Wendy Temple
Claire Shaw sat at the kitchen table sipping an espresso while casually flicking through The Scotsman newspaper. The sweet scent of fruit and spice mingled with the heavy coffee aroma; Christmas carols played in the background.
The light, airy ambiance of the kitchen belied the bleak, damp scene outside. Thick rain spattered off the windows, the ominous dark sky blurred by the water running down the outside of the glass. Inside, Claire was shielded from the elements.
A ping from the oven timer nudged her to her feet. Moving with a fluid grace, she opened the oven door. The blast of heat dissipated rapidly to reveal twelve identically shaped mince pies. Bubbling with sweet hot filling, the golden brown Christmas pastries, all in a row, presented themselves like soldiers awaiting inspection. They were perfect, exactly the way she intended them to be.
Leaving the pies to cool, she cleaned up the kitchen. Humming along to the Christmas carols, Claire went through her mental checklist. The decorating was complete, food was prepared, that only left the handful of small packages on the kitchen table waiting to be wrapped. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and sat down to complete her final task, wrapping each item with care and precision. She loved Christmas.
Ding-dong! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Startled, she shot to her feet, Christmas wrapping forgotten. Whoever was assaulting the front door certainly wanted her attention. She hastily made her way from the kitchen along the hall, then opened the patterned glass door into the foyer.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Thump! Thump! Thump!
“I’m coming!”
Claire looked through the peephole of the heavy wooden door and saw Margo Blair-Scott Q.C. standing on the other side, staring straight at her. Beginning to panic, Claire hastily opened the front door to the prominent lawyer. “Margo? Is everything okay? Zoe?”
“Zoe is fine.” Margo stormed past Claire into the foyer, her long wool coat billowing behind her, much like her black silk gown in a courtroom.
Claire scanned the gravel driveway expecting to see her daughter, but Margo’s sporty Mercedes, parked right in front of the house, was empty. Turning back for an explanation, she watched as Margo shook the rain from her coat before hanging it on a peg. Obviously she was staying. Claire closed the door with a sigh, shutting out the patter of the falling rain, cloaking the pair in silence.
“Who is home?” Margo asked, her tone abrupt, eyes searching the hall.
Claire’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m alone.”
Hands on hips, Margo turned her full attention to Claire and ground out through gritted teeth, “The girls are sleeping together!”
Claire barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. Margo clearly hadn’t lost her flair for the dramatic. Claire was sure the woman must be a sight to behold for the impressionable young lawyers, but she was too long in the tooth to be affected by Margo’s histrionics, so she waited patiently for the courtroom dramatics to subside.
When she was satisfied that she had Margo’s attention, Claire answered, “I have no idea of the sleeping arrangements at your house, but they do share a bed when they stay over here.”
“Don’t be obtuse. You know exactly what I mean.” A long bony finger poked the air for emphasis.
Claire sighed. “Margo, how can you be sure?”
“I heard them!” The thunderous reply echoed in the tiled hall.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t snoop around.”
The lawyer’s eyes narrowed. “You knew! You knew about this and told me nothing.” Margo paced in the hall. “How long? How long have you known?”
Claire waited for the tantrum to subside before answering in a soothing tone, “I didn’t know, but I suspected.”
Margo stopped abruptly. Tendrils of blonde hair escaped from the loose bun, softening the lawyers flushed features. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Margo accused, anger and frustration lacing her reply.
“Because I knew you would overreact, like this.” Claire waved a hand towards Margo to underscore her point and leaving the other woman open mouthed. Sensing an opportunity to defuse the tension, Claire changed tack. “Would you like some coffee?” She gently touched Margo’s shoulder as she walked past her to the kitchen.
Shaking her head, Margo followed Claire. “I’ll have tea, please.”
Claire filled the kettle at the kitchen sink before turning to face Margo, who sat stiffly in a high backed chair, her hands clasped on the table in front of her. The lawyer looked out of place amongst the baking and unfinished wrapping as she sat taking in her surroundings. Claire knew those sharp grey orbs saw everything, absorbing the important and dismissing the irrelevant in seconds. She watched as they slowly scanned her own body before meeting her gaze. Claire remembered that look well—unapologetically bold, with a hint of challenge.
