Forging a Desire Line Read online

  “Well, some of the girls are having tea tomorrow at Sally Simmons’s apartment, and I’d really like to go. Can I count on you? Four o’clock tomorrow?”

  “Of course.” Well, there goes the Broncos-Giants game… “Can I bring anything?”

  “I’ll ask Sally, but chances are no. And yes, you can sneak away and check the scores on the football games. Jim will have them on, I’m sure.”

  They discussed a few other odds and ends, and when Charley hung up, she was smiling. Conversations with her mother had changed over the last year. Or maybe I have. Until recently, her mother would never have asked her to spend an afternoon this way. She would’ve called Robert, the oldest sibling, leaving Charley relieved, yet feeling derelict in the Daughter Department. But turning fifty last December had changed her outlook on so many fronts. It had also shifted her relationship with her mother onto another plane, since she no longer worried as much about how her mother saw her, either. And that seemed to have brought a new rapprochement to them, her mother reaching out more often, and Charley reciprocating each time.

  After pulling on a pair of shorts and a polo shirt, Charley opened the cupboard beneath her kitchen sink and began pulling out cleaning supplies. Down a quart on the Murphy’s Oil. Figures. She cut an apple into her yogurt and made a shopping list. This would require a trip to the hardware store. Still, it couldn’t be helped. Who am I kidding? I love the hardware store. Bob stalked by, climbed into the cupboard, and wedged himself between the Tide and the box of garbage bags. She rubbed between his ears and he pulled back, rumbling loudly. Settling on the couch with her bowl of yogurt, she looked around the small living room, assessing the job at hand. Seasonal cleaning always made her feel good, in command and in control of her life. It had been the one thing she and her mother had done together when she was a child. Everything else had been shared with her dad, from tinkering with car engines to learning about home repairs with her brothers.

  Back in the kitchen, she shooed the cat out of the cupboard. After cleaning, she’d spend time writing. The chapters she worked on once the apartment was clean always felt so much sharper. She picked up the book she’d started reading a few nights ago, tossed it into her canvas marketing bag, and headed out to find a spot in the morning sun on one of the benches in the little park across the street. Sometimes she felt guilty about stealing this kind of time, but reading was like breathing air. They were never going to carve diligent assistant, dutiful daughter, and loving wife on her headstone. So, as Dorothy Parker advised, she might as well live.

  Halfway down the hall, she turned back for the pages she’d been editing, and her pencil box. It wouldn’t hurt to read them over again.

  Chapter Two

  By four thirty, Charley was stretched out on the couch, exhausted. I shouldn’t be so tired…God, I’m getting old if I can’t maintain this level of activity. She checked the college football games on TV. What am I going to do in ten years? Will I have to hire someone to clean? Bing jumped up and planted himself on her chest, facing the TV and flicking her ear with his tail. Propping the to-do list against his haunch, she dismissed the worry and crossed out each task that had been completed, pleased that she had emptied all the bookcases on the wall, washed them down, moved them away from the wall to vacuum behind them, dusted the books, cleaned the corner of the room where her stereo and CDs lived, and put everything back. It had taken her five hours. She closed her eyes and drifted off. The clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace chiming five woke her. She sat up, took a moment to shake off the fog, and headed to the shower.

  Standing in front of her open closet door didn’t make the choices grow exponentially. For once, she didn’t want to be her casual khaki self. But she did want to know if she still had the power to attract another woman, especially a younger one. Even if she no longer wanted the chase, she still liked that thrill. The closet was small, so Charley pushed her office clothes to one side and stepped partway in to pull a pair of black dress slacks and a nearly sheer white tank top from the back. She reached farther in and found her silk Mandarin-collar jacket. Braced against the wall, she lifted the clear dry cleaner bag to appraise the delicately embroidered black, spring green, and white bird designs on the sky blue background. It was quite a daring piece with a deeply cut décolletage that revealed more than Charley was usually comfortable showing. One strategically placed frog button held it together at the tapered waist. She’d bought it to entice Tricia, and whenever she’d worn it, that jacket had turned heads, delighting Tricia, and guaranteeing a night of play in bed when they got home. That was the kind of control she wanted to exert tonight.

