“We don’t generally bring them out. Come get it when she arrives.”
“Thanks.” Toni settled the tab, and then she took her own glass to the table alongside the wall.
This wasn’t the way she’d hoped to spend her night at The Lady’s Hand. When she’d added the bar to her plans, she was hoping for a strings-free evening with someone who was not living close enough to Toni’s new place to think that a hookup would turn into anything permanent. Maybe it was crass, but relationships were right there alongside family reunions and “team building exercises” on the list of things she had zero interest in trying.
No rings. No marriage. That’s where her own mother went wrong. Once a woman started thinking that anyone’s promises of love were real, disaster was sure to follow. Better to avoid the nonsense. Late night hotel rooms, no last names, and vanish by morning.
Women are better for my liver than whisky is, too.
Toni took in the bar’s options. Dim light illuminated a decent sized crowd of female-presenting people, nonbinary people, masc lesbians, one Hey Mamas lesbian who was eyeing Toni like she was competition, and a number of what her Aunt Patty used to call the “lipstick ladies” back when Toni was a girl not yet aware that wanting to stare at those painted mouths was about kissing, not about wanting lipstick of her own. There were newer terms, politically proper terms, but every so often, Patty’s voice crept into Toni’s mind like a salve.
“It’s okay to stare at them.” Aunt Patty patted Toni’s hand. “No matter who you are, no matter what you do, don’t doubt yourself.”
“Dad says I’m a freak.”
Aunt Patty made a sound that might’ve been a word swallowed back. “My brother is a drunken, lying fool. The only good thing he ever did was help create you.”
Sometimes, Toni wished she could turn back time to those moments with Patty, who had been a rock through Toni’s childhood and rough teen years. Instead, Toni was on her own now, without the calming voice of her aunt or the occasional supporting words of hermother. Her mom wasn’t physically gone, but she was more likely to call Toni the wrong name than she was to recognize Toni lately.
I’ve got this, Aunt Patty. I do. I’ll look after Mom and myself, too.
Toni pushed maudlin thoughts away as Emily slid into the chair across from her.
“Sorry I’m late.” Emily settled into her seat with the sort of graceful elegance that Toni could never mimic. She was the delicate crane next to Toni’s stomping owl—and truthfully, she was as close as Toni would ever get to love. Em was like a sister, and that was the only sort of emotional entanglement Toni was willing to accept.
“No worries. I just got here.” Toni gestured at her partially empty glass as Em went into a colorful story about an editor who had a stain on his shirt that made her feel like it was a Rorschach test the whole conversation.
Emily paused as the bartender brought over the glass of wine Toni had ordered and a second glass for Toni that she hadn’t ordered. Table service was not the norm over here, so the gesture was particularly kind. Apparently, Toni looked like she needed a refill.
“Talisker?” the bartender asked.
Toni fumbled for her wallet, but the woman simply smiled and gave a shake of her head. “On the house.”
“You are a goddess,” Toni said.
The bartender smiled and left. Emily gave her a look.
“What?” Toni muttered as she slid the glass of white toward her oldest friend.
Emily raised one brow. “Bartenders here don’t bring drinks out to youorbuy you drinks.”
“Maybe it’s boredom.”
Emily rolled her eyes, and Toni cracked a smile. The bartender had that sexy older woman thing going on, but she also seemed like a talker, and Toni wasn’t sure she could manage that—thanks to the news she’d just received. She’d have to… Who the fuck knew? She had no idea how to fix the debt now on her plate.
When the bartender was gone, Toni said, “It’s worse than Ithought, Em. I’m going to head home tomorrow and see if I have any options. I have a few things I can suggest to the department, maybe I can add an extra class and sign up early for teaching summer sessions. If I had to, I could rent my guest bedroom and—”
“How bad?”
“Here.” Toni opened her bag and withdrew a stack of pages. She slid them toward Emily. She could recite them by heart even if she hadn’t printed the email and read and reread it. The words on the top—from the attorney’s office—covered the crux of things.
Ms. Darbyshire,
I have concluded my investigation, and I regret to inform you that your late father convinced Mrs. Darbyshire to sign the documents. Upon his death, payments halted. There now exists a lien on the house. Should you sell the property, the appraised value will be enough to pay off all but the $200,000 lien Mr. Darbyshire incurred; however, the lien on the house prohibits the sale of asset; it must be paid before you can close any sale on the house.
Toni put her hand on the top page for a second. “The letter goes on. Short version: I hate my dad.”
“Longer version?”
