Chapter Seventeen

Ash was nose-deep in her book when George came through the door bearing coffee. "Thanks," she murmured, turning a page.

"Like it, huh?" he said.

"Mmm."

"Yeah, I thought that might be more your speed," said George. "You know we have an entire shelf devoted to the genre."

At this, Ash finally looked up. "A whole shelf devoted to…?"

"Lesbian romance," he said, pointing to a shelf close to the door. "All that your little heart could desire, and we can always order more in if there's something that you fancy. That's definitely one advantage of owning a bookshop." He paused. "Temporarily owning."

"Right," Ash said. Her head was trying and failing to make connections. It wasn't as though she hadn't known the book was a lesbian romance. Of course she had. She just hadn't quite processed that information. "Um, can we just back that up for a second, you thought this would be more my speed?"

"Yes," said George, putting both coffee cups down on the counter. "I mean, not that gay people should only read gay romance and straight people should only read straight romance, that's ridiculous. But you said you didn't feel a connection when you were reading that straight book, so I thought lesbian romance would maybe hit more of a nerve, so to speak."

The connections were starting to get there, fuzzy and tenuous. "Lesbian romance," Ash said slowly. "Because… because you think that I'm… Because you think I'm gay."

George's mouth dropped open and his face went as white as the page that Ash was currently not staring at. "Um, uh…" he stuttered.

And Ash tried very hard to take all this in. Was it something she'd said? Something she'd done? Did she accidentally get the word lesbian tattooed on her forehead?

"Uh, Jesus, Ash, I mean… Oh God. I'm really, really, truly sorry. I've fucked up." George had passed the white stage and was now heading toward crimson. "I should never have assumed and… I just… I thought. Oh God. I don't know what I thought. Christ, I feel awful. I'm so sorry."

Ash closed the book carefully. "No," she said quietly. "No, there's nothing to be sorry for. It was an honest mistake, I'm sure." An honest mistake.

"Really?" George asked. "I mean, how rude could I be? Assuming like that was horrible. I hate it when people do it to me, and I'm a hundred percent gay, so I should never have done it to you."

"No," Ash said. "No, seriously, really don't worry about it. It's nothing." She cleared her throat. "The book's good by the way. Definitely more my speed."

A curious look passed over George's face. "It is?"

"Yes," said Ash, because it was true.

"Oh, um, I guess that's good."

"Uh-huh." All sorts of things were starting to swirl in her brain, starting to piece together and make coherent thoughts. And Ash wasn't at all sure she was ready for any of those thoughts. Except… except maybe the world made a little more sense than it did ten seconds ago.

"I still feel terrible, Ash, if I could take it back…" George started.

And he looked truly devastated. So much so that even Ash took pity on him. "Don't feel bad," she said carefully. "You're not... I mean... It's not…" She blew out a breath. "I just hadn't really thought about it before."

George narrowed his eyes. "You mean, um…?"

Ash shrugged. "I mean, maybe?"

George picked up his coffee and took a big slug. "Um, I don't mean to pry, but…"

"Then don't," Ash said sharply. Was this what the problem had been all along? Was this why she'd never dreamed of walking down the aisle into the welcoming arms of a man? It seemed stupid but suddenly so clear.

"Aren't you a bit old to have, well, you know? A revelation." George said.

"I thought we'd established that you weren't going to pry," said Ash. "And I'm not that old. I'm sure plenty of people realize that sexuality is fluid when they're far older than me."

"Mmm," agreed George looking thoughtful. "I'm not sure that too many women have a gay man to thank for their lesbian awakening though."

Ash scowled at him and then, to her astonishment, George reached out across the counter and put his hand on hers.

"Ash, if you want to talk to someone about this, I'm here. If you're serious about this and you're only just realizing that life could be different, and if it's confusing for you, I'm happy to listen whenever you like."

"No," Ash said, withdrawing her hand. "But not just because all that touchy-feely stuff makes me nauseous. I'm not confused. Actually, I'm a lot less confused than I was a few minutes ago."

"You're not having some kind of crisis then?"

