The Lucky Ones Page 3

  Rested from a three-hour nap, she opted to walk the quarter-mile down the street to Justine’s house. It was a lovely neighborhood of upscale family homes on wooded lots, with paved driveways that curled toward garden sheds and basketball goals. The early evening air teemed with the scent of a Southern summer—freshly cut grass and barbecue grills.

  Her West Coast friends would get a kick out of hearing that her father’s social circle included a middle-aged lesbian couple, but anyone who’d grown up in liberal California couldn’t possibly appreciate the true significance of that. Britt thought it remarkable that a prominent, professional woman like Justine was living openly in love with another woman in a place so steeped in patriarchy and religious dogma.

  Before she could ring the bell, she was met at the door by Carly, the woman from the photo in Justine’s office. Barefoot, she wore baggy shorts and a brown polo shirt bearing the logo of a coffee shop called The Bean.

  “Britt Iverson, come on in. Justine told me you looked just like your father, minus the five o’clock shadow. She’s out on the deck making sure our dinner doesn’t turn into a charcoal briquette. You like barbecued chicken, right? I always put a little bourbon in the sauce. Feel free to kick off those shoes if you want.” She started through the house before spinning abruptly. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Carly, Justine’s other half.”

  “I recognized you from the picture in her office.” Same impish grin, and with a buoyant personality to match. “Thanks for having me over.”

  “Nothing we like better than a houseful of friends.”

  It was a lovely home, open and inviting. She followed Carly through a great room, where summer ferns spilled from a stone hearth. French doors led to a wide deck overlooking multiple flower beds, all of them bursting with color.

  Justine was fussing over a dainty centerpiece of fresh flowers at a round table set for four.

  “Look what I found on our front porch, Justine.”

  “Britt! I’m so glad you came, sweetie. Not that I gave you a choice.” Justine immediately pulled her into a hug. “Please tell me you got some rest this afternoon. I checked on your dad before I left work. He ate part of his supper, which gets you a gold star in ICU. They were fixing to move him to a private room.”

  “I know, I ran back over there about an hour ago. Must have just missed you.”

  Justine, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, was dressed in Lycra tights and a shiny green top, apparently fresh from a run. That explained why she looked so damn good for a woman in her fifties. She gestured toward a cushioned bench swing. “Have a seat. How about a beer?”

  “Sounds great.” Britt liked beer as long as it was icy cold. “Anything but coffee. I’ve had so much coffee in the last twenty-four hours I’m surprised it isn’t seeping out of my pores.”

  “You hear that, Carly? This one’s a coffee drinker.” She turned back to Britt. “Carly happens to own the best coffee shop you’ll find anywhere in Kentucky. It’s called The Bean, right across from the law office on Main Street. Which reminds me…” She patted her hips as if searching for a pocket. “What did I do with JT’s card?”

  Carly produced it from her back pocket, a business card for Jason T. Sharpe, Jr., Esq., Attorney at Law, of the firm Cobb, Finger & Sharpe.

  “This is Dad’s best friend, right? Dad said he needs to talk with me about something, but I have no idea what.”

  “Thick as thieves, those two. Did I mention he’s also my ex-husband, the father of my children, and an all-round pain in the—”

  Carly interrupted, “Pay her no mind, Britt. One look at them and you know they’re best friends. And they spoil their grandchildren half to death.”

  “How can we not? Two girls and a boy. All precious.”

  “Don’t get her started with the pictures,” Carly warned. “You’ll be here all night.”

  “JT said for you to come by his office first thing in the morning,” Justine said. “Something about papers he needs you to sign on your daddy’s behalf, some kind of business contract that has to be done right now. Apparently your power of attorney kicked in on account of Vernon’s brain surgery and anesthesia. He just needs to make sure all the papers are legally executed.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her that as her father’s next of kin she had authority over his legal affairs and business accounts for as long as he was incapacitated. He’d cobbled together an odd living, first as a maker of a remarkably successful artisanal sausage, which he’d sold to one of the conglomerates so he could settle the divorce from her mother. From there, he’d offered his expertise to other food entrepreneurs who wanted to bring their products to market. His crowning career achievement was a how-to book on the subject, Bites to Bet On, which enjoyed a surge in sales after it was promoted on one of the food channels. At sixty-three, he could retire comfortably if he wanted. It wouldn’t surprise her if this health scare nudged him in that direction.

