Homecoming (10 page)

“There’s nothing wrong with our car,” Carly insisted. “It just doesn’t like to go on long trips.”

“No, It doesn’t like to be towed
home
from long trips,” Jill said. “How much did you pay to have it dragged back from Portland?”

“That was an anomaly,” Carly said. “Orville’s a perfectly good car. We haven’t had much trouble at all.”

“How many miles does Orville have now?”

“Just over two hundred thousand,” Samantha said, wincing when Carly gave her a stern look. “Well, he does.”

“A Subaru can last for forty years,” Carly insisted. “We want you to go with us because we like being with you. And if your car wants to come along…all the better. I know she likes to see the bright lights of big cities.”

“I would,” Jill said. “But I don’t have anyone to watch the boys. Stephanie’s back home in Rutland for the summer, and I don’t want to have a stranger in my house.”

“Who’s Stephanie?”

“A kid from UVM. She’s been house sitting for me for three years now.” Jill sighed. “I’ll have to replace her when she graduates. But it’s hard to find a kid who’s responsible and doesn’t have parties when you’re gone.”

“You should have had kids,” Samantha said. “There’s always someone home at our house.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the best reason to reproduce,” Jill teased. “Cheap labor. So Trent and Presley aren’t going to Boston?”

“They’re in high school, Jill,” Samantha said, speaking as if Jill were slow. “They don’t go anywhere with us.”

“Would either of them like to feed my boys?”

“No!” Carly said, eyes wide. “I like you too much to have either of them do something horrible. Which they might. It’s a crap-shoot with those two.”

“I might have one option,” Jill said. “Let me make a call and see what I can come up with.”

***

Jill still hadn’t remembered to ask for Lizzie’s home number. So she called Hollyhock Hills and asked for the development office. “This is Lizzie Davis,” she said, her voice a little lower and crisper than normal.

“Hey there, it’s Jill.”

“Hi. What’s going on?”

“I was wondering if you were going to be around for Memorial Day weekend.”

“Uh-huh. I’m totally free. What do you want to do?”

Oh, crap. She sounded so interested. “Uhm, I’m going to Boston. I thought you might want to look after my cats.”

“Oh.” After just a few seconds, her enthusiasm ramped back up. “I didn’t know you had cats. Of course, you’re a lesbian, so I should have guessed…”

“Funny. I have two, both low maintenance. They don’t need medication or special diets or anything. I just need someone to feed them and clean the litter box.”

“I guess I could do it.”

“But you don’t sound excited,” Jill said. “Do you have any friends who’d like to get away from an annoying roommate?”

“All of my friends are in that boat.” She laughed, sounding more like herself. “I’d love to go to your house and pick up cat poop, Jill. I can’t think of a better way to spend a long weekend.”

“Uhm, you could come to Boston with us. My friends Carly and Samantha are planning the trip. Samantha’s a big history buff and she’s never walked the Freedom Trail.”

“I think I’ll stick with the cat poop. When should I be there?”

“We want to avoid traffic, so we’re going to leave late on Friday.”

“Late? Like 6:10?”

“You’re the funniest development officer in all of Burlington, Lizzie. Keep working on that act.”

***

On the Friday in question, a knock on the back door had the cats scurrying for cover. “Chickens!” Jill called out as they soundlessly disappeared, just two gray streaks as their bellies got low to the ground and they fled upstairs.

She went to the door and opened it to find Lizzie, wearing a bike helmet, weighted down with a bulging backpack. “Where’s the poop?” she asked, sliding by Jill to enter. “God damn it,” she grumbled as she looked around the kitchen. “I thought maybe the outside was nice, but the inside was a dump. Your house is fantastic, you jerk!”

Jill couldn’t stop herself from laughing at Lizzie’s outrage. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t have many role models. You know, women who’ve made it on their own. But I could work until I’m a hundred and not be able to afford a place this nice.”

“You’re what? A coordinator?”

“No. I’m an associate. But my manager’s only two years older than I am. And the director’s around fifty. He’s not going
any
where.”

“Cheer up. You can always move to another foundation or a university to boost your salary. That’s what I did.”

Lizzie dropped her backpack to the floor, removed her helmet and ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it into place. “I assumed you’ve always been at UVM.”