"Why?" Ash asked honestly. "I mean, who cares whether I'm gay or not or half-way gay or whatever integers come in between that? It makes no difference in the long run. But it does give me a few more options." A thought came to her. "Was Mary gay?"

"What?" asked George, eyes opening wide again. "No, not a bit."

"Huh," said Ash. It had been a bit of a stretch, she admitted to herself. But it would have been nice to package things neatly like that, to solve the mystery of why Mary was so happy alone at the same time as she started to make sense of her own world.

Ash's phone started to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket to silence it, wanting to continue to explore this idea even if George wasn't the sounding board she'd have chosen, but then she saw the number. A long number with far too many digits, strange ones too. Which could mean only one thing.

"Go fill the online orders," she said. "I need to take this."

George bit his lip and looked at her.

"I'm fine, Jesus, go do your job," Ash barked.

He fled off down the stairs and Ash finally picked up the call.

"Mum?"

"… boat… call…"

"Mum? I can't hear you," Ash said.

There was crackling in response.

"Mum?" Ash said again. "The line is terrible."

"...stupid Chilean phone system."

"Mum?"

"I can hear you, stop saying mum!"

"That's better."

"Not much, and I'm running out of coins, I just wanted to check in. We're fine. You?"

"Fine," Ash said.

"I'm on my last few pesos," her mother said.

Ash thought quickly. "Mum, do I have an Aunt Mary?"

"… coin… who…" There was another crackle. "Of course you remember Auntie Mary."

"No, actually," said Ash. "But—"

She was interrupted by a click and a dial tone. With a sigh, she ended the call. Not exactly all the information she'd wanted, but she supposed it was enough. Her mother had seemed sure she had an aunt, even though Ash herself had no real memory of whoever Auntie Mary was.

That should seal things, right? Mary really was her aunt, the shop really was hers, everything was as it should be. She bit her lip. She should go and tell Pen.

Wait. What?

Why was her first thought that she had to tell her nosy neighbor? That was silly, ridiculous even. Although, while she was in this mode, she supposed she could call Snythe and then, well, then she'd really have occasion to go and tell Pen, wouldn't she? She might as well. Get all the news over with at once and then… well, then she'd only have to visit once.

Before she really knew what she was doing, she was placing the call to Snythe.

"Offices of Daniel J. Snythe, Esquire."

"I know that's you," Ash said, recognizing his voice immediately. "Why do you answer your phone like you're someone else?"

"I don't," said the solicitor gruffly.

"Yes, you do. It's a little odd. And this is Ash Wells, by the way."

"Mmm. I'm well aware. Don't think I've forgotten you, Ms. Wells. It's not often I grant an inheritance to someone as… un-thrilled about it as you. But as it happens, I'm glad that you called. I really must insist that you make an appointment as soon as possible to sign off on the estate papers."

"That's why I'm ringing," Ash said. "Can you tell me if a property valuation was done as part of the estate process?"

There was the sound of papers being moved around. "Yes," said the solicitor finally. "Shall I have those papers sent to you?"

"If you could scan and email them, that'd be perfect," Ash said.

"And that appointment?"

"Let me go through the paperwork and then I'll call back and make an appointment."

"So you've decided I know how to do my job then?"

"I never questioned that," said Ash.

"It was quite heavily implied," said the solicitor.

"There are no other possible heirs?"

"No one mentioned in the will," the solicitor said. "Your aunt's financial assets go to various charities, that's pretty much it."

"Hm. Alright, thank you," Ash said.

She hung up and picked up the coffee that George had brought her. Her eye caught her book.

For a second she felt a blooming of warmth in her chest.

Was this really all that it was? For so long she'd thought there was something wrong with her. Not that she let it show at all. But the fact that she never seemed to want what everyone else seemed to want just didn't sit right.

Now she'd found out that actually, there were more options at the buffet than she'd imagined. And maybe she might be hungry after all.

She downed her coffee, tossed the cup into the bin behind the counter, and grinned to herself. She really did need to see Pen now, it was only fair to keep her in the loop about what was happening with the shop.

"Keep an ear open for the bell," she shouted down the stairs to George. "I'm going out for a few minutes."