  Justine delivered her beer in a foam koozie from The Bean and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving her to exchange small talk with Carly.

  Britt said, “I hear you’re one of the baseball crazies like Dad.”

  “I enjoy the Longdogs, but I’m nowhere near the fan Vernon is. Or Ninah Faust.” She nodded toward the table. “That’s who the other plate’s for. She’s the one who introduced us to your father, about six years ago. Ninah and her ex, Teri Kaufman”—she lowered her voice and checked the house as if making sure Justine couldn’t hear them—“that’s a name we don’t usually say out loud around here. Anyway, Ninah and Teri had seats next to Vernon for years. When they split up, Ninah bought Teri’s half so she wouldn’t have to sit beside her every night. Justine doesn’t care a thing about baseball, but she indulges me. It’s not the game so much as what it stands for. The Longdogs are good for this town, you know? They have a way of pulling us together when it feels like everything else is trying to push us apart.”

  “That’s the great thing about sports, isn’t it? Your team hits a home run and you can turn around and hug your worst enemy.”

  “Exactly. Except now we’re all freaking out over what’s gonna happen next. The owner got himself in some financial trouble a couple of years ago and had to lay off half the staff. Attendance is way down. There was an article in the paper last month about the Pittsburgh Pirates—the Longdogs are one of their farm teams—saying they might not renew their contract in Leland. There’s a rumor some guy from Illinois is working a deal to buy the team and move it to Carbondale.”

  “Dad’s going to be so bummed. Can’t they just find a local buyer?”

  “Not for two and a half million dollars. The only people around here with that kind of money are into horses, not baseball. And there’s a big political fight over whether or not the town ought to buy them, but they’d have to sell bonds to do it.”

  It occurred to Britt this wouldn’t be a bad time to talk with her dad about retiring to San Diego, where they could be close as he grew older and more dependent. He enjoyed his visits, especially the eclectic neighborhoods and beaches. A nice condo in the Gaslamp Quarter would put him on the doorstep of Petco Park, home of the Padres baseball team.

  “…think you’d like that?” Carly asked.

  “I’m sorry, would I like what?”

  “The season opener is this Friday against the Cookeville Moccasins, seven o’clock. I was saying if you wanted to make use of your dad’s ticket, you could come along with Ninah and me. JT will be there too. He and his son Trey go to all the games.”

  “I, uh…” Britt found herself conflicted over whether to be gracious or honest. The only thing she appreciated about baseball was that it gave her dad so much pleasure. “I probably should hold off making plans until I see how Dad’s doing.”

  “D’oh.” Carly knocked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I forget you’re not here on vacation. You’ve got a lot more on your mind than watching a ballgame.”

  “Anybody home?” It was a
woman’s voice, surprisingly youthful considering the age of her hosts.

  “That’s Ninah. Justine will send her out here.”

  Britt was curious to meet this Ninah, who apparently was closer to her dad than either Carly or Justine. She had her pictured as Lily Tomlin in a baseball cap. “It’s so funny to me that my father has all these lesbian friends. I can’t wait to tell him he’s a lesbro.”

  “Ha! That’s funny. I think it’s just us three, but if he wanted to surround himself with lesbians, he could sure do it. Justine keeps an email list of all the locals so we can organize potlucks and picnics and stuff. Everybody knows Justine’s List. There must be a hundred names on it by now.”

  “A hundred lesbians in Leland?”

  “If you count the whole county. You should have seen them all turn out when I took on Tiny Watson in the county clerk election.” Carly basted her chicken with her bourbon-flavored sauce and fished several foil-wrapped pouches from the coals. “The whole mob of them showed up marching down the street together right before the polls closed. Our very own dyke parade. And we kicked his butt.”

