Turning the Page (18 page)

"Hey," Lynda called cheerfully. "You got a damn name for this joint yet?"

"Sorry, what?" Melanie looked as though she'd been jarred awake.

"A name. Have you found a name for this place?"

"Oh. Yeah."

Silence.

"Mel?"

"Hmm?"

"Name? For the shop?" Lynda studied her closely. She looked confused, a little scared, and just generally disheveled. "What is going on with you? Are you okay? Did something happen?

Paperwork fall through? Sam go through the roof? What is it?"

Without meeting the café owner's eyes, Melanie asked, "Lynda, when did you know? I mean,

when did the realization that you were gay actually hit you?"

Here we go, Lynda thought. She took a seat in the other chair and scrutinized Melanie

carefully. "Well, let's see. I was twenty-two and a senior in college. Looking back now, I know I always had 'crushes' on women, but I was raised out in the country by conservative, old-fashioned parents. I didn't even know what a lesbian was. Anyway, during the summer of my

senior year, I joined a recreational softball team. A high school friend of mine played, and

they were looking for a second baseman. I found out later that the entire team was gay and I

had no idea. How 'bout that?" She chuckled at Melanie, who smiled in return. "Anyway, there was a woman named Sarah on the team. Short stop. She was a couple years older than me, but

we hit it off. We were inseparable for the whole season.

"During the end of the season party, Sarah and I bailed out of the house and went for a walk.

We got to talking about things...parents, school, and life in general. She told me she was gay,

along with the rest of the team. Boy was I embarrassed. And..." She stopped, still amused by a

story she'd told hundreds of times. "I still don't know exactly how she did it, but she managed to get me to realize and admit that I was, in fact, a lesbian. She talked about her past, about

growing up, about girls and teachers she'd had crushes on and it was like she was talking about

me. I couldn't believe it. I'd finally found somebody who understood me. All this time I had

thought there was something weird about me, but come to find out, I was just gay."

"Were you surprised to find out?" Melanie asked softly.

"Stunned. It seemed so simple. Why none of my relationships with men had ever worked. Why

all my friends in high school were worried if they didn't have a boyfriend and not only did I

not have one, I didn't want one." Her eyes fell to the book on the floor and she gestured to it.

"You read it?"

Melanie followed her glance. "Yup."

"Liked it?"

"It was beautiful. I loved it." She looked like she wanted to say something more, so Lynda waited her out. "I found it interesting that the two main characters fell for each other so

quickly," she finally said.

Lynda chuckled. "Occupational hazard of being a lesbian."

"Really?"

"What does a lesbian bring on her second date?"

Melanie furrowed her brow at the riddle, then shrugged. "I give. What?"

"A U-Haul."

Lynda was relieved to see Melanie's face split into a genuine smile. She even laughed out loud.

After a couple of minutes, Lynda leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her

hands. "What's going on, Mel?"

The smile slid slowly off the redhead's face and Lynda was surprised to see her eyes brimming

with unshed tears. "I kissed Taylor," she whispered.

Lynda's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really. Wow. Okay. And?"

"And?"

"And, you wish you hadn't? And, you're glad you did? And, she punched you in the face?"

"And, it was the best kiss I've ever experienced." Her voice was barely audible.

"And, this is a new thing for you, isn't it?" she said, the comprehension lighting up her face.

Now, we're at the heart of the matter.

"Yes." The tears flowed silently. She looked up at her friend, and Lynda thought she seemed much younger than she was. "I'm gay, aren't I?" she asked in a small voice.

Lynda smiled gently. "The signs are kind of pointing in that general direction, yeah. But that's something only you can decide."

"I'm not sure what happens now." She hated being this lost, this unstructured.

"Have you talked to Taylor about it?"

She hesitated. "No. I...I don't know if I can. I'm not sure what I'd say."

Lynda chose her next words carefully. "You just kissed, right?"

"What? Oh." Melanie blushed an attractive shade of pink. "Yeah. Just kissed."

"You really should talk to her, you know."

