THE FIRST raindrops fell as Eric tossed a handful of dark, rich earth into the grave. He watched it fall, along with the smattering of rain, and darken the plain wooden coffin. Some of Grammy Jewell’s friends had dropped flowers. Eric hadn’t planned to drop anything at all. He felt that would be tantamount to throwing something at her, but tradition won out in the end. He’d relied on Nathan to help him stand and navigate the three steps from the folding chair to the edge of the hole—the final resting place of his favorite person in the whole world, the one he could always count on for unconditional love.
Nathan’s arm circled Eric’s waist, gently urging him away from the gaping hole. “Come on and sit back down.” Nathan’s implied “before you fall in” came through loud and clear.
“No. It’s over. Let’s go?” He leaned against Nathan and slipped an arm around him. Eric wished the funeral had literally come to a close, and he and Nathan were the only living souls in sight. He didn’t want to cry in front of everyone—again—but he felt the walls breaking down regardless of how he worked to shore them up. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when more tears would fall.
“You got it.” Nathan kissed the top of Eric’s head, tightening his grip on Eric’s waist as he started them walking. “Where are we going?”
Before Eric could answer, a familiar, and unwelcome, face appeared in front of them. “We need to discuss Jewell’s estate.”
“Mrs. Allen.” Nathan’s contempt for Eric’s mom—for his whole family, at least those among the living—was evident in his tone. “Tex will be handling—”
“I wasn’t talking to you. Eric, come with me.”
She reached out and Eric backed away. The rain had increased, but he knew it wouldn’t hide anything. Eric wished he had worn his glasses instead of contacts. At least then his view would be obscured by water clinging to the lenses. He could only hope the rain would drive the rest of his so-called family away so he wouldn’t have to deal with them all, one by one. To be subjected, three times, to the belief that the estate should be divided four ways instead of one.
“You’re a thirty-year-old man. Can’t you keep from crying for five minutes?”
Nathan pulled Eric against his chest and embraced him, and spoke to Mrs. Allen over Eric’s head. “If you have any questions about the estate, contact Ms. Worth. She’s handling everything. If you want to talk to Eric, you’ll have to be nice. Since that’s obviously not possible, you’ll have to leave him alone.”
Eric allowed himself to be steered through the orderly cemetery, past the tasteful plaques fading demurely into the manicured lawn, and on to the parking lot.
Grammy would hate the neat symmetry here.
He wished he could have turned off his thoughts, or at least his hearing, so he wouldn’t have had to listen to everything all over again. His mother loved to opine that a real man wouldn’t be seen crying or hanging all over another man…
He might if the man was tall, blond, and handsome, like Nathan.
…and that Jewell’s indulgence didn’t mean his perverse lifestyle was right.
True perversity is to be unkind to one’s own child.
That Eric should be more like his brother.
A bully and philanderer.
He’d heard it all before, but it felt worse without Grammy Jewell’s loving, rational responses to balance it out. His own feeble attempts barely made a dent.
It was bad enough his own mother couldn’t remember his age. Since she’d undershot it by three years, Eric had no intention of correcting her and was glad Nathan didn’t either.
***
THE SIX months following Grammy Jewell’s funeral passed in a blinding procession of disgruntled relatives, legalese, and alcohol. Eric had Nathan and Tex Worth—Grammy Jewell’s best friend, confidant, and lawyer—to thank for getting him through it all. Still, he was in no mood to celebrate the culmination of the fastest probate in the history of Oregon, even with Nathan.
Who am I to pass up a free drink, though?
Eric met Nathan at one of their usual spots downtown. A quiet place with an older crowd and a piano bar. So quiet, rarely did anyone try to pick Nathan up and spirit him away before they’d finished the first round. It also happened to be in the same building as Tex’s office, and served mainly lawyers and their support staff. Eric suspected Nathan and Tex had an intervention planned. They had both dropped not-so-subtle hints that his drinking might be veering toward excessive. But the idea that an intervention was imminent had popped into his head more than once over the past few months, and so far nothing had happened. He tried not to dwell on it. The thought tended to ruin his buzz.