“This is very festive.”
“I enjoy it.”
“Baking, too,” Margo tilted her head towards the pies. “You are a veritable paragon of domesticity.”
Turning from Margo to fetch the tea tray, Claire closed her eyes, ignoring the sarcasm and verbal sparring. She would not be baited. With a polite smile plastered on her face, Claire placed the tray on the kitchen table then poured tea into fine china cups decorated with delicate pink roses.
“Milk? Sugar?” Claire indicated the containers on the tray.
“Milk, please.”
Margo watched as Claire added milk to both cups. “You could have had a full-time career and had someone in to do all this.” She swept an arm over the table.
“I could have, but I enjoy lecturing part-time. It has allowed me to spend more time with the children over the years.” Claire placed a cup and saucer in front of Margo, then took the seat opposite.
“Thank you.” Margo sipped her tea. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she glanced down before returning her gaze to Claire. “I skipped breakfast.”
Claire gestured at the cooling mince pies. “Please, help yourself.” She watched Margo gingerly pick up one of the warm pastries and examine it thoroughly before cautiously biting into it.
The look of surprise that crossed the lawyer’s features was almost comical in its transformational powers as Margo’s eyes went wide, then closed. “My God, Claire, this is delicious,” she mumbled around a mouthful of flaky crust and fruit, her hand covering her mouth.
“Thank you.” Claire’s smile turned genuine. She was pleased to see Margo enjoying something as simple as a Christmas mince pie.
As Margo ate, her tongue poked out to lick the crumbs from her red lips. When the pie was finished, she used a napkin to primly dab the corners of her mouth. “That was heavenly. Thank you.”
Margo sat back in the kitchen chair, sipping her tea, some of the earlier tension evaporating from her slim frame. She picked up a small, neatly wrapped gift and read the tag. Holding it up, she said, “How is the grand old bag? Coming for Christmas dinner?”
Claire recognized the wrapping on the gift that was for her mother-in-law. Having Roger’s mother for dinner was always a polite strain. The veneer of tolerance that emanated from the older woman tested Claire’s patience to its limits. Constant criticism, nothing overt, but the “you will never be good enough,” lurked below the surface of the carefully crafted barbs cast her way.
“Oh, you didn’t go to Jenners” meant the gift wasn’t quite right. Claire’s response was a polite feigned indifference, and everyone would act as if they hadn’t noticed.
“She’s lonely,” she replied as she placed her empty cup on the saucer.
Margo rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows she is insufferable, only you would find a way to excuse her. She was like that before her husband died, and I suspect she is a lot worse now that he isn’t here to listen to her complaining.”
“Roger and the children are the only family she has.”
“So you put up with her antics for the sake of everyone else?”
“Something like that.”
Margo rested her elbows on the table. “Well you certainly play the role of daughter-in-law to perfection.”
Claire chose to ignore the comment, and the challenge in Margo’s eye. She rose from the table and collected the teacups to put into the sink, giving them both a moment to collect their thoughts. Hearing the scraping of a chair along the tile floor, she turned from the sink.
Shaking her head in frustration as she pushed her empty chair back under the table, Margo asked, “Can we move rooms? This place is stifling.”
Claire wasn’t surprised by the request, Margo was being distracted by the ambiance in the kitchen, and Margo Blair-Scott Q.C. did not tolerate distractions well. She lost focus when her thought processes were disrupted. Claire knew that better than anyone. She had been the cause of Margo’s lack of focus on more than one occasion.
* * *
Margo’s heels echoed on the patterned tiled floor as Claire led her past the large drawing room to a door further along the wide hallway. Claire knew Margo would prefer this room to the one decorated for Christmas morning.
Standing to the side, she invited Margo in. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation as she caught the familiar scent of jasmine wafting from the Q.C. as she passed. The scent triggered memories long buried under layers of self-protection and expectation. Claire’s eyes closed as a warm sensation washed through her. Inhaling deeply, a smile sprung to her lips, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled.
“Claire?”
