Coming Attractions (6 page)

Briefly, she moved the receiver to arm’s length, took a deep breath, and let it out. Slowly, she brought the phone back. “Cory Chamberlain, please,” she managed to say.

“I’m Cory.”

Here she is, Helen. The tease. Make it good.

She waited an eternity of five seconds. “You set me up!”

Okay, dummy. What the hell was that?

“Who is this?”

“Helen Townsend.” She thought she could hear a smile form on the other end. “I’m sorry. My social graces take a hike when they encounter you.” She heard a slight laugh.

“I believe that was a compliment. How are you, Helen?”

“A nervous wreck.”

“Your honesty is intact,” Cory said with quiet composure.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“Not at all. I’m thrilled that you called. I was just cleaning my aquarium.”

Cleaning? They certainly had at least one thing in common. Helen listened so closely that she didn’t realize it was her turn to mumble a syllable or two. The air was quiet until Cory broke their silence.

“Has grace taken a sabbatical again?”

Helen faltered and then answered. “Yes, and I feel foolish.”

“Don’t. It’s a pleasure to hear your lovely voice.”

Although it shouldn’t have, with Cory’s not so subtle ways and words, her flirtation surprised Helen. “You’re very bold, Cory Chamberlain.” She hesitated. “Are you bold enough to see me tonight?” There. You did it.

Cory’s response came instantly. “Yes.”

Helen felt in control again, and all that remained was to say when and where. “How about my place at eight?” she said with all the impudence she could gather. “My address is—”

“I know where you live,” Cory said. “I talked to Stacey an hour ago. She said you might call.”

“Well, then—” Caught off guard, Helen fumbled for words. “Uh, yeah, bring popcorn.” She hung up the phone without saying good-bye. “Bring popcorn? Oh my God.”

Chapter Six

The time was five minutes to eight when Helen finished applying her mascara. With what felt like nothing but five thumbs on each hand, she smudged her way through two tissues and several profane words before she claimed victory over the brush.

“Done.”

She approached a floor-length mirror. To keep the evening simple, she chose tan slacks and a deep brown, oversized sweater. Comfort would help her through the evening but when she looked into the mirror, she was horrified.

“Damn it. I look like a root beer Popsicle.” The doorbell rang and she threw her hands up in resignation. “Why would I think any of this would be simple?” She pulled on one shoe and immediately tore it off. “So I’ll be a comfortable Popsicle.”

At the front door, Helen watched through the peephole. One by one, a slow striptease, Cory pulled at her fingertips and removed the first glove.

“Look at you,” Helen whispered.

Now was her deciding moment, but which decision would hold more regret? If she didn’t open the door, she could remain safe in her sparkling apartment and work-oriented life. That would serve Cory right, more than Helen, but sending her home would even the score, in Helen’s mind. Or she could open the door, which provided no more promise than a solitary bath. Promises. She wasn’t looking for them, but a growing part of her yearned to meet the future and what it could present.

Just as Cory rang the bell again, Helen stepped back from the door. She looked at the lock and placed her hand on the doorknob. She grasped the deadbolt latch and waited. Before her inner voice kicked her in the pants again, Helen turned the lock and quickly opened the door. There they stood with nothing but a simple threshold between them.

Cory raised her head and reached down to the bag beside her. She raised it to shoulder height.

“Popcorn delivery,” she said with a wide, half-moon grin.

Helen smiled and a new feeling overcame her anxiety. The feeling was bliss. “I never turn down popcorn. Please come in.” She reached for the bag and closed the door behind them.

“Hello, Helen.” Cory removed the other glove and extended her hand. Gently, their fingers grasped. “I’m Cory Chamberlain.”

With Cory’s tender squeeze, she became real for Helen. No bodies collided, and no one ran in the opposite direction.

*

Helen sat comfortably on the sofa. She peeked into the bag and giggled like a ten-year-old when Orville Redenbacher smiled up at her.

“What is all of this?”

“You said to bring popcorn and I wasn’t sure what kind you liked.” Cory reached into the bag and introduced the items one by one. “We have Jiffy Pop, microwave with or without butter, and this bag has different-colored kernels.” Helen laughed at the assortment that Cory piled onto her lap. “This one gets popped on the cob and here’s one popcorn ball. I don’t care for them.” She seemed pleased at Helen’s amusement. “Pick your poison.”

