Veronica's POV

"IS GEMMA okay?" Maggie turns to me with her wine glass in hand. I shrug. Like I'd know.

"It's been a rough week for her."

I pour myself another glass of wine, and tilt the rim to my lips.

"Hm, I bet you'd know," she nudges me, and raises her eyebrows suggestively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" We head over to the couch, and sit down. I've enjoyed having her around for the past few days. But all we do is drink wine together. And I wake up with a headache every morning because of it.

"I don't know. It might be because you're both—you know—"

Maggie is a sweetheart. But she can sometimes jump to conclusions about people. Not that she might not be right. But still, her conclusions can be a bit... insensitive?

"And how did your buzzed head figure that one out?"

"You know," she puts her hand in her hair, "she looks like—"

"What?" Maggie gestures her hands at her hair. What's with that?

"The hair. You know what they say about women with blue hair."

"Barely. She has blue highlights, Maggie. I doubt that suggests anything—even if her hair is completely blue, doesn't mean anything."

"Come on, Veronica. You know what I mean," I place my wine glass down, and grab the remote for the tv, "you know I don't have anything against—"

"I know you don't, but maybe we should ease it with the drinking now."

I take the glass from her, and she pouts, "but I need it."

"I know you think you do. But you really don't. Us getting wasted every night isn't going to fix anything."

Maggie's lonely. She's never been married. Never been in a healthy relationship. And maybe has never had an actual orgasm. I'm not sure about the last one, but it's possible that she doesn't even know what an orgasm is.

"You should be my wingman. We can pick up guys at the bar, and you'll make sure they're not complete assholes, before I end up sleeping with them."

"I'm not going to be responsible for your lovelife, Mags. You're a mag-net for dicks," I laugh.

She punches my shoulder. Ouch. It's my turn to pout.

"I'm tired of men," she looks at me, "you're so lucky. You get to be attracted to women. If only I—"

"Dating women can be just as hard. But yeah, it's great," I grin. She sighs and throws her head back on the couch.

"If only I were a lesbian."

"Yeah. I'm lucky," I smile, "don't tell Gemma that though."

Her eyes dart to mine, and she smiles too, "what, why? Has something happened between you two?"

"No!" I place the palm of my hand against my forehead, "I'm not interested in being Gemma Cohen's play thing again, okay?"

As soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I groan.

"What? What do you mean, again?"

"Nothing! It's nothing!" Damn, the drinking is really getting to me.

"Veronica! Spill it!" I place my hands over my face and lean forward, "Veronica!"

She yanks my arm, "is everything okay down here?" Someone walks into the room, and Maggie immediately gets up.

"Yeah, of course!" I assume that we've been quite loud. It's barely five in the afternoon, and we're both already wasted.

I stand and notice that it's Riya. I smile at her, and head over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I'm leaving in a few hours," Riya walks behind me, "I'm sure I'll be back here sometime or the other."

"I hope you do," I offer her a bottle of water and she accepts, "where are you off to now? Back to work?"

"Yes, can't wait for retirement," she sighs, "it was nice meeting you, Veronica. Until next time, I guess."

I place my hand on her shoulder, stopping her from walking away, "you still need to check out. So don't think you'll never see me again."

She laughs, "right. Well, let me finish packing my things, and have one last look at those mountains before I leave."

"Okay. If you forget anything, I have your address on file. Or I might just keep it, and sell it on Ebay."

"I'll be sure to double check then," she smiles at me. "But, in that instance, I might have to sue you. I am a lawyer after all."

"Only if you can prove it," I wink at her.

"I'll see you in a few hours, missy."

She walks away, and heads up the stairs. Maggie's sitting on the couch with an opened book in her hand.

"Reading?" I ask, as I hand her a bottle of water, "or faking it so that you could eavesdrop on my conversation?"

Maggie closes the book and huffs at me, "where were we... right, so what happened between you and Mr. Cohen's granddaughter?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Maggie. It's been years, and I don't know why I brought it up."

"Everything happens for a reason. What are the odds of her showing up here after all these years anyway?" I look at her dumbfounded. Really?

"You're serious?" My forehead crinkles. She furrows her brows, and her eyes move frantically in confusion.

"What?"

I sigh, "think, Maggie. Maybe all this wine is eating away your brain cells."

She blows raspberries, and leans back, "I know that she's here because her grandfather is dead. But what are the odds that she'd stay here instead of her newly inherited two-story mansion?"

"I don't know. Maybe she's afraid of ghosts."

Maggie rolls her eyes, "really? Have a little faith, Veronica. Maybe you two are destined to end up together."

"Just because we're both attracted to women, doesn't mean we're attracted to each other, Mags."

She places her hand up, and forms a puppet with her fingers, "excuses, excuses, excuses," she opens her puppet's mouth.

"I'm serious. Drop it."

"Whatever. She's probably got a bunch of girlfriends back in Vegas anyway. We all know that the Cohen's can't keep their hands to themselves."

