11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
“This is delicious, ” Alison said, trying to keep a wholly inappropriate moan from her voice as she tasted the hot apple pie on her plate, dripping with vanilla ice-cream. It was the perfect dessert for a cold autumn night.
“Hope’s a ridiculous baker,” Prisha agreed and Alison glanced sideways at Hope on the couch next to her, where she was eating the pie without ice-cream. She remembered, all over again, Hope’s flat words about the dairy industry and with a faint sigh, pushed her own ice-cream to the side. It shouldn’t matter. The pie was devastatingly good. Apparently Hope could do everything - even vegan baking - with absurd competence.
“She’s the full package.” Camille seemed to read her mind, a trace of heat in her voice. “So marriage-able,” she teased Hope, and Alison focussed on her plate. She wished she could telegraph to the young woman across the room who was almost vibrating with tension that she wasn’t a threat, but so far, Camille seemed entirely resistant to Alison’s attempts to disarm her.
“If only all it took was pie.” Hope widened her eyes at Camille. “I’d have served it to you all years ago. Had myself a full harem.”
“I’d marry you tomorrow,” Magnus announced. “I’ve always had a thing for cute little housewives.” He attempted what Alison was pretty sure was supposed to be a menacing leer but he was entirely too adorable. Flynn pushed his plate back and looked deeply despondent while Prisha threw back a solid slug of wine. Alison was fascinated. She’d never met such a complex bunch of intelligent and yet entirely obtuse individuals. They were a disaster. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to shake them or cuddle them.
Hope shifted beside her, a movement Alison experienced as transient warmth radiating against her body everywhere they weren’t even touching. Or kiss them. She eyed her recently topped up glass of wine and made a mental note not to have another sip.
Despite all the competing forms of tension in the room, Alison felt more relaxed than she’d remembered being in years. The food was satisfying, the glow of the fire drowsily warm and the wine some kind of organic, vegan, preservative-free nonsense that sat lightly in her veins. Even though she had no idea how any one of these people managed to make it through a single day, she liked all of them, even - especially, in fact - Camille. They all clearly loved each other fiercely and they all seemed utterly besotted with Hope.
Which... fair. Alison couldn’t argue it. She liked her even more now she’d been granted a glimpse inside her world. Hope’s home felt like a perfect extension of the woman herself: warm, unique and teeth-clenchingly pretty. God, she could see it all now, far too clearly: Hope with her hair up, reclining gloriously naked in that romantic bathtub with her nose in a novel; Hope’s golden locks tumbling over those soft pillows as she tucked herself into bed at night; Hope in whatever hipsters deemed appropriate nightwear, padding sleepily into that adorable kitchen to make her first coffee of the morning before she went to work and cuddled puppies all day.
Ridiculous, it was all, quite frankly, ridiculous. And Alison liked it a lot. Too much, perhaps. But, she reminded herself, she could actually have this, if she wanted to. Hope pulling her into high stakes dinner parties where everyone was delightful and desperately fraught; Hope’s helpless laughter as they couldn’t stop sparring with each other every damn time they opened their mouths; Hope baking this exact pie again, oh god, yes please. All Alison had to do, to keep all these incredible and unexpected new riches in her life, was to hold her shit together. Not let this delayed trauma response or whatever on god’s earth was happening to her, burst out and wreck this.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she told her host, shockingly bereft at the idea of walking out that door and leaving all this behind. “It was so nice meeting you all,” she announced to the group. To her considerable surprise, everyone in the room practically mobbed her, lining up to press kisses against her cheek or hug her warmly. Even Camille went up on her pretty toes to air kiss her, her fingers a little too tight on Alison’s shoulder. It was more action than Alison had had in a long time .
“I’ll walk you out,” said Hope.
She handed Alison her coat and accompanied her out the door onto the small covered verandah with a view out over the twinkling lights of Gold Hill.
“How many hundreds of dollars does a view like this add to your rent?” Alison asked, pausing to admire the prettiness of it all.
Hope laughed.
“A view like this is priceless,” she said fondly, looking out over her town. “Are you happy now?”
“Very,” Alison agreed. “I feel very informed about the local housing market.”
