“I can’t believe she gave you the bookend,” Liz was saying as they coasted down the tree-lined driveway and turned left toward the main road. An orange sun hung low behind the apple orchard and the great expanse of pastoral land in the distance.
“You gave me the Old Crow decanter, didn’t you?”
“That’s different, Sam. You’re my relative, my out-law. Besides, that one bookend is worth several hundred dollars.”
Samantha looked over at her. “You think she likes me?”
“Likes you? In case you didn’t notice, she adores you.”
Samantha’s heart pounded. “How can you tell?”
“By the way she looks at you. Wasn’t it obvious?”
“I’m not sure.”
“That’s because you were too busy adoring her. You’re smitten.”
“I am. Thoroughly and completely. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever known. I can’t remember having had such an immediate connection with someone.” Samantha hesitated. “If I ask her out on a date, do you think she’d say yes?”
“I don’t think so, Sam.”
“What? Why not? You just said she adores me.”
“Yes, but I don’t think she’s the type of woman to have a fling with someone your age.”
“I’m not looking for a fling. I’m ready for some sort of permanence.”
“Permanence?” Liz attempted a smile, but it turned into a big yawn. “I don’t think Dr. Laraway’s your girl. A woman of her age and stature isn’t about to start playing house and making babies with you.”
“Babies! What are you talking about? Who said anything about babies?”
Liz shrugged. “I don’t know. Now that we can all get married, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Get married, make babies, and overpopulate the world like our straight counterparts?”
“It’s an option for those so inclined, but kids aren’t for me. I certainly don’t want someone to have babies for me…and I’m definitely too old to have them myself.”
Her brow shot up. “No shit, Sam. You’re in menopause?”
“Been there, done that. Two years ago. It’s great. No more tampons competing for space with my wallet and phone and all the other crap in my bag.”
“Wow, do you feel any different?”
“Hormonally?”
“Yeah. Hormonally, sexually.”
“I feel fine. No more progesterone, little estrogen, lots of testosterone…but somehow I think that’s always been my ratio.”
Liz was in the middle of another yawn when she laughed. “How’s your sex drive?”
“Considering one’s sex drive is testosterone-dependent? I’d say my drive is…in drive.”
“Whew. That’s good to know for future reference because I’d hate to reach a point where I no longer wanted to have sex. I can’t even imagine that.”
“God forbid.” Samantha glanced over at her and rolled her eyes. “Getting back to Gwen…now that we’ve established that she’s in her fifties, not in her nineties, why don’t you think she’d go out to dinner with me?”
“I’d say Gwen’s about sixty.”
“I was thinking mid-fifties.”
“More like sixty.”
“Even if you’re right, that would be, what, a twelve-, thirteen-year age difference?”
Liz reclined her seat a notch and settled back. “As long as you’re okay with that.”
“Age differences have always been common in the gay community. And you know what? They are in the straight world, too. I mean, how many middle-aged men are with women twenty years their junior?”
“You’re right. I just think Gwen would rather be with someone her own age. And considering you said someone my age is too young for you, I’m surprised you don’t have a problem with someone older.”
“All I know,” Samantha admitted, “is that I left her twenty minutes ago, and I can’t wait to see her again. She’s beautiful and sexy and very youthful.”
“She is, Sam. She’s all those things. She’s gorgeous. Considering I have next to no scruples, I’d sleep with her in a heartbeat if I didn’t know her…and if I didn’t have the hots for her niece.”
“Uh-oh…here we go!”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited, because I don’t think it’s gonna ‘go’ anytime soon.”
“You actually came out to Isabel?”
“I did. Only because she thought I was married to your brother. She quietly freaked out when I told her I was a lesbian. But then before we left, she casually invited me along to an auction at Sotheby’s Saturday evening.”
“This Saturday? I told Gwen I’d love to take Bertha up to meet her crows, and she suggested Saturday.”
“Ah, I see. So you’re gonna use your crow to get into her pants.” Liz snickered. “How clever.”
Samantha frowned and shook her head. “I thought I’d talk you into coming along again, but I guess not.”
“You’re on your own. I’m meeting Isabel for dinner in the city before the auction, so plan on having Gwen all to yourself.”
“Great. Maybe that creepy Rosa will disappear for the night.”
“Aww, I love Rosa! Why do you say she’s creepy?”
“I don’t know. I caught her making the sign of the cross behind my back when I got lost and ended up in the kitchen. I mean, what’s up with that?”
“She’s probably just super religious, and something about you reminded her of the devil himself.”
“Oh, geez, thanks!”
Liz laughed. “Give Rosa a break. She has a very heavy accent, and she’s probably just self-conscious about her English. That’s all.”
“If you say so.” Samantha decided to let it go. She preferred to spend her time thinking about being with Gwen. “Meanwhile,” she said to Liz, “I can’t believe you’ve already got yourself a date with Isabel.”
“It’s not a date-date. And don’t worry. I’m keeping my hands to myself. If there’s a chance of anything happening with Isabel, the last thing I want to do is scare her away. I get the feeling she’s petrified of her own sexuality.”
“Do you really think she might be gay?”
“Oh yeah…she’s one of us. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Samantha chuckled. “When I first saw her come in I thought she could be, but I wasn’t sure. I don’t have good gaydar.”
“Isabel has that subtle androgynous thing going on—she and her hot little Latina self.”
“Yeah, I know.” Samantha laughed. “I saw you do a double take when she first walked in. And I caught you checking out her legs when you bent down to pet Loosey Goosey.”
“Nice dog.” Liz sighed and put her seat back another notch. “Great legs…”
“You’re so bad.” Samantha couldn’t help but admire Liz’s prowess, her easy confidence. She was so comfortable in her own skin. “Just be careful with Isabel,” Samantha warned her. “She’s my future wife’s niece.”