Claire’s eyes shot open. The sound of Margo’s voice catapulted her back to the moment, her hand unconsciously rubbing away the knot in her stomach.
She entered the office and closed the door behind her, the clicking of the latch signalling a privacy they had both avoided for many years. They had bumped into each other numerous times at functions and parties, dropping their daughters off at school or each other’s home, politely skirting around each other, but an invisible connection bound them together across distance and time. Casual glances in a crowded room full of memories only they shared, and yet not a meaningful word spoken. Cultivated conversation in the company of others oblivious to the undercurrent swirling around them. So many words left unspoken, so many opportunities not taken.
Claire watched as sharp grey eyes assessed the room in one sweep, taking in her sanctuary with laser-like precision before turning to meet her own eyes. The look held a familiarity that transported Claire back to a time when they were younger, a time when they were free to explore and have fun before the crushing weight of expectations snuffed out the last vestiges of freedom. The weight still hung heavy between them, the tension still creaking after all these years.
Regarding Margo warily, like prey would a deadly predator, Claire stepped further into the room. She dared not take her eyes off the other woman. This was dangerous territory.
Margo picked up a foot high nude female bronze, and Claire shuddered as long, slim fingers traced the curves of the smooth metal, and a memory of those fingers caressing her skin shot to the surface.
Claire’s breath rasped in her chest as she watched, transfixed by the cool hand moving slowly up her bare leg towards the juncture of her thighs. Muscles quivering, gasping as the hand reached its goal. Encountering the slick, wet arousal, two long fingers entered her swiftly.
Claire’s vision swam as arousal flooded through her. Biting down on the inside of her cheek to prevent a gasp escaping, she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped Margo would not realise her predicament.
“This is a beautiful piece.” Eyes dark with desire held Claire’s as Margo caressed the cool bronze with her fingertips. She blinked, breaking eye contact as she turned from Claire to replace the statue. Clearing her throat, breaking the spell, she said, “Anyway, about the girls.” The veneer slammed back in place, instantly shutting out the memories.
Claire motioned towards a dark leather sofa. “Shall we?”
Sitting in the corner of the sofa facing Claire, Margo crossed her legs and stretched one arm along the back.
She appeared relaxed, but Claire was not taken in by the deceptively calm pose.
“So, how do we put a stop to this nonsense with the girls?”
Claire shook her head. “We don’t.”
“You can’t seriously be thinking of letting it continue.”
“We should leave them alone.”
Lips pursed, Margo’s long fingers drummed impatiently on the back of the sofa. “How long have you known?”
With effort, Claire managed to keep her feelings under wraps as she sat at the opposite end of the sofa, one leg tucked casually behind the other, hands clasped loosely in her lap. She remained silent as she considered her reply. She wasn’t surprised that it had taken Margo so long to spot the attraction that had been developing between their daughters. The Q.C. tended to be wrapped up in her career.
“As I said, I couldn’t be certain anything was going on, but I first considered the possibility that they might be intimate during this past summer.”
The drumming fingers stilled. “Why wasn’t I made aware of this?”
Claire was being cross-examined, but she was not intimidated. “Until you arrived here today, I only suspected something might be developing between them. Unlike you, I did not go searching for proof. Why has it taken you this long to see it?” Turning the tables, Claire was now on the offensive.
“You should have told me. We could have put a stop to this before it gained traction.”
“Why?”
Margo leaned forward as her voice became louder. “What do you mean ‘why?’ Are you saying you are happy about your daughter being a lesbian?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “They’re seventeen. They don’t know what they are, but I intend to leave them alone to find out. All I want is for my daughter to be happy.”
“Are you saying you are not happy?”
The challenge in Margo’s eyes was Claire’s undoing. She did not want this conversation to become personal, but it was a path they were destined to travel at some time, no matter how long they avoided doing so.
“I’m content with my life. I love my children, my marriage is…adequate.” Claire returned the question. “What about you?”
“Don’t, Claire.”
“Why? Because it will force you to face the truth?”
“You don’t know what you are talking about.” Margo turned her face away from Claire, her fingers pressing hard into her thigh.