"That we do," we both laugh.

I HEAD into town the next morning to run a few errands. The fridge is in need of some fresh fruits and vegetables, and I'm hoping to find a nice cut of steak to eat for dinner.

Most nights I tend to cook for myself, other than the meal I prepare for everyone on Wednesday nights.

Business hasn't been as great these past few weeks, but it'll pick up pretty soon. This time of year is always slow.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Veronica. What brings you in today?" Gerald smiles at me from behind the counter. I'm not sure if he's the one smelling like raw meat, or it's just the shop. Probably both.

"You got any good filets?"

"Of course. Always for you. Anything else? I'll grab you my best cut from the back in a minute," he points at the door behind him, and wipes his forehead with the back of his palm.

"No, that's it for now. Just one filet. I might come back tomorrow for some stew meat. You know I don't like leaving anything in the freezer. Defrosting is a pet peeve of mine."

"I know. I know. You've been buying your meat here long before I worked here. Everyone knows you like it fresh. Always the freshest for you," he winks and heads to the back. I'm tempted to roll my eyes. He's not good at flirting, but he tries everytime I stop by.

I grab my phone from my handbag, and check my messages. It's mostly messages from the volunteer group for the fair coming up. And most of them are half my age sending abbreviations of phrases that I don't understand. I've found myself googling them often. Teenagers.

I've always helped out wherever I can. The highschool needs as much help as it can get since it's so underfunded, like most educational systems.

I already know that I'm going to have to be the one incharge of organizing the prom for the seniors, just like every other event for the highschool, even the reunions.

"Here," Gerald plops the slab of meat onto parchment paper, and wraps it up.

"Aren't you going to weigh it?" He gives me a cheeky grin.

"You know I always charge you a fixed amount. You'll be paying with your credit card as usual?"

"Yup. Love that cash back."

He laughs, "yeah, you seem to know how to handle your finances. I like a woman like that."

I grab the paper bag from him, and hand him my card, "yeah."

I'm not sure how many times I can turn one guy down, but I know he's going to pop the question in three, two, one...

"So, I've got these tickets for a movie tonight. I'm wondering if you'd fancy yourself going with me," he hands me my card, and I tuck it into my wallet, "popcorn, milk duds and large sodas. It'll be a great night, darling."

He's leaning over the counter, waiting for my response, as though he can't guess it from the look on my face.

"Gerald, I—"

"That's a yes?"

"I'm really busy with the bed and breakfast. You know how it is."

"Right, yeah," he sighs and composes his posture, before crossing his arms over his chest, "well, I can always come over. We can order takeout, watch something—you know. I really want to get to know you better, Veronica."

I hold on tightly to the paper bag, pressing it against my torso. He's my meat guy. If I completely shut him down, I won't get such nice cuts of meat for a very good price anymore.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"What, you dating someone? Is that it?" I shake my head.

"We've known each other for years. I don't think we should cross that line."

He shakes his head, "okay, I guess I understand. I just had to try," for the millionth time. One day I'll muster up enough courage to blatantly reject him... as soon as there's another butcher nearby.

He's the only one in a fifty mile radius that doesn't try to sell me last week's cow.

"Got to run. I'll see ya."

I DECIDE to vacuum the hallways upstairs, while listening to some music on my head sets.

"—you lit me up, you made—"

My headphone's cord gets tangled and I groan. Shit. I grumble and the vacuum topples to the floor, flinging the earbuds out of my ears, and onto the floor, along with my phone.

"You should really invest in some bluetooth headphones."

Turning off the vacuum, I look up and see Gemma walking towards me, "yeah, I have. They're more hectic than these," I pick everything up, and shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

"Too bad you can't blast music through speakers here."

I wrap the headphones' cord around the palm of my hand, and lean against the wall, "yeah, I'd be getting some colorful reviews on Telp for that."

"You've got pretty good ratings."

"So you looked me up, huh?" I tease. She grimaces and walks beside me.

"Don't flatter yourself. It was purely professional," she says.

"Right. How's your stay here going? Do you need anything?" She shakes her head, "you hungry?"

"Yeah, is it your weekly dinner yet?"

"No, but you're my only guest here. I can make you dinner."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"No worries."

We head down the stairs, and I place the vacuum in the storage closet. I'll finish up later.

"So tell me about this booth I'm going to be a part of," Gemma grabs a seat on one of the barstools, "what kind of face painting am I going to be doing?"

"Anything that takes no longer than five minutes—make it quick and simple."

"You're silencing the artist within me," she runs the palm of her hand down her face, "it's my internship at Disney all over again."

"You've worked there?" I'm happy to get to know her better. I never got the chance before. But that was a whole lifetime ago.

"For a few months. All I did was apply some blush to Cinderella, and her friends' faces."

"I bet you did more than that. Where are you working now?" I ask.

