Just A Little Romance Read online

  Haley chuckled and winced. “I think you look sexy as hell.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m not done with you, so don’t try to distract me by changing the subject. This is serious shit you’re dealing with. Did you fall on two different pieces of equipment or forget what you told me when you had to give her an excuse?”

  All humor vanished from Haley’s expression.

  “Damn it, Haley. KD hit you. Everyone here can see and figure that out. You can’t keep protecting her.” Sam struggled to keep her voice low. As much as she would enjoy Lisa manhandling her, she didn’t think it worth the chance of being recognized in these circumstances.

  Haley covered her mouth with her hand and refused to say any more.

  Lisa returned with the doctor and tossed Sam a gown.

  Sam put the mint green plaid cotton on like a jacket and crossed the fronts over her. “Stunning.” She huffed as she glanced down, then remembered her manners. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Lisa held the tray of instruments and anticipated each step of the doctor’s work.

  Sam looked away again as the stitches went in. The doctor nodded at Lisa and left the cubicle.

  “You should fill this script tonight if possible,” Lisa said to Sam. “What we gave her will last a few hours. then that lip is going to hurt like a son of a bitch.” She turned to Haley. “Lie down and keep ice on your face for an hour or so. Call your dentist in the morning and let him know what happened.” She glanced at her laptop. “Who’s your dentist?” She nodded as she typed Haley’s answer. “He’s part of our provider system and can access these records.”

  Lisa turned to Sam and scowled. “And, bitch, you behave yourself. Leave the gown in the bin near the exit door.” Lisa left the women to gather their belongings and leave.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s one of us,” Haley said.

  “No doubt,” Sam said, feeling as though she had been smacked in not necessarily a bad way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sam stepped out of her front door and waited for her body to acclimate to the outdoor temperature rather than the constant seventy-two degrees maintained by the air conditioning inside. She knew that she would be late arriving home that night and had decided it would do her good to take an early morning walk. July in Virginia meant early morning was the only viable time to be outdoors without feeling completely miserable. She saw no benefit to activities that endangered her health. She had dehydrated once years ago during a softball tournament, and the experience was enough to last her a lifetime.

  Sam looked about the neighborhood. All was quiet at Haley and KD’s and had been for the past three days since Sam and Haley visited the ER. Sam knew that Haley and KD were purposely avoiding her, and she was all right with that. Sam continued to keep a watchful eye out for Haley, noticing the patterns of lights on in the house and vehicles in the driveway. KD had been gone a lot lately.

  They were lucky to live on one of the few dead end streets in the subdivision. It was a game amongst the residents to avoid Route 60 at all cost; this involved zooming through residential streets to cover the distance in the least time possible. They learned elaborate turns through the abutting subdivisions, similar to rats in a maze, to delay entering the highway until near their destination. Sometimes Sam just gave in to reckless abandon and went directly to Route 60 if she thought she’d be going the opposite direction of the main flow of traffic. Route 60 ran through the heart of Richmond and continued on to Williamsburg to its east. The state highway originated beyond the Blue Ridge Mountains to the west and linked the capital to the communities of Powhatan, Cumberland, Buckingham, and Amherst, and ended in Lexington.

  Sam peered between the houses across from her and those beyond to the next row of brick ranches she saw the face of. Paul’s house was dark. She was tempted to go to the next block and ring Paul’s doorbell to wake him up, then run. He would know who was responsible. It would serve him right for calling her late at night as was his habit when he was wide awake and written out. Paul was a bank teller by day and writer of gay fiction by night. His office light had been glowing behind the blinds when Sam brought Haley home from the hospital after one a.m. Wednesday.

  Sam picked up the rolled newspaper tossed at the foot of her driveway. She scanned the headlines. At least there were no surprises. None of the major employers was leaving town and none of the city council members had been accused of criminal charges—definitely a quiet news day.