“Don’t I?” Claire’s asked softly. “Have you ever been in love?”
Margo shook her head, but would not turn around. “I won’t have this conversation.”
“Look at me.”
The quiet command forced Margo to slowly turn her head until her eyes met Claire’s.
Eyes full of unshed tears as her chin trembled, Claire ached to comfort her, but she needed to hear Margo’s answer. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Don’t, Claire, please.” Her voice was hoarse, and Margo closed her eyes and swallowed hard as a lone tear slowly trickled down a face etched in pain. Her chin dropped as a hand clutched at her sweater.
“Look at me.” When Margo opened her eyes, Claire’s heart ached at the sadness in their depths. Time seemed to stand still as Claire waited for her reply.
“Only once,” Margo choked out as she exhaled a shuddering breath.
Nodding, Claire replied, “Me too.”
“God damn you!” Margo swiped at a tear as she abruptly rose from the sofa and stormed over to the window, looking out at the dull grey canvas, arms hugging her body protectively. “And damn this bloody rain.”
Claire had never seen Margo so vulnerable. Cautiously, not wanting to startle her, she joined the other woman at the window. “I prefer snow,” Claire whispered.
Claire heard Margo gasp as she laid a hand on her shoulder. A sigh escaped Margo’s lips when Claire’s hand slipped around the trim waist to cover the Q.C’s. Enjoying the warmth and the physical contact, they stood together absorbing the sensation of one another for the first time in over twenty-five years. Claire had missed the familiar softness of a woman’s body.
When Claire spoke, her lips were centimetres from Margo’s ear. “You were an only child. The weight of expectation on you was greater than most.” She gently rocked from side to side, movement intended to offer Margo some comfort.
The lawyer exhaled, her head shaking slowly. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know. Still offering kind words and understanding with no expectation of anything in return. Still my selfless Claire.”
That aspect of her nature was the principal reason Claire had chosen not to enter the courtroom. Teaching law in its purest form really had been the best career choice for her. “Perhaps.”
Margo sighed. “It’s true that I was expected to marry a man that my father approved of and have children with him. I was under a lot of pressure to do just that, and, I wanted to make my father proud by emulating his success. He didn’t have a son, so it fell to me to be both successful and keep the family line going.” Margo took a long breath.
The words were spoken so quietly, Claire had to concentrate on them, straining to hear each and every one, not wanting to miss a single syllable of Margo’s admission. Sensing there was more, Claire stood completely still, holding her breath as she waited for Margo to continue. It was the first time that Margo was speaking openly and honestly regarding the decision she’d made that drastically changed both of their lives.
“I have outperformed my father in both the bedroom and the courtroom. I have three children, and I am well on my way to becoming a judge, which means I have a fantastic shot at making it all the way to the Supreme Court. I want that for myself.”
Margo turned to face her, taking both of Claire’s hands in her own. “I have only been in love once, and it scared me to death. It has always been you, Claire, but loving you terrified me. It was all consuming, and I wasn’t in control. That’s why I cut you out of my life. I was unable to continue with just a friendship. I ran screaming into the arms of safe, tolerant Richard, who doesn’t ask questions.” Swallowing, Margo choked out the final words. “I’m sorry I was a coward.”
Gazing deeply into Margo’s tear filled grey eyes, Claire found the truth for the first time. Her heart beat faster as she absorbed the words. All these years, Claire had thought she wasn’t enough, that Margo had simply walked away from her, walked away from what they’d shared. Hearing that Margo had been in love with her and had run away from that love was a revelation. Her chest ached, the tightness making breathing more difficult. The declaration was too little, too late.
The pain Claire had lived through was real. Margo abandoning her was a confidence-crushing blow that shaped her career and led her into Roger’s arms. No apology could change any of that. The love she had for her children had helped erase the pain over the years. Given the choice, because of her children, she would not change any of the events. Margo’s honesty, while refreshing, ultimately made little difference to her. Claire stood silently looking down at their joined hands as she absorbed the new information. Her shoulders slumped as the energy drained from her.
“Are you angry?”
