Chapter 1

Whitney

What was I doing here? Grabbing my glass of wine, I slunk into my chair. Like my thoughts, the last of the red liquid swirled around the glass. I looked around the museum. Many of my coworkers were gazing at the various airplanes and other aviation memorabilia. For them it was just another company holiday party, but this was to be my last with this accounting firm. I had enjoyed working with most of the people of the firm, and some were literally family. I had put my notice in a few weeks back, although it had not been unexpected. I had planned out my long-term career path long ago, and this was just a steppingstone to my eventual destination. That adventure would start with the new year.

“Come on Whit, let’s get another drink and take a walk around.” Molly, my best friend from work, ok, my best friend anywhere, was tugging at my sleeve.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” I mumbled. I knew full well that if I didn’t, she would keep nagging me until I did. As I stood, I tugged at my little black dress, pulling it down. It was riding up above mid-thigh. Why did I wear this? Ugh, so stupid. It just attracts the wrong attention. At least it’s a long sleeve on a cold December’s evening.

Approaching the bar tender’s cart, I found Molly was there already and handed me another glass of red wine. My short friend gave me a once over.

“It is so not fair Whit, I am so envious of you.” Her hand was rubbing up and down my arm. I could feel her finger trace the floral lace pattern of the sleeve. “You can wear just about anything and make it look stunning.” Smirking, I nodded my head. Yeah, I knew that. I was blessed. My long legs, made even longer with my three-inch heels, were the best part in my book. Although I knew most guys noticed my chest first. Not that I wanted any attention from them. I’ve been fending them off since I was sixteen.

Molly hooked her arm in mine and pulled me towards some display. Pretending to read something about how Boeing and United Airlines were part of the same company in the 1920s, I sipped my wine. Not bad for a corporate gig. I had been to many dinners, conferences, and receptions in my five years with Mitchell & Lombardi LLC, one of the premier local CPA firms here in Seattle. Most of the time the wine was some mass market stuff, but this was from a local boutique winery, who just so happened to be a new firm client.

A small fist slugged me in the arm. “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you Whitney Mitchell?”

“Huh? Uh sorry, Molly. What were you saying?” I looked at her a bit sheepishly.

“I was saying you should consider broadening your horizons. When was the last time you got laid? Like a year ago? If you would just open up your field a bit, there are a bunch of guys out there who would love a chance at the managing partner’s daughter.”

“Come on Molly, how long have you known me? Freshman year of college? Penises just don’t do it for me. Strictly girls here, and if only you opened your horizons up for once, I’d have you seeing stars, babe.” We had been like this since they assigned us as roommates at the U. She was straight as a pin; I was anything but. How and why we gelled was beyond anyone’s guess. But there was no tearing us apart. We had been there for each other, through thick and thin. Through the exciting times such as career milestones and finding a new love, or the horrible moments when life kicked one of us in the teeth. I had been there when Michael dumped her for some softball player, and she had picked up the pieces when my Heather had suddenly left.

“So, Dylan over there does nothing for you?” She giggled as we watched one of guys from tax waving his arms around telling some story to his buddies. “You know he has the hots for you.”

“Nope, nothing.” I shrugged. “I can respect that he is attractive. I can see that. Fit, tall, well spoken, yadda, yadda, yadda. But yeah, nothing in my panties. You two would actually go well together.”

“Um, maybe,” Her facial expression and twirling of her hair belied her true opinion. “So, what does it for you? See anything out there?” We were standing on an upper concourse of the museum, looking down at where all the tables had been set up for dinner. A small string ensemble was playing in the corner, providing some holiday ambiance to the otherwise technology-oriented aviation museum. I scanned around the room. Knowing that none of my coworkers did a thing for me, I focused on the catering staff, one of whom had caught my eye earlier.

“There,” spotting one of the catering staffers, a girl refilling waters at the table next to ours. “Look at her. The dirty blonde with a tight butt. Now that, I could take home.” A deft flick of her wrist tucked a wisp of her wavy blond locks behind her ear. Inside me, butterflies took flight.