  She glanced to her left and saw Ava’s light on. Sam looked at her watch—6:15 a.m. Why would anyone be up this early if not getting ready for work? She went to Ava’s driveway and picked up her newspaper, intending to set it inside the front storm door to save Ava a few steps outside. No sooner had Sam placed her foot on the brick stoop than the front door opened.

  “I hoped you would be out and about this morning. Come in for coffee, dear.” Ava held the storm door open. “I just took buttermilk biscuits out of the oven.”

  Sam groaned. “You’re an inspiration, cooking already this morning.” Sam followed her neighbor inside the house. The bread fragrance was awesome.

  Ava Jacobs was seventy-eight years old. She had lived alone ever since the loss of her husband fifteen years ago. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, who might weigh as much as one hundred pounds. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis, her back curved slightly forward, and the short bonnet of hair atop her head was thin and solid white. Ava’s blue eyes put Sam’s to shame. Sam’s eyes were more cobalt and tended to be dark. Ava’s eyes were the baby blue of a summer sky and twinkled with all she had learned in her years on earth. Ava had finally retired a year earlier from the college across town, mainly because she no longer trusted her driving abilities. Teaching was so engrained in Ava’s psyche that she could launch into an old lecture on any subject regarding ancient or modern history without missing a beat in the conversation.

  “Come, come.” Ava led the way through the living room toward the kitchen on the back of the house. She and her husband had worked with the subdivision’s original contractor on the floor plan, and it showed.

  Sam loved Ava’s home, even though it made her feel slightly claustrophobic. The house was smaller than Sam’s and had defined rooms instead of overlapping open spaces. How many living rooms actually worked with matching sofas flanking a fireplace, Sam wondered.

  No surface was without memorabilia or trinkets of some sort and each had a story. Little space was open on the floor due to all the furniture that Ava and her husband had acquired during years of haunting antique shops. Piles of books and magazines filled the tabletops and spare chairs. Sam really did feel like a bull in a china shop. Many of Ava’s prized possessions were crystal or porcelain—all irreplaceable. Sam hoped for many reasons that Ava never had to be taken out of her home quickly on a gurney.

  Ava went to the oven and gestured for Sam to keep on through the small rooms behind her. First was the room previously used by Ava’s husband, Max, as a den and now by Ava as an office. A tall secretary stood against the kitchen wall, its leaf open and every pigeonhole overflowing. A well-used recliner was angled in front of the bay window as a reminder of Max’s favorite place to read. The far wall was completely covered by bookcases filled with nonfiction. The back corner of the house was a sunroom lined with double hung windows. A plump sofa was against the east wall of the room; a small square table stood in the corner next to the office. An ancient console television played in the corner—Sam had connected the signal converter box for Ava. This was the room where Ava spent most of her waking hours. She gently moved a pile of books topped by a composition book from the extra setting at the table. She motioned Sam to take a seat.

  Sam was barely settled in the chair when Ava returned with a plate of biscuits and a pot of coffee. Cups and saucers were already on the table. They had discovered long ago that they both preferred their coffee black. Ava placed a double basket with two cut glass containers between the place settings. “I didn’t
know whether you preferred jam or honey this morning—both are locally made. The biscuits are already buttered.” Ava joined Sam at the table.

  Sam sighed. “I’m just wondering how many other people leave home for an early morning walk and gain weight.”

  Ava chuckled. A small pop of gas escaped her. “Excuse me.”

  Sam shook her head. “In your own home, please, no apologies necessary.”

  Ava smiled. She leaned closer to Sam. “Does my makeup look right?”

  Sam studied Ava—her small face was a series of wrinkles that would challenge any woman. Ava was of the generation that considered makeup to be a coating of powder, a touch of rouge, and muted lipstick. “Perfection.”

  Ava picked up a crossword puzzle book from the top of a stack on the opposite corner of the table. “Nine-letter word meaning lies.” She looked at Sam expectantly. “Beginning with m and ending in y.”