“You’re too much.”

Cory leaned back onto the sofa and crossed her legs. She looked elegant in her black pleated slacks and white crepe blouse. A delicate gold necklace hung gracefully at her throat. There was a small charm that Helen couldn’t identify from her distance, and Cory’s rich brown hair hung loosely over her shoulders. A wisp of bangs fell over her forehead. Helen noticed a slight overbite that shaped Cory’s mouth to tantalizing, kissable perfection.

Feeling awkward with their first real meeting, Helen opened with small talk.

“Your name is interesting. Is it short for Corrine?” She pulled her legs under her, in keeping with her comfort theme.

Cory shook her head. “I was named after a county in Texas.”

“Really?”

“It’s true. My parents lived in Coryell County. A small town called Copperas Cove.”

“Coryell. I like it. It flows nicely. Mine is forceful. It’s too harsh.”

Helen couldn’t believe the verbiage that her brain voluntarily blew through her mouth. Certainly, somewhere along her life, she had learned to structure a meaningful sentence of more than three words.

“Helen’s a lovely name.” Cory smiled. “Tell me about yesterday’s column and the black sheep one. You sound like a woman with a plan.”

Right to the point, just when she thought Cory might become a bit more veiled with more than a few seconds in Helen’s presence.

“Well.” Helen fidgeted with the ear of popcorn. “I hear over and over that much of the entertainment world wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the talents of the gay population.”

Cory nodded. “I believe it’s true.”

“I’d like gay Hollywood, any gay celebrities, to get their act together, so to speak.”

“Come out together, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“A group thing is unprecedented,” Cory said. “We need more names out there.”

“Could you come out in such a way?”

Cory thought for a moment. “I could, providing I had a lover.”

“Why would that matter?”

“It would be important for me to say ‘Look, world, I’m in love with this fabulous woman.’ I’d want to show all that she means to me, to everyone around me.”

Helen sat in silence and studied Cory’s eyes. Looking for evidence of color-enhanced contacts was closer to the truth, but she found her eyes to be quite real, as real as her words. Cory charmed her, and her intuition said that Cory Chamberlain was no phony. She stared long and hard.

“Hey, you,” Cory said with an air of seduction. “Vacationing again?” She reached for Helen’s hand and slipped her fingers beneath it. Helen smiled but pulled away, not wanting the ants to awaken. Cory withdrew her hand, reached into the pocket of her slacks, and took out a plain elastic band. She pulled her hair together and secured it behind her. Helen saw she missed some strands. With quiet restraint, she didn’t reach over to tuck them behind Cory’s ear.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Cory said, pushing back the loose strands of her hair, “but I wasn’t sure how to go about it.” She looked to Helen for a reaction.

“So you ambushed me.” She kept a serious face, all the while wishing she hadn’t let go of Cory’s hand. “You could have called my office.”

“Yes, but what do you say to someone who doesn’t know you?”

Helen nodded. “I’d say ‘hello’ and introduce myself, but your ambush worked. There was an immediate intensity to your way. You left me with that huge question of ‘is she gay?’ After that you just annoyed me.”

Cory laughed. “I’ll tell you honestly that I planned our first encounter, but running into you while I jogged was an accident. I felt badly about your scarf.”

“You’ve made good on the scarf. More than once, if I remember correctly.” She looked over at the piano and hoped Cory wouldn’t see how the box of scarves sat there and remained untouched from the day she received them.

“And have you found the answer to your question?”

“Yes, I have,” Helen said.

“Good, and I didn’t assume incorrectly about you?”

“You did not,” Helen said. She smiled at their stuffy speech.

“Even better, so I’ll just throw this out there for you. You’re wonderfully attractive.”

Helen hadn’t heard words like those in years. They landed on her ear with a sweet ring, but they also stirred memories of Chelsea. The words made her sad and her feelings must have shown on her face.

“Did I overstep a boundary?” Cory asked.

“No. You reminded me of something. It’s been…I don’t know.” Helen shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken interest in someone, so I get weird around you.”

Cory shifted her position. “Then let’s forget that part,” she said, “and just be people.” She looked around and spied the old, well-kept upright piano that was tucked into the corner of the room. “That’s quite an antique. Do you play?”

