Winter's Spell, page 15
Barb gave her a dark look that clearly said she would not be engaging in any pleasantries.
“Did I just see someone leaving the theater with a raw fish in a bag?” There was an edge to her harsh, raspy voice that immediately grated on Tessa’s nerves.
“A raw fish? That’s ridiculous. Why would we have a raw fish at the theater?” The lie slipped out, Tessa’s voice firm. She was not going to let this troll of a woman bully her.
“I don’t know. You tell me,” said Barb, pulling off her coat and dusting the snow on it directly onto Tessa’s feet. The flowery, cloying smell of her perfume expanded into the hallway. “I just told you, no food or messes at the theater. This is Provincetown’s most historic entertainment venue, and I am in charge of keeping it—”
Tessa cut her off. “No one cares more for this theater than I do. In fact, I care for it so much, that I think it would be good for us to go over your list of rules with Ted in a meeting with all three of us, as well as Joy and Chayo.” Ted was the theater owner. Tessa knew he was currently at his vacation home in Florida, but she didn’t care. She would put him on a video call if it meant shutting Barb down.
Barb’s eyes narrowed at Tessa. Tessa was on the short side, but Barb was even shorter. In spite of her stature, though, she seemed somehow bigger than Tessa. As if she was taking up more space than necessary. A shiver ran down Tessa’s spine that had nothing to do with the winter weather.
“Fine. You want to play it that way? That’s fine by me.” She strode off without another word, leaving Tessa wondering what on earth her words meant.
Chapter Thirteen—Roxy
Promptly at eight, Roxy found herself outside the door of Tessa’s duplex. At Mo’s urging, she’d stopped to pick up a small bouquet of flowers at one of the little local grocery stores and a growler of beer from the brewery bought on heavy employee discount—as much as she could afford on her still somewhat limited budget. Her knee was twinging a little bit from the dampness in the air, and she bent and stretched it a bit before straightening up, running her free hand through her hair, and finally knocking on the door.
The door swung open immediately, and there was Tessa.
She looked beautiful. Roxy felt her palms start to sweat again, and she was glad to come inside and shrug off her coat, even if it meant standing dangerously close to Tessa, who was still in her body-hugging sweater dress. She’d exchanged her boots for adorable, embroidered slippers that looked vaguely ethnic, but very pretty and colorful. She was currently wearing an apron with a colorful flower pattern on it that also looked ethnic, but again, Roxy couldn’t put her finger on what it was right away, though it seemed a little familiar.
“I hope you like pierogi,” said Tessa as they walked into the kitchen. A big pot of water was burbling away on the stove with the stuffed dumplings bouncing around; more dumplings were browning in a skillet with some onion next to the pot.
“Gosh, I hope you haven’t been making all this just for me,” said Roxy, remembering now their earlier conversations about Tessa’s family being from Poland. The embroidered slippers, the flower pattern on her apron, they must all be Polish, thought Roxy with a smile. Of course. Never having had a strong sense of her own ancestry growing up, Roxy was always excited to learn about—and eat the food of—those who did.
And she loved pierogi.
Tessa chuckled. “Oh no. This is all from my mother who worries I’ll starve out here if she doesn’t send me home with a week’s worth of food every time I see her.”
“Wow. That’s so nice.” Roxy’s mother was not much of a cook and had often declared proudly that she cooked at no one’s request.
“I guess,” said Tessa with a little bit of an eye roll. “She’s a real Polish mama, and that comes with good things, like delicious food, and some distinctly less good things, like Polish mom guilt.”
Roxy chuckled. “Well, at least the food is good.” She offered the flowers and beer to Tessa once she was done checking on the food.
“Awww, you didn’t have to,” said Tessa, but the glow in her eyes made it clear that she was completely delighted. “Please sit, and I’ll pour us some beer and put the flowers in water.”
Soon enough they were sitting at the small dining table in the living area of the condo, which adjoined the kitchen. It was a small but newly updated apartment, made for renting out to people visiting Ptown. Everything was white, silver, black, and gray, generic to the extreme, though Roxy noted that Tessa had tried to make the place her own.
