“There’s a window in the guesthouse, which is to be yours.”
“Mine? We’re not living together?”
God, he was so cute. “No, honey, we are, but it’s yours to make into your writing room…house, whatever.”
“Oh! Oh, well, geez, a whole house?”
“Well, it can still be a guesthouse, too. Our mothers, friends, whatever. But most of the time, it’ll be where you can go to have quiet and think of all the things you want to write. I’ll make it however you want.”
“You are too damn generous. How the hell are you still rich?”
Benson chuckled and said with disdain, “That’s what Joyce thought.”
“Fuck that ho.”
Giggling, he said, “Exactly. No, I’m a rich guy who was very poor. I’m not into hoarding my money. I want to spend it, use it for good things, to help others, to do something good in the world.”
“I love that. Okay, well, I want the second house. I’m glad you made me go.”
“How about this? We can’t move yet. We have months before we can move. You are not leaving the play until summer; I have a ton of loose ends to get finished. So…we can still look around.”
“But what if we lose that house while we’re still looking?”
“I’ll buy it, and if we find another, I’ll sell it, or whatever. Stop worrying.”
Luka fell back into the chair. “I will always worry. It’s what I do.”
“Okay. You worry, I’ll spend, and we’ll make a great team. Just don’t make me…don’t act like Joyce, ever, and try to make me hurt people to make money.”
“That’s not even a worry for you. I’d never hurt people. Not on purpose, for sure.”
After a night of love, they slept in and, once awake, and after breakfast and showers, they took a long walk, and Benson’s next surprise came that day, and again, Luka would decide.
They walked through the town, stopping at the little church on the street just east of the highway. “This is a beautiful little church!”
“Luka, are you a closeted religious person?”
“No, you know that. It’s a pretty building.”
“Thank you,” came a voice from behind them. They both turned to see a handsome man sauntering toward them.
Benson smiled and proffered a hand. “You must be the minister?”
“I am. My name is Mark Rafferty, but everyone around here calls me Pappy.”
“Pappy?” Luka asked.
“I used to be a Catholic priest, but father never seemed to fit me. It came from my congregation back then.”
Luka was astonished. “Wow. And you’re the preacher of a town of gay people?”
“Luka!” Benson chided.
“Well, you said it!”
“You remind me of one of my partners. Binxie is as open as you are, Luka. And to answer, the town isn’t filled with gay people,but there is a nice, diverse community here. I’d love to show you around and introduce you to some folks.”
“Wait,” Luka said, knowing Benson was about to duct tape his mouth, but he had to ask. “Partners? Plural?”
