Page 44 of Just For Her

“Youaregood at convincing me of doing things I otherwise wouldn’t… like reserving the house for a couple of nights. I’ll have to look at the schedule.”

Like most things Tove casually referred to about her family, Kayla instantly imagined some aunt or cousin whose sole function was to steward this vacation home. Tove would call them up, discuss the scheduling, and settle on a suitable date that made everyone happy. Then she’d whisk away her girlfriend to this picturesque vacation home along the Columbia River with a great view – and greater access to – the snowcapped Mt. Hood.I’m ready to go!In all of her Oregonian life, she had never been to Hood River. The farthest east she had ever gone was the Multnomah Falls, and now? Bend.

She had never been beyond Oregon’s eastern borders.I’ve been to Seattle to the north and Los Angeles to the south, but that’s it.Kayla had come close to a Vegas trip with “the girls” more than once, which counted as east of Oregon in her book, but it never materialized. Not even when Chrissy got married and opted to have her bachelorette party back in Portland.

“Then it’s settled.” Kayla left her soda on the island counter as she approached one of the cats sitting by the window. “I’ll leave it up to you, babe.”

The cat scuttled away before Kayla had the chance to pet him. Oh, well. She much preferred the attention of her girlfriend anyway.

While Kayla had become a staple in Tove’s house those past few weeks, she wasn’t there every night. Either someone had been keeping an eye on the comings and goings of the house, or Aunt Kiersten instinctively knew when to arrive unannounced. Tove had a feeling that her aunt had no desire to say what she wanted around Kayla, an outsider.

And she hadn’t come alone. On that otherwise boring Monday evening, she brought with her Aunt Gretchen and June Fredriksson, her two biggest toadies. Although neither woman was blood-related to the Fredrikssons, they had done a smashing job dressing and acting like the matriarch to the point they looked like her own daughters.

No, she picked them out of some other city’s country club to date the oldest sons in the family.Tove was forever grateful that she was never in such a sorry position. There were a dozen reasons nobody was in a hurry to marry her off twenty years ago, but being distantly-enough related was a big one. If Tove kept her shit to herself, she was allowed to do almost anything she wanted.

Unlike Mikael and Nils, however, who were promised that their wives would at least be pretty – in a very traditional, very Scandinavian sense.

Now the three horsewomen of the Fredriksson apocalypse were at Tove’s door the moment she pulled a TV dinner out of the microwave. Her cats scattered. Whether it was a fear of the women or embarrassment on behalf of their owner, a woman who had already changed into sweatpants and a pajama top, Tove didn’t have time to think about it. The doorbell was ringing, and June peered through the front window.

Tove was either in trouble… or about to be.

“Did I expect you lovely ladies?” she asked after opening the door. “Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

“No doubt you are quite busy at this time of year.” Kiersten, in a long-sleeved tunic and a heavy coat that was somehow fashionable for a seventy-year-old woman, stepped before the others when addressing Tove. “We do not mean to impose. However, there is something we must discuss with you. May we come in?”

Impose my ass.Tove had no choice. To shut her door in their faces was anathema. In no universe, no parallel world, was she capable of such an unthinkable act. Not only was it impolite, but it only brought more pain to her otherwise “whatever” life.

So she allowed her aunts and cousin to enter her home, where she put some water in the kettle and suggested they make themselves at home on the couch and armchairs in the living area. June showed no signs of disgust as she helped herself to one end of the couch, currently covered in black and brown cat hair. Gretchen was more hesitant before wiping off a spot on a chair, where she then sat precariously on the edge as if she had once heard that “the gay” was passed by furniture. Kiersten was the one spoiled enough to look around the room with a countenance that said,“Where do you expect me to sit in a place like this?”before finally sitting next to June on the couch. She did not hide her disdain for the old and softened cushions.

None of the women were hungry. They also weren’t inclined to taste store-bought tea.

“You’re right, it is a busy time of year for me.” Tove pulled her legs up beneath her when she sat in her other armchair. She held her cup of tea in her hands. “So I’ll give you ladies the honor of cutting right to the chase. I’m assuming this has something to do with recent developments in my personal life.” Why else would Kiersten assemble the Stepford Avengers?

“For such an astute woman,” Kiersten began, “you don’t seem to have a problem creating problems for others.”

“I believe what dear Kiersten is trying to say,” Gretchen interjected, as if she spoke on behalf of the position she might one day inhabit, “is that your current… relationship… is not fostering an appropriate look to the community.”

Tove had expected as much, yet she was still surprised to hear such silly words come out of the mouth of Thomas Fredriksson’s mother, the woman who spentyearshiding her baby boy’s transgressions from the county. “I see.”

“Do not get the impression that this is because you are seen with a woman,” June said. “We are quite progressive on that front.”

Tove tried not to twitch. “Yes, but you know as well as I do that there isn’t much selection from here to Boise when it comes to lesbians of means… especially those that I might be attracted to.” She didn’t let any of her family members speak before she had the chance to continue. “Has Kayla done something untoward? I don’t know how or why. When she’s not with me, she’s working.” Like right now. “She’s quite the hard worker.” She let the unspoken assumption be that their venerable forefather Hans would be pleased by that.

Kiersten found the perfect place to inject herself. “Yes, she’s employed at that establishment downtown. The one down by the river.”

“Brickhouse,” June supplied. “The one Nils partially owns.”

That was the first thing to genuinely surprise Tove since the visit began. “Really? I knew she worked there, but I didn’t know that was the one Nils had bought into a while back. For some reason, I thought it was White Heron.”

“No, no.” June made such a disgusted face that Tove would have to investigate what was so terrible about White Heron some other time. “Brickhouse is the one. Your new paramour works there as awaitress.”

“Yes, well, she is a working-class woman. That’s what they do. They work.”

None of the women were impressed with the implication that they had never worked a day in their lives.Well… you haven’t.Kiersten had spent her seventy years on Earth with “heiress” stamped on her head. Gretchen was a college student at an affluent women’s institute where most were presumed to major in “housewifery.” June was the only one who had part-time jobs before meeting and marrying Nils, but she was still upper middle class by birth. None of them knew what it meant to get up at dawn to spend the whole day making someone else rich.Theywere the ones employing people who madethemrich. Tove knew better than anyone – she did their taxes.

“The whole reason this was discovered is because Tammy told me she met her while having lunch there the other day,” June said. It took Tove much too long to remember that Tammy Fredriksson was the daughter of one of their mutual cousins, a closer relation to Oskar than anyone else. She was not a Gustav descendant, but she was pretty and a helluva kiss-ass. “Can you imagine it? It was quite embarrassing for her.”

“How is it embarrassing forher?”

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