Chapter 7 #3
Don’t remind me. Sette liked the idea of yachting in theory…
but the few times she had gone in her life, including on Zara’s boat, she ended up so green that even the ocean couldn’t out-foam her.
The only times Sette got motion sick were when she went out on the water.
Flying, driving, roller coasters… those were fine.
“What does being a doctor have to do with it?”
June interrupted her. “Casino, huh?” There was something uneasy about her tone. “That would be the first in a long while. Then again, with all you rich kids, I’m surprised it’s taken this long. What was the woman’s name, again?”
Zara gave her a suspicious look. “Miquela something. Bolivar. That’s it. Miquela Bolivar, from Spain. Er, I think. I know it’s Europe. Maybe France? No, it’s Andorra. Wait… what’s that really tiny country by there?”
The smile remained on June’s face, but it was so forced that Sette wondered if she was going to faint. She put her hand on her leg, feeling her cool flesh turn warm beneath her touch.
“Monaco,” June said, hand covering Sette’s. “You’re thinking of Monaco.”
“You know Miquela?”
Nobody could read June’s face if they tried – and Sette did. She tried so hard that she went cross-eyed. “I’ve heard of her.”
She and Zara held their gazes long enough for the waitress to return with tea and water refills. Sette made a note to ask June about this later. Not like I don’t remember a Miquela… For now, she was happy to curl her fingers with June’s and think of everything to do that day.
Zara excused herself from lunch on the pretense that she had a family thing later that afternoon.
Sette figured she was full of shit, but went along with it, shaking her friend’s hand and wishing her well.
When she was alone with June again, she said, “Sorry, my friend’s an ass. Don’t know what’s up with her.” I know.
“Was she? I thought she was charming.” June chuckled, relaxing in her seat again. “You have to understand, my barometer for ‘ass’ is set pretty high. Takes more than a good-looking grump to set me off.”
“Wait, you think she’s good-looking?”
“Don’t you?”
“Never thought about it.” Sette couldn’t say she sat around thinking about which of her friends was the hottest. Sure, Zara was attractive… it wasn’t just her money that got her all those women. “Should we go?”
They had no concrete plans until that evening.
Sette figured they could take things slow through the afternoon.
Maybe see a film. Go to the park. Shop. Whatever June wanted to do.
Yet when Sette asked her what they should do, she simply said, “Anything is fine. I’m just happy to get off the mountain for a while. ”
Sette took her hand and led her down the sidewalk. With no destination in mind, they walked slowly, aimlessly, grateful that it was a Thursday and thus there weren’t many people out to get in their way. Sette hated crowds.
“Now that’s a look,” June said, gesturing to her cheek. “What are you thinking about? Artist stuff?”
“Actually, it’s doctor stuff. Had a random memory.”
“About delivering babies?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know…” June squeezed her hand. “You’re the first obstetrician I’ve met who didn’t make a big deal about the number of lives they’ve brought into this world. I keep forgetting you used to do that.”
“I never brought anyone into this world. That’s all the mothers.”
“I see.”
“I’m serious. My job was to guide and make sure no complications arose.
Or if they did, I fixed them. I must’ve done okay, because nobody died on my watch…
although I’m sure if I didn’t retire so early, they would have.
Nobody’s a doctor for more than ten years without at least one death, no matter what kind they are. ”
“Those poor podiatrists.”
Laughing, Sette released June’s hand and snaked an arm around her midsection. “Now, come on, I’m sure that there’s something you want to do, my dear. We have all afternoon to do whatever we want.”
June stopped in front of the next shop. “Buy me some ice cream.”
“You got it.”
It had been a long time since Sette was out on a date like this, and she doubted the last one felt so good.
Few women made her feel so comfortable, and June had the magical ability to make her so at ease that she almost made a fool of herself multiple times.
Kissing her. Touching her. Tucking stray hairs back into her loose ponytail and straightening out her bag so it fell comfortably at her side.
Sette wanted to take care of her. To make June feel as good as she made her feel.
When June dripped ice cream on her hand, Sette snatched it and kissed away the vanilla droplets.