“Really, Whit? You could do so much better than her. She’s just a catering staffer. Come on, your dad owns the best CPA firm in the Puget Sound and your mom, well, if there wasn’t a better power couple not in technology in this town, I don’t know who is.”

“Hey, you asked me what did it for me. As in physical. Yeah, she is the type. That little wave in the hair. Fuck, I’m getting turned on just thinking about her.”

“I’ll never understand you, Whit.” She put her arm around me and gave me a hug. Ok, the Catering Girl was the second-best person in the room. I knew Molly and I could never be a thing, and I wouldn’t push it. Her friendship meant too much to me. Physically, she wasn’t what I normally went for. Short and I guess you would say pudgy. I once punched a guy in a bar who called her dumpy. He might have been right, but you don’t say that about a lady. But she was my best friend, and I’ll defend her until the end. I let out a long sigh and had another sip of wine.

“Come on Molls, let’s head back to the table. I think it is about time for some food.” Meandering our way back, I stopped at the bar cart and got another refill on wine. The food was excellent, as usual, like the wine, courtesy of another client. Nothing like having a local high-end restaurant conglomerate in the portfolio. We always ate well at office functions. This year, the salmon and roast beast were excellent.

The Catering Girl came and cleared my plate, and I looked around the room. Figuring I had at least ten minutes before dad launched into his usual Holiday party speech, I slipped out and found the washroom.

CRASH

As I returned from the washroom, I watched as one of the partners from audit, totally engrossed on his phone, bumped into Catering Girl. Her tray of dirty plates went all over the place.

“Watch where you are going, will ya?” The contempt in his voice lingered long after the smell of his bad cologne dissipated. I’ve always hated him, never knowing how or why he made partner. Catering Girl let out a big sigh as she attempted to dissipate her frustration at my soon to be former colleague and set her tray on the floor to pick up the pieces. I bent down and helped her collect the dishes back on her tray. It was uncomfortable in these heels, but the smile I got back when our eyes met, was reward enough.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to help, but I appreciate it.” Fuck, that smile made me all gooey inside. It’s been a long time since another woman did that to me so fast.

“Well, we’re not all assholes like him.” I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder in his general direction. Her giggle in response was sweet. I watched her pick the tray and sling it on her shoulder.

“Thanks again.” She headed off through a service hallway, back to where the catering crew was working. It was hard not to drool over her tight ass in those black jeans and black tee shirt. The only part of her outfit that was not all black was the white stripe on her Vans. Oh, how I would love to wrap my arms around that tonight and run my fingers through that blond shoulder length hair. But she appeared eager to get back to the kitchen, so I headed back to my chair.

Somehow Dylan had taken a seat at our table and was telling another one of his stories. I must admit, he was an excellent storyteller. It was hard to maintain an air of non-interest around him. To do anything less was to encourage the inevitable. His story wound down and someone else picked up the conversation on the other side of him. Next thing I knew, his hand was on my arm, trying to get my attention.

“So, Whitney, your last day is next week?”

“Yep, time for new opportunities. I’ll miss this place, but I know I will not be far from it. At least as long as dad is still a partner.”

“You know my offer still stands. Dinner with me anytime you want.” His white teeth almost illuminated his olive brown skin.

“Thanks, but no thanks, Dylan. You know you’re not my type, right?”

“And you know you’re my type, right?”

“Dylan, any woman is your type.”

“Guilty, but seriously Whitney, you’re an interesting person. I know you’re gay, but in case you ever change your mind or want to try the other side, I just want to be first in line. Hopefully, our paths will cross in the future. It’s been fun working with you these last few years. You’re a great person to work with.”

“Thanks, Dylan. The feeling is mutual. On the fun to work with side, that is. And if you want a fun straight girl to ask out, Molly over there is dying to go out to dinner sometime. I know her better than anyone and the two of you would be a good fit.”

“Really? I always thought she wasn’t interested in me,” he said.

“Have you ever asked her? I’ll bet you be pleased by her response.”
I could see he was pondering it, when we heard the PA system kick on and that static popping noise of a tech tapping the mic. It was time for Dad’s annual speech and the “surprise,” of Christmas bonuses.

