Checked Out, page 8
“Who, me? I was a model student. I said ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’ without fail.”
“I’ll bet you did. Up to the point where you annoyed the teachers.”
Peri added a brightly wrapped box of maple pralines to the bag of sour candies. “You’ve never spent time in the South, have you?” At Lisette’s shake of the head, Peri continued. “You literally cannot say ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’ too much. Especially if your grandmother is vice principal.”
“That would be the grandmother who was a Girl Scout?”
“The very same.”
“She sounds like an interesting woman.”
“That she was. She had high standards and didn’t see why anyone who applied themselves would have difficulty meeting them.”
It was an interesting insight, Lisette thought. Her first impression of Peri had been based on her highly unpleasant interactions with the FBI agent-in-charge not enough years ago. It hadn’t taken long for Peri’s mask to slip — her injuries made her vulnerable. Lisette had the unwelcome thought that when healed, Peri might revert to someone Lisette didn’t want to know.
Business concluded, they strolled toward the end of the aisle. It was starting to get crowded, but Lisette didn’t mind. “So you’re staying through New Year’s?”
“A few days after.”
“The earth will turn without you — something my mother used to say.”
Sansa emerged from between two stalls, two bags of round loaves dangling from one hand. She held them up for Lisette’s approval. “Found the monkey bread!”
Lisette momentarily felt as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t, but Sansa didn’t seem surprised to see her with Peri. “Have you seen the earring crafter? You know, the one who made your earrings?”
“She’s at the corner of Maple and Hawthorne. You getting me something, hint hint, are you, what is it, huh?”
“Oh stop. It’s for the staff Secret Santa.”
Sansa’s sharp dark gaze traveled from Lisette to Peri. “Enjoying the market?”
“Very much.”
“Why don’t you have a hat?”
“Is that essential?”
“It’s important,” Lisette told Peri seriously. “If you think this is cold, wait until the lighting ceremony on Solstice and the bonfire on New Year’s.”
Peri glanced at Lisette, looking a little uncomfortable. “I’ve never been much into decking the halls and aulding the lang syne.”
Sansa’s response was immediate. “That’s unacceptable.”
Peri seemed to get several inches taller. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you’re going to be here, you deck some halls.” Sansa’s flicked to Lisette’s face before resuming a scan of people moving to and fro with bags and parcels. Her tone offhand, she said, “My partner and I have a Christmas Eve cookie exchange. Please join us — you’d be more than welcome. The wassail will be thoroughly ripe, and we have a panel of expert judges to decide Best Cookie. Lisette has been trying to win the top prize for years.”
“I have not!” Lisette pursed her lips at Sansa.
Peri asked Sansa, “What’s the top prize?”
“The coveted Silver Pinecone.” Sansa deadpanned, “You may have read about it in the Smithsonian.”
“I must have missed that issue.”
Lisette rolled her eyes. “It’s painted. And I would have won last year but for Jody Monk’s macarons.” She caught a glimpse of her pout in Peri’s sunglasses. It was not pretty. She tried for a resigned smile. “They were so good I couldn’t even be bitter. I spent the pandemic watching every season of every Star Trek franchise show, plus the movies, and rereading the entire Dorothy Dunnett histories. Twice. Jody spent it mastering Italian meringue.”
Peri spread her hands in a “seems obvious to me” gesture. “Sounds like she deserved to win the Silver Pinecone, then.”
“I’d wipe the floor with her on Jeopardy,” Lisette muttered.
“Is this a sapphic social event, or wide group of friends?”
“Both,” Sansa answered. “I love a crowd. My mother always did it and I’ve never wanted to stop. Christmas Eve can be lonely for people who aren’t religious and carols sound better if lots of people are singing. For those without Christmas morning plans, there’s a late-night viewing of Santa Claus Versus the Martians courtesy of Mystery Science Theater.”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“Good.” Sansa’s smile became positively gleeful. “First one’s free.”