“I meant now you’ve been to my home,” Hope explained, leaning one hand on the deck bannister. “Met my friends, scoped my decor, rifled through my underwear drawer.”
“Oh,” said Alison. “Yes, quite happy actually. Your friends are a delight - far nicer than you - and your decor is-” she broke off, quite unable to find it within herself to be snarky. “Your home is beautiful,” she said lightly. She didn’t want to leave it, even now she was standing outside of it, to head home to the quiet sterility of the mansion by the lake. “Your underwear drawer was surprisingly uninformative,” she added, managing to bring herself back from the surprising tug of melancholy in her chest. “Nothing at all scandalous,” she concluded, as if the idea of Hope’s underwear could be, in any world, prosaic.
“Well, now I know you didn’t go through it.” Hope smirked at her and Alison’s mouth went dry. Great, there went half a night of sleep imagining quite what Hope was hinting at. “It was lovely having you here,” Hope went on, perfectly unfazed by the heart attack she was intent on giving Alison. “Sorry my friends practically drooled on you,” she said. “But that’s your own fault; they all looked a bit starstruck by the end of it.”
Alison couldn’t help her overwhelmingly flattered smile. Hope’s blatant admiration felt like the roar of the log-fire inside when it was pointed right at you. It was a lot to withstand.
“I’ll let you get back to them.” Leaving felt like a bandaid she needed to rip off. The longer she stood here, the closer she got to asking to stay. Quickly, not making a big deal about it this time, she swooped in and kissed Hope’s smooth warm cheek with a briskness that felt screamingly obvious. She turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Alison turned, only two steps down the porch stairs. “Give me your damn phone number,” Hope said. Stupidly, Alison’s heart skipped about three beats. She took a second to settle herself. Friends had each other’s phone numbers. People dancing around each other waited for each other in sunset parking lots and surprised you by risking seeking you out at home. They traded numbers like two normal people and Alison completed the trip down the stairs and all the way to her icy cold car, parked on the street below. She glanced up at the tiny, beautiful home lit up above. The front porch was empty. She drove home alone.
The week went by slowly. Honestly Alison was going to be marathon-ready if she didn’t find something to do with her time that didn’t involve a treadmill. Her house couldn’t be neater, and there were only so many elaborate meals for one she could really be bothered making.
She thought of Flynn’s easy assumption she’d one day practice law again and got as far as opening a jobseeker app on her phone and clicking the category ‘legal jobs’ before shutting it down, deleting the app and having a solidly good cry.
She made herself go for walks around the lake, alone, because despite the number exchange, she hadn’t heard from Hope and something inside her refused to be the first one to text. When Hope was right in front of her it was so clear that their enjoyment of each other was mutual. When she wasn’t, Alison compared her intensely solitary life with that of Hope’s warm world and she came up thoroughly lacking. She didn’t want to be a charity case for god’s sake. And anyway, Alison was, and always had been, thoroughly self-sufficient.
Alison was deeply relieved when Harry arrived for the weekend. They took a road trip to yet another one of the picturesque surrounding towns, poked through some hidden antique stores and made wood-fired pizzas for lunch in the outdoor pizza oven Harry had recently installed in his lovely hillside garden. Alison had wandered to the periphery while he fussed with the temperature and tried to figure out which of the pretty cottages on the adjacent hillside she’d dined in the previous week.
With his sensitivity always attuned to her moods, Harry had declared that the very best thing about getting old and crotchety was rearranging plans last minute, and instead of heading back to Melbourne on Sunday evening as usual, he decided to stay on for another two nights. Just on his own whim, she was to understand.
After a Monday spent quite clearly trying to cheer her up, visiting Harry’s favourite Gold Hill nursery to endlessly update his perfectly landscaped gardens, they travelled out to a beautiful winery on the outskirts of Gold Hill. Seated beside a clear glass wall with a view of the slowly sinking sun casting long gold fingers through the vines, they perused the menus to order an early dinner.
“I’ll have the porterhouse steak, rare,” Harry declared to the handsome server, who twinkled at him in the way all terribly-out-of-one’s-league young men did to lecherous old men with obvious money and power.