I finished my wine and grabbed my water glass so I would have something to do while I feigned interest. I had heard these speeches for years. Not just as an employee, but as an intern, and earlier as the mail girl in high school. Other than baby-sitting gigs in high school, Mitchell & Lombardi is the only place I have worked in my adult life. Which is shocking in some ways once I get around to telling you what my mother does. But this stage in my life was drawing to a close.

The polite round of applause from around the room indicated Dad was done and we all could relax. They would fill the rest of the night with karaoke and dancing, staples of the Mitchell & Lombardi holiday parties. I made my way out a side door to a small patio to get some fresh air.

I was leaning over a railing looking out on some old fighter jets on display when I heard a voice next to me.

“Getting away from the stuffy room, huh?” I recognized that voice. I turned my head and there was Catering Girl. The ends of her ponytail were lightly fluttering in the breeze. I could feel my heart pounding just standing next to her.

“Yeah, needed to step out. Looks like you’re doing the same. Break time?”

“Yeah, have to check on my little girl. The reception in the back room is lousy.” I looked her over. She couldn’t be much out of college, and she has a little one already? Oh my. And that means something else, probably. Not into girls. Bummer.

“Little one?”

“Yeah, a friend has her tonight. Otherwise, I couldn’t pick up extra work like this. Hopefully, I won’t need it much longer. I’ve accepted a new job as a receptionist to start next week. Better than slinging hash at the choke and puke. And better hours as well. I can stop trying to find after hours care for my little girl when I have an early or late shift.”

“That’s exciting for you and a massive help I’m sure. I know the feeling of leaving and starting a new gig. My last day with these guys is the end of next week. Then I’m also moving on, it’s time for some new adventures.”

“New adventures. I like the sound of that. It seems like my life is nothing but adventures these days.” There was a sharp exhale from Catering Girl. She glanced back at her phone. “Ugh, break time is up, back at it. Nice talking to you, good luck with your new job.”

“You do the same.” I watched those tight buns walk back into the main pavilion. As I watched them disappear on me, Molly came out to join me.

“Did you get her number?” There was something bubbly about her, more than her normal self.

“No, I didn’t think to ask.” What an idiot I am. Navigate a complex tax return? No problem. Understand arcane accounting regulations? Got that covered. But remember to get a cute girl’s number? Apparently not. I hung my head for a moment.

“Guess what?” There was Miss bubbly again. Her eyes were beaming.

“Something happened, girl. Dish it.”

“Guess who has a hot dinner date tomorrow night?” Her hands were clasped behind her, and she was swaying side to side.

“Let me guess, Dylan?” I smiled a knowing smile at her.

“Yes, wait, how did you know?”

“Educated guess. That’s awesome Molls. I think you two will get along well. Deep down he really is a nice guy and has a future ahead of him. I think if he sticks around, he is partner material someday. You two can have a race to see who makes partner first. Where are you going?”

“Not sure, he just said he would pick me up at six-thirty and to wear something nice.”

“He probably doesn’t have a plan yet. Well, keep me posted.” We headed back in and I watched Molly head back over to Dylan and the two hit the dance floor. I sat back at the table and watched the others on the dance floor. A few ignoramuses came over to ask me to dance, but I declined.

“Still turning down the boys, dear?” I looked up.

“Yes, mother.”

“No girls on the horizon either?”

“You see me with anyone?”

“Honey, I know Heather did a number on you, but you got to get back out there. You know your clock is ticking.”

“MOM!”

“I know, I know, but a mom can dream, can’t she? I don’t care so much about the wedding, but you need some babies.”

“You don’t care about me having babies; you just want grandchildren to spoil.” She gave me a hug.

“Yup. I know, you got to find someone first.”

At least she didn’t hound me about my orientation. Mom and dad were a bit shocked when I announced that Rachael and I were going to prom together my senior year. For a while it was a “phase” to them. But when I brought home a few girls in college and then later Heather, they accepted who I was. I think it still pains them a bit, but mainly it’s because of a strong desire for grandkids. Now instead of asking about boys, she just leaves various pamphlets for fertility clinics lying around when I come over. Nothing like a subtle hint.