Lisette poked at the contents of her basket, trying not to influence Peri one way or the other. Naturally she didn’t want a fellow queerish person to feel lonely or unwelcome, but deep down she knew spending a lot of time with Peri was going to lead to trouble. Big trouble.
Peri was saying, “Well, it does seem as if the awarding of the Silver Pinecone is something I should witness.”
Lisette looked up to say, “The more the merrier.”
Sansa gave her an odd look but was distracted by the arrival of her girlfriend, Chelsea, who pecked her on the cheek.
“Babe, there you are! You found the monkey bread!”
Sansa held the bags aloft. “I am your conquering hero.”
Lisette felt her usual pang of envy over Chelsea’s stylish attire. A camel-hair trench coat and tall leather boots — elegant, warm, and half a month’s salary. “Chelsea Stanton, meet Peri Garritsen. Peri is in town for the holidays.”
Chelsea held out her hand. “A pleasure! What brings you to Norcester?”
After a glance at Lisette and Sansa, Peri answered, “I’m house-sitting for the Frizells.”
“Lucky you! That’s a great house. All that wood paneling, and they updated all the appliances and installed a heated floor in the primary bath.”
Sansa slid her arm around Chelsea’s waist. “You’ve probably guessed that Chelsea is in real estate.”
“Has Sansa invited you to Christmas Eve? It would be wonderful to have you.”
“We were just discussing it,” Sansa said.
Peri’s lips took on a teasing curve. “I’ve been told the Silver Pinecone is a sight to see.”
Chelsea rolled her brown eyes. “It’s spray-painted.”
“I told her that,” Lisette said. “What she doesn’t know is that you do have to bake some cookies to get some cookies. Store-bought is disqualifying.”
Peri narrowed her eyes. “Dangling visions of the Silver Pinecone in front of me was simply a ploy to get more cookies, wasn’t it?”
Sansa shrugged. “Bake some cookies, get some cookies. Them’s the rules.”
“We can bend the rules for a visitor,” Chelsea wheedled.
“Nope. These rules go back…” Sansa glanced at Lisette.
“The Give to Get Rule dates back fourteen years, after the Great Sugar Cookie Glut,” Lisette promptly supplied.
Peri drained the last of the hot chocolate from her cup. “I would not want to buck tradition. But I will go home empty-handed as I’ve never made a cookie in my life.”
“Not even from already-made dough you can get at the grocery?” Lisette didn’t try to hide her shock. “You can have four wee little warm cookies any time you want. That’s the whole reason to have a toaster oven. That and melted cheese on toast. Frozen pizza. And reheated pizza—”
“You’re not fooling anyone,” Sansa teased. “That’s all melted cheese on toast.”
Lisette wrinkled her nose at Sansa and got back the usual I-am-not-afraid-of-you look.
Chelsea remained focused on Peri. “Think out of the box. I saw a TikTok that showed how to air-fry cookie dough.”
Sansa and Lisette made identical eww noises.
“I’m just saying you could try something no one else has and win the day.” Chelsea smiled brightly. “Maybe you know someone who can help you out?”
Lisette widened her eyes at Sansa.
Looking back and forth between Peri and Lisette, Chelsea went on. “Someone who knows how to make cookies, for example?”
Lisette struggled to head off any further matchmaking hints. “The library has numerous books with recipes and step-by-step advice on making cookies. Anyone can learn.” Good lord, she sounded officious.
Chelsea opened her mouth, but Sansa cut in smoothly with, “Babe, have you seen the wreaths yet? We need to pick one out.”
With a vastly unsubtle laser look at Lisette, Chelsea allowed Sansa to pull her away.
“Just when I thought it couldn’t get more awkward.” Peri nervously pressed her lips together.
“She means well.” Why was her heart beating so fast? When Lisette glanced at Peri, Peri was looking into the distance. “Did you have more shopping?”
Peri turned her head just enough for Lisette to see the side of a smile. “I need a hat.”
