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Halloween in Middleton was always a big deal – the town had its share of traditions, up to and including the grand Harvest Festival. Even weeks before the day itself, pumpkins (carved and uncarved) lined Main Street, shop owners getting ready and clearing out space for the myriad of activities.
While the event proper normally only happened every few years, there was nothing that could stop the town going all-out for Halloween. Even without the competition with their neighbouring town of Blairsville being due, Middleton had more than enough spirit for the season to go around – some people had already had jack o’lanterns out so long that they’d gone rotten and needed to be replaced, and it wasn’t even the 31st yet.
Abigail sat by the window of the Bistro, sipping her coffee as she looked out the window at the people milling around. Her own shop was across the street, though it could do without her for a couple of minutes.
She heard footsteps. For a moment she debated turning around, taking the wind out of Stephanie’s sails, before deciding against it. It clearly felt like Stephanie wanted to make a dramatic entrance.
“What is this?” Stephanie said.
She slammed a flyer down on Abigail’s table. Abigail sipped at her drink a little more before putting it down, looking up, and smiling so very sweetly.
“Looks like a piece of paper to me,” Abigail said.
“You know what I mean!” Stephanie said. “You’re running for Harvest Queen again. Again!”
“Something wrong?” Abigail said.
“You know that’s my thing,” Stephanie said insistently. “Every festival, every year for a lot of years running by now.”
“Afraid of a little competition?” Abigail said.
She didn’t move, content to smile – the utter non-reaction did sometimes seem to infuriate Stephanie more.
That was another of the town’s traditions – a pseudo-popularity contest, the winner being declared Harvest Queen and winning tickets for two for a stay over in New York. Stephanie had run unopposed for the better part of a decade, with the exception of one year Abigail had briefly run (before backing out).
That had been to make Stephanie more appreciate the role. Nowadays Stephanie was less complacent about it, even if she was still unopposed. She did love the sensation of feeling she’d earned something.
“You know that’s not it,” Stephanie said. “But you’ve never actually been interested in running. If you’re trying to make some kind of point again, you could just tell me, it’d be easier all around.”
“No grand lessons here,” Abigail said. “I can be selfish on rare occasions.”
Stephanie looked at her, and her glower only lasted a second before she slumped down into the chair opposite. She chuckled.
“Fine,” Stephanie said. “But I hope you know you’re not getting any complimentary drinks while we’re rivals.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” Abigail said.
She was still smiling when she returned to sipping her drink. Somewhere between indignant and resigned, Stephanie stared at her.
Abigail was just putting the finishing touches on a floral arrangement when she felt a sudden craving for a hot drink. Quietly, she slipped the bouquet into the floral cooler, and brushed past a customer on her way out to cross the street.
There was someone at the head of the queue already, either chatting up or being chatted up by Stephanie. Pretty-ish, nice hair, chiselled features, all in all a rather mediocre addition to the male population of Middleton.
But the way Stephanie was talking to him, you’d have thought some big-shot star had come to town. Abigail rather brusquely cut in.
“Hello!” Abigail said. “I’m Abigail. Nice to meet you.”
“Hi. Er. I’m Dale,” he said.
Abigail beamed, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what she said next. Something suitably generic, bland, matching him to a tee – when he looked away for a moment, she winked over his shoulders to a Stephanie who was glaring daggers at her.
After a few moments, he backed away, coffee order in hand. Abigail took his place opposite Stephanie.
“Tea and, ooh, I fancy a slice of… that, to go,” Abigail said, pointing at a spot on the display like nothing had happened.
Stephanie stared disbelievingly at her.
“Stephanie?” Abigail said innocently.
“I can’t believe you, sometimes,” Stephanie said.
“What?” Abigail said. “I just wanted tea.”
“That was a perfectly nice guy,” Stephanie said. “Probably. And you just… You just had to ruin it.”
“Something wrong?”
“You know I need a date for the Harvest Festival,” Stephanie said. “Is that your plan? Come in and ruin my chances with any passing bachelor so I give up?”
“One,” Abigail said. “Wasn’t a bachelor – always watch for a ring. Two, you can do better. Three, still waiting on that tea.”
Stephanie blinked. After a moment, she started to prepare the order.
“Oh. Right. But still!” Stephanie said. “Don’t see what you’re so smug about anyway, not like you have a date for if you win.”
“How would you know?” Abigail said.
“Oh please, every time you have a date, you always drag them around here like you want to rub my nose in it,” Stephanie said. “No dragging lately, ergo, no date.”
“Aww, you noticed,” Abigail said. She beamed back. “Still, I might have my eye on someone.”
“Oh really?” Stephanie said, sceptical.
“Really,” Abigail said. “Why that face?”
“In Middleton’s shallow dating pool?” Stephanie said. She paused, gossip-hungry instincts slowly superseding her disbelief. “Well? If you do, tell me about him. Do I know him?”
Abigail tilted her head, contemplative. She took her order out of Stephanie’s hands.
“I’d say you know her, yeah,” Abigail said.
And she turned on her heel and walked out the door, leaving Stephanie staring after her.
I’d say you know her. Stephanie wasn’t sure why those words were replaying themselves on a loop in her head. She just found herself thinking about it, whenever her hands were auto-piloting an order, or she had a few moments of downtime.
I’d say you know her.
It wasn’t even that Abigail had a mystery crush. That was hardly a rare event, even if this was unusually subtle by her standards.
Her.