As she smiled, the elderly woman passing by asked her husband, “Why aren’t you that sweet with me anymore?
” He informed her that if he could, he would cover her in ice cream and lick it all away.
They continued down the sidewalk, laughing.
“Now that’s my kind of old couple.” June crunched into her cone. “You ever think about where you’ll be when you’re that age?”
“No idea.”
“Me neither.”
Sette tucked more of June’s hair back. It was an excuse to touch her face and nothing more. “All we can do is prepare for the future. We don’t actually know what’s going to happen.”
“Pragmatic for an artist.”
“I was a doctor first.”
June held her ice cream to the side so she could lean in and peck Sette on the lips. “You’re sweet. I mean it. This is the most low-key date I’ve ever been on, and I’m already having a lot of fun.”
Her heart warmed to hear it.
Sette could’ve done the usual rich girl routine with her.
She had done it with other women before, and God knew she watched Zara and others do it constantly.
She could dress June up in a beautiful gown.
Take her to the fanciest restaurant in town.
Take her to the opera or any number of galleries she was familiar with.
Parties. Soirees. Galas. There were a million opportunities to show her off to the world.
Women she took on the circuit were for appearances only.
To remind the world that she was capable of socializing.
These kinds of dates were different. They were for her, first and foremost. I would give up every gala for the rest of my life if it meant having more dates like this one.
She pulled June into a deep, satisfying kiss right in the middle of the sidewalk.
Normally, she would deride PDA, but for the first time in her life, it felt right. Necessary.
June was the first one to break away. “I’m glad I got to come out on a date with you,” she whispered. “I’m looking forward to more.”
Sette took her home for dinner, having already bought enough groceries to feed Cox’s army. June stood on the stoop of the townhouse, taking it in – and taking pictures. “Chelsea loves this kind of old architecture. She’ll go crazy for this.”
She took more pictures of the interior. Sette never thought much of her décor before.
It was minimal as a result, but at least there were paintings and prints she considered special.
June squealed over the Picasso originals.
Sette didn’t have the heart to tell her that having a Picasso wasn’t a big deal, especially for an art collector.
While June wandered around the spacious townhouse, Sette started dinner in the kitchen.
One of her favorite dishes to make was Greek spaghetti, complete with capers, olives, and feta cheese.
The original recipe didn’t call for fresh tomatoes, but she always added those instead of a lot of sauce, anyway.
On the side, she made an autumn salad of squash and pumpkin, sprinkled with lemon juice and a dash of vinegar.
By the time her concoction was cooking on the stove, June was sitting at the counter, demanding that Sette cook faster to satiate her empty stomach.
“When are you going to show me your paintings, hm?” She nodded to the one door that remained closed. Sette had allowed her to snoop in all the others, including the bedroom. “I’ve only seen that one you gave me. I want to see the whole collection.”
“Later. After dinner.” Sette had planned that out, too. “Do you like garlic bread?”
“Do I like… are you going to load me up with some carbs or what?”
Grinning, Sette pulled the bread out of its box and found the garlic butter in the fridge. “Don’t get to eat this many carbs usually, huh?”
“Do you remember what I do for a living? I’m not in my early twenties anymore. I have to watch the carbs, sodium, and sugar. The chefs at the Manoir are good, but… I get tired of lean protein and whole grain brown rice all the time.”
“Vegetables are okay, though?”
“Vegetables are totally okay.”
Sette set the table with crimson China dishware and long, tapered candles. After lighting all three, she dug through her small but extravagant wine collection and pulled out the first red she saw. June whistled to see the make and vintage.
“Good taste, Dr. Christie.”
She winked at her. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”
June brought the salad and bread over to the table. “I see your point, and it’s a good one.”
It took all the discipline Sette learned in med school not to kiss her right there. Plenty of time. After dinner. I’m going to explode. Preferably all over the bedroom, but she was fine with the living room couch, too. Been a long time since she was on top of a woman on the couch…
The first thing June said after their meal started was, “I didn’t know you cooked, let alone this well.” She drank the expensive wine for effect.