  Back in the bathroom, Charley retrieved the eye makeup she rarely wore anymore and set to work, achieving the look she wanted in record time. She popped in her contact lenses and stepped back to check herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair needed cutting, but she’d hide that by putting it up in a loose chignon with a couple of the strands escaping on either side, an effect that always had women reaching to capture those strands and tuck them back behind her ear.

  The color of the silk jacket intensified her eyes, and the mascara and eyeliner echoed the black outlines of the birds, creating an enticing effect, exactly what she’d intended. Wanting to add the advantage of height to her five-and-a-half-foot frame, she slipped on the three-inch black heels, wrapped the white pashmina shawl around her shoulders, slid the balance talisman into a pocket, and headed out.

  The doorman in Brooke’s building didn’t recognize Charley at first, which pleased her. And when Brooke opened her door, she did a double take.

  “Holy shit.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Charley leaned against the doorframe.

  “Way to go, blond bombshell. I don’t think I can let Annie see you. She might have second thoughts.”

  “Annie’s yours. I’m after something else tonight.” Charley pushed Brooke aside in mock-diva fashion and walked into the apartment. Across the room, a woman sitting with Lindsay turned to look at her, and her dark chocolate eyes took Charley in and stayed trained on her. It had to be Karen.

  “Seriously? You’re going to step up to our challenge?”

  Charley was momentarily distracted. Brooke had been right. Karen was quite attractive. Her face, with its sprinkling of freckles, was classic Katherine Hepburn. High, sharp cheekbones accented an aquiline nose, and ginger brows arched perfectly over intelligent eyes. Red curls cascaded over her shoulders. And she was built. Charley dropped her gaze to the full breasts the unbuttoned black Henley didn’t hide, the snug blue jeans hugging slim hips, and the hand-tooled black cowboy boots that completed the outfit. When she looked back up, Karen met her with the hint of a smile. She put her hand on Brooke’s arm, all bluster gone. “I don’t know…I thought I’d at least make the effort,” she stammered, brushing a piece on nonexistent lint off her jacket. “You know, just because I haven’t taken the bait here all these months doesn’t mean that I’m not meeting and considering women.”

  “You are not.”

  “Actually, yes, I am. I’ve met someone at the Y…”

  “Really? And you’ve been holding out on us?”

  “No, I only met her recently. I don’t know enough yet to make a judgment.” Lying had never come naturally. She should have had a better cover story at the ready.

  “You haven’t worked up the courage to speak to her.”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m assuming that’s Karen?”

  “Yes, let’s go meet her. We’ll get back to Gym Woman later.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “As if.”

  “No, wait. I don’t want to start the evening so awkwardly. Is Annie in the kitchen?” Charley took her balance stone out of her pocket and played it through her fingers.

  “We’ve established that she’s mine, Owens. You’re stalling.”

  “I want to say hi.” Charley turned the stone over and over in her hand.

  “Oh, my God, you still have the stone I gave you?”


  “Of course I do,” Charley said, looking at it in her palm. “You made a promise with it that the world would right itself again after Tricia, and it did. Now this keeps me centered whenever I feel off.”

  “C’mon.” Brooke put her arm around Charley’s shoulder, squeezed it reassuringly, and walked toward the living room. “I don’t think Karen has any idea we invited her to meet you.”

  The new pain that resonated with that squeeze reminded Charley of the day’s efforts. And her age, as she considered Karen’s youth and beauty. “She’s the only other single woman in the room, you idiot. I’m sure she can do the math. Did Lindsay meet her during a tournament?”

  “No, she’s giving her tennis lessons.”

  “Oh, my God!” Jamie stood to hug Charley. “Look at you!”