"I know. I will. Just... later." She sat up and wiped her eyes. "Okay. I can't deal with this any more right now." She snatched up the newspaper and handed it to Lynda. "I walked by most of the circled ones this morning. I was up early," she added at Lynda's surprised look. "What do you think?"

I think you have some heavy-duty feelings for Taylor , she wanted to say. And she's got 'em

for you. Lynda had seen the way Taylor had looked at Melanie, how they had interacted with

one another during Taylor's visit to the bookstore recently. Anybody could have picked up on

it. You'd better get things sorted out and talk to the poor girl before you break her heart.

Aloud, she said,

"Ooo. Dartmouth is a nice street."

MUCH TO MELANIE’S surprise, and against her better judgment, she put a deposit down on

the first apartment she looked at.

It was on Dartmouth Street, only a few blocks from the bookstore and easily within walking

distance, at least during nice weather. It was perfect... beautiful hardwood floors, connected

living room and kitchen, one generous bedroom, an average-size bathroom, there was plenty of

closet space and she liked the quiet, tree-lined street. She'd pulled out her checkbook on the

spot. She'd never done anything quite so spontaneous before, and she wondered why

Rochester was having such an effect on her personality.

"I buy a business, I rent the first apartment I see, I make out with a girl," she mumbled out loud as she sat down in the office to eat her lunch of a Quarter Pounder with cheese and

fries. "Rochester's certainly done wonderful things for me."

The bel over the door jingled and Melanie scowled at herself for again not remembering to

lock it behind her. She still had work to do and was not yet ready to deal with customers.

"Lynda?" she called as she left the office. Rather than her next door neighbor, she was faced with a giant bouquet of flowers.

"Melanie Larson?" came a voice from the delivery person, whose face she couldn't see.

"That's me."

"Sign here, please." A clipboard held in a hand, attached to an arm appeared from out of

nowhere.

Lynda chose that very instant to pop in, carrying a small bowl and spoon. "Mel. I'm trying a new soup and I want you to taste...wow. Now that’s what I call a bouquet." She winked as the

delivery person, who turned out to be a gentleman old enough to be Melanie's grandfather,

headed for the door. "Think they're from the Kissing Bandit?"

Melanie shot her a warning look.

Lynda shrugged. "Hey. Small joke. Sorry."

Melanie opened the envelope and pulled the card out.

Looking forward to many more dinners...Ben

"Shit," she said softly, closing her eyes. "Can this possibly get any worse?"

"I think it's sweet that she sent you flowers," Lynda offered.

"They're not from her. They're from him." Lynda looked confused. "Him? Him who?"

"Him Ben."

"Who the hel is Ben?"

"Taylor's father."

"Oh, shit."

Chapter Eighteen

TAYLOR TRIED HARD to keep her chin up, knowing that leaving the ball in Melanie's court

was the only reasonable way to handle the situation. She thought Monday had been the longest

day of her life until she got to Tuesday without a call or visit from Melanie. Several times,

she'd picked up the phone, prepared to dial the redhead's number, only to have the little voice

inside tell her not to push, let her come to you.

By Wednesday, she was miserable.

She split all her energy between two emotions: depression and anger. When she wasn't on the

verge of tears, she was snapping the heads off people who were stupid enough to simply ask

her a question. Before long, not only was she being avoided by Melanie, her coworkers were

steering clear, too.

She was alone in her cubicle Wednesday evening. It was after five and most of the staff had

gone home for the night. When the phone shril ed loudly, Taylor snatched it up immediately,

annoyed at the startling sound it made.

"Taylor Rhodes," she said curtly.

"Hi, Tay. I can't believe I finally got you."

Fuck. Taylor shut her eyes, praying for a lightning bolt to strike her dead and put her out of

her misery. "Hel o, Maggie," she said carefully, keeping her tone noncommittal.

"I've been trying to call you for over a week."

"Really."

"Doesn't your voicemail work? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me."