Liz laughed, but her laughter turned into another yawn. “Don’t worry, Sam-I-am. Women are my area of expertise. I’ll handle Isabel with kid gloves.”
“And don’t go hurting her. I know you like to love them and leave them, but—”
“Isabel is not the kind of woman someone leaves.”
“Whoa! Are you saying Isabel is relationship material? Would that word ever come out of your mouth?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying, Sam.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I can’t even think about it. I’ll make myself crazy,” she said and yawned yet again.
Samantha yawned, too. “Stop yawning…you’re making me yawn, and I have to drive us home.”
“I’m sorry. All that fresh air knocked me out. Anyway, don’t worry about me and Isabel. If anything ever happens it will be because Isabel initiated it. You have my word. I will be on my best behavior.”
Samantha drove on in silence for a long while, her mind a restless tangle of emotions until she started talking again. “I don’t care that Gwen is older. Sure, it would be nice if she were my age, but what if we were the same age and there was no chemistry between us? What good is being the same age in that case? I mean, how many people are perfectly matched on dating sites according to age, education, and common interests, and when they meet there’s zero chemistry, no sexual attraction whatsoever? It happens all the time. Commonalities, including age, might be a good formula for friendships, but no one can predict or control the animal magnetism that attracts two strangers. It’s either there or it’s not. And it’s definitely there with Gwen.”
Samantha waited for a reaction, and when it didn’t come she glanced over. Liz’s eyes were closed, her mouth wide open, her head bobbing from side to side against the headrest. She’d fallen asleep. Samantha turned up the music and spent the remainder of the drive plotting a course of action to properly court and ultimately charm her way into Dr. Laraway’s life.
Liz didn’t wake up until they were on the Triboro Bridge to Manhattan. The lights, horns, cars, people—all of it harshly contrasted to the peacefulness of the country. “Gosh, Sam,” she said when she came to. “I didn’t mean to crash on you.” She straightened up in her seat.
“Must have been all that caffeine in your latte,” Samantha said sarcastically.
“Why are you taking me home? You could have dropped me off at the station where you picked me up.”
“I was afraid you’d fall back asleep and wake up in some train yard in the middle of the night. I’ve been called to gruesome scenes in train yards.”
“Well, in that case, thanks for maybe saving my life.” Liz stretched and pulled herself together. “Hey, you’re not mad at me, are you?”
“For falling asleep?”
“No, for letting the air out of your balloon. I’m sure Gwen will pump you up when you see her again. And if it makes you feel any better, I think you and Gwen would make a handsome and very compatible couple. You just need to be aware of some very real issues. You know what they say, Know thyself.” Then she looked over at Samantha. “Who said that anyway? Is it in the Bible or was it Shakespeare?”
“Socrates.”
“Oh.”
* * *
The nap had revived Liz, and when she got into her East Side apartment she stepped out of her shoes, peered mischievously at the phone, and on impulse decided to call Sam. She didn’t want to try Sam’s cell number because she didn’t want her to answer. Instead she dialed her home number. After the greeting of a human voice and the raspy gibberish of a crow, she waited for the beep and began speaking in a low, breathy voice:
“Hello, my darling Samantha…it’s me, Dr. Laraway…I want your body…I want all of you…right now…right here…on the table in my gallery…surrounded by all this dazzling pottery.” She might have continued if she hadn’t burst out laughing. “Had you fooled for a minute, eh? Ha! It’s me, your out-law, just calling to wish you sweet dreams. Seriously, though, I just wanted to say that I know you left quite an impression on Gwen, and I have a feeling you’re as heavy on her mind as she is on yours tonight. I mean that, Sam, seriously,” she said, starting to laugh again. “Call me if you need to talk…unless you’d rather write Ann Landers for advice on falling in love with an older woman. In any case, let’s get together and exchange date-night stories after Saturday. Love you…”
Still laughing to herself, Liz unbuttoned her blouse and let it slide off her shoulders. She walked around the bedroom, listening to her own messages, until the sound of Isabel’s voice made her stop.
“Hi, it’s Isabel. I tried your cell but it went to voice mail. Just wanted to make sure you got in safely. Would you give me just one ring so I’ll know you arrived home? Okay then…see you Saturday.”
What a sweet gesture, Liz thought. One of the disadvantages to living alone was that no one ever knew if you were safe or not. On some subconscious level, she often wondered what would happen if she never returned home, or better yet, if after getting home she tripped and hit her head. How long would it take for family, friends, or clients to notice she hadn’t returned their calls? A few days? A week? Not if Isabel could help it. If Liz didn’t ring her within the next half hour, Isabel would be the caring type to report her missing.
There was something attentive and nurturing about the young Ms. Laraway, not to mention the fact that she was intelligent, interesting, and so damn sexy. And what made her even sexier was that she was so unassuming. Liz found Isabel’s grace and naïveté both puzzling and delightful. Compared to all the other women she’d seduced and bedded, Isabel was as much a breath of fresh air as a day spent in the country.
In her bra and skirt, Liz wandered over to her dresser. “Yes, Isabel,” she said, smiling as she took off one earring, then the other, and dropped them on an antique jewelry tray. “I’m home…safe and sound…and trying to figure you out.”
When she had taken off her skirt and slipped into a silk robe, Liz sat on the edge of the bed and fumbled through her purse for Isabel’s card. She dialed, let the phone ring once, then hung up and smiled to herself. An auction and dinner, just the two of them. Ah…so she had hooked the fish. She was so good at this game, so adept at the sport of catch-and-release. But something told her that if she ever managed to reel this one in, she might not want to let her go.