busy admiring the family dynamic, she almost missed the fact that Allison was wiping tears from her eyes. Even as everyone continued to laugh, Jeremy got up and gave her a tender hug. It was hard to fathom what this poor family had been through. Only with one another—and behind closed doors—could they reminisce about the good times.

She was humbled at being allowed inside this inner sanctum. Ellis’s trust in her clearly carried weight with her children, enough to make her wonder how they’d feel if their friendship grew to something more.

* * *

Ellis missed her big kitchen. And her expansive cooking tools, her five-piece Lenox place settings and mahogany dining table beneath the elegant crystal chandelier.

And yet, she’d managed to pull together the Rowanbury traditional Christmas feast—bacon-wrapped beef tenderloin, wild rice and green beans amandine. For the past three years, that tradition also included a side dish of crispy fried tofu for Allison.

Bruno and Jeremy had brought extra folding chairs so all of them could crowd around the round table in her dining nook. All that was missing was Jonathan, who’d texted over two hours ago to say he was leaving his home in Palo Alto.

“I’m hungry,” Allison whined.

“Your brother should be here in a few minutes,” Ellis said.

“Am I the only one who’s sick of having our whole world revolve around Jon? Is he really so busy that he couldn’t leave until the last fu-freaking minute?”

She appreciated her daughter’s effort to watch her language, and shot a wink toward Summer, who’d been keeping her entertained while she cooked. “They all love each other, honest. Just a few political differences.”

It was a treat to have Summer there, and she was especially pleased Jeremy had been so welcoming. She couldn’t wait to ask him later what he thought.

“Because Jon’s turning into a right wing nut job,” Allison added. “He wants to be Antonin Scalia when he grows up.”

“More like Anthony Kennedy,” Jeremy said. “He’s the one who taught at Stanford. Say, if Jon makes it to the Supreme Court someday, you think they’ll run everything on his schedule like we do?”

Ellis didn’t want Summer to get a bad impression of Jonathan. “Now,
children
. We’ve talked about this before. His coursework is very demanding, especially at a place like Stanford. And he’s stressed about getting into law school. He needs to focus. You guys should give him a break.”

Allison studied her fingernails as she twisted on the barstool, an avoidance response to being scolded. “We’ve all been under a lot of stress. But Jon’s the one who’s going to roll in here like we’re all beneath him. Then he’ll eat and leave.”

So much like his father, wrapped up tightly in his own life, often oblivious to how his actions affected everyone else. He’d started his rightward drift in the ninth grade, and family gatherings always meant him against everyone else.

“I really want to have a nice dinner today,” she pleaded. “Can we please do that?”

The doorbell rang and Allison leapt to her feet, welcoming her arriving brother with a hug.

Ellis didn’t care if she’d done it spontaneously or in response to her admonishment. It was their second Christmas since Bruce’s death, and maybe this time they’d feel more like celebrating. Neither of her boys had come home for the holiday dinner last year, leaving her and Allison alone pushing food around on their plates. Now that her family was under one roof again, she was ready to renew their festive traditions.

* * *

Summer studied the jagged edge of her knife, wondering if it was sharp enough to cut the tension in the room.

Jon—Jonathan, he preferred—had greeted her politely, chatting longer with her than with Jeremy or Bruno. At first she wondered if it had anything to do with his brother being gay, but it soon became apparent their differences were across the board. Jonathan had a preppy look about him, with slacks and a crew neck sweater over a buttoned-down shirt, and a straitlaced personality to match. Quite the contrast to his colorful, jovial brother.

Like Allison, he had light hair, fine as silk, and a pronounced widow’s peak, probably traits they’d inherited from their father. All three children had Ellis’s blue eyes, but only Jeremy had the same mesmerizing brown spot in one.