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June’s tone was affectionately mocking. “Woman of the world, are you?”
“I should hope so. I’m a successful businesswoman who recently bought her own house.”
“But why?”
“A house is a solid investment. It can be mortgaged or leveraged, and it makes one part of the community—”
“No, I meant why this house. A drafty old rattletrap, ten times the size you should have bought. Who are you planning on living there with you?”
“People,” Reina said defensively. “Many people. Someday.”
“You don’t even like people.”
“What are you talking about?” Reina was surprised and slightly offended. “I love people!”
“From a distance, you do. But it’s hard to picture you living in a house full. Mind you, I couldn’t stand it myself either. A few years of staying with Ma to help with all those stepchildren, and I was ready to poison the lot.”
Reina was still fretting over the question of her sociability. “I have friends . . . I attend charity luncheons . . . I belong to clubs . . . the Sociedad . . .”
A violent gust of wind tugged the umbrella upward—once, twice—as if by some giant hand. Hastily, June reached out to help her keep hold, and someone bumped into them from behind.
“Kindly don’t stop the pathway, ladies,” an elderly man boomed as he jostled past them.
“Kindly remember your bloody manners,” June snapped at him.
Thankfully, her voice was drowned out by an onslaught of freezing rain hitting the waxed fabric with the force of glass marbles. The two women gripped the umbrella handle together as they forged ahead.
“The house is too large,” Reina admitted. “I probably should have found one far more suited to my needs.”
“You always had a fancy for it,” June allowed.
“I suppose it was the way it always stood there so empty and alone. Waiting for someone. Now it’s mine. And I love it.”
“You’re a happy woman, then?” June asked.
“Happiness isn’t an either-or proposition. There are degrees. One can’t really measure—”
“You could just say no. ”
Reina let out a short sigh. “When I was young, I couldn’t wait for my life to start. But lately I’ve realized the rest of my life is happening right now, and sometimes . . . I feel as if I’m missing it.”
“Maybe you need someone to partner with,” June suggested.
“Do you mean for my policy analysis? Lately I’ve thought about finding someone who could help compile statistical reports—”
“No, you spoon,” June said. “I mean someone to share a bed with.”
Reina was too stunned to reply.
“Ain’t you never done it?” June prodded. “Even once?”
“Are you really asking me that on a public footpath?” Reina asked indignantly.
“You ain’t, then.”
“How could I take such a chance? If I conceived a child out of wedlock, he or she would have to live with the same burden of shame I’ve always had to carry.”
“You never done nothing shameful in your life.”