“No, after I got my MPA, I worked at Middlebury for three years, and Dartmouth for two. Then I came home to UVM. I make thirty thousand more than I would have if I’d stayed the whole time. Employers are like lovers. They think more highly of you when someone else wants you.”

“But I love Hollyhock Hills,” Lizzie moaned. “I’d love to stay there until I retire…at a hundred.”

“Talk to me when it’s time for your review,” Jill said, clapping her on the back. “I’ll give you some tips on how to get a decent raise.”

“A raise,” Lizzie grumbled. “There are a hundred people who’d do my job for less.”

“Talk to me,” Jill insisted. “We’ll come up with a strategy.”

“Fine. Now show me to the poop.”

An enclosed porch was located right next to the back door. The box was on a large plastic mat, currently devoid of litter. Jill had tried everything in creation to keep the clay from being tracked all over, but she’d yet to come up with a solution that the boys would use. And when they vetoed something, she was the one who paid the price. “Here’s their spa bathroom,” she said. “You probably won’t even see them, but David is the smaller, more dominant one and Goliath is the big softie.”

“You’re serious? They won’t be all over me like cats always are? You’d think I was made of catnip.”

“No, my boys are afraid of their own shadows. I have good friends who’ve been coming here for years and have never seen them. I put pictures of them out just to prove they exist.”

“Okay. So what are the house rules? No drug sales, no underage hookers. What else?”

“I trust you, Lizzie. Just make yourself at home.” They walked into the living room. “You won’t need it, but you can have a fire if you like. Just open the flue.”

“Your place is sick,” Lizzie said, looking around. “Old house with contemporary furniture. Just what I’d do.” She moved over to a chair and rubbed her hand along the fabric. “I couldn’t afford the furniture, much less the house.”

“I like the house, of course, but it isn’t nearly as expensive as it would be if it was in the Hills Section or Five Sisters. I’ve got some pretty sketchy neighbors on the next block down.” She pointed across the street to the ramshackle two story. “That place has at least fifteen students packed into it. I’m not easily annoyed, but even I’ve called the cops on them.”

“So you’re saying I could snap one of these up for a hundred thousand?”

“Uhm…no,” Jill admitted. “But it took me quite a few years to save enough for the downpayment. That’s just how it goes.”

Lizzie patted the chair again, looking down on it fondly. “I wonder if I’ll be able to sit up in a chair like this when I’m a hundred and can afford it.”

Jill played along with her teasing. “You’re in good shape. You’ve got a chance.”

When they entered the den, Jill said, “I’ll leave my computer on. Then you can listen to one of the music streaming sites. I’ve got speakers in all of the rooms downstairs.”

“Really sweet setup, Jill. I’m getting more jealous by the minute.” She drew her fingers over the pattern on the decorative glass panels that flanked the casement windows. “What do you call these? They’re very cool.”

“Just a diamond pattern I guess. I love clear stained glass, and didn’t even mind the dozens of hours I spent taking all of the layers of paint off.”

“Was the house in bad shape?”

“Not bad, for the most part, but dated.” She led the way into the kitchen. “Everything was about like this. The kitchen’s my next project, but I’m dreading it.”

“My brothers did my mom’s kitchen in four days. Lure them up here and you’ll be done before you know it.”

“Don’t tempt me. Now for the upstairs,” she said as she moved from the kitchen to the center hallway. “You can see where I’ve spent my money.”

“Buying the house was enough to impress me. If you’d just furnished it with boxes, I’d still think it was cool.” They reached Jill’s bedroom, her oasis of calm.

“Niiiiice. Do I get to sleep in here?”

“You can if you want. But I’ve got a guest room right next door.”

Lizzie walked over to the big, padded headboard, put her hand on it, then sat on the bed. “What is this? Angel’s wings?”

“Uh-huh. How’d you know?” She picked up a remote and said, “This controls the TV and the DVR and the lights. I could explain how to use it, but you’ll forget. Just play around with it. It’s fairly intuitive.”

“I’m gonna lie in bed and watch everything on your DVR,” Lizzie said, an impish look on her face. “You’ve probably got hours of Masterpiece Theater and costume dramas from BBC America.”

“And infomercials for dentures and hearing aids.” She led the way into the bathroom, and tried not to gloat.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! This place is big enough to wash my car!”