  “Wait…does that mean you’re the county clerk?”

  “I am indeed. A living, breathing bureaucrat, if you can believe it. Tiny was one of those homophobic cretins who considered himself the last line of defense against all us gays taking over the world with our agenda. A born-again huckster, if you ask me. Calls himself a lay minister.”

  Her opinion of Carly instantly shot up several notches. She admired anyone brave enough to call out religious hypocrisy in a place where churches dominated government and society.

  “Tiny refused to issue Justine and me a marriage license so we got the ACLU to add us to their lawsuit. Which we won, of course. As if that was ever in doubt. The whole thing pissed me off though, so when the next election rolled around I ran against him on a promise that I’d do my job instead of grandstanding and wasting a bunch of taxpayer money on lawsuits just to be mean to people I didn’t like.”

  “Good for you.” Britt never would have guessed an out lesbian could win an election in rural Kentucky. Perhaps Leland wasn’t the same place she remembered. Today’s Leland had cafés, boutiques, even a brand-new Whole Foods, probably due to the influx of Lexington’s young, well-educated families in search of bigger homes for less money. Now if they could just close down all the churches.

  “Hi, guys. Sorry I’m late. I managed to lock myself out of the house with my car keys inside.” The new arrival smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Ninah Faust. And you must be Britt.”

  This was no Lily Tomlin. In fact, she was Britt’s age, with bright hazel eyes and very short dark hair that accentuated her delicate facial features. In thigh-hugging shorts and a sleeveless, pale yellow shirt opened to the hollow of her breasts, she presented a girl-next-door look that was undeniably appealing.

  “Did I see you this morning at the hospital? About a quarter after ten.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Ninah said. “I sneaked in to see Vernon but he was out of it. I’m gonna try to go back sometime tomorrow.”

  Britt couldn’t help but notice that all three women spoke in a distinctly Southern cadence and dialect, just like her dad. Gonna, wanna, fixing to. While she didn’t mind it in others, she’d worked hard to erase her own Southern accent after being mocked years ago by her college classmates.

  She said to Ninah, “I hear you helped save the day when Dad went down. I’m grateful, more than I can say.”

  “He scared the living daylights out of all of us. I hope you gave him what for.” She had a roguish smile like Carly’s.

  “Trust me, no one was more scared than I was. And being two thousand miles away didn’t help. I felt a lot better after Justine told me he was surrounded by a bunch of people who cared about him.”

  “That’s one of the great things about Leland, right Carly? Neighbors look out for each other. Stick around awhile and you’ll see that for yourself.”

  Britt had gotten her fill of Leland as a teenager, but this was admittedly a new perspective. This warm welcome unexpectedly eased her anxiety about having to be there. In fact, it was probably the most comfortable she’d ever felt in Kentucky since coming out in high school. These three women might even make her visit bearable.

  Chapter Four

  Ninah watched Britt from the deck as Justine toured her through the flower beds. The woman was captivating. She was also vulnerable right now, so much that a soft-sell of Leland’s friendliness felt underhanded. Vernon might not want her plowing ahead with his scheme under these circumstances.

  “You’re looking especially lovely tonight, Nines,” Carly said teasingly.

  “I should have known better than to think I’d make it through the night without you being a smart-aleck.”

  “Some people just don’t know how to take a compliment.”

  So what if she’d fussed a little over lip gloss and worn something that showed off her fit physique? “I wanted to make a good impression.”

  “I’m sure you have. Seriously, you look great. For that matter, so does she. Just don’t go falling in love with her and running off to California.”

  “Ha! If I was ever gonna leave Leland, it would have been to get away from Teri.”

  “You’ve got me there.” Carly cupped her hands and shouted, “Dinner’s ready.”

  Returning to the deck, Britt said, “This is so beautiful. If there’s one thing I miss about Kentucky, it’s the green. Most of San Diego is xeriscaped on account of the drought.”