Eric and Nathan embraced briefly, and Eric slid up onto a stool. He tried not to look in the mirror, where he knew he would see he looked like an unkempt child beside his tall, sophisticated friend. When the bartender asked if he’d like his usual, Eric said to make it a double. Between his busy morning at the restaurant and the wind and rain he had braved to get there, he deserved a double. Before he could bring his glass to his lips, Nathan interrupted.
“No, no, no. You can’t drink until we make a toast.”
“What are we drinking to? Tuesday?”
“That’s a good thing to drink to, but no. We’re drinking to Tex.”
“To Tex.” Eric clinked the rim of his glass against Nathan’s—lightly, so as not to spill any of the sweet black-cherry-flavored elixir. He downed a third of his drink in one healthy swig.
Nathan raised one eyebrow and sipped demurely. “For diffusing the Allen Brain Trust with one piece of brilliant advice.”
The Allen Brain Trust was Nathan’s sarcastic way of referring to Eric’s family, none of whom would qualify for the label “brainy” in any way, shape, or form. He’d coined the phrase in middle school, and it hadn’t yet fallen out of fashion.
Their relationship hadn’t changed much since they were two outsiders trying to get through the day in middle school. Nathan had changed on the outside, had traded his cowlick and braces for an eighty-dollar haircut, an eight-pack, and a gig waiting tables in a swanky downtown hot spot infamous for celebrity sightings. Eric could still see the frightened twelve-year-old in his eyes now and then. The guy who’d walk a half mile out of his way to avoid the swirly patrol, safely ensconced in a hot body over six feet tall, adorned with muscles and fragrant hair products. Everything would be so much easier if he and Nathan could just fall in love. That would solve… absolutely nothing.
“I never would’ve guessed that being greedy would inspire greedy people to walk away from the money pot.” Nathan raised his glass and took another sip.
“I’m not being greedy.”
“Hey, don’t get all whiney, sweetheart. It’s just a figure of speech. I had no idea that taking a salary as personal representative was taxable income, but getting the same cash as an inheritance wasn’t. Tex is a genius!”
Tex hadn’t forced the Brain Trust to take Eric’s refusal of a salary as proof the estate was broke, but she hadn’t disabused them of the notion either. They had stopped screaming that Jewell leaving everything to Eric had to have been a mistake. He’d give Tex genius.
Eric and Nathan both startled when loud, rough laughter that could only belong to Tex interrupted their conversation.
She slapped both of their backs lightly and then slipped her arms around their shoulders. “My burning ears led me right to you two. What’re you doing drinking at three in the afternoon?”
Eric suspected it was more than “burning ears” that let Tex know they were bellied up in her building, but he let it go. He didn’t turn to look at her, but he didn’t have to. Which was a good thing since his glasses were as much fingerprints and grease as plastic.
He’d known Wilma “Tex” Worth most of his life, just as Grammy Jewell had known her for most of hers. Tex stood an inch shy of six feet and was as strong as she looked, which was saying a lot. Her lined face and steel gray hair didn’t make her look frail; they made her look even tougher than she had twenty-five years ago. Eric could’ve described her in his sleep, but he also saw her in the mirror behind the bar, her clear blue eyes filled with concern for him and grief at the loss of her best friend.
“We’re drinking to you.”
“Seems to be becoming a habit.” Tex squeezed Eric’s shoulders.
He put his glass on the bar. Nathan moved it onto Eric’s napkin, and Tex laughed.
“So, tell me how I’m a genius, Nancy.”
Nathan frowned at her in the mirror and then winked. “The whole not-taking-a-salary deal.”
“Probate’s not over. Don’t start spending Eric’s money quite yet. Even without ‘family’ intrusion, we could get Judge Fleet on a bad day. Then it’s back on the regular schedule, which could try a slug’s patience.”
“You wound me. I’m just glad the Brain Trust has backed off for the moment.”