“Can I have this dance, young lady?” A pleasant baritone voice was standing behind me. I felt his hand take mine.

“Don’t you think you should ask mom first?”

“Maybe I already did. Can’t I have a dance with my sweet pea?”

“Why do I let you get away with calling me that?”

“Cause you love it, and you know you will always be my sweet pea.” I walked to the floor with my dad and had a dance with him. He is the only man I would ever consider dancing with. As we danced, I caught a glimpse of Catering Girl working to clear the carving station. She looked over at me and spun her head back to her work.

As the dance ended, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Mom’s turn,” I laughed as my dad dropped me like a hot potato and danced with his wife. They’re still cute after thirty-five years together, they still love each other like newlyweds. Plus, I think they still fucked like newlyweds as well. Maybe someday I could find someone like that to live my life with.

As I cleared the dance floor, I looked around for Catering Girl. Maybe I could rectify my mistake and try to get her number. But she was nowhere to be seen.

I hung around for a while, fended off a couple more of the young bucks, and had a couple of laughs with Molly and Dylan. Yeah, they were going to have a fun date tomorrow night. At one point Molly was looking away, and he mouthed “Thank you” to me. I gave him a thumbs up in reply. Eventually, I got bored and called an Uber to take me home.

As I walked in, Skipper, my tabby cat, was there to greet me. I picked her up after hanging up my coat and listened to my fur baby purr. More than once, she had listened to my sobs as I recovered from the Heather debacle.

I slipped out of my heels and climbed the stairs of my townhome to the master bedroom. I had gotten this place hoping that Heather and I could have many years together here. But instead, it was a big, lonely place for a girl and her cat. I put my shoes away in their place. Yeah, stereotypical accountant here, OCD central when it came to organizing things.

After taking care of the evening necessities, I slid my naked body under the sheets and tried to go to sleep. Skipper, for her part, was being as bossy and annoying as ever. I know what some of you are thinking, and yes, most tabbies are male, but a small percentage are female. Just like us lesbians being a small percentage of the population; sort of why I think I bonded with her. I fell in love with her at the shelter a few weeks after I couldn’t take being all alone in the townhouse, despite the fact they named her for Barbie’s sister.

I tossed and turned as I tried to settle down and go to sleep. But an image kept invading my mind. Catering Girl. Her smile, those dimples. My heart was going pitter patter just thinking about her. I could smell my arousal, and soon my hand was between my legs. It didn’t take long for my fingers to work their magic. Once again, I was happy to have a unit at the end of the row. And to have the master bedroom not share a wall with the neighbor’s place. Let’s just say quiet orgasms were not my thing. Satisfied, I drifted off to sleep.

Saturday found me in my normal routine for the most part. A run through the park, laundry, cleaning the house. As I was clearing my lunch dishes, I got a buzz on my phone. A picture from my uncle popped up in the text message window of his eldest son Nathan, working at the Christmas tree lot for his scout troop.

The note with the picture said Nathan would be working at the lot until the evening. I had been thinking about getting a small tree this year so no better time than the present.

Realizing that comfy yoga pants aren’t the smartest thing to get a tree in, I changed into some jeans and an old hoodie. Fortunately, the tree lot was nearby, in the parking lot of a local supermarket. The market donated the space for the tree lot, and the local Boy Scout troop Nathan was a part of staffed it as a fundraiser with the local food bank. 90% of the proceeds went to the food bank, and the rest went to the troop so they could send some less well-off kids to summer camp.

“Hi Whitney, would you like to buy a tree and support the food bank?” For a thirteen-year-old, he had the sales pitch down well. He proudly showed me around and help me settle on a five-foot Doug Fir and got it wrapped up and on the roof of my Jeep. I just hoped I could get it off on my own back at my place. I was talking with Nathan’s dad for a few minutes when I heard voices on the other side of the fence from the lot.

“Mommy, can we get a tree this year?” it was the squeaky voice of a small girl.

“Sorry, pumpkin, we just don’t have the money. Maybe next year. Mommy starts her new job soon, so maybe we will have enough for a tree next year.” My heart broke at the sound of Catering Girl’s voice.