  Sam took a sip of coffee and pondered the clue. Meals with Ava usually came at a price. Sam knew that she was often as not Ava’s guinea pig. Ava was determined to remain in her home unassisted. She worried about the waning of mental acuity, so she worked puzzles of any description. Ava read all the books she owned over and over to reaffirm her knowledge. She cooked and had Sam sample the food to make sure she hadn’t forgotten or misused ingredients. Sam didn’t think she was as sharp at forty-three as Ava was at seventy-eight and wished her friend would not worry so about her age.

  Sam knew by Ava asking the question that she was thoroughly stumped. Ava refused to look at the answer key. If she couldn’t come up with the word herself, she would exhaust the people she knew until she found someone who did. At least that way, she was still solving the puzzle.

  Sam snapped her fingers and pointed to a biscuit. “It’ll cost you.”

  Ava placed two steaming biscuits on Sam’s plate and waited for her choice of condiment.

  “Honey.” Sam’s mouth was already watering.

  Ava dipped the honey and trailed it across the open faces of the bread. She then held Sam’s hand against the table.

  “Mendacity,” Sam said as she was allowed to raise the biscuit.

  Ava’s face lit up. “Of course.” She clapped her hands, watching Sam chew. “How’s the taste?”

  Sam rolled her eyes back in her head and groaned. “Marvelous! The bread just melts in my mouth. You could sell these on the roadside and make a fortune.”

  Ava patted Sam’s hand. “I don’t think so, dear, but you’re very sweet.” She sipped her coffee. “I’ve already eaten my first breakfast.” Ava had discovered that her metabolism benefited from eating lightly every two to three hours.

  “What time did you get up?” Sam asked as she debated the possibility of eating a third biscuit. She glanced out the window at the row of birdfeeders with tiny sparrows flocking to the seeds.

  “Same time as always—5:15 a.m.—without benefit of an alarm clock. Go ahead.” Ava gestured to the serving platter. “You’re young enough to work it off. I’m guessing you don’t always take time for lunch.”

  Sam nodded. “Guilty.”

  Ava shook her head. “I’m going to say it one more time…”

  Sam mouthed the words along with her.

  “Stay away from soft drinks and never skip a meal,” Ava fussed gently.

  Sam nodded. “I know, but that’s another of those things easier said than done.”

  “Oh, believe me, I understand.” Ava glanced about the room as though making sure no one else was with them. “I stopped smoking thirty years ago and still wish I could light up one more time.”

  Sam nodded. “Aren’t our bad habits all the more awful when recognized yet still coveted?”

  “Just like Haley with that KD,” Ava said matter-of-factly.

  Sam stared at Ava.

  “Those two are terrible for each other. KD is a bully, worse with every year they’re together, and Haley feeds into her control because she can’t let herself believe she’s worthy of anyone else. Haley should have sent that woman packing long ago.”

  Sam was speechless.

  “Haley needs to either hit back or get out.” Ava changed her mind and reached for a biscuit for herself.

  “All of us can see that but Haley,” Sam said. “I took her to the emergency room Tuesday night. Twelve stitches in her lips.”

  “Oh, she’s well aware of it.” Ava waited to continue until after she swallowed. “Haley is a classic victim. If you can ever get her to admit what’s happening, you might have a chance of helping her. Otherwise, the best you can do is walk away.” Ava covered her mouth with a linen napkin as she belched gently. “More coffee, dear?”

  “Thank you.” Sam watched the grace with which Ava performed the simplest tasks. Sam was convinced her generation had missed out on gentility to be self-sufficient while not making real homes for large families. “I’ll cut your grass this weekend when I do mine. A little time with the push mower is good for the soul.”

  “You, my dear, need to go a little easier on yourself and have some fun. Life is too damn short. Enjoy it. What is it with all this exercising? You’d best channel that energy into your sexuality.” Ava cleared their plates and left Sam staring after her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sam pulled through the double row of delineated parking spaces and stopped in her usual spot. She didn’t know why, but she liked being able to sit at her desk, glance out of the two-foot-by-six-foot fixed glass window, and see her car poised for her next appointment or home. Her hands remained on the steering wheel as she thought through the day’s meetings. She nodded to herself. Sam had done her homework and met with other county officials to make sure no code changes had slipped by her. She was as ready as she could be to talk with two new clients—one who wanted advice about starting a business and the other about moving a business out of her home.