Taylor could picture her ex-lover, twisting the phone cord around her finger, waiting for the

answer she wanted...the answer she expected, truthful or not. Taylor had learned the hard

way that playing Maggie's game, telling her what she wanted to hear, was often worse than

telling her the truth. Besides that, Taylor was hardly in the mood to play.

She sighed, saying simply, "I've been busy, Maggie."

"Busy?" Maggie's voice could be sweet. Sexy, even. Now, it held a combination of hurt and

anger. "Too busy to return a friend's phone calls?"

I am NOT in the mood for this, Taylor thought, her irritation mounting. "Look, Maggie, I'm

buried here. I've got to go, okay?"

"Why won't you at least talk to me?" Taylor could hear the tears beginning, an inevitable

occurrence during their last few months together.

"Mags, please, just let it go." She rubbed slowly at the throbbing ache that had set in behind her eyes. "I really don't want to get into this again with you."

"I don't understand why you gave up on us, Tay. I really don't. I told you I could change. You

bailed on me."

"I bailed on you?" Taylor repeated incredulously. "Trust me, Maggie, you don't want to go down this path with me right now."

Instead of a warning, Maggie took that as a challenge. "Oh, really. And why not? Because you

can't face the fact that you couldn't handle the normal pressures of a grownup relationship?"

"Normal pressures?" Taylor had been through this very discussion with Maggie dozens of

times, and had always been able to sugar-coat her comments to keep from cutting too deeply.

She'd always felt protective of Maggie, even during their break-up. This time, however, Taylor

could feel her control sifting rapidly through her fingers like so many grains of sand. "Normal pressures?" she repeated. "One half of the relationship being a falling-down drunk is not

considered a normal pressure, Maggie."

"You left when I needed you the most," Maggie whispered pathetically.

"Jesus Christ. I don't believe you're still pulling this shit. I will not let you make me feel

guilty. Not any more. I'm done."

"There's somebody else, isn't there?" The whisper was gone, replaced by a hard edge.

Taylor rolled her eyes. It was just like the last time they'd had this conversation. What, does

she have a script? she thought to herself.

She heaved a deep breath, tired beyond words. "Yup. Yup, there is. You're right, Maggie.

There's somebody else. Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I'm fucking

somebody else? Well, I am. You're right. My leaving had nothing to do with your alcohol

problem. I left you because I had myself a babe on the side. Satisfied? Now, will you get

yourself some help and leave me the hel alone?" She slammed down the receiver, immediately

shocked at her own brutal words. She'd never purposely tried to hurt somebody like that

before, but her own pain was so close to the surface, she felt no alternative but to strike out

at anybody trying to hurt her further.

The phone rang again and she watched it until her voicemail picked it up.

She had been inexcusably cruel to somebody she had once adored.

Melanie hadn't called. Again.

She covered her face with her hands as silent tears slid from beneath her closed eyelids.

Chapter Nineteen

BY LATE THURSDAY afternoon, Lynda couldn't take the distant look in Melanie's friendly

blue eyes any longer. She finished her chores in the café, preparing for the next day and

cleaning up the earlier messes, and untied the apron from around her waist. She turned to

Julie, who was jotting down a note for the produce supplier, who would come on Monday.

"You guys going to Happy Hour?"

"Hmm?" The assistant turned her attention to her boss. "Oh. Yeah. You?"

"I think I'm going to drag our little bookshop owner there. I just wanted to make sure there'd

be some friendly faces."

Julie furrowed her brows. "Yeah, I noticed that she's been pretty quiet this week. Even for

her."

Lynda locked the front door from the inside. "She's got some issues to deal with. I'm not sure

how to help, but a night out might do her some good. Get her to meet some new people."

"She seemed to enjoy herself last time. Maybe it's just what she needs."

"I hope so," Lynda said as she held the back door for her assistant. "I'm afraid I may have to drag her kicking and screaming. I don't get the impression Melanie likes to share her

sorrows."

"Good luck. See you there." Julie headed to her Cavalier, while Lynda scooted to the back door of the bookshop, a few yards down the building from her own.