I examine The Nelson Ledger’s logo again. Even its off-green color is offensive to me now, after all these years of being forced to look at it. I could just bite the bullet and ask Ivan, the guy who’s done all Ledger graphics for two decades, to come up with something new and fresh. Yeah right. He might be able to come up with something new, but it’ll never be fresh. And The Ledger needs something fresh. On the website, which I put together myself—teaching myself WordPress in the process—it just looks so off. It makes TNL look so hopelessly old-fashioned.
I’ve tried my hand at designing a new house style myself, but I had to admit defeat depressingly quickly. I don’t have the skill for it. I just know what’s wrong and what will work. I can dream up a concept—I have many written down in a stashed-away notebook—but I can’t bring it into reality myself. I need an artist for that.
The thumping of running footsteps outside pulls me out of my dreams for a new Ledger logo. The sound immediately makes my heartbeat pick up speed. Could it be her? It’s been more than a week since I made a fool of myself outside of Laura’s front door, which, I have concluded, was so ghastly it made her change her running route so as not to have to pass by my office anymore.
I rush out of my chair and pull the front door open. It’s her. “Laura,” I yell, without giving it any further thought.
She’s a few houses farther already, but she stops and turns around.
“Hey.” I wave. I shouldn’t be so happy to catch a glimpse of her, I think. I’m like a puppy whose owner has returned after weeks of absence.
“Hi,” Laura says while catching her breath, then jogs in my direction. She’s dressed in a tiny pair of running shorts—the professional kind, I think—and a loose fitting, faded t-shirt.
“Have you thought about my humble invitation to share a cup of coffee with me?” She must think I’m shameless for not knowing when to stop, but, gosh dang, I’m going to keep on trying with her.
“I have.” Laura gives me a subtle smile. “I’ve even visited The Nelson Ledger’s website, and I see what you mean.”
My heart whoops inside my chest. I really should tone it down. What is wrong with me? Though I know exactly what’s wrong with me. It’s been far too long since I last met someone who as much as sparked my interest. “You have?” My voice comes out like a jubilant cheer. “Do you have time to meet sometime this week?” I point at the coffee shop across the street. “Mary in there brews the most excellent cup of coffee.”
“If she brews tea as well, I could be persuaded.” Laura still stands more than an arm’s length away from me.
I chuckle. “Of course. Any kind you like.”
“Oh really? Does she have Yunnan pu-ehr?” Laura asks.
I burst out in too exuberant laughter. “I honestly haven’t a clue.”
“How about tomorrow before lunch? Say eleven?” Laura asks.
“I’ll be there with bells on.” I can’t make my lips stop smiling.
“Okay. See you then.” Laura gives a quick nod, turns around, and starts running again. She has a graceful stride, as though she’s floating over the sidewalk. I do wonder what made her change her mind.
As soon as I go inside I call Megan. Before she can even say hello, I blurt out, “I have a coffee date with Laura tomorrow at eleven.”
“That’s great news, sis,” Megan says. “Good to hear your charm isn’t entirely dwarfed by your goofiness.” In the background, I hear Toby and Max yelling at each other.
“I’m coming over later, okay? You need to give me detailed instructions on what to wear and how to behave.”
“I can pick out a dress for you, hon,” Megan says, “but no matter how much I tell you to be calm and collected, I know not even the words of the sibling you shared a womb with are strong enough to actually make you behave that way.”
I’m at Mary’s Café at ten thirty just so that I can arrange The Ledger’s promotional materials in a good way and—ah, who the heck am I kidding? I was falling apart with nerves at the office, kept checking my reflection in the mirror, and couldn’t keep my eyes off my watch. As luck would have it, I actually had a meeting scheduled this morning with a freelancer who regularly contributes articles to The Ledger about the surrounding towns, but I was quick to postpone that.
Now I sit here drinking too much coffee, and I’m already such a naturally hyped-up person. Megan told me to take at least five deep breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth—before meeting Laura, so I do that. “Don’t think about anything,” Megan said. “Focus only on your breathing.” I try but find it to be the worst advice ever. As I inhale and exhale deeply, I find it impossible to clear my mind of thoughts. There’s always something jumping in. A promise I made to call back the mayor’s secretary about a feature. Something Megan said years ago about identical twins with identity issues. The tiny smile on Laura’s face when she agreed to meet me here.
“Are you feeling unwell?” A voice comes from behind me. “Your breathing seems labored.”
I nearly jump out of my seat, that’s how much Laura’s voice startles me. She’s at least fifteen minutes early. “I was, er, meditating,” I quickly say, hoping my cheeks won’t flush bright red.
“Good for you,” Laura says. I don’t have to remember the smile she shot me yesterday because I’m looking straight at it. “I’m going to get a cup of tea. Can I get you anything?”
“Sure. I could do with another cappuccino. Double shot. Mary knows.” My self-confidence is returning and I’m able to grin widely at Laura.
She nods and heads to the counter. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans, a pristine white t-shirt of the type you can get at any chain store for under $5, and that brand new leather jacket I saw her wearing at the supermarket. She didn’t dress up then. Maybe she doesn’t do dressing up. I’ve certainly met a lesbian or two who refuse to cater to the male gaze by doing so and who consider wearing anything else than jeans a compromise they’re unwilling to make.
“Mary said she’ll bring our beverages right over.” Laura sits next to me. “Do you meditate often? It’s part of my morning ritual these days. I find it a great help.”