  Charley was always amazed that the skinny little baby dyke who’d roomed with Brooke their freshman year of college had grown into such a handsome rough-and-tumble butch and was now crushing her in a bear hug. Out of the corner of her eye, Charley saw Karen lean over to say something to Lindsay, taking her hand. Lindsay hesitated a moment, then she replied in earnest and at length. She knew in that moment that coming tonight had been a mistake.

  “Hey, I know we were supposed to go out for dinner right after Labor Day,” Jamie said, “but you know Lindsay, the social bee who has to pollinate every flower. I don’t even remember the last night we were home for dinner.” She grimaced. “I hate goin’ out. How did I end up with her? Anyway, I owe you. And you…” Jamie held Charley at arm’s length. “Wow.”

  Charley turned to Lindsay, a tiny dynamo who’d reminded her of Sally Field’s Gidget the day they’d met in freshman English class so long ago. She still had that rosy air about her as she touched her elbow and enfolded her in a hug.

  “Oh, how are you? You look spectacular!” Lindsay reached for Karen, who’d been studying Charley. “I want you to meet Karen Hughes, one of my students. Karen, this is Charley Owens.”

  “A pleasure.” Karen shook Charley’s hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you tonight. Can I get you a drink?” Karen indicated the sideboard where Brooke had set up a bar.

  “Already got it.” Brooke handed Charley a highball glass with an orange slice on the side and three cherry stems riding the froth. “Jim Beam sour. For future reference.” She winked at Karen, who stepped closer to Charley.

  “They’re trying to fix us up, you know that, I’m sure,” Karen said quietly.

  Charley bent her head conspiratorially close to Karen’s. “Yes, I know. I should tell you they’ve been trying to match-make me for two years.” She heard Karen’s intake of breath.

  “Really? Lindsay tells me you’re quite a catch. That’s why I came tonight. But, still single despite their efforts?”

  “And what do you do for a living?”

  Karen smiled. “Right. Not the smoothest opening on my part, was it? I’m an attorney.”

  “Oh? A firm I’d recognize?” Charley frowned at Jamie and Brooke eavesdropping, and they returned to their conversation.

  “No. Small outfit representing Broadway producers. Which means I get tickets to everything on or Off Broadway. I’d love to take you to see whatever your heart desires.”

  Charley heard the teasing edge in Karen’s voice. “Oh. Well, I might take you up on that some time.” They’d been talking for all of two minutes and Karen was already dangling future dates in front of her.

  “I also get to attend the Tonys. With a plus-one.”

  “Okay, now you’re just showing off.”

  “I have to flag your attention somehow. Who doesn’t love a Broadway show?”

  “I’ve already seen a lot of them.”

  “Fair enough, but two years and your friends can’t find a match for you? Now I’m beyond intrigued.”

  “Don’t be, and don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in dating.” It was blunt, but Charley wasn’t a game player.

  “Ouch. That’s the fastest rejection I’ve ever gotten.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not you. I was in a relationship for a long time and I don’t want…” Charley hesitated. Karen was attractive. “I don’t think I want that again.” She didn’t want to entertain the idea of that kind of emotional investment again, not if there was another chance she’d be left on the other side with nothing.

  “I see… Can I be direct and ask what happened, or should we save that discussion for dinner next week?”

  Charley cocked her head. “That is direct. Now you’re intriguing me.” She allowed herself a reappraisal. At least they both had their cards on the table.

  “Good. Set point, Karen Hughes.”

  Charley laughed. “I’m sure Lindsay told you why I’m divorced.”

  “I got a little bit of the background, but I’d much rather hear the story from you over dinner and a good bottle of wine. We can trade barbs about cheating wives because that’s also what happened to me.”

  “That’s tough,” Charley said, softening. “I’m sorry.”

  “So that’s a yes to dinner?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that.”

  “You know, I only came tonight to mollify Lindsay. She’s been after me for months. Probably because our situations are so parallel. But when you walked through the door, well, everything changed.”

  Indignation mixed with surprise hit Charley. “Lindsay’s been after you for months? Really?”

  “Six at least.” Karen sighed. “I told her my friends don’t want to talk about my breakup anymore. They think I need to get over it. But it’s still painful, which I’m sure you understand. Have dinner with me. I’d like the chance to get to know you.”