Oh, damn. Cory couldn’t help but see the haphazardly thrown box. She’d think Helen was unappreciative.

“No, I inherited it from my grandmother. I can read music, but my left hand has a mind of its own. My only keyboard action is on my PC. Fortunately, the keys are closer together.” She suddenly remembered her manners and a smooth diversion might work for the neglected gift. “Would you like a drink or something?”

“Tea would be nice.”

Helen stood. “We’ll make some of this popcorn buffet you’ve brought.”

Cory rose from the sofa and stood face-to-face with her. The ants started marching again, up Helen’s legs and right into her scalp. Fast, itchy little suckers that sent a shiver through her. That had to stop. Helen let go quickly of Cory’s hand.

“Would you feel better if I leave?” Cory asked. “We can get together another time.”

Helen’s eyes widened. No, she’d feel worse. “It’s not you,” Helen said. “It’s me.” She cringed internally. She was an award-winning writer and those were the best words she could call up? Helen thought.
It is you, damn it. Your beautiful eyes, your lovely mouth. Just let me have a tiny taste of your lips.
She leaned closer to Cory.

“Relax. Music soothes the soul. Would you like me to play for you?” Cory asked, walking toward the piano.

There was no mistaking the presence of the haphazardly tossed box of scarves, when she looked back at Helen and smiled.

“I’m sorry. They’re lovely, really. I just haven’t put them away.”

“It’s okay.” Cory pulled out the piano bench and sat.

“You play?” Helen found herself beside Cory again.

Cory nodded with a gleam in her eyes. “I’ve been known to dabble. Have any favorites?” Helen sat next to the piano, facing the bench. She watched while Cory played three scales. “The tuning isn’t too bad. I have a flexible repertoire. What pleases you?”

Cory pleased her. Just sitting there, with her hands sliding across the keys, that pleased Helen. “Play something you like,” she said.

“I’m a lover of romance,” Cory said and began to play.

Romantic it was. Almost any song Helen had ever loved flowed from Cory’s fingertips: “Lara’s Theme,” “The Shadow of Your Smile,” “Fly Me to the Moon,” and others. A medley of Arlen, Berlin, and that oh-so-romantic Cole Porter. “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” Ants, maybe? There was no mistaking that she wooed and flirted with her songs.

Cory closed the cover when she finished. “Feeling better?”

Helen nodded. “You’re good. Come on.” She stood and led Cory into the kitchen. “You’ve earned that tea.”

At Cory’s suggestion, they used the fireplace for making their popcorn. She put on the teapot while Helen rummaged through the cabinet for cooking oil. Together they cleaned the popcorn basket and prepared the fireplace for initiation.

“Why have you never used this fireplace? They’re great for cold New York nights.” Cory pushed up her sleeves and then wadded paper that she tucked beneath the logs.

“Like tonight?” Helen opened a tall tin of matches, removed one, and struck it on the slate. She held the small flame to the papers until they caught fire. “I don’t do much entertaining,” she said and threw the match onto the logs. She looked back to Cory. “I associate fireplaces with romance. Not much of that flying around these days, either.” She placed the roasting basket on the hooks.

Cory sipped her tea. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“I was with my last lover for three years and then she died from cancer. Everything happened quickly. She never had a chance and I never prepared for the worst. I became a workaholic and an emotional invalid.” Helen stretched onto her side and studied Cory. “Chelsea’s death crippled me. That’s why I react so oddly to you. Everything inside is shifting gears.”

“We share somewhat common ground.” Cory placed her cup on the saucer beside her. “Women have used me for my talent.” She positioned herself to face Helen and Helen propped herself up on one elbow. “Do you mind if I sit closer?”

“It’s okay. Tell me what you do.” Helen chipped at the clear nail polish on her thumb.

“I’m a musician,” Cory said. “I’m hoping to connect with a group in Boston.” She touched Helen’s hair, and her fingers grazed Helen’s neck. “And I’d like to connect with you.”

Helen’s internal voice, the one that damned the negative and grabbed the obvious good with gusto, kicked in.

She’s at it again. How can you resist her tender touch? Come on, where’s that hopeless romantic? Listen to me: Go for the necklace.