“The pumpkin gnocchi, please,” said Alison, with careful politeness, all but begging the young man not to do the same thing to her. He swept his lush eyelashes down prettily and she tried very hard not to die on the spot.
“The gnocchi’s incredible,” came a voice from behind her and Alison’s whole body went warm. “Oh! You look gorgeous,” Hope said as she came into view, casting her eyes down Alison’s dark green dress. “Of course,” she added, with a quick roll of her eyes as her hand rested easily on the back of Alison’s chair.
“Hope.” Alison did every damn thing in her power not to let her cheeks change colour. She straightened in her seat. “This is my good friend, Harry. Harry, this is Hope.”
Harry perused the interaction with nothing short of desperate fascination. Hope was very much not dressed for dinner at a winery. She wore a slightly grimy grey t-shirt and navy blue cargo pants over brown leather work boots. Her hair was braided low, a little disheveled. Despite every single reason in the world to the contrary - including cargo pants - she looked incredibly sexy. She was slightly windblown, her skin glowing like she’d been sweating, the soft cotton of the t-shirt casually revealing her curves. And literally when in her life had Alison started to find tattoos hot?
“Our dashing young heroine from the lake.” Harry never forgot a face. “How very lovely to see you here.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Hope’s grin had a telltale smugness to it, apparently enjoying hearing that Alison had spoken of her. Her hand still hadn’t left the back of Alison’s chair .
“Please, you must join us,” Harry said. “You look positively… hungry.”
“Absolutely not.” Hope looked horrified. “I’ve literally come from the stables, administering horse antibiotics. I’m filthy and you’re-”
“Equally filthy,” Harry butted in, his blue eyes twinkling above his crisp shirt. Hope spluttered a laugh. “Alison’s sick to death of me, and I her. We’d far rather entertain ourselves with the likes of you.”
Hope cocked her head at the tease in his voice, and hesitated, appearing to weigh up the offer. Alison was torn between the pressing need to keep her and Harry separated, and the deep reassurance at how extremely happy to see her Hope looked right now.
“Do horse antibiotics require a terribly big needle?” Alison asked her. “Because dinner with Harry means you might want to have one handy.” Hope’s eyes were sparkling but watchful, clearly trying to read between the lines and Alison immediately rolled over like the puppy she’d sworn she wasn’t. “Please, sit down,” she said, “if you don’t have other plans.”
“Let me just go wash my hands, again,” Hope screwed up her nose “And my arms, and my face.” She turned and disappeared and Alison tried to make her own face look anywhere near normal as she turned back to Harry .
“How positively fascinating,” Harry began. Alison took a sip of wine to fortify herself as she raised her eyebrows, trying to look calmly interested. “It appears like you’ve made a new friend.”
“Yes,” agreed Alison nonchalantly. “She’s very sweet.”
“Mm,” Harry agreed. “And yet for some reason, we’ve just spent three full days together and you haven’t mentioned a single thing about her existence.”
“I wasn’t aware you required structured updates of my social calendar,” she said blandly, even as she knew she was trying to outplay an expert litigator who could eat the likes of her for breakfast, even without twenty years of insider knowledge.
“Considering I am your entire social calendar, you’d see how I’d find myself rather intrigued. Gosh,” he said, like he’d just thought of it. “She really is incredibly pretty.”
“Yes, quite.” Alison refused to budge and he looked up to wave merrily at Hope where she was apparently reappearing into view somewhere behind Alison’s left shoulder. He bossed the young server into bringing a chair and resetting the table for three.
“I’ll have the bruschetta, please Stone,” Hope smiled at the server who looked like he was about to fall to his knees before her. “Hold the feta, though? ”
“Lactose intolerant?” Harry looked brightly interested and in a flash of panic Alison instantly knew what he was driving at.
“Don’t be intrusive, Harry,” she interjected quickly.
“Vegan actually,” Hope said easily and all was lost.
“Why, you’re even more moral than Ali, here,” he said, looking thrilled. “She’s come over all vegetarian this whole weekend, ordering nothing but tofu this and cashew that. Honestly, you think you know someone, then after twenty years they go and betray you by putting plant milk in your teacup.”
Alison was going to combust, right here at this table.
