“Janie!”
“Mirta, Maria, this is Hannah, my wife.”
Janie said the last word with a kind of quiet pride that filled Solo’s chest with joy. One of them nodded and said hello before she continued to serve their long line of customers. The other, maybe slightly older and definitely more attractive, came around the counter to greet them. She moved with a grace that seemed almost theatrical and carried herself with a confidence that clearly came from experience, not arrogance.
“I am Maria,” she said and took Solo’s hands in hers, studying her face with an intensity that should have made her uncomfortable but somehow didn’t. “Finally we meet. I was beginning to think Janie would never bring you to our little corner of the world.”
Solo smiled, a little envious at the way Maria’s eyes seemed to take in everything andknoweverything at once. “Janie’s told me how you’ve helped her. Thank you for being there for her when she needed someone.”
“Ah, but she’s making it sound more noble than it was.” Maria released Solo’s hands and gestured toward a corner table. “I just made coffee and let her talk. Sometimes all people need is the space to be themselves without judgment.”
They settled at the table, and Mirta brought over coffee and pan dulce without being asked and was gone again before Solo had finished withdrawing her wallet.
Maria grasped Solo’s wrist and shook her head. “No payment required. I’m sure Janie will explain later.” She narrowed hereyes. “So you are the woman who holds Janie’s heart in her hands? The artist who paints cars.”
“Guilty,” Solo said, trying to ignore the interrogation vibe Maria was emanating. “ I prefer ‘automotive artist’ if we’re being fancy.”
“And you’re good?” Maria asked. “Janie says you’re brilliant, but Janie is biased.”
“I’m decent,” Solo said, the odd feeling that she was being evaluated for something important growing. “I love the work. I love the challenge of taking something rusty or forgotten and making it beautiful again.”
“Mmm.” Maria sipped her coffee. “And that’s what you’re doing now, yes? With your marriage?”
Solo blinked, taken aback by the directness.
“Maria,” Janie said, but Maria waved her off.
“What? I’m old. I get to be blunt.” She turned back to Solo. “Your wife came to me broken, convinced she was unfit to be a mother, too ashamed to be honest with the person who should have been her partner. So yes, I’m asking if you are taking this seriously? Are you really committed to rebuilding your marriage? Or are you just going through the motions because of your children?”
“Maria!” Janie’s face flushed a brighter red than one of the feature walls.
Having her love for Janie challenged by a complete stranger wasn’t exactly how she thought their first date would go, but Solo found herself smiling anyway. She liked Maria’s fierce protectiveness on Janie’s behalf. She’d clearly become attached to Janie and genuinely cared for her, and she definitely wasn’t afraid to attack on Janie’s behalf. Solo had that with Gabe and the rest of the gang, but Janie had no one in her corner, not even her stupid family.
“I’m committed,” Solo said after she tugged off a piece of the sweet bread and rolled it between her fingers. “And not just because of our daughters, though they’re part of it, butbecause I love Janie.” There was a warmth in Maria’s expression that somehow made it easy to open up. She’d had to learn to explain herself to Gabe when Solo served under her, but she hadn’t quite extended that learning to her wife. So this should have been alien, but after a few therapy sessions with Rae, Solo was beginning to see that she needed to be more open if she didn’t want to end up alone. She reached deep inside her heart and rooted around. “I failed her. I made her invisible when she needed to be seen, and I shut down when she needed support. I’ll never make those mistakes again.”
Maria studied her for another long moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. Because your wife,” she gestured at Janie, “she is special. She is worth fighting for. And if you hurt her again, you will answer to me.”
“Deal.” Solo held out her hand, and Maria shook it solemnly.
“Okay, can we please stop acting like I’m not sitting right here?” Janie asked quietly.
Mirta laughed from behind the counter. “Maria does this with everyone she loves. Last week she interrogated the mailman because he seemed too friendly.”
“He was flirting with you,” Maria said. “I was protecting your honor.”
Mirta threw up her hands. “He was doing his job, viejita.”
Solo smiled at the easy banter between them, trying to figure out their relationship. Sisters? Partners? Something else entirely?
“Mirta is supposed to be my silent partner,” Maria said, as if reading Solo’s mind. “Though she too often ignores the ‘silent’ aspect of her title and believes she’s in charge.”
“Because Iamin charge,” Mirta said and laughed loudly. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”
The exchange didn’t clarify their relationship, but it didn’t really matter, and Solo didn’t want to push, especially when they’d only just met. They spent the next hour at the café, and by the end of it, she’d been completely charmed. The older womanhad a way of storytelling that was captivating. She’d traveled all over the world, mentioned at least six countries that she’d lived in, and she spoke four languages fluently. She talked about art, music, and literature with the kind of casual knowledge that came from genuine passion and deep knowledge, and the kind of emotional intellect Solo coveted just a little.
“Wait,” Solo said, something clicking in her brain. “Did you say you lived in Buenos Aires in the eighties? And you were involved in theater?”
“For a time, yes.” Maria glanced at Mirta, who shrugged.