“There used to be three bedrooms and one bath up here. I reconfigured it to two beds, one small and one large bath. Guess which one this is?”

“It’s crazy nice. Just crazy,” she insisted, her gaze traveling over every detail. “I’d never leave if I had this.”

“Oh, sure you would. But I’ll admit there aren’t many hotel rooms I’ve been to that are better. Doing something just the way I wanted it was awfully nice.”

Lizzie sat on the edge of the soaking tub. “I haven’t taken a bath in years, but I’m going to get back to it tonight. Think of me while you’re driving down I-89.”

“You’re not going out?”

She stood up and started to exit the room. “Nah. Most of my friends took off for the weekend. I’m going to hang out and relax.”

“Ahh, now I feel like a jerk. Did you stay just to do this?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I don’t ever play the martyr. My friends weren’t going anywhere I wanted to tag along. But when they get my incessant texts, they’re going to wish they were here.”

“Here’s the control for the tub,” Jill said, waiting for Lizzie to stop and look back into the room. She pointed to the twin handles mounted high on the wall. “Don’t lean over when you turn them on or you’ll get a surprise.”

“I can figure things out. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I hope you have fun, Lizzie. I bought some stuff for you to munch on. And if you see anything you want in the fridge or the pantry, feel free.”

“I’m not the teenaged babysitter, Jill. You don’t have to make me popcorn.” She elbowed her playfully.

“I want you to have fun. Really.”

“I will. Can I bring my bike in?”

“Sure. Or you can put it into the garage. Whatever’s easier.”

“A garage?” She looked like she was going to weep. “You have a garage?”

“You’ll have one too,” Jill insisted, patting her on the back. “Just give it time.”

***

On Monday afternoon, Jill walked into her house, expecting a pair of gray ghosts to fly down the stairs to greet her, but the place was strangely silent. She put her bag down and looked around, seeing almost no evidence of Lizzie’s presence. Assuming she’d gone, she went upstairs and entered her bedroom. There, on the neatly made bed, Lizzie was lying on her side, David snuggled up behind her knees, Goliath draped across her thighs. Two little gray heads picked up somewhat listlessly, then they both began to purr while kneading their human pillow. Luckily, Lizzie was wearing jeans, or she would have had scratches all over her legs. Jill watched for a few seconds, tempted to snap a picture, but left the threesome to finish their nap in peace. Apparently, Lizzie
was
made of catnip.

***

It had been a while, a long while, since Jill had gone to a club. While getting ready, she did the math, but was unable to come up with a good memory of the last time. It
might
have been since she’d returned to Burlington. If so, that was just dumb. While she didn’t want to be one of those people who hung out with a much younger crowd, trying to act like she was close to college age, she truly did love live music. Indie rock was her thing, and had been since she was in high school. The bands changed frequently, but the basics remained the same. It was music that got little airplay, from bands that rarely made money, gained fame, or stuck together long, but she loved the energy, the drive of young musicians and songwriters trying to share their thoughts with the world.

She’d spent most of her life in Vermont, or nearby, but she’d traveled some for work, and conferences, and to visit friends. In New York, or Los Angeles, or San Francisco, or even Boston, she’d never be able to go to a club and not stick out like someone’s mom. But she knew Vermont well, and was confident she’d be able to blend in wearing jeans and a T-shirt. That might not have cut it at a straight club, but it would work in a gay place.

She was surprised that Lizzie had even known about the event. It certainly seemed like she was mostly straight, with brief forays into the gay world for sex. And this wasn’t a very well known event. But Lizzie was proving surprising in many areas, and Jill decided she’d have to just see what she came up with next.

Jill offered to drive, and as she pulled up in front of the address Lizzie had given her, she checked her phone again, sure she’d gotten it wrong. The building was in the South End, a big, old two-no, three-story home, with a mansard roof, very close to where they’d had coffee. It wasn’t very well kept up, but it was certainly large. She texted, announcing she’d arrived, and a few seconds later, Lizzie came out the front door and dashed down the stairs, looking very well put together. Well, that wasn’t true. Her jeans were skin tight and ripped in half a dozen places, and it looked like she was wearing three T-shirts, each strategically torn. It wasn’t sleek, but her look was perfect for a club.