Chelsea pulled into Eleanor’s roundabout. Bailey’s Jeep wasn’t there yet. She thought she’d feel smug satisfaction but instead felt disappointment. She tried sorting through that as she approached the door. It swung open before she had a chance to ring the bell.
“Come inside, Chelsea.” Eleanor seemed refreshed today. “It’s a bit too hot out there this afternoon. Why don’t we sit in the living room?”
Chelsea followed her and stood in front of the plush couch to which Eleanor had gestured.
“I’ll get us some refreshments. I gave Niles the afternoon off,” Eleanor said and left Chelsea alone.
Chelsea studied the room, her gaze finally landing on the almost life-size portrait above the mantel. It was an exquisite painting. She smiled at Daphne’s cocky grin and Eleanor’s obvious shyness. She tried to picture Bailey and her posing the same way.
“Fascinating painting, isn’t it?”
She turned around. Bailey stood there, her hair still wet from a shower. She focused on the painting before locking gazes with Chelsea.
Chelsea felt transported back in time to the café where they’d first met. Bailey was the young grad student who took her breath away that afternoon just as she did now.
“I see you’ve made it,” Eleanor said from behind them. “I left the door open, hoping you’d get the hint to walk in.” She entered the living room carrying a tray that Bailey took from her and set on the coffee table. “Sit next to Chelsea and grab a soda. I’ll sit over here.”
Chelsea reached for a Sprite from the tray at the same time as Bailey.
“You can have that one,” Bailey said, taking the bottle of Coke.
Eleanor sat down in her wingback chair. “You’ve told me how you met,” she said as she folded her hands in her lap. “But I’d like to hear more about the two of you and your relationship. What was it like the first time you made love?”
Chelsea sputtered on her mouthful of Sprite. Fizz shot up her nose and a round of coughing ensued.
Bailey pounded her back lightly. “You okay?”
When Chelsea finally caught her breath, she said, “Yeah. Sure. I’m okay after that totally personal question.”
“Please,” Eleanor said. “If I’m about to divulge intimate details of my first time making love with anyone, you can surely tell me about your first encounter with Bailey. Because I bet it wasn’t your first time. Am I right?”
Heat rushed to Chelsea’s cheeks. “That would be correct.” Bailey had continued making smoothing motions on her back. Her hand fell away, and Chelsea felt the loss of the touch. “I had dated someone in undergrad, but it didn’t last.”
“And you?” Eleanor asked Bailey.
“I’d had fumbled exchanges in high school and college, but nothing serious. That changed when I met Chelsea.”
“And?”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” Chelsea set her bottle down and held her head in her hands.
“My dear, if I show you mine, you should at least have the courtesy to show me yours.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Chelsea muttered. “We’d gone out, what, for three weeks?” she asked Bailey.
“Give or take.”
“One night, Bailey came over to watch a movie at my place and—”
“What movie?” Eleanor asked with interest.
“The Ghost and Mrs. Muir,” Chelsea and Bailey answered at the same time. They grinned at each other.
“Very romantic. Gene Tierney was so beautiful. She reminded me of my Daphne.”
“I love that movie. And when I found out that Bailey did, too, well, I felt an even stronger attraction to her.” Chelsea chanced a quick look to find Bailey smiling. “She had the DVD. We both watched and cried when Rex Harrison leaned over Gene Tierney, said goodbye, and faded into nothing.”
“When it ended, I told Chelsea why I loved the movie and what it meant to me and—”
“I kissed her. We’d kissed before, but this was different. The kiss lingered and became more passionate. Then, Bailey led us down the hallway and suddenly stopped.” Chelsea laughed. “She asked, ‘Uh, where’s your bedroom?’ It was priceless. It was there, standing in the hall, seeing her embarrassment that I fell in love with her.”
“You never told me that,” Bailey said.
“You never asked. When I led you to the bedroom and you were so tender and giving while we made love… There was no going back for me.”
Bailey took hold of her hand and brought it to her lips, but then, as though she realized the intimacy of her action, she pulled back. “Sorry.” She let go and inched away to leave a space between them.
Chelsea’s heart ached. The distance was maybe an inch, but it felt like a chasm—an insurmountable chasm.
“Thank you both for sharing,” Eleanor said. She took down the diary from the mantel and handed it to Bailey. “This time, no excuses. You’re reading. You’ll notice I’ve marked a passage several months later.”
Bailey opened the diary. “Tell me we didn’t skip over the good parts.”
“Are you one of those who flip through romance novels for only the sex scenes?” Eleanor asked with a bemused expression.
“N-no.”
Chelsea snorted.
“I don’t!”
“Whatever you say, Bailey.”
“Hey, don’t patronize me.”
Eleanor interrupted their bickering. “Girls, do you want to argue, or do you want to hear what happens next?”
Bailey sat up straighter and cleared her throat.
“Friday, 3 November 1950. Tonight’s the big movie premiere of The Brave Few. I’d never attended one and would have loved to sit next to Daphne at the cinema. But the studio had already arranged everything. Gordon Scott would accompany her as always…”