Everything seemed to go back the way it had been before Chelsea’s arrival. “Right this way,” Lisette said. “I know just the place.”
They fell into step.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PERI WAS MESMERIZED BY the sway of Lisette’s basket as they strolled from booth to booth. She hadn’t said much since parting ways from Sansa and Chelsea. Nothing about cookies, the baking of them, or books about cookies. Chelsea hadn’t been subtle. Lisette had not taken her up on it.
Which was how it should be, of course. It didn’t bother her, not at all.
Sure.
They parted ways when Lisette’s basket was completely full and Peri’s shopping tote from the Norcester Crafting Society had also grown heavy. It was especially wearying because she could only carry it dangling from her right arm. At least her ears were no longer freezing, and the rising wind bounced off her cotton-lined Alpaca wool cap in a regal aubergine.
Peri watched Lisette cross over to the library parking lot. After putting her basket inside, Lisette turned to look in Peri’s direction. After a pause, she waved.
Peri waved back and didn’t turn away until the bright blue Jeep was backing out of its space.
::You should have made a firm date.::
She winced. Since when had she shouted at herself?
::It’s not shouting.::
Whatever it was, it hurt. Regardless, she’d spent longer at the market than she’d meant to, though she didn’t regret a minute.
::You’re going to regret not making a date with her.::
By the time she’d grabbed a drive-thru burger and made her way to the collection of big box stores halfway to New Haven, she was already feeling drained. It was two Saturdays before Christmas and Peri fought like a salmon headed upstream against the holiday crowds. It took visits to two stores to buy slacks, sweaters, and undergarments, but at least none of them had snowmen or holly berries on them. Even if she liked all this kitsch, which she decidedly did not, there was no way she was putting Santa Claus over her genitals.
She had the sense to get a mocha for the drive home. Exhaustion was threatening and the jolt of caffeine and sugar would tide her over. Traffic was as frenetic as it was slushy. Having happily spent most of her life in cities, it was a surprise how much she appreciated reaching the quiet of Norcester’s streets.
Who are you turning into?
It was an uncomfortable question for someone focused on getting back to the life that a berserker with a homemade bomb had taken from her. Dr. Shrink didn’t like to talk about going back. It was simple physics that the only direction anyone could go was forward.
::Is a vagabond existence in mid-level intelligence work a life?::
After carrying her many bags into the house, she washed down a pain pill and a potassium supplement with a large glass of water. Certain that relief was on the way, she unpacked all her purchases then sat down at the kitchen window table to carve off a slice of Welsh bara brith she’d found at Fruitcakes Forever. Smeared liberally with the compound cinnamon butter she’d also bought, the soft molasses bread, studded with sultanas and currants, called up happy memories of a brief weekend in Cardiff on her way to Belfast.
She’d thought nothing then of arriving in an unknown city, conquering transit and taxis, scaring up a bed in a hostel, and trying new foods. She hated that it was all she could do to manage this little town, and she was living in the lap of luxury while she did it.
Mustering all her energy, she whisked scrambled eggs and added the Spam that Lisette had left from last night. She ought to have bought some of the cheese Lisette had been swooning over. The market was open until two tomorrow. Maybe she’d go back.
She could also drop in at the library and see about temporary lending privileges.
If she ran into Lisette, then that happened.
::You should have made a date with her.::
She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Stop that.” Her skull had turned into an echo chamber.
::Is that better?::
Is what better?
::I’m trying to be less of an echo.::
Okay, she was definitely having a second pain pill tonight.
::That won’t make a difference.::
The hell it won’t.
The echo subsided and she dumped her scrambled eggs onto a plate, carved off another slice of bara brith, and made quick work of the lot. It truly felt wonderful to enjoy food again. Bolstered by the meal, she unpacked the new clothes and threw all the boxers, T-shirts, and socks into the washing machine along with her now aromatic sweats. She was thankful for her small breasts, at least right now. She’d been able to go without a bra since her injury — even squirming into a sports bra took too much effort.