There was what Roxy assumed to be a Polish folk scarf draped over the couch, its bright pinks, greens, and blues instantly warming up the space. There was a scented candle on one of the side tables, a crocheted blanket that was a vintage piece, done all in hues of orange and brown, and a piece of Polish pottery with some chocolates in it on the coffee table.
The pierogi were delicious, much better than any Roxy had ever had at a deli or market in either Salem or Boston.
“These are incredible,” she said, stuffing another bite of sauerkraut and mushroom dumpling, followed by a bite of cheese and potato.
Tessa flushed with pleasure. “I’m so glad you like them. My mom really is an amazing cook. I can’t believe how lucky I was growing up with all those homemade dinners. I never appreciated them fully until I went to college.”
They paused to reminisce about some of the terrible food at the UMass student cafeteria. Normally, Roxy didn’t much enjoy reminiscing about her one year of college, but with Tessa, it felt easier. There was a lightness to their exchange. Tessa was also a very funny storyteller, and Roxy could see why she’d been drawn to theater and drama. As a professional storyteller herself, in her guise as ghost tour guide in Salem, Roxy appreciated Tessa’s talents. She felt oddly proud of her.
“Of course, nowadays the university’s dining halls are beautiful. They look like restaurants in Disney World and serve gourmet food practically,” said Tessa once they’d both stopped giggling over her description of the tasteless, overcooked burgers in the dining hall. “It figures it’s much nicer now. Kids these days, eh?”
“Don’t know how lucky they are,” said Roxy with a chuckle.
Tessa cleared their plates away and brought out a small plate with homemade chocolate chip cookies. “Now these,” she said proudly, “I did make.”
“What? When did you even have time?” Roxy took a bite and savored the sweet and salty flavors of the cookie.
“I like to stress-bake,” said Tessa. She grabbed a cookie for herself and took a big bite. “Mmm.”
“How does that work?” It would never in a million years occur to Roxy to bake when feeling stressed. Wasn’t baking a stressful activity?
“It’s like, when I’m working on a big project, and it’s going to be several months before I have the results, it’s nice to bake something fast and easy that I’ve done a million times and I know will turn out perfectly. Like these cookies. It’s very satisfying,” she added with a smile that made Roxy’s insides go flip-flop.
“Whatever the reason, they are delicious,” said Roxy. “Clearly, you’ve inherited some of your mom’s talents in the kitchen.”
“Someday hopefully I can cook for you myself,” she said, her expression even warmer than before, and if it weren’t for the fact that Roxy’s hands and lips were covered in greasy cookie crumbs, she would have leaned in for a kiss right then.
“I’d love that,” said Roxy. “I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate. Unless we go camping. In that case, you should see me with a Dutch oven. I can work some magic there.”
“I just bet,” said Tessa, and the words came out with something more than flirtatious banter. Something hotter, full of desire. She leaned in toward Roxy, and Roxy’s breath caught in her throat.
RIIIIIIING!
The sound of an old-timey telephone jarred them apart before their lips could touch, and Tessa, flustered, jumped up to see to her phone that was so loudly ringing.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to Roxy. “I have to answer. I’ll just be a minute.”
Roxy nodded her understanding. Her heart was pounding and she couldn’t speak. Had they really almost kissed? Yes. There was no denying it. Did she still want to kiss Tessa? Yes. Of course. And there was nothing wrong with that. They could kiss and take it slow—right?
Tessa went into the bedroom with the phone, and before she closed the door behind her, Roxy could hear Joy’s distinctive voice on the line, discussing something technical about the theater production. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad it wasn’t Lisa. That woman made her nervous as hell.
She believed Tessa when she said she wasn’t interested in Lisa. That much was clear, especially given their almost-kiss. But that only made Roxy more worried about Lisa. What if Lisa realized that they were involved? Would she make Roxy’s life miserable? Or Mo’s? She didn’t know Lisa well enough to know how vengeful she was, and she didn’t want to find out.