  “There’s an idea, Justine,” Carly said. “Plant things you don’t have to water, weed, or mow.”

  “Not in my yard, you don’t. I love my flowers.” Justine pointed to assigned seats that had Britt and Ninah sitting beside each other. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Britt. You didn’t grow up here in Leland. I seem to remember that Vernon moved here from Louisville.”

  “He was from here originally, but yeah, we lived in Louisville before he and my mom got divorced. I actually graduated from Leland High School, but I did my first three years at duPont Manual.”

  “Impressive,” Ninah said. For Carly and Justine’s benefit, she added, “Manual’s been the top high school in Kentucky for about thirty years running.”

  Throughout dinner, she found herself staring at Britt. The resemblance to her father was uncanny. Same deep-set blue eyes and long lashes, rounded lips that were quick to smile. She’d often thought Vernon would have been an attractive woman. Britt was living proof.

  “Was everything all right at the house when you got there?” Carly asked. “Ninah and I stayed after the party last night to clean up. Gosh, was that just last night? Anyway, blame us if your dad gets home and all his stuff’s in the wrong cabinet.”

  “It was fine as far as I could tell. I couldn’t believe all that food in the refrigerator. I should have had you over for dinner instead of coming here. It must have been quite a party.”

  “We always have a big blowout at the start of baseball season,” Ninah explained. “Last year it was at JT’s, the year before at City Park. It’s just a bunch of friends, about ten of us. We’ve all had season tickets for years and our seats are close together. This party gets everybody amped up for the opener. Except this year we’re all bummed out because the Pirates are making noise about pulling out. I’ve got a bad feeling this might be their last year in Leland.”

  “Yeah, Carly was saying some guy wants to move them to Illinois.”

  It felt petty to be talking about baseball when Britt was probably fretting about her father. On the other hand, she might appreciate the diversion.

  Coincidentally, Justine had reached her limit on baseball talk. “What sort of work do you do, Britt?”

  Ninah knew the answer already, having reviewed Britt’s LinkedIn profile. Had she used a personal photo instead of her company logo, her phone would be ringing off the hook.

  Britt described her work as a freelancer doing promotions for product launches a
nd corporate events. “My girlfriend Candice and I had our own consulting company, just the two of us. Former girlfriend, I should say. She took an in-house job with our main client, which basically gutted our business and left me holding the bag.”

  Gutting their relationship too, according to Vernon. Apparently Candice had moved to Reno to work at that company’s headquarters.

  “I’m hoping to hear back from the Regent Hotel in downtown San Diego. They had me in for a second interview last week for an opening as their convention planner.” She knocked twice on the deck rail for luck. “Or I could probably go to work tomorrow for one of the biotech firms. I like being my own boss, but I’m ready to transition into working for someone else. There’s a lot of stress in a job where you’re constantly having to sell yourself.”

  How could Vernon ever hope to lure Britt back to Leland when she had exciting prospects in such a vibrant place? Leland’s lesbian community could never compete with a place like San Diego. Only a handful of the women in their social circle were single, and most were Carly and Justine’s age or older.

  “What about you, Ninah? Justine said you were a teacher.”

  “That’s right, social studies at Leland High School. In fact, that scream you hear Wednesday around three o’clock will be me celebrating the fact that school’s out.”

  “A tough year, huh?”

  “No more than usual, but it gets really crazy during the last couple of weeks. All any of us can do at this stage of the game is hold on till the ride stops.”

  “I’d kill for summers off. Anything special planned? Besides watching baseball, I mean.”

  Justine answered for her. “Ninah doesn’t just watch baseball. She gets paid for it. Can you imagine? That would be like paying me to plant flowers.”

  “That’s right, my dream job. Professional baseball watcher. I’ve always liked to score the games, just as a hobby. But then Archie Davenport—he’s the GM of the Longdogs—he asked me a couple of years ago to be the official scorekeeper at home games. I was doing it anyway, so now I get paid. Twenty-five bucks a game.”