“No… My sister told me to take a few deep breaths to curb the worst of my full-on ways,” I blurt, as I mentally kick myself for never getting the hang of weighing my words before speaking them.
“Your sister? Does she tell you that before every meeting?” Laura asks.
Our eyes meet and I burst into a nervous giggle. Then I shake my head. “No, she doesn’t.”
“Here you go, ladies.” Mary deposits a cup of tea and a cup of coffee on the table. “Enjoy.” She winks at me, which doesn’t help with keeping myself calm.
“Which kind did you get?” I try to change the subject, because I don’t know anything about meditation—though I make a mental note to do some research on the topic later—and I don’t want to delve deeper into the reason Megan made me breathe so heavily in public.
“Just green jasmine.” Laura holds her cup up to her mouth and blows on the hot liquid.
“Not a coffee girl?”
“Nope. No coffee, no dairy, and no alcohol.”
My eyes grow wide, then I decide to counter. “Tea has caffeine too.”
“True, but it has a different effect on the body. The double shot you ordered is going to hit you straight away, whereas this cup of tea is going to have a slow, more lingering effect. Plus, green tea has enough nutritional benefits to cancel out the effect of the caffeine.” She puts her cup down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture you. I guess I’m a little nervous too. This is my first time actually meeting up with someone since I arrived in Nelson.”
“When did you arrive?” Inwardly, I sigh with relief that Laura is nervous too.
“About four weeks ago. I helped my aunt move into Windsor Oaks and now I’m living in her old house. I’m slowly clearing it out. I’m the only family she has left.”
“That’s very nice of you.” I sip from my coffee and await the hit to my nervous system Laura predicted earlier.
Laura shrugs. “I needed a change of scenery.”
I sense a reluctance to talk more about that and I’m eager to keep the conversation going. “I know I said it before, but welcome to Nelson. There aren’t that many of us, but we do love the community spirit. Apart from four years of college in Austin, I’ve lived here my entire life.”
“That’s commitment.” Laura sinks her teeth into her bottom lip for an instant.
“When someone hassles me about it, I always say I don’t need a wife because I’m married to Nelson.” I pull my shoulders up. “Works every time.”
Laura nods thoughtfully. She begins to say something, closes her mouth, then starts again. “I assume I pinged your gaydar?”
Now my cheeks do flush bright red. “A little,” I mutter.
“It’s okay.” She averts her gaze and looks at The Nelson Ledger business and greeting cards I brought. “Shall we get down to business?”
“Sure.” I’m still a little flustered, and frustrated because I missed an opportunity to get to know her better. But at least I have confirmation that she’s a lesbian and that alone is enough to make my stomach flutter. “As you can see, your newly adopted town needs you.” I hold up the last issue of The Ledger.
No more smiles from Laura. Her expression has gone all business-like. “What exactly are you looking for? Rebranding? A layout overhaul?”
“The works,” I say. “A graphic intervention, basically.” I try for a chuckle, but get none.
“What’s the budget?” Our gazes meet and cling.
Maybe it’s a city thing to be so straightforward about money, but here in Nelson, money is always the very last item on any agenda—and usually discussed in hushed tones. “One thousand dollars,” I say with great reluctance and a pinch of embarrassment.
“One thousand?” Laura repeats, an edge of incredulity to her voice.
“Yep… and it took me a long time to come up with that.” I try a grin. “But, of course, payment is not only in dollars. You will also get the never-ending gratitude of the inhabitants of this town for saving them from that hideous green round thing they have to look at every week… and an endless supply of green tea, smiles, and friendship from the managing editor.”
Laura chuckles and it feels like a tiny victory. “Do you mind me asking how The Nelson Ledger makes any money at all?”
“Oh, it doesn’t. The weekly paper issue sells for one dollar—any more and I’d have the council on my back. We get a yearly grant from them that barely covers my measly part-time salary, and we have a very small amount of advertising income.”
Laura finishes her tea, then looks at me, her lips pursed together. “So you’re really in it for the love of Nelson.”
“The nail on the head right there.” I swell a little with pride.
“I admire that.” She looks me in the eyes briefly, then looks away again.
“In my free time, I help out my parents at the ranch, though they’re getting older and they’re slowing things down. Selling most of their livestock. I love living on the ranch, but the ranch business ain’t for me.”
“You live with your parents?” Laura can’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.
“Er… yes. Never found a compelling reason to move out, I guess.” I try to read her face but, unlike her voice, it appears she’s very good at keeping it blank.
She glances at The Ledger’s logo and, swiftly, asks me a few questions about the type of new logo I’m looking for. We conclude she’ll make a few sketches—so I can get a feel for what she does—and she’ll get back to me in a few days. Then we’ll decide if we can work on this project together officially.
When she’s making moves to leave, I ask, “Laura, er, do you mind me asking what made you change your mind? You seemed so reluctant to meet at first and after I didn’t hear from you for a week, I honestly believed you’d be avoiding me for the rest of my days.”
“You’re very persistent.” She gathers her bag from the chair next to her and stands. “And the alternative jogging route I tried for a week after your impromptu visit to my house wasn’t working out for me. I like to see at least one person when I go for a run.”
She doesn’t say it as such, but I guess I can summarize Laura’s response in one word: loneliness.
I’m also glad my persistence won out in the end.