“Don’t look so hurt. I know your motives are pure.” Tex turned to Eric and looked him over in earnest—not in the mirror. “How’re you doing, honey?”
Eric shrugged. “Okay.” He pulled his gaze up to meet Tex’s and did his best to smile. “Really. I’ll be okay. How’s everything with you?”
“Yeah, cradle-robber.” Nathan grinned. “How’s the hottie?”
“She’s lovely, thanks. That’s why I was looking for you two. We’re having a dinner party on Saturday and want you both to come.”
“Uh-oh.” Nathan shook his head and fixed Eric with a look of mock horror in the mirror. “I smell a setup. Tex, who do you have handpicked to help Eric spend his money?” Nathan placed a noisy peck on Tex’s cheek, then sipped his drink through the tiny straw, pursing his lips and sucking in his cheeks more than was absolutely necessary.
“Hush, it’s not a setup. It’s just dinner.”
Eric shrugged. Tex threw great dinner parties, but the last thing he wanted was to make small talk with a bunch of couples. Tex threw better parties than the men he called friends—present company excluded—even if he’d never say so. None of them would appreciate coming in second or third to a self-proclaimed cranky old dyke. But most of her friends had been coupled for a long time.
Not only had Eric lost the woman he thought of as his only true family member six months before, he’d also lost the man he’d thought might, perhaps, eventually become his one-and-only a few months before that. According to the ex—whose name would forever be mud—there just hadn’t been enough Eric to go around. Among other problems…. Not that Timothy had expressed the slightest interest in rekindling whatever it was they’d started once Eric’s time was all his own.
It seemed as though all Eric had anymore was time.
***
THE DINNER party was fun, but for some reason, Nathan acted jumpy and restless the whole time. Trying to determine what prompted Nathan’s mood proved a welcome distraction from the couples. In all fairness, Tex had invited quite a few un-coupled guests. It wasn’t until the ride home that Eric found out why Nathan had insisted on driving. Usually they would have taken the train so they could both indulge in a few glasses of wine with dinner.
“So, you’re still on part time, right, Cookie?”
“Thirty-five hours.” It took a concerted effort for Eric to keep from jumping down Nathan’s throat. That question brought up a familiar Brain Trust refrain. The one that started with “grown men have careers, they don’t cook at low-end chain restaurants” and ended with “even if they did, they sure as hell wouldn’t do it part time.”
Eric didn’t want, or need, to follow with “at least I’m doing something I love” for Nathan. He did love to cook, so it wasn’t a complete lie when he said it to someone with the last name of Allen.
“Take a couple of extra days off this week? I want you to come with me on my vacation.”
“I didn’t know you were taking a vacation.”
“That’s because I just thought of it yesterday. I have a week, and I don’t want to spend it alone.” Nathan kept one eye on the road and made a puppy-dog face in Eric’s general direction.
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
Eric’s supervisor wasn’t happy about it, but when Eric suggested he could just quit, the man grudgingly said he’d see him in a week.
***
ERIC STOOD waiting outside his building when Nathan pulled up, a dance mix thumping from his sensible little car. Nathan popped the trunk, and Eric deposited his gym bag, which had never seen the inside of a gym. He’d barely clicked his seat belt in place when Nathan sped away from the curb.
“I’m not going to jump out, so you don’t have to risk a ticket.”
“Maybe the cop will be hot.” Nathan winked and raced the yellow light across the intersection to hop onto the highway.
“Where are we going?”
“West.”
Eric rolled his eyes and turned the music up.
Two hours later they pulled off the Coast Highway into Long Sands Beach.
“Is this what you wanted to show me?” Eric didn’t even try to temper the frustration in his voice.
“It’s not about showing you something. Well, it is, but it’s also about getting away. Don’t worry, I just paid off my plastic, so relax and enjoy it. Or else.” Nathan winked and drove the speed limit all the way through town. He stopped at a deceptively small motel and parked.