"I'm between jobs in California and Vegas. But currently I'm here. Finally took some time off after so many years."

"Must be hard work. You're very talented," I wonder what she could transform my face into. Maybe she can give me a sharp jawline like I've always wanted...

"It can be tough. I just finished a movie, and I have a project in a few weeks in Vegas."

She seems very put together in life. I find it odd that she's single, at least I hope she is, since she was flirting with me the other day. But, she might be in a polyamorous relationship, who knows.

"So I'm thinking steak for dinner. Are you okay with baked potatoes?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. I can pop them into the microwave," she walks over to the pantry, and picks out two potatoes.

"Huh?" I look at her with a raised brow, "put what in the microwave?"

"The potatoes," she has one in each hand, using them as weights. She winks at me, but I frown, "what? You don't like my masculinity?"

"Ha," I grab the steak from the fridge, "why are you flexing your chicken arms in my kitchen? And please don't use the microwave for the potatoes, I have a perfectly functioning oven."

"Chicken arms?" Her jaw almost drops in disbelief it seems. She stretches her arm out, and gives me a view of her muscles, "bull's arms, you mean."

"Yeah, that's what I meant," I say sarcastically. I unwrap the steak from the package, and she walks up behind me.

"You sure you have enough for both of us. I don't need—"

"Yes. When I slice it, there's more than enough for us both."

Somehow, her muscle flexing is stuck in my head. I hate to say it, but it was hot. Biting down on my lip, her breathing over my shoulder doesn't help with my composure.

"Okay. You're going to have to tell me how to cook these in the oven. I've only used the microwave."

"Really?" I turn, not realizing that my body would brush against hers, since she's so close, "Chef Ramsay would have something to say about that."

"I bet he would," she looks into my eyes and I gulp. That's intense, "you're—" her finger reaches out to curl a strand of my hair, "hand is on the steak."

I look back, and remove my hand from smothering the piece of meat. My hand's got blood on it now.

"I'm an idiot," she steps back, and I head over to the sink to wash my hands, "how have you been holding up with everything?" I start up a conversation.

"With my grandfather dying?" I dry my hands with a washcloth and nod, "I think I'm fine. I just need to figure out what I'm going to do with his properties, then I'll head back home."

"Does that mean that you're not planning on coming back?" She looks away and sighs.

"No. That's not it. He owns quite a few places around town, or has shares in some businesses. I either want to hand those shares over to the owners or sell it or whatever seems fit. I can't leave people wondering, you know."

"I understand. He was a big deal in town. I didn't know him very well though."

"I can assume why," she mutters, "not to sound offensive. But if he knew you were queer in anyway, he'd stay away. And you don't seem to be in the closet."

I exhale a deep breath, "must have sucked for you then," I can sense that it's an uneasy topic for her. Her entire body slouches in defeat.

"Well, that's part of life, ain't it? Not everyone's going to love you for who you are."

"Yeah," I lean against the counter, "come on, help me cook and we can talk more while we eat."

"Sure, yeah," she says.

WE SIT opposite each other at the dining table, and begin to eat. Her sour mood slowly disappeared as we prepared the meal, and she's back to her chipper self.

"Why don't you tell me about your girlfriend?" I ask. She looks up from her plate and laughs.

"Girlfriend? Where'd you get that idea from?"

"Women like you are never single. You must have a casual relationship at least."

Gemma shrugs. I can tell that she has women that she can call up at any given hour of the day, and they'd come rushing over.

"I don't do casual relationships anymore. It's just me, and my strap without a strap," I narrow my eyes and laugh.

"Isn't that just a—"

"Yes, Veronica. It is."

I laugh a bit more, "does she have a name? You two must spend a lot of time together."

Gemma smirks, "yes, we do. I call her Dickins. She might be the best thing to ever happen to me. She's waiting for me upstairs right now."

I bite on my bottom lip, trying to suppress even more laughter. At least she's got a sense of humor.

"I hope I'm not keeping you then."

She shakes her head, "what about you? Anyone special in your life that you don't want to share to the peanut gallery?"

"Nope. Just my long-term companion who waits for me in my nightstand drawer."

It's her turn to laugh, "she's very patient. What did you name her?"

"I'm not as creative as you. She's been unnamed for the past two years of her life."

"That's insensitive. I bet Dickens would love a playdate with her."

I look down at my plate. Yup, she went there, "I, uh—"

"Sorry, that's crossing the line. Why don't we change the topic?" She asks.

"Sure," we eat for a bit, without saying a word.

"I haven't seen Gloria and her husband around, or Riya. They've all left already?"

I nod, "yeah. It's just you right now. I don't have any bookings till next week."

"Can't see why. This place is great. I'd live here if I could afford it."

"Really? You'd rather live here than at your grandfather's fancy house?"

Gemma leans back, "dinner was great, Veronica. I'll help you with the dishes."

I nod and she picks up her plate to take to the kitchen. I sigh. What did I say wrong?