“Ok mommy.” The glum voice of her daughter was accepting of the truth, but clearly saddened by it. I looked around for a break in the fence. Running past a couple of rows of cars, I reached the entrance and then ran back up the other side of the fence. But I was not fast enough to catch them. I saw them take a seat on a metro bus just before the door closed and it pulled away. I walked back to my Jeep and climbed in, dejected.

I drove home in silence. The voice of the little girl pierced my heart. For someone so young to understand and accept the realities of a hard life hurt. I came from such privilege, I know, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care about others. One of those lessons well drilled into me by my family.

Skipper watched me intently as I got out the tree stand and put the tree in it. Her eyes watched as I strung lights around it and then as each of the gold and red balls were hung. She walked over and sat in front of a gold ball, and I think she stared at her reflection for twenty minutes before she curled up in my lap.

“You like your tree, Skipper?”

“Purr.” I rubbed her belly.

“You are one lucky kitty. I hope you know that.”

“Purr.”

I must have fallen asleep on the sofa; I woke up, and it was the middle of the night. Skipper was flopped on top of me, purring away. So much for her being a nocturnal hunting creature.

I climbed into my bed this time and fell back asleep, vaguely recalling dreaming about Catering Girl again.

Sunday afternoon I was out for a run. Running is a great way to clear one’s brain and process things. I followed the trail of the old interurban trolley, then as I rounded the corner to the park by my house. What I saw caused me to stop in my tracks.

There was Catering Girl, lifting her daughter off the swing and taking her hand. They had obviously spent some time in the park and now were heading home. I hung back and watched them. It was easy for me to walk about a block behind them. They made their way down a side street to an old, run-down apartment building.

It was a single story brick building with four cheap apartments in it. The grass looked like they had not taken care of it for a while before winter hit, as it was in poor shape like the rest of the place. But I did get a glimpse of which apartment they entered.

I turned around and headed back home, sure that they had not seen me. ‘Ok, so now you know where she lives, Whit, but what are you going to do with that info?’ I thought to myself. I pondered that as I jogged back to my house. I found Skipper was sprawled out on the floor. Her head was an inch from a gold ball. I could have gotten the can opener out and even her favorite sound of food being opened wouldn’t have gotten her to budge, I think.

Then it dawned on me what I should do. A short while later, I was walking out of Target with two large shopping bags that found their way into the back of my Jeep. Minutes later, I was back at the tree lot. Nathan was surprised to see me again at the lot, but when I told him I was playing Secret Santa for a friend in need, he was excited to help. He told me I was doing “my good deed” for the day.

Minutes later, I was taking the tree down off my roof. I had carefully snuck up and set the two bags in front of their door and was now carrying the tree to the door. The tree rested against the frame so it would still remain standing when the door opened. I knocked on the door and dashed away.

Climbing into my Jeep, I heard a squeal of delight from a little voice. I drove off knowing they had found the tree and decorations and I had just made a little girls’ Christmas.

Jennifer

“Who could be knocking on our door?” I mumbled to Madison as I looked through the peephole. I didn’t see anybody, but I could see something I couldn’t identify just off to the side. Skeptical, and a little worried, I double checked that the safety chain was latched and cracked the door open a bit. This was an ok neighborhood, but our street was often less than ok. I didn’t see anyone, but I could see a couple of bags in front of the door.

“What is it, Mommy?” I undid the chain and reopened the door fully.

“Oh. My. Goodness.”

“Is that a Christmas tree, Mommy? Is that for us?” Madison was positively bouncing off the walls now. I have never seen her so excited. She helped me bring in the bags and then the tree. “Look Mommy, a note.”

Dear Friend,

It was nice to talk to you the other night at the museum event on the patio. I was in the tree lot and overheard you on Saturday tell your daughter as you got onto the bus that you couldn’t afford a tree. When I saw you in the park today, I followed you home and figured out your address. Forgive me please, I don’t mean to stalk you, but I just wanted your little girl to have a tree for Christmas. I hope you both like it. There are a bunch of decorations in the bag as well.

I hope you both have a Merry Christmas.