Clean socks felt terrific. The coffee table held all manner of small blankets. It took a few minutes to suss out the television and streaming services, but she eventually found Wynona Earp season one. Feet up, stomach full, pain pill working wonders, blanket across her knees, she happily took the journey to Purgatory and thoroughly enjoyed Wynona’s prowess with Peacemaker.
“If only life were that simple,” she mused. “The bad guys are obvious, and there’s no collateral damage when you send them back to Hell.” Thoroughly engaged, she let it roll over to episode two. The moment Peri saw how Officer Nicole looked at Waverly Earp, it was easy to see something was going to brew between those two, just as promised by many commenters in the show’s reviews.
If it weren’t for the nagging regret that she’d not made a firm plan to see Lisette again, she would have been absolutely content. When episode two’s credits rolled, she reached for the remote to turn the television off. Time to read and get some sleep.
::Let’s watch another one.::
The echo was back.
::I’m not an echo. I’m on the dresser.::
“What the hell?”
::I’m being as quiet as I can. You have a lot of bruises.::
“Tell me something I don’t know. Wait. What are you saying?”
::You emptied your pockets onto the dresser.::
Peri shook her head.
::This will make more sense if you go and look.::
Had she fallen asleep? This was an oddly specific dream after the past weeks of garbled nightmares and flashes of light followed by falling dark.
::You’re awake.::
Feeling oddly compelled, she went to the guest bedroom and sorted through her wallet, some loose coins, receipts from shopping, and a crumpled napkin. As she pushed the collection around, not sure what she was supposed to be looking for, one of the coins caught the light, drawing her gaze to it.
She’d taken it for a half-dollar, and it seemed to be until she touched it. The color mutated from silver into gold and a single face became two.
She took a step back.
::You found me.::
“Who am I talking to?” Her mind replayed all the stories she’d heard, mostly untrue, about foreign spy agencies using implants and DNA-specific hallucinogens. She wouldn’t have said she was important enough for that kind of effort, and her useful current information was now nearly two months out of date.
::I am not a spy.::
“Then what are you?”
::I am the coin.::
“Who sent you?”
::I was forged on the slopes of Mons Mykali, by the hammer of Aphaea Artemis, She of wisdom and love.::
Right. Maybe it was time to either have another pain pill or throw them all down the drain.
::I am in the service of love.::
Peri’s mind washed over with images of Lisette, lingering on her eyes and the curve of her hips, then her slender fingers and expressive hands. The way the curls of her hair had cascaded from under the red beanie. The sound of her laughter.
::You should have asked her out.::
“Why should I take your advice? I don’t even believe you’re real.”
::She holds the essence of the Beloved.::
Peri snorted. “I just met her.”
::Time is irrelevant. The threads that join you have been long in their weaving.::
“Wait — did you say Artemis? Like Greek Artemis, sister of Apollo? What kind of nonsense is this?”
Something steely tightened in her mind. ::Nonsense?::
“Myths, most of which don’t make sense except to excuse petty squabbles and sexual assault.” She’d gone through a phase of reading every Greek and Roman myth she could find, attracted to the stories of strong goddesses. She’d traded them for Wonder Woman, who was no more real than Artemis or Athena or women turned into swans.
::Nonsense? You should sit down.::
“Why?”
A thunder of hooves drowned out all thought. She collapsed onto the bed behind her and held her head in her hands. Over the pounding of horses at a full run she heard the high keening of a battle cry. Fierce, relentless howls of anger and bloody intent. The smell of horse and mud. Riding as furies to answer the call that burned in her and her sisters’ blood. A translucent, shimmering hand passed over them, raising a wind that lifted hooves from the ground and sent them soaring as a tsunami made of savage light. Spear and axe, kopis and whistling sling, they brought freedom for the taken and death to their captors. Aphaea Artemis speaks to our souls, we are rage and justice, we are divine retribution—