To keep herself busy, Roxy cleared the dishes off the table and started cleaning up around the kitchen. Growing up she’d been a total slob, constantly getting in trouble for the mess in her room, leaving stuff all over the floor when she got home from school, and shirking her duties around the house. She’d often used the various sports she’d participated in as a teen as an excuse for not having time for chores. It was her best friend Hazel and her small business that had made her understand the value and importance of keeping spaces tidy—and pitching in to help others with chores too. Over the years she’d helped Hazel mop the floors of the shop, dust the shelves, and wash the windows when Hazel was falling behind on those things. Running a small business was a lot of work, and Roxy was proud now that she was the kind of person who didn’t think twice about helping out.
By the time Tessa emerged from the bedroom, their dishes were done, the remaining pierogi were in a container in the fridge, and the pots and pans were drying in the rack. Tessa found Roxy wiping down the countertops and table with a sponge. When she saw Tessa, she threw the sponge in the sink and dried her hands on a kitchen towel.
“Wow,” said Tessa, taking it all in. “Thanks so much. You didn’t have to do that.”
Roxy smiled. “I wanted to.”
Tessa took a step toward Roxy and, as though they’d planned it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, as though they did this all the time—they were wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing.
The kiss was both hot and tender, and Roxy felt as though her feet were no longer on the ground. Tessa’s lips were soft but passionate, eager to explore Roxy’s. Pleasure coursed through her like hot honey, making her entire body heavy with desire. She reveled in the feeling of Tessa’s body on hers, pushing together, Tessa’s hands on Roxy’s back, holding her close. Roxy marveled at how a new kiss could feel, and yet, how completely natural. She felt warm from inside out, and when Tessa deepened the kiss, she felt her whole body go into overdrive, her heart in her throat, her whole body on fire.
After what felt like an eternity, but also far too short a time, they broke apart.
“Wow,” said Tessa again, this time her voice quieter, breathier.
“Wow is right,” said Roxy, and they both laughed. Tessa hugged her again and let her head rest on Roxy’s chest.
“This feels so right,” murmured Tessa into Roxy’s flannel shirt, her breath warming Roxy’s skin through her shirt. Roxy gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. It all felt so natural with Tessa, even as Roxy was suddenly terrified. She had to get things right this time around. The responsibility of not fucking this up settled onto her with an unexpected weight. This person in her arms was trusting her with her heart, and she felt fragile, like a bird, in Roxy’s arms.
This was not some fling or one-night stand. This wasn’t some stranger. She had to make things work, and to do that, she couldn’t do what she’d always done.
Roxy pulled away slightly so she could meet Tessa’s gaze. She saw pleasure, happiness, and longing, her deep brown eyes warm and inviting, but also a tiny bit scared.
Tessa was terrified too. It wasn’t just Roxy.
They were both there, in each other’s arms, wanting each other, but scared that they would mess this up. It was comforting to Roxy to know that.
“Is it okay if we take things a little…slow?”
Tessa’s face broke into a wide smile and there was relief in her expression. “Oh gee, I thought you were going to say you didn’t feel that way about me.”
Roxy laughed in surprise and wonder. “What? No. Not at all. I just…I’ve messed stuff up before. Going too fast, if you know what I mean. And you’re too special for that.” She leaned down to plant a very soft but chaste kiss on Tessa’s lips before pulling away again—even though every single part of her wanted to take Tessa to the bedroom right then and there, strip off that body-hugging dress, and throw her on the bed beneath her.
Roxy pushed that R-rated image out of her mind with difficulty, and instead focused on Tessa—the Tessa who was in front of her, smiling still a little shyly, but nodding with understanding.
Tessa planted a similarly chaste kiss on Roxy’s lips—like a butterfly landing, barely there but full of potential. “That’s completely fine,” said Tessa. “I’d like that. I don’t want to rush anything with you. I want to savor every moment.”