  Charley hesitated. Is she where I was two years ago? Does she need a friend or is she looking for more?

  Before her resolve disappeared, Annie’s squeal interrupted the moment, the wine glasses clinking in her hand as she juggled a bottle in the crook of her arm. “Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here!”

  “Your wife didn’t trust that you wouldn’t run off with me tonight,” Charley said, hugging the lissome blonde who could’ve passed for her younger sister.

  “She knows whereof she speaks,” Annie said, stepping back to take Charley’s measure. “Does Anna Wintour know you escaped?”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere. Does Mario Batali know you’re on the loose? What’s for dinner?”

  “Ha. Nothing exciting tonight, I’m afraid. Lasagna and a salad. Here.” She handed the glasses and bottle to Charley. “I need to co-opt Brooke to help me in the kitchen. Isn’t it odd, though,” Annie asked, pointing between Brooke and Karen, “to have two redheads under the same roof? This never happens.”

  “We’re a rare breed,” Karen admitted.

  “Brooke is really more strawberry blond,” Jamie said, angling her chair to sit down.

  “She’s still trouble,” Charley said, “always has been.”

  “Well, you know what they say about redheads.” Karen looked at Charley. “The deeper the shade, the more trouble they are. But very worth it.”

  Charley blushed under Karen’s deliberate gaze.

  “C’mon, Trouble.” Annie pulled Brooke into the kitchen, and moments later, they emerged with platters of lasagna, a large bowl of salad, and a basket of garlic bread.

  “Who’s sommeliering tonight?” Annie asked, pulling a corkscrew from her pocket and tossing it next to the bottle of wine.

  “Not a verb yet, Annie,” Brooke ribbed her.

  “It will be by the end of the decade,” Charley said, picking up the corkscrew and plunging it dead center into the cork.

  Discussions flowed around the table for several hours, touching on everything from politics to the Times best seller list, the new fall TV shows, bitching about work, and finally settling on the age-old topic of who among their friends was sleeping with someone they shouldn’t.

  “Are you enjoying this back-fence talk or can we clear the table so we can escape to the kitchen?” Kare
n asked Charley, sotto voce.

  Brooke and Jamie rose to help when they began collecting plates and silverware, but Charley asked them to stay put, shooting Brooke an admonitory look.

  “We’ll talk about you,” Jamie warned her.

  “Of course you will. Knock yourselves out.” Charley stuck her tongue out at them as she left the room with a pile of dishes.

  “Boy,” Karen said, once they were in the kitchen, “you all can be a little harsh with each other. I’d hate to see how you treat the people you don’t like!”

  “You must have friends you’ve known forever that you can throw down with.”

  “How long have you all known each other?”

  “Over thirty years now. We went to college together.” Charley set her armload of dishes in the sink and took Karen’s out of her hands.

  “Hmm. I don’t think I still know anyone I knew when I was seven…”

  “Oh…that’s right. I almost forgot how much younger than us you are.” Charley let the arrow fly on purpose.

  “Wait,” Karen said, flustered. “You’re not going to let the age difference between us interfere with what we’ve spent all evening building, are you?” Karen reached for an errant lock of Charley’s hair and tucked it behind her ear.

  Charley smiled to herself. Game point, Charley Owens. “Have we built something?”

  Annie came into the kitchen, more dishes piled halfway up her arm.

  “That age difference thing is a myth once you hit your late twenties, don’t you think?” Karen asked a little too eagerly. “And if you’re going to turn on the water, you’d better take that jacket off. It’s silk, isn’t it?”

  “She’s right. You’ll ruin it otherwise. And lucky for us you wore something under it so you can take it off,” Annie noted. Charley unbuttoned the jacket and hung it over a chair.

  Karen glanced from Annie to Charley. “You wear that jacket without that top?”

  “Usually,” Charley said.

  Karen stared at Charley for a moment as she began washing dishes. “Well, then, when we go out next week, you can wear it that way for me.”