Chapter 23 #2
Hester nods. “We were very lucky. One of the omega founders was well-off, though the rest of us didn’t know it beforehand.
” She gives me a sideways grin, the kind I’ve seen on other people preparing to ask for money—maybe not now, but sooner rather than later.
“She left us enough to buy this place and start rehabbing it. Now, we offer housing and social and practical assistance options to our residents at the lowest rates we can afford. More than half of our residents are omegas, and the rest are betas, plus a very few alphas. Most of the betas and alphas are older, single, and lack support networks. We keep a couple apartments for emergency needs, as we can. Our endowment covers costs for now, but we can’t keep up with the need. ”
I turn and level a glare at Anamaria. She’d set this up in advance, clearly hoping to prompt a donation of some kind. It seemed a worthy enough cause, but couldn’t she have given me a heads-up?
“I didn’t bring you here just to see the building and amenities, though I do think this is an option for Uncle Max’s trust,” Anamaria says, at least being discreet about the amount of money potentially available.
“Dad loves you, Aunty, and he’d be happy to pack up with you formally—and he’s not the only one—but Bebe and I wanted you to know you have other options. ”
“Though if you decide not to pack up with Dad, please let him down easy,” Bebe mutters. “For our sake, if not for his.”
“Just don’t pack up because you’re worried you’ll be alone otherwise. Only do it if you want to.” Anamaria gives me a quick, hard hug, enfolding me in a cloud of souring lilac before she pulls back. “We’ll always be there for you, whether you live with us or on your own, or in a place like this.”
“Are you concerned for me or for yourself down the line?” I glance between my two nieces, both still in their early twenties, and hope they’ll never be in dire need of help.
So sweet, so caring, and so meddling. Not to mention their clear assumption that being in my fifties means I’ve got one foot in the grave, regardless of how healthy I am. Then again, Max and I were of an age, so maybe they’re worried about my long-term health.
In private, I wouldn’t let their casual references to me packing up go unchallenged by queries about how long they’ve suspected and what signs of their father’s they’ve picked up on.
But not here. Not in front of Hester. No matter that she’s one of my favorites from the book club, and when the club meets up, we spend almost as much time talking about personal matters as the books we read.
We only meet once a month, and there are nearly a dozen of us, including some I wouldn’t trust not to gossip.
There’s a sharp limit to the kind of information I shared with even those I like the most among them, depending on who else is around.
“This doesn’t go any further.” I stare at each of them in order around the circle: Anamaria, who ducks her head as bright red blooms on her cheeks; Bebe, who merely lifts an eyebrow in echo of Max; and Hester, who nods.
“I promise I won’t share any secrets without permission, and I’m not asking you for money.
” Hester shrugs. “At least not at this time. I haven’t mentioned this at our book club because I value having at least one space where I’m not spending all my time thinking about raising funds.
That, and seeing this place tends to be an important motivator for donations. ”
With that, the tour proper begins. It truly is a welcoming place; I don’t need Anamaria enthusing over the range of options for heat assistance, nor Bebe not-so discreetly pointing just how varied a clientele the building serves.
They also stress how complex the organization is, and how much money is required to support it.
Max would, indeed, have been in favor. I get caught up in asking Hester ever more questions about how the community operates and how replicable the model is, managing to put aside the matter of my own immediate future.
Of course, Hester’s love for what she’s doing, her investment in finding ways to provide hands-on assistance while not overstepping, and her joy in interacting with even the whiniest of residents catch me.
When did I last feel that joy? The company—Max’s company—makes a difference, but we’re removed from the people who ultimately benefit, me more so, since I oversee the necessary but hardly exciting tasks of ordering sufficient supplies and making payroll.
No doubt I’m over-romanticizing Hester’s work.
Dealing with whiners can get old fast. I shake my head and push the thoughts away.
Yet when we’re back in the zipzap, the problem of work and money fades in favor of the more intimate hurdles before me.
For all that Anamaria and Bebe consider the Sage Street Community or something similar a viable alternative to packing up, their ideas of equivalency grate on my nerves.
Anamaria made nice noises about omegas continuing to have heats for most of their lives, even though fertility dwindles to nearly nothing in their fifties, yet she doesn’t seem to understand that older people can be, and often are, sexually active.
She talks blithely about me possibly packing up and laughs at the stereotypical three-alphas-in-a-room situation we left behind, but overlooks the implications that three older alphas might be interested in fucking each other or me, or both.
Maybe she doesn’t want to think about what her father and I might do behind closed doors. Fair enough—I prefer not to consider what happens during her heats in any detail.
That’s one reason my interest in the community centers on ways to offer support, rather than as a place I might want to live. I appreciate Anamaria and Bebe’s desire to offer me alternatives—but whatever life I build after Max has to speak to all my needs and desires.
Corin. Dan. Nathan.
Two of the three can wait until the next meeting, whenever that may be. I’ll face Corin tonight with too many questions unasked, unanswered, or not yet answerable.
The moment I nearly kissed him this morning seems simultaneously close and so very far away.