* * *
It was nearly midnight before Roxy walked home very reluctantly, her heart singing with joy but also sad to leave Tessa behind. In the spirit of taking it slow, they’d spent the evening playing cards. Tessa taught her how to play a two-person version of solitaire called “Garibaldka” in Polish, which, upon internet searching, turned up the delightful factoid that the game was known in French as “crapette.” They’d laughed over that probably longer than it warranted. Roxy smiled at the memory of Tessa’s head thrown back in laughter, her beautiful neck just waiting to be kissed, as she trudged to her apartment in the cold. Tessa had beat her the first time, but then she’d gotten her revenge—partly because she’d managed to distract Tessa with a little bit of footsie—something else that made Roxy smile and barely notice the cutting winter wind and wild snowflakes falling across Ptown.
She found Mo still awake, reading The Winter’s Tale, of all things. Lisa had given her a copy of the script to read so she could help her run lines. Roxy wasn’t sure what the mechanics of learning to read a human script were for a mermaid, but Mo appeared rapt when Roxy plopped down next to her on the couch.
“Any good?”
“Mmm?” Mo didn’t look over at Roxy until she’d finished the scene she was reading. Finally, she stopped and set the script on the table. “You know this play?”
Roxy waffled a bit. She’d downloaded an ebook version of the play to read on her phone, but somehow, she couldn’t make herself do it. Every time she went to open it, memories of high school English classes cropped up in her mind, words swimming on the page, her whole body hot and cold with anxiety that she’d be called on to read, haltingly, like a child, in front of the whole class. She’d always much preferred the contemporary plays and musicals her high school had put on to Shakespeare. The words of Shakespeare plays felt heavy as she tried to read them, slowing her down like running up a steep hill. Better to simply avoid them.
“It is very interesting,” said Mo, sounding a bit like a teacher. Roxy was impressed. Here was Mo, learning a new language in a week—albeit she did have some magic to help her with that—and then reading Shakespeare. And apprenticing with Lisa Collins no less. “Lisa will play Leontes, and he is…terrible.”
Mo looked very concerned about this, and her concern made Roxy want to laugh, but she didn’t. She’d explained to Mo what a play was and what acting was, but it was still a concept that Mo struggled with.
“Just remember, it’s not real.”
“But, Roxy, how can I think this? He orders his own daughter to be thrown away. And he is so mean to his wife, to his friends, to everyone, until it is too late.” Mo had tears in her eyes as she talked about the play, and Roxy began to feel worse and worse about not having read the play, leaving Mo alone all evening, making her be the assistant to Lisa. “And what about me? Am I not exiled here? Alone, away from family? Will I have my happy reunion?” she said, looking at Roxy plaintively, tears streaming down her face now.
Roxy hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry, Mo. I shouldn’t have left you here alone all evening. Especially not after the tough day you had with Lisa.”
Mo pulled away and sat upright, less upset and more curious. “You spent all evening with your One True Love?”
“Her name is Tessa, Mo. And we barely know each other.”
Mo barely registered Roxy’s protestations. “And you kissed, yes?”
“Mo, come on, that’s personal—”
“Yes, I see it. You kissed!” Mo clapped her hands with delight. “This is good. Very good.” She paused, her eyebrows knitting together, a look of confusion on her face. “But why are you here and not with her? Go and spend all night with your beloved. You cannot be here.”
“We want to take it slow,” explained Roxy. “I really like her.”
Mo looked possibly even more confused than before. “What is ‘taking it slow’?”
Roxy crinkled up her nose and rubbed her chin, trying to think of an easy way to explain the concept. She had no clue what mermaid courtship, or sex, was like, so she decided to tread as carefully as possible.
“It means…um…it means…”
Mo’s rapt gaze was locked on Roxy now, and it felt like all the words in her head were gone. “Yes?”
“It means we don’t sleep over at the beginning,” said Roxy finally, settling on what felt like the simplest explanation. She looked at her watch—nearly one in the morning. “Okay, we’d better get off to bed. Don’t you have to be at the theater tomorrow at nine?”