Was she angry? Slowly shaking her head, Claire realised she had no anger left for Margo. It had fizzled out over the years without Claire noticing. Even this new revelation was unable stir it up.
“No, I’m not angry. A little sad, perhaps, but not angry.” She raised her head to look at Margo. “You cut me out of your life so thoroughly, I always thought it was easy for you to walk away. It was a difficult time for me after the break up.”
Claire thought back to that time. She rarely did, preferring that it remain a dark, distant memory. After their breakup, she had lost herself for a few months. Margo hadn’t been around to witness the desolation and devastation caused by her leaving. Everyone had gone their separate ways after graduation from university, and Claire had headed home to her parents’ house. No one else had been aware of the weight loss, the gaunt, pale complexion, and the crippling depression that overtook her for almost six months. To everyone but her parents, she had gone travelling.
Her stomach still roiled at the memory, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. It was a darkness she never wanted to step inside again. A shudder ran up her spine as she thought of the possibility of returning there.
“You ran right into Roger’s arms.”
Claire nodded. “It felt good to be wanted after the hurt.” Her voice was raw, the words raspy.
“Why not another woman?”
Claire held Margo’s gaze for a few moments, considering her answer. As always, the truth won out. “Because you were the only woman I ever wanted.”
“There haven’t been any others?” Margo’s words were laced with surprise.
Claire shook her head. “No, no others.”
Wide eyed, Margo asked, “You have been faithful to Roger all these years?” Disbelief and wonder were evident in her question.
Claire murmured, “I had children to raise.”
They stood in silence comforting each other, Margo’s thumbs idly caressing the backs of Claire’s hands. Over two decades of distance evaporated with each passing moment.
“Zoe will be off to university after the summer.”
Claire’s stomach fluttered. Was Margo suggesting that they pick up after all these years? The parted lips, the step closer…she recognised the signs. She shook her head. “Margo, I couldn’t…”
Margo dropped Claire’s hands as if they were hot embers. “No, of course not. That would be absurd.” Margo stepped back from Claire, putting some physical distance between them. She took a deep breath. “I ask about you, you know.”
Yesterday that statement would have surprised Claire, but not now, not after Margo’s unusually truthful confession. It had been a rare exhibition of vulnerability, but the walls were going back up as Margo idly perused the knick-knacks on the antique writing desk.
“I hear good things about your lectures from former students.” Margo briefly glanced over her shoulder at Claire before returning her attention to the desk.
Claire’s head tilted to one side, a smile ghosting across her lips. “I hear interesting things about you, too.”
Margo turned on her heel to face Claire, her knuckles white as she gripped a photo frame. “You can’t believe all the gossip from the gutters around Advocate’s Close.”
The venom in the Q.C.’s voice didn’t surprise Claire; Margo had always possessed the ability to switch from one emotion to another in an instant. Unsettling to many, it worked wonders in a courtroom, keeping opposing counsel and defendants off balance and Margo on the front foot.
“Actually, I was referring to the rumour that you may soon become a Sheriff.”
Margo’s posture relaxed, her tone softening. “Ah yes, the Judicial Appointments Board has made the recommendation.”
Claire knew this would be the next step for Margo on her way to her ultimate goal—a judgeship in Scotland’s supreme courts and the grand title of The Right Honourable Lady Blair-Scott. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Margo replaced the framed photograph that sat proudly on Claire’s desk. “He’s a very handsome young man.”
“He is more grown up every time I see him,” Claire responded, her voice tinged with sadness.
“Is he coming home for Christmas?” Margo’s voice conveyed a hint of empathy.
“He arrives this evening, then on Boxing Day he flies out to Val-d’Isere to meet up with friends. He does love to ski.”
“You don’t see much of him?”
“Not nearly enough. He’s enjoying university life to the fullest, rarely making the journey back from York. I shouldn’t complain, but I do miss him.”
“One down, one to go. What will you do with yourself when Zoe leaves for university after the summer?”
Claire’s chest fell as she released a long breath. There was the question she had been refusing to consider for the last few months. With both her children away from home, that left her and Roger to rattle around in a house that only found them together in the bedroom. Most of the time when they were both home, they were in their respective offices. They hadn’t been intimate in months, and even then it was never of Claire’s initiating.