Eric frowned at the sunshine streaming through the windshield. “Long Sands Beach. The yuppie capital of the Oregon Coast. I’ve seen it before and didn’t love it then. Can we go now?”
Nathan twisted in his seat and tapped the end of Eric’s nose with a fingertip. “Tomorrow. Today, your job is to relax. What’ll it be? A nice walk on the beach? Hot-tubbing?”
Eric consented to hot tubbing because drinks were involved. And that’s where Eric’s memory of the day came to a screeching halt.
***
BEFORE ERIC even opened his eyes, he wished he was back in Portland, in his tiny hovel of an apartment. Nathan must’ve guessed he was on shaky ground, because he’d gotten up early. He slipped back into the room with fresh pastries and tall cups of steaming coffee before Eric had managed to do so much as peek out from under the covers. Nathan made breakfast an elaborate production number, laying it out on the cheap hotel table like it was a five-star meal. He couldn’t help himself; it was a calling.
Eric poked his face out from under the starched hotel sheets and smiled the best he could. “Sorry about last night.”
Eric couldn’t remember what he’d said or done the night before. That always meant he’d be ashamed of himself, so he’d long since given up asking for a recount of his lost hours. A blanket apology and moving on to the new day as quickly as possible was his best—only—defense against sinking any lower. Because there always seemed to be a “lower,” no matter how horrible Eric felt or how low he sank. He’d be fine as long as Nathan’s patience held out. After that, he wasn’t sure what would happen.
“What do you mean?”
It almost made Eric cry, how easily Nathan glossed over even his most atrocious behavior. “I was an asshole.”
Nathan sat beside Eric’s head and gently rubbed his sheet-covered shoulder. “No, you weren’t. Honest. I should’ve told you the plan, but I thought you might enjoy a surprise.”
“What’s the plan for today?”
“Get up, have a chocolate croissant and a shower, and you’ll find out.” Nathan kissed Eric’s forehead and then jumped into the shower.
Chocolate croissants were one of Eric’s favorite things, so he let his favorite person off the hook. His accommodating attitude stayed in place for the next three hours, until they turned off scenic Highway 101 a few miles south of Lincoln City on the central coast. Two cars could probably pass without hitting each other on that road, but both drivers would have to be paying close attention.
At least Nathan decided to drive sensibly, slowing enough to give Eric a good look at the thick brush on either side of the road and the tall trees above that barely allowed any light through.
“This looks like the setting for a horror flick. Where are you taking me?” Eric pulled his long-sleeved denim shirt tighter around himself, even though it wasn’t cold in the car.
“Just relax. You’ll love it, I guarantee it.”
“And if I don’t? What do I get then?”
“The Scenic Coast Highway. Your choice of direction.” Nathan raised one eyebrow and grinned.
Smug diva.
The road went straight for a few tenths of a mile, then wound through the woods. Eric glimpsed cabins and old vehicles sitting back from the road, and a few other things he was less sure of. The car passed around a bend, and a river started following the road. Road. Eric decided he was using the term far too loosely when they traveled over a one-lane bridge. At least the bridge wasn’t made of rope.
Eric shivered and hugged himself. Nathan frowned at the windshield, but neither remarked on the feeling that the barometer had just plummeted.
Maybe that’s my mood.
A little farther, and the road widened in front of what looked like a camp. Grammy Jewell would’ve called it a camp. She had spent a few summers at a camp in Upstate New York, at a women’s retreat. Nathan stopped in front of a building that looked like the love child of the main building in Jewell’s pictures and a roadside motel. He turned right into a small parking lot that looked to be mostly gravel, with a few patches of bare earth and a blackberry vine or two. The boundaries of the parking lot were framed by large round logs that didn’t appear to be held in place by anything except time.
The long structure hunkered down under the canopy of trees, barely two stories tall. A porch wrapped all the way around the bottom floor. Double entry doors broke up a row of windows across the building’s facade. The grayish wood siding didn’t seem to have been painted since the Summer of Love, but might’ve once been blue. A few slats were missing from the porch railing, giving the building a gap-toothed grin that made Eric shiver.
