Lauren Dane - Whiskey Sharp - Torn

“Zing.” Rachel nodded her head and Maybe echoed the action. “You have zing. I have zing with Vic. Maybe’s got it with Alexsei. Zing is good if it doesn’t, you know, cloud your head because your other parts are too dazed. If you know what I mean.”

Cora batted her lashes and leaned toward her friend. “No. What do you mean?”

Rachel started to reply before narrowing her gaze and flipping Cora off.

Laughing, Cora said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been dazed with zing. It’s not underrated.” She hadn’t had that sort of delicious sexual chemistry with someone in years and she hadn’t realized until then how much she’d missed it.

“Seems to me your priorities are in the right order,” Maybe told her. “Get some.”

Rachel rolled her eyes before adding, “He could get it, no lie. I mean, if I wasn’t head over heels in love with Vic. Literally over the weekend. I need to start stretching before sex.”

Cora and Maybe both burst into giggles. This too, sisterhood , was a sensation she’d missed. The ability to be totally who she was—bumps and scars and flaws aplenty—with these two women in her living room filled her with happiness. Made her more confident.

“Now I’m going to have that in my brain every time I see him. Which is often, in case you haven’t noticed,” Maybe managed to say.

Rachel just shrugged. “So you’re going to let Beau get all up in your space. I also found out some details about his personal life. He’s got a reputation. Or maybe had? Anyway, he likes the ladies. And a few gentlemen too. But not for very long. He used to be a favorite on all the gossip sites. Partied. A lot. But you know, some of those pictures from back in the day were with Gregori and we know he’s changed. He’s had the same core group of friends for years. Gregori and Ian Brewster, the restaurateur friend he mentioned, both live here in Seattle. Another lives somewhere in Europe. That shows something good about him, I think. He’s loyal once he, uh, commits.”

Cora clapped her hands over her ears for a moment, blushing hard. She shouldn’t be gossiping about him! “Oh my god. I should have stopped you sooner but let’s be honest, I wanted to hear it.” She waved a hand, took a bite of her doughnut and thought awhile before she spoke again. “I knew about most of it. I’ve followed his career here and there over the years. I’m going to let him make me dinner. We’ll catch up and have—hopefully—great conversation, and then if there’s anything else—smooching, groping, what have you—that’s all good. At some point he’ll take his new recipes and that chiseled jaw away from Seattle. So why not enjoy what I can now? It’s not like I want him to move in or be my boyfriend or whatever. I just want some fun and to hang out with an old friend. Hopefully have excellent sex. Also I’d like a dog, which isn’t really about sexing up Beau, but more of a life goal thing. Not a big one because my little yard isn’t really good for a big dog. Small and smart and not yappy. I don’t like yappy dogs and the neighbors would complain.”

“This conversation is moving at the speed of light. I’m here for it. And another doughnut. We need to start our walks again so I can have more than one doughnut without guilt,” Maybe said, and then started to snicker. “Just kidding. I love having more than one doughnut and feel zero guilt about that. But I do love our walks too.”

Rachel said, “Okay, now that you’ve told us about your romantic life, why don’t you tell us the rest. Seeing you so happy about this Beau thing has underlined for me I’ve seen that Cora less and less over the last eighteen months or so. You’ve sounded less and less happy, more and more tired. Don’t you think it’s time to seriously rethink your job situation?”

They knew her so well. She hadn’t even really had to say anything.

“I love to travel. A few weeks away is one thing, but three months and more? Too much. And, to be totally honest? It’s a lot harder on my mother than it used to be. But she won’t admit it and she doesn’t have an off switch. So things go left and I have to clean up the mess. Then she gets mad at me because she’s not forty anymore. More often than not what I do is make excuses for some terrible thing she’s done to make someone cry and keeping her out of jail or worse. It makes me tired.” And it wasn’t what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Being her mother’s cleanup person wasn’t a career she was interested in.

“Fair enough. She’s a big personality. But you’re not her keeper.” Maybe used what was left of her doughnut to stab Cora’s way and underline the point.

“Ha! I totally am her keeper. It’s turned into a family joke. I’m the Walda whisperer, the keeper of the creative. It’s fucking exhausting and I don’t think it serves her. Not who she is now. Her career is different. The world is different. I’m different.” Cora shrugged. “Anyway, I used to be content wandering the globe whenever and wherever she needed me. It was wonderful while it was wonderful. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve had a relationship with my mom that is totally unique and good. But it’s also... I’m the mom most of the time.”

“I think it’s absolutely fair that you want to reevaluate the situation now. Yes, she’s getting older, more frail. Especially in the last two or three years.” Rachel paused, looked Cora square on. “Even if none of those things were true it’s still okay. You’re an adult. You get to make choices based on what you want. You get that, right? You want to build a life that’ll take you into your future. You want to shift gears, sink roots and make a life that entails a different sort of work,” Rachel said. “Do it.”

“It should be all right for a while. She’s done, except for promotion, which won’t start for three or four months. And even then it shouldn’t take her too far from home. I should encourage that.” Cora grabbed her notebook and jotted a note down to do more radio and podcast interviews and to have them done in a local recording studio instead of traveling.

Rachel looked pointedly at the notebook before focusing on Cora again. “You’re still taking a few weeks off though, right?”

“Well. I won’t be traveling anywhere nonrecreational. In fact, I was thinking of leaf peeping and could probably include some birding. Perhaps cap it off with a stop at Samish Cheese? Something for everyone.” Cora grinned at them.

“I’m in,” Maybe said.

“Me too,” Rachel said. “Now, getting back to the question, which was about you taking a few weeks off.”

“Yes I am. From my mother. But I’ll be at the gallery. There’s a new installation coming up so I want to be there or who knows what they’ll do?”

“So now you can finally quit being the Walda-keeper and shift to the gallery full-time. But you can still take a week or so. I mean, what did they do for the last three months without you there?” Maybe asked.

The gallery was her baby. Sort of. Cora had spent a lot of time and effort in creating a space that had a voice. A unique voice in a very rich local art scene. “Call me fourteen times a day?” She’d pretty much done the job over the phone and online anyway. But that? That’d felt like it should have. She’d wanted to be involved. It fed her creative hunger in a way few things did.

“Okay then,” Rachel said. “Over the last several years you’ve mentioned here and there that you want to run the gallery full-time. Why not finally make that shift? Then someone else can handle your mom.” Rachel’s severe look had Cora’s denials dying in her chest. “It’s unfair that they’d expect you to keep on like this indefinitely. Oh sure, they all thank you for doing it—and they should—but none of them has stepped up to help you out. Not on this. Plenty of people can be your mom’s personal assistant/manager/keeper. For the right kind of money,” Rachel added at Cora’s expression. “You’re irreplaceable because no one will be as perfect as you. That’s a given. But Walda’s not the only diva in the world. We can help you find the right solution.”