“You need some passion in your life.” Margo took a step towards Claire, her voice becoming more animated. “Have an affair. There must be plenty of students who would jump at the chance.”
Claire’s eyes grew wide. “Good God, Margo, I would never be intimate with a student. It’s thoroughly inappropriate.”
Margo shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by Claire’s admonishment. “Of course it is, but that doesn’t stop it from going on all the time.”
Claire folded her arms across her chest. “Not with me.”
Throwing a dismissive hand in the air, Margo continued, “You need something in your life or it’s just going to fizzle out into mind numbing obscurity. Get laid, have an affair, go skydiving. You need to find an outlet for all that passion burning inside you.”
Margo shuddered, and Claire knew she was thinking about their first time together.
A dark night in the Swiss Alps, tension that had been building between the two of them for months. The excuses they both made, feigning fatigue after a day on the slopes, both aware of what they wanted. Margo tasting Claire for the first time as her cries of passion filled the wooden structure while their friends partied in the main room below.
Lightheaded, Claire took a deep breath; aware she had been silent, caught up in the memory. Arousal pulsed as strongly as the heartbeat that pounded in her chest.
“You said that you are content with your life?” Margo rasped. “Content is just not good enough for the woman I remember.”
“I shall take that under advisement.”
Running a trembling hand through her hair, Claire swallowed hard. She wanted to change the subject. Anything would be better than having her life put under a microscope, especially one in the hands of someone as sharply focussed as Margo. “Where are the girls?”
Margo rolled her eyes. “Christmas shopping. I can’t imagine anything I would like to do less than that. I hate Christmas. It was tolerable when the children were young. At least they showed delight when unwrapping their gifts. But teenagers, they appreciate very little and are utterly self-absorbed. The only things that really make them happy are a blank cheque and being able to stay out late.”
Claire couldn’t argue with that. Matthew was always calling home to ask that money be put into his bank account, and Zoe was always pushing to stay out late. “You make a valid point.”
Margo dismissed the endorsement with a swat of an elegant hand. “Of course I do.”
Claire smiled at her response. Margo had always been full of confidence splashed with a fair dollop of arrogance. Once her mind was made up, it was almost impossible to change it. No one believed in Margo more than Margo herself, and she didn’t need anyone else to believe in her. It was both utterly beguiling and infuriating. For a young Claire, it had been intoxicating. In full flow, Margo was magnificent.
“What? Do you find me amusing?” A shapely eyebrow raised in challenge.
“No. I was remembering what it was about you that I found so attractive.”
“Oh, I see. My charm, I assume.” Margo smiled.
Claire enjoyed the rare glint of humour from her old friend. Margo had never felt comfortable being funny, especially when the humour was directed at herself. A full smile blossomed on Claire’s generous lips. There were parts of Margo she would always miss.
Standing staring openly at each other, a moment of understanding passed between the pair, an acknowledgement of something that went deeper. It was not a spark, rather more a memory of what once was.
Breaking the connection, Margo glanced at her watch. “I should get going, I have a Christmas hamper to collect and the traffic is terrible. May I use your bathroom?”
* * *
From the corner of her eye, Claire glimpsed Margo, hands in the pockets of her slacks, leaning in the open doorway of the drawing room, observing her as she made adjustments to the Christmas tree decorations.
“It’s perfect,” Margo said as she stepped into the room.
Claire stepped back from the tree, folded her arms over her chest and reviewed her work. She glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you.” Turning back to the tree, she added, “We haven’t come to an agreement about the girls.”
Margo’s breath shot out through her nose. “Fine. I’ll leave them alone, for now.”
Arms still folded, Claire turned to face her. “No.”
“No?”
“Promise me you will not interfere in any way.”
Frowning, Margo shook her head. “But—”
Claire cut off any objection. “They are seventeen. The chances are they will go to separate universities, and this will fizzle out.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
Claire shrugged. “Then it doesn’t. The girls carry on without any interference.”
“So, you are asking me to do nothing?” Margo asked, her disbelief obvious.