“This place is falling down. I can’t believe you dragged me all the way out here.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Nathan.
Nathan laughed. “Did you just harrumph out loud?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask a question, darling. But if you had, I’d say we’re here so we might as well get out and look around.”
Nathan got out of the car and stretched. Eric checked out his ass, but while it was obviously aesthetically pleasing, looking at it didn’t do anything more for him than if it were a painting in a museum. He wondered if he might be asexual, and not for the first time. It’s only one letter away…
Eric still hadn’t moved by the time Nathan walked around the car, so Nathan opened the passenger door.
“I’m not getting out. Take me back to Lincoln City. At least there I can be myself in peace.”
Nathan laughed and rested a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “How am I not letting you be yourself?”
“You want me to be someone who can willingly walk into a horror movie.”
“Come on, sweetheart. At least come with me to find a suitable tree. I need to water it.”
Eric rolled his eyes and shook his head, but got out of the car.
Nathan walked up to the front porch and took a key from the pocket of his jacket.
“You’re going to hell, you know.”
“At least I’m enjoying the ride.” Nathan twisted at the waist and winked theatrically, and then swept the double front doors open with a flourish. “I give you, your new home and business…. Er, we can think of a name for it later.”
“What was that you just mumbled?”
Nathan actually blushed. “Nothing. Just… it doesn’t have to be the pot of gold—”
“Shut up. I may be a ginger, but I’m no leprechaun.”
“And a pretty little ginger you are, my lad.” Nathan patted Eric’s cheek. He jumped away gracefully when Eric swatted at him.
Nathan swept into the building like he owned it, which was the way he walked into every room, and Eric followed.
Eric looked up, and when he didn’t see any giant spiders or broken boards, he moved farther into the great room. “The spider motel?” It sure had its share of regular-sized spiders, by the looks of things. Elaborate webs hung from every corner and between the posts of the banister going up to the second floor.
“I thought you didn’t like spiders, Ricky.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Okay, sorry. Isn’t it adorable?” Nathan quickly changed the subject, like he always did when he slipped up and used Eric’s childhood nickname. His father and uncles had called him Rick the Chick after he came out, and that killed any love Eric had ever had for the diminutive Ricky.
Nathan flitted around the room, talking about check-in desks and conversation pits and space for an art gallery. Eric found himself warming to the idea, and when he realized that, he stomped his foot, angry at himself.
“Just checking how sturdy the floorboards are.” Eric could feel his cheeks and ears flaming.
Nathan didn’t comment. He just smiled and suggested they go upstairs. “See, the rooms have outside access in the back, via a shared balcony, so the main room can close at a reasonable hour without imposing a curfew on the guests. They all have the same floor plan up here.” Nathan opened a door and gestured for Eric to go inside. “They’re the size of a suite, but in one room. Except the bathroom, of course.”
“Does every room have its own bathroom?” Eric asked with exaggerated innocence.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, they do. And built-ins to die for.” Nathan pointed over Eric’s shoulder. When Eric didn’t turn to look, Nathan nodded and gestured with his finger, twirling it in a tight little circle.
Eric didn’t expect much, so when he saw the built-in, he almost swooned. A fireplace nestled between bookshelves dominated the bottom half of one wall of the suite. The whole thing was a Craftsman wet dream, hidden in the middle of nowhere, appreciated for untold years only by spiders? Eric was sure the wood was maple, a rich honey color he’d seen occasionally in the firewood he’d unearthed at Grammy Jewell’s place when inspired to dig deep into the woodpile during an especially cold stretch of winter.
“What did I tell you? Now come on. I want to show you the back.”
“Wait. I won’t be able to afford this, so I don’t want to look.”
“Pish-tosh, you’ll steal it with money to spare.”
“I’m serious. I won’t even have enough for a condo in Portland, let alone all this. How much land comes with this building anyway?”