Whitney

“Oh, my Madison, looks like you are going to have a tree this year. Your first Christmas Tree.” We worked together to clear a little corner of our living room and put up the tree. I stood there and hugged my precious. I so much wanted her to have a good life, but for the most part I had to be satisfied knowing she had a roof over her head, clean clothes and food on her plate.

That night after tucking Madison into bed, I sat back at the kitchen table looking at the note. I thought about the woman I had met while working. She seemed so successful. Nice dress, successful job. I did see her dancing with that older man. He looked like he was the head of that company. They looked similar, maybe she worked for her dad? But she had said she was taking a new job?

Oh girl, what does it matter? She probably just feels guilty for having so much. This is probably just in lieu of giving something to the food bank in her annual holiday giving. But she did leave her cell phone number so least I could do is send her a picture of the tree all nice. Moments later a text was on its way, saying thank you.

A few minutes later when a text came back with a smiley face emoji. I’m not sure why, but I hovered my finger over the number and added Whitney to my contacts. I looked around our small apartment. It was rather spartan. A hand-me-down sofa, kitchen table and chairs were all the furniture we had, besides some boxes filled with a few toys. I read my library book for a bit and then went into our bedroom and crawled onto my mattress.

Madison was softly snoring on hers. We had just the one bedroom and no bed frames, just our mattresses on the floor. But it beat being in the shelter. I plugged my phone in and was about to do a sudoku when I got another text.

Whitney: Did she like the tree?

Me: Yes, very much so.

Whitney: Yea! 😊

Me: Thank you, that was totally unexpected and nice of you.

Whitney: It was my pleasure.

I lay in my bed, looking at the phone. How could I ever repay someone for generosity like this? I had taken gifts before. The ladies at the church had banded together to find me some furniture when they found out I was able to get an apartment and move us out of the shelter. But this was somehow different. I couldn’t place it. I don’t know what possessed me, but I found myself typing again.

Me: Maybe I could take you out for a cup of coffee sometime to say thanks?

Whitney: I’d like that.

We traded texts a bit more and figured out Wednesday evening would work at the small coffee shop next to the church when Madison had her Christmas play practice.

Eighteen dollars and seventy-seven cents. What a lousy day of tips. I sighed as I put them in my envelope marked tips and slid it back in my purse. Yeah, there would be some more from the credit cards, but cash tips were the best. I peeked at my watch. There was not much time to get to the church to pick up Madison from their daycare and then, hopefully, get into the food bank to get some groceries.

I walked the six blocks to the Methodist church and found my precious doing a puzzle with her best friend, Dijon. The two were so cute together. I don’t think either of them had a clue how lucky they were to be here at this preschool. Dijon’s mother Chantal and I met in the shelter when I moved here, and the job I thought I was starting fell through. It was Chantal that plugged me into this church, and it was through Mrs. Eriksen who runs the preschool that I found my upcoming job at the tugboat company. Her husband is one of the tug captains.

“Would you like a lollypop?” The kind helper at the food bank in the church basement was asking Madison.

“Can I Mommy? Please?” Her little eyes were begging for the sweet. It was the same drill every week.

“Of course, pumpkin. But then you have to promise to eat your vegetable tonight, ok?”

“Ok Mommy, but can we not have broccoli tonight?”

“We’ll see what we get tonight and what needs to be eaten first.” It was always hit or miss on the healthy stuff. I did my best to feed her fruits and veggies, but prepackaged and simple carbs were always so available and stretched my limited food budget that I worried about her diet at times. But today was a good haul, a cabbage, some carrots, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, an onion, and sorry girl, a head of broccoli.

We were soon getting off the bus and walking the block home from the bus stop with our grocery sacks full. I was soon chopping away and working on dinner for us while Madison was watching Elmo or something on my phone. We had no TV or internet at our place.

I had an old Chromebook that I had used for my online school, but the only way I had internet on it was by going somewhere like the library where there was free internet. Madison had spent many an evening in the kids’ section reading picture books while I finished my Associate’s degree. It had taken me four years to get it, but that piece of paper was the second most important thing I had ever done. The first being the little girl who was currently glued to my phone.