“Yes.”
“This can’t be what you want for Zoe!”
Anticipating the outburst, Claire had planned her next argument while Margo had been planning a quick exit. “It’s not about what you or I want.”
Margo began to pace in front of the large fireplace. “What about marriage, grandchildren?” Her hands emphasised each point, years of practice behind each gesture.
“They are not excluded from having either.”
Coming to an abrupt stop, Margo dropped her courtroom façade. “Don’t be flippant, Claire! You know exactly what I mean.”
In calm, modulated tones, Claire replied, “I do. You are worried about yourself and your reputation. You need to get over it and stop being concerned with what other people think.”
“That doesn’t concern you?”
Claire shook her head, a patient smile gracing her elegant features. “No, Margo, not in the least. If my daughter is a lesbian and someone has an issue with that, the problem lies with them. I hope for your sake you can find a way to reconcile that within yourself. Christ knows you have slept with half the female faculty.”
Margo’s head snapped up. “That is a gross exaggeration.”
“The numbers aren’t important, my point remains the same.”
“Which is?”
“You’re a lesbian.”
“So are you!”
“I know.” The look of intensity in Claire’s eyes made the lawyer take a step back. “And if our daughters turn out to be lesbians, I do not want them living behind a veneer of acceptability concocted out of fear about what people might think about you!”
Eyes wide, startled by the rare flash of anger from her former lover, Margo stepped back, a hand going to her chest. The venom in Claire’s voice was like a physical slap in the face.
Driven by anger at the past and present, Claire stepped forward, pressing her advantage. “Leave. Them. Alone.”
Margo swiftly closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against Claire’s. A hand wrapped itself into the soft hair at the back of Claire’s neck and pulled her impossibly closer to Margo.
Claire gasped, eyes wide, shocked by the sudden turn of events. As soft lips nibbled at her own, something stirred within her, a longing so deep it dislodged years of contentment in an instant, replacing it with need and a yearning for something long denied her.
Moaning as a warm tongue caressed her lips, demanding entrance, Claire ached inside. Her heart beat quickly as passion long kept at bay bubbled to the surface, released like vintage champagne uncorked after years of storage. She needed more. Deepening the kiss, she pressed Margo back against the wall. Claire’s hands moved under Margo’s sweater, and she slipped her leg between Margo’s thighs. Hot arousal coursed through her as Margo’s fingers dug into her shoulders. Claire grasped Margo’s buttocks, pulling her closer as she ground against a strong thigh.
Margo groaned.
Initially overwhelmed by the emotional onslaught, Claire’s desire was replaced by a soothing, healing balm. The realisation that she did crave passion and love, but not from the woman kissing her so thoroughly, galvanised something inside her. Claire deliberately eased away from their kiss, leaving Margo chasing a ghost from another time. Nothing Margo tried to do could erase the hurt and abandonment she’d inflicted so many years ago.
A groan from Margo was her only objection as they each stood wrapped in the other’s arms. Claire saw her thoughts mirrored in Margo’s eyes. This was the final good-bye.
Margo buried her face against Claire’s cotton clad shoulder.
“Margo, I…”
Raising her head, Margo placed a finger on Claire’s lips. “I understand.”
Staring at each other, they shared a long, sad smile until finally Margo nodded and stepped back.
“Will you walk me out?”
“Of course.”
Margo swirled her long black coat around her shoulders and effortlessly slipped her arms into the sleeves. Straightening, she raised her chin, indicating she was ready to depart.
At the main door, Claire reached for the latch, only to have Margo grasp her hand. Turning back, Claire was surprised to see moisture in the keen grey eyes.
“It will always be you.” Margo kissed Claire on the cheek and waited for the door to be opened.
As she stepped outside, Margo held her arms out, laughing as she tilted her head to the darkening skies, her breath crystallising in the cold air. Turning to Claire, she looked like the girl she had been when they had fallen for each other so many years ago.
“You may get your wish to have snow for Christmas.”
Claire smiled, nodding. “I just might.” And as Margo walked away, Claire watched until she disappeared in a flurry of snowflakes.