“Honey, if you could afford that condo, you could buy this place four times over.” Nathan raised his eyebrows, and Eric thought his forehead would be sore if he kept it up. “This is what we always dreamed about, only better.” Nathan walked out of the room, his long legs leaving Eric behind before he knew what was happening.
Eric moved aside a curtain, stiff with dirt and things he didn’t want to think about, and saw a dock with a tiny boathouse perched on the near end. The river they’d driven alongside and then over appeared to flow directly into the ocean not far from where they stood. He ran to catch up with Nathan.
“…no silly little B and B, this is a real resort. We can clean it up and advertise in all the cool places and fill our rooms with hot gay men all year round. It’ll be like working in a candy store, and you won’t have to cook at Shari’s and live in a hovel anymore.”
“Hey. It’s my hovel.” Eric didn’t want to, but he smiled a little anyway, even if he didn’t own the one-bedroom apartment he’d lived in by himself for the past six months.
Living alone had been a failed experiment at being a real adult. Eric probably should have caved to Nathan’s peer pressure and moved into his shared apartment downtown. But he needed to silence his brother’s voice in his head, the one that laughed because he’d lived with Grammy Jewell every day since Thanksgiving when he was thirteen.
He followed Nathan down the main staircase and out the back way. Double french doors led out to a wider porch than the one in front—wide enough for tables and chairs, and a swing…. To the right it looked like there had once been a lawn and garden, and to the left, it was all about getting into the river. And the ocean. The ocean was right there, a short walk to what might be the high tide line, and then the beach.
Nathan went on about nude sunbathing and kayaking and massage gazebos—massage gazebos?—but Eric was entranced by the beach. He had always wanted to live somewhere he could walk to the beach the way he walked to the post office or to the coffeehouse. He closed the distance between the camp and the beach like a man whose mind was being controlled elsewhere. The churning whitecaps made Eric’s heart race.
Nathan joined him near the place where the trees framing the backyard met the sand, and for a while they stood side by side, just watching the waves retreat to the unbroken line of the horizon.
“No,” Eric whispered, but was pretty sure Nathan heard him even before he replied.
“What? Seriously—”
“No, it won’t be just for men. I want women to be comfortable here too. Tex. Tex and Maria, and all their friends…. I want to do it, but it has to be for everyone under the rainbow. If a bi gal is married to a man, they can come. If a trans man is dating a woman, they’re welcome.” Eric looked up into the brown eyes of his best friend in the world, the most flamboyant queen he’d ever met, and felt as powerless over his emotions as he had at Grammy Jewell’s funeral. Except this was joy, not grief. Eric didn’t know the first thing about operating a retreat, but he feared if they couldn’t make this happen, he’d never get over it.
Nathan grinned. “Of course.”
“You did that intentionally.”
“Who better to pull your strings than your best friend?” Nathan draped an arm around Eric’s shoulders and pulled him close. “I saw you, picturing us here, making our own little west coast version of P-Town, but I have met you before. I knew if I tried to make it exclusive, you’d call me on it. I want this, Eric, as much as you do.”
“How’d you ever find this place?”
“A regular at the restaurant is in real estate. He came down for Lincoln City’s Pride festival last year and was moaning about how he wanted to live out here but his partner would never go for it.”
“What about you? How will you ever be happy out here?” Eric squeezed both arms around Nathan’s waist and rested his head on his shoulder. “It’s just a small town, no culture, no—”
“We’ll bring the culture with us, of course.” Nathan dropped a kiss on the top of Eric’s head. “In that room with the big stone fireplace, we could have art shows and readings and invite indie filmmakers out for screenings, and—it’ll be so fabulous! Anything we’re interested in, we’ll just invite the artist out. Music! We can have music—”
“No thumping house mixes. Not out here, it—”
“You wound me.” Nathan laughed and squeezed Eric. “No. No thumping anything. Well… we have neighbors. There’s a whole little community out here past the bridge. I’ve heard at least one of them is a hot gay man too.”
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