Page 41 of Spindrift

Emiliadidn’t bother to hide her indiscretion. “I’m sorry. That was the best steakI’ve ever eaten.”

“Doyou want mine?”

“Yes,but I refuse to take it. Now eat faster so I don’t start drooling.”

Morganspeared a bite of steak and waved it in the air. “You sure?

“No.”Emilia reached out and took the fork. Her fingers brushed Morgan’s.I reallyshould have stopped at two drinks, she thought as she bit into the steakwith Morgan’s hand still on the fork. It occurred to her, too late, what thismust look like to everyone around them. Especially Morgan.

Shit,shit, shit.

Nobodyspoke. She thought she saw Lillian and Stevie exchange a look, but that couldhave just been paranoia.

Morgancleared her throat. “So, Ange, how does it feel to be thirty?”

“Thisis your big three-o?” Emilia hoped she didn’t sound as eager to move past theprevious seconds as she felt.

“Iofficially no longer have to give a shit about what other people think.” Angieraised her beer.

“Youshould be proud,” said Lillian. “You own your own house, and you run your ownbusiness. That’s more than the rest of us can say.”

Angienoticed the frown on Emilia’s face and laughed. “Morgan didn’t tell you?”

“Tellme what?”

“Angiehas one of those the-truth-is-stranger-than-fiction stories. Are you familiarwith Flannel Works?” asked Morgan.

“Theworld’s softest and most durable work shirt?” Emilia quoted the New Englanddrawl of the popular advertisement. Her father had a drawer full of them, andshe herself had at least two.

“ApparentlyAngie’s great-aunt bought up a bunch of their stocks when it first started. Sheknew the founder or something.”

“Whichbasically proves my theory that she was a secret lesbian,” said Angie. “Shedied two years ago, and since she didn’t have any kids, she left it to my mom,me, and my brother. No one had any idea she was loaded. She lived in a cabin uppast Gardiner with a bunch of cats—I kid you not—and hardly spoke to the restof the family.”

“Livingthe dream,” said Stevie.

“Ibought this house because I’ve always liked it, and because it had a barn forthe doggy daycare—”

“Andnow you have nothing else to live for.”

“Shutup, Stevie.”

“Wait.Your secret lesbian great-aunt, who got rich from theflannel shirt industry,left you enough money to buy a house that you have gone on to populate withmore queers?” Emilia asked. Amusement overrode her earlier embarrassment.

“Yep.”

“That’s. . .”

“Thereare no words,” said Stevie.

“Happyfucking birthday works.” Stormy wrapped her arms around Angie’s head andplanted a kiss on top of it. “You ready for cake?”

“Always.Do you need help?”

“Withyour own cake? Absolutely not. Stevie and I will get it. Stevie, come,” saidStormy.

“Iam not a dog.” Stevie rose anyway, the white of her shirt vibrant in thetwilight. Only a soft glow purpled the horizon.

Emilialeaned back on the bench and tucked her legs up underneath her. Morgan finishedher meal, unmolested by any further attempts on her food, and then laid her armon the wicker back of the bench. It didn’t touch Emilia, but she was acutelyaware of it anyway.

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