“I’m not a chef by any means, but I like to cook when I can.
Simple things. I saw too much horror in med school.
The things people put into their bodies…
” Said the woman who would eat a whole box of Ho-Hos without thinking.
Every artist had her crutch when she was on a tear in the studio.
Chocolatey, creamy supermarket donuts were hers.
“You talk about being a doctor a lot, but you always sound so… I dunno what word to use. Not bitter. Not angry. So unimpressed.”
“Suppose you could say that. I never really wanted to be a doctor. It was a family thing.”
“I’ve heard that. Lawyers, too.” June spoke without thinking. “There’s a lot of pressure to fall in line with the family trade, right?”
“Right. It’s different from being born into a business-oriented family, because you don’t necessarily have to go to school for that.
You can be trained and then take over when it’s time.
” She thought of Zara when she said that, not that Zara was going to join her family’s company anytime soon.
She was the youngest of three. “Being a doctor or a lawyer requires a lot of studying and training… in an academic field. You need to be licensed. You need to apprentice for a long time. I had to do a residency. I was trained for that kind of life since I was born. It’s what my parents wanted. ”
“You didn’t hate it, right?”
“Not really. It just wasn’t what I was meant to do with my life.
I had realized my passion for drawing and painting in high school.
I had to take a creative arts class as a requirement, and it was either painting or writing.
They had metal and wood sculpting, too. I think most high schools call that shop class. ”
“Music didn’t count?”
“No, because it was a separate requirement.” Sette continued with the original topic.
“Anyway, I picked art because I always liked going to museums and appreciating my mother’s humble print collection.
But it wasn’t until I had to actually do it myself that I discovered my real passion in life.
I spent every spare moment – which wasn’t many – honing my craft and looking for more still-life projects.
I loved interpreting the real world on canvas.
I don’t care if it’s an object, a scene, or a person.
I want to convey them all in my own way.
It’s the way I see the world, and I guess some people appreciate that. ”
June twirled noodles on her fork. “I’m guessing your parents were not impressed.”
“My father ignored it until I retired from the med field. He didn’t care what I did in my spare time. My parents didn’t hate the arts. They just didn’t want me doing it.”
“I see.”
“We’ve been a bit estranged these past few years. Nothing family-breaking, but we don’t talk much. The funeral was the first time I talked to them since Christmas.”
“When you become a world-famous artist with my image, they’ll understand.”
Sette almost snorted her wine. “I hope to God they never see that!” Her super conservative father and dainty mother would collapse on the train tracks to discover what their daughter really painted.
“If they give you shit, tell them that you’ve seen plenty of pussy delivering babies. It was sort of your thing for a while. You even went to med school to do it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Was this the time to tell her that her father was a proctologist? “I guess, in a way, I am the sexuality doctor of the family. Wow. Almost makes me sound like a psychiatrist.”
“Dr. Christie,” June said with a fake and airy Southern accent. “Would you mind taking a look at my cootie-coo?” She fanned herself with her napkin. “I need to make sure it’s ready for the babies!”
So much for Sette not snorting her wine.
June helped clean up and do the dishes. She admitted she hadn’t done any dishes since moving to the Manoir, and found the whole thing quaint.
Sure. That was the word Sette would use.
She had grown up with servants in her family home, but since moving out on her own, she had a once-a-week cleaner, and that was it.
She preferred to take care of her space by herself. Minus the bathroom, anyway.
Some days, she would rather leave the dishes for the housekeeper, but with June spinning around her kitchen, running China beneath the faucet, and loading glasses into the dishwasher, she didn’t mind doing the big chore tonight.
“Thanks for the help,” Sette said, leaning against the counter and drying her hands on a soft towel. She glanced at the clock. Was it eight already? Soon, she would be taking June back home to the Manoir, and this dreamy date would be over. “What should we do now?”
June yanked the towel from her hands, and with a sultry look to blow up the ages, she hooked her fingers around her zipper and shoved her hand down her hostess’s jeans – but not before giving Sette a quick kiss to the cheek.
I should have guessed.