  Sam genuinely admired small business owners. How in the hell anyone put in the hours they did for the narrow profit margin they might be lucky enough to make was beyond her. It was like Paul and his writing. He was so proud of each new book yet his royalties barely paid for the conferences he attended. It was all about doing what you enjoyed.

  Sam loved her job. She had started out in banking after college and stayed with it long enough to know that a corporate structure was not how she wanted to spend her waking hours. She was invited to an entrepreneurship conference hosted by the local community college to discuss financing options.

  She fell in love with the process of entrepreneurship and was amazed at the local and state assistance available if a business owner had someone to champion for them. Her passion was for the underdog and finding someone with a talent for a service but no knowledge of how to put that service into play. She took it so far as to volunteer with Junior Achievement and take the same principles to high school kids who often had incredible business ideas.

  When Chesterfield County’s board of supervisors decided to become proactive in fostering new businesses, she applied for the directorship. Sam called in all favors from companies she had counseled. When offered the position, she had not dickered over salary. It was the challenge she wanted.

  The county had purchased a shell building—only roof and exterior walls constructed on speculation. Sam’s charge was to establish and run a fledgling program to retain startup companies that couldn’t afford the going lease rate in a booming county. She traveled the state, looking at incubator floor plans and surveying space requirements. It took less than a year to have a 7,500-square-foot facility built and running in Chesterfield County’s newest industrial park to anchor recruitment.

  The front portion of the building was split face block, a little over one thousand square feet in area with ten-foot clear ceilings, and housed the shared tenant services of conference room, kitchen, mail room, and administrative offices, meaning hard walls for her and a cubicle for her assistant. The rear portion of the building was a little less than six thousand square feet It was structural steel framing with
corrugated aluminum exterior panels, metal studs, and fire-rated drywall interior walls with an eave height of twenty-two feet. It was divided into six offices, a training room, restrooms, and two large light industrial spaces open to the roof insulation on the very back of the building. The offices and training area were constructed with a mezzanine level above for storage or future offices.

  The concept of a business incubator was to help a business operate during its infancy with minimal rent and little or no facility overhead costs, then nudge them out on their own after three years. Most small businesses that survived three years were ready to expand and begin showing a profit.

  Sam climbed out of her Maxima with her hand grasping her briefcase as a reflex. They were nearing the end of July. Before she realized it, the days would become noticeably shorter and cooler. She fought depression with each winter spent alone, suffering withdrawal from lessening daylight.

  Sam stepped through the double doors and immediately heard Tambor’s voice shrieking from the center of the building as Kelly’s low tones tried to soothe her. Tambor Jefferson was Sam’s assistant; Kelly Haskins was the night guard sometimes pressed into maintenance service.

  “Oh, God, what now?” Sam leaned inside her office and tossed her briefcase onto a side chair.

  Sam followed the voices through the doors separating the buildings. The women were in the men’s room with the hall door and vestibule door propped open. “This should be interesting,” Sam said to herself.

  “I’m telling you, something has crawled in here and died.” Tambor’s voice rose to equal her height. She matched Sam’s six feet and was thin with milky cocoa skin. Her hair was cut in short curls tight to her head. She wore bright red eyeglass frames half the size of her face. She was five years younger than Sam.

  “Honey, it’s just the floor drain.” Kelly remained calm. Sam smiled. Why did that not surprise her? Kelly was a very soft butch—Sam knew firsthand just how soft—in her late forties. She was tough and wizened from years of working outdoors patrolling industrial sites. Her skin stayed perpetually tanned. She had hazel eyes and short salt and pepper hair. She and Sam resorted to casual sex when their hormones and single status aligned. They had agreed after their first attempt at a date that neither of them could take seriously—they were not the right combination for a relationship.