“Well,” Hope said, “there was that documentary on ABC this week about factory farming and climate change. I think half the country got put off meat. You too, Ali?”
Alison met her gaze with deep surprise. Hope was… good. She was pretty sure there had been no such documentary, but within seconds Hope had read all the layers of context and neatly saved her from Harry’s parry and thrust. It was only the use of the nickname that let Alison know that Hope absolutely had her over a barrel if she wanted to tease her later. Hope just smiled at her though, the warmth of a slow-burning log fire in her gaze and Alison felt something crack inside her, because apparently, Hope had her back .
“Stone?” Alison said, deciding to ignore Harry altogether and move things on, fast. “Any relation to Possum, do you think?”
“Sometimes hippies come in unexpected forms,” Hope said darkly, and they both glanced over at the clean-shaven, sharply-dressed server, before meeting each other’s eyes and smirking. “Flynn, for example,” Hope added, her voice low like she was committing a great betrayal. “I don’t think he wore shoes until he was twelve. Still thinks deodorant is a corporate conspiracy.”
“I’d never have guessed it,” Alison told her.
“That’s because you’re not his armpit height,” Hope revealed. “And you were fooled by his designer spectacles, like the innocent that you are.”
“Goodness, you two do go back,” Harry observed. “You’re positively sisterly.”
Alison knew full well he’d chosen the word for the exact way it made Hope seem to choke just slightly.
“Mm,” Hope managed. A splash of colour hit her cheeks and Harry saw the blood in the water. He did nothing with it for now, but flicked Alison a brief and thoroughly knowing glance .
“Wine?” Alison quickly lifted the bottle of shiraz toward Hope’s empty glass hoping to return the favour and save her right back. Hope though, put her hand up regretfully to stop her.
“None for me, thank you,” she said.
“It’s not vegan?” Harry took an ostentatious swig of his own glass, making Alison frown at him.
“I don’t drink on Mondays,” Hope said. “Tuesdays I’m in surgery all day. Steady hands, functioning brain, can’t lose.” She smiled, picking up her water glass instead and toasting at them both.
“Surgery?” Alison said faintly. “You… operate?”
Hope laughed.
“I’m a vet?” she reminded Alison. “Remember the horse antibiotics?” She looked down at her grimy t-shirt and back up to meet her gaze. Alison was reminded far too acutely of Hope catching her staring at her breasts and swallowed.
“But… surgery?” Alison was thoroughly stuck on this point. “Doesn’t… isn’t that a whole other job?” She honestly hadn’t thought past the puppy cuddling and livestock manhandling, and that was already quite enough to understand about Hope. Adding surgeon on top was far, far too much for her to manage .
“For some vets, yes. But lots of us are trained in surgery too. You know… and obstetrics, and geriatrics, radiology, behavioural medicine, a bit of the works really.” There was the faintest bite in Hope’s tone, perhaps feeling underestimated by Alison all over again. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” she added. Now there was a definite tinge of irony to her words.
“What kind of surgeries do you do?” Harry had his chin propped on his hand, looking slightly wide-eyed himself. Alison wanted to kick herself. If anyone should know that pretty women tended to be underestimated, it was a lifelong society wife. Just add in petite and blonde and honestly she had to stop doing this to Hope.
“Hysterectomies and testicular castrations,” Hope started, raising her eyebrows just enough to make Harry blink. “Tooth extractions and other dental procedures, biopsies, tumour removals, lumps and bumps. Wound wash-outs and closures. Some minor orthopaedics, wiring the odd broken bone, etcetera. I did an emergency eye removal this weekend, actually. Other things I generally refer to specialists.”
Alison didn’t manage to find any verbal response whatsoever as Hope met her eyes, her chin raised. She was trying to imagine quite how much knowledge this woman’s brain in fact held, considering Hope was also talking presumably about at least a couple of different species she could successfully perform surgery on. It took everything she had just to manage to close her mouth instead of letting her jaw hang slack.
“You know,” said Harry for her, “that’s quite sexy, actually. ”
Hope’s gaze flicked from Harry’s to Alison’s to Harry’s again.
“Why thank you.” Hope said, with a slow smile. Alison hadn’t said a word, but it was apparent that the look on her face was compliment enough.