Chapter Three #2
See? This was why she hadn’t made any headway. Too much to think about. And she’d used up all her executive functioning—aka big girl panty—reserves getting her mom situated. Even if she could only afford to kick the can for a couple of weeks, she needed the break.
With a decisive nod for no one but herself and Emily Dickinson, she started the process of unpacking and settling in.
Despite Pablo’s assessment, and for being servant’s quarters, the space was quite nice.
A single room comprised the living and sleeping area, with a tiny kitchenette in one corner and a bathroom in another.
There was only one window, but it faced east, which would make for lovely light in the morning.
And she’d bought one of those enclosed litter boxes, which would make having it in her main living area less icky.
It would certainly do for the short term, giving her the flexibility to work odd hours as the plaster patches and layers of paint dried. That was the case she’d made to Pablo, who’d been dubious about her request to live onsite. It was a legit one, too, even if only part of the story.
No matter. It was all set and sorted now. She had a reprieve from major life decisions and a cozy place to hunker and rest.
What she didn’t have was a working refrigerator.
She’d seen one in the pictures Pablo sent and made the mistake of assuming it worked.
And she’d assumed she could sweet-talk the kitchen contractors into dragging it into her space rather than to the dump when they did demolition.
Fat lot of good all that assuming did her.
For all her thirty-three years, she should know better.
It was fine. She’d pick up a mini fridge in town, and that would get her through. Since she only had an induction burner and a toaster oven for cooking, she’d be keeping things simple anyway. “Right, Emily Dickinson?” she asked with a nod.
Emily Dickinson yawned.
“Right.” She pulled her phone from her pocket to start a list and found a text from Rhett, her bestie since they’d shared a room freshman year at Smith.
OMG. You’re not going to believe it. I found a place and it’s not that far from you.
After a bad breakup with her wife of more than a decade, Rhett had attempted to spend some time in Mississippi with her family.
She’d only been down there for a month, but it hadn’t gone well.
Despite bestowing her only daughter with a gender-bending name, Rhett’s mother was as traditional, strait-laced, and conservative as Southern women came.
Rather than providing a safe place to lick her wounds, the time at home had merely inflicted new ones.
The prospect of having Rhett back in New England felt like a gift, not to mention giving Ellie a hell of a lot less to worry about. Tell me everything, she texted back.
A string of texts followed, but after the fifth one, Rhett simply called. “Hey,” she said with a drawl that would rival Rhett Butler himself.
“Hi.” Ellie flopped into the dated but ridiculously comfortable armchair in the corner. “God, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Darlin’, same. I’m dyin’ down here.”
Her heart ached for the strained relationships Rhett had with her family.
They hadn’t disowned her, but they also did that thing where they were sugary nice to her face but said mean things behind her back.
Ellie might not have the closest relationship with her own mother, but at least she never had to worry about insincerity.
“When are you coming and where are you going?”
“Have you heard of a town called Bedlington?”
“Uh. Yeah. It’s like an hour from here. It’s where Grumpy Old Goat is made.” It also happened to be the home of Barrow Brothers Construction, if the decal on the side of Jack’s truck was anything to go on.
“Exactly. So boonies, but with good cheese. And at least one queer person.”
A good-looking one, too. She followed GOG on social media and the cheesemaker definitely qualified as a thirst trap. “I’m glad to know those are your standards for choosing where to live.”
“I mean, let’s keep in mind where I’m coming from.”
“Point taken. So, is it a house?” Ellie asked. Rhett was a potter and needed space for both a wheel and her small, but nothing to sneeze at, kiln.
“It’s half of a duplex. Owned by this total hottie ginger guy who I think might be trans. What are the odds?”
Probably higher than the possibility of two such guys existing in a hundred-mile radius. “Is his name Jack?”
A beat of silence before Rhett asked, “How did you know?”
“I think your new landlord is also the electrician on this project.” Seriously, what were the chances?
“No way. That’s wild.”
“Wild,” Ellie said, not sure what her other thoughts might be yet.
“Though, I’m telling you. There’s some sort of queer frequency. We might not be able to detect it, but it pulls us together.” Rhett spoke with all the seriousness of someone who fully believed the cosmos worked like that.
Ellie had experienced her own share of Small Gay World, especially since graduating from Smith more than a decade ago. “Either way, it sounds nicer than freak coincidence, so I’ll take it.”
“Damn right you will. So, you’ve met Jack? Do you like him?”
“Sure,” she said with a marked lack of conviction.
“You don’t? But you like everyone,” Rhett said.
“I do not.”
“Okay. You like every queer person you’ve ever met who hasn’t done something actively mean to you or to the world at large.”
Rhett had a point. Ellie sighed. “I do like him. I like that he’s queer and, I presume, competent at his job. I like that he likely won’t turn out to be some mansplaining libertarian hell-bent on convincing me small government is the answer to all my problems.”
“But?”
Since she’d done little more than outline baseline decent human, the question shouldn’t surprise her. “But he seems kind of surly. Like, small talk is an anathema. He probably uses people as a verb and never in a nice way.”
“Is he wrong, though?” Rhett asked.
Ellie laughed. “God, you’re such an introvert.”
“Yes,” Rhett said without missing a beat. “And you adopted me so I didn’t become an antisocial hermit. Maybe Jack just needs someone to adopt him.”
“Are you volunteering me for the job?” She could think of worse ways to pass her time. Assuming, of course, Jack didn’t turn out to be a full-on grumpy jerk.
“I mean, you’re going to be spending time with him, right? At work obviously, but maybe when you come hang at my new place, too.”
The thought of all that close proximity sent a tingling sensation along her spine. Not that she had any intention of admitting as much. “I’m sorry, are you predicting that you’re going to make a friend? All by yourself?”
“No, silly. I’m predicting you’ll orchestrate something and rope us both into it. Then we’ll bond over being forced to socialize.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you’ll both complain to me but secretly like having a new introverted friend to hang out with.”
“Obviously.”
Like so many college freshmen, she and Rhett had been randomly assigned to share a room.
Only after getting on each other’s nerves to the point of needing a mediation with their RA had they settled into a groove and, eventually, become inseparable.
And while they’d each been the other’s type when it came to sexual attraction, a single drunken make-out session during a particularly stressful finals week had put a quick and complete kibosh on any inklings they might be more than friends. “So, when do you get here?”
“I’m driving up day after tomorrow and coordinating with movers on Friday.”
When Rhett made a decision, she didn’t waste time. “Can I help?”
“I’d love unpacking help over the weekend if you’re not busy. I can offer cheese and wine.”
Ellie smiled. She’d already been in a decent mood, but now it bordered on giddy. “Can’t wait.”