It wasn’t like there weren’t a few queer couples in Middleton. Sure, there wasn’t a thriving community like there might be in a big city, but it was hardly unheard of. A couple were regulars at the Bistro.
Nothing about it had ever really stood out to Stephanie – it was just people being people. Then again, they weren’t Abigail.
And she didn’t know why that was sticking out to her either. Maybe it was just surprise? She’d known Abigail for a good few years, but she’d never mentioned…
Why was she still thinking about it?
“Stephanie?”
She jerked back to the present, forcing a customer-service smile until it became genuine, turning back to the latest arrival. Eve; Stephanie’s smile became that little bit easier.
“Hello!” Stephanie said. “What are you having?”
“Pumpkin space latte, usual. Tis the season,” Eve said. “Say, you hear about Mr and Mrs Davis? I heard…”
Eve grinned, excitedly outlining some latest bit of drama. Stephanie nodded along, ears peeled for each tidbit of information as she prepared the drink. She gasped and laughed where appropriate, and made a mental note for when either of the Davises came by.
“How about you?” Eve said. “Hear anything fun on your end?”
Stephanie opened her mouth.
Then she faltered, and passed the latte over the counter.
“No,” she said. “Nothing. Slow day here, sorry.”
“Too bad. Hey, thanks!”
“Any time,” Stephanie said.
Abigail had kept details of her sexuality to herself, for whatever reason. It wasn’t up to Stephanie to just start spreading that around. Even if it was lingering on her mind.
Suddenly Stephanie was thinking about that: it wasn’t just that Abigail liked girls, it was that she’d apparently decided to confide in her. It had felt intentional, at any rate; she’d learned that far, far too much of what Abigail did was intentional.
Had Abigail been worried? Sure, there were stereotypes about small towns not necessarily being the most progressive of places, but at the end of the day Middleton had always been kind. Whatever reputation small towns wouldn’t outweigh that.
But if that was it, then she’d… trusted Stephanie. Part of Stephanie felt oddly light at that.
Though…
She glanced at the clock; she could take her break five minutes early, she did own the place. Carefully, Stephanie stepped back from the counter, quickly running through her usual routine.
Then she walked out of the Bistro and over the road, only to see a ‘closed’ sign hung up over the door of Abigail’s shop.
Stephanie hesitated. Uncertain, she knocked; Abigail appeared almost out of nowhere on the other side of the glass.
“Er, bad day?” Stephanie said.
“Big order,” Abigail said. She shrugged. “People kept coming in and getting in the way. Worst part of customer service.”
“Can I…”
“Sure, come on in, just don’t expect me to make you anything,” Abigail said.
“I wasn’t,” Stephanie said.
She crossed the threshold, and the door clicked shut behind her. Abigail, meanwhile, was already sat beside a table and preparing a dozen decorative pots.
“You can say it,” Abigail said.
“Huh?” Stephanie said.
“The word you’re looking for is bi. And yes, I am,” Abigail said. She didn’t look up. “What? Kinda obvious why you came over now of all times.”
“Um. Yes, but.. Okay, look, what are the rules with this?” Stephanie said.
“Rules?” Abigail said. “Kinda basic stuff. Sometimes kiss guys, sometimes kiss girls.”
“No, I mean, I know what bi means,” Stephanie said. “But I’ve known you for years, and I never saw you with…”
“Small town woes,” Abigail said. “The dating pool’s not that much broader, just because I have more options.”
“You never said,” Stephanie said.
“Yeah, well, I’m not big on sharing personal details of my life,” Abigail said.
Abigail finished a pot, and put it down. She looked up, for a moment forgetting about the flowers.
“You told me,” Stephanie said.
“I did,” Abigail said.
She said it like it was so simple. Urgh, Abigail could be so infuriating at times – sometimes she seemed to know what Stephanie was thinking before she got a chance to say it, and other times she took forever to get the hint. Which was made worse, now, by Stephanie not being at all sure how to put her thoughts into words.
She barely knew why she was still thinking about it. She’d kind of hoped Abigail would just do her whole Abigail thing and stop her needing to puzzle things through.
“Rules!” Stephanie said suddenly. “Right. Rules. Like, do you mind if I tell anyone, or would you prefer to keep things quiet?”
“That’s what you want to know?” Abigail said. She raised an eyebrow.
“Well, yes,” Stephanie said. “I don’t want to accidentally… you know, anything you don’t want spreading. What else would I ask?”
“Figured you’d be more curious about who she is, that’s all,” Abigail said. “Isn’t that normally your thing? Who’s seeing who, who has a thing for who?”
Stephanie opened her mouth.
She didn’t know why she was hesitating. Of course, if Abigail was volunteering that information, she wanted to know; even if she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, she wanted to know for her own satisfaction if nothing else.
But then she was thinking about it. Abigail and a woman, hand-in-hand, strolling into the Bistro, sitting at the same table… Abigail laughing at her jokes, Abigail knowing her order off by heart, Abigail introducing hi, this is my girlfriend.
And for a moment Stephanie didn’t know what to think. Something about the thought… rankled, in a way she couldn’t put her finger on.
She didn’t think she had a problem with it. But-
“Wait, no, I’m still mad at you!” Stephanie said.
Abigail paused, then sighed, and started to cut and prepare flowers. That just annoyed Stephanie more.
“Please tell me this whole thing wasn’t just you distracting me from the fact you got in the way of me getting a date?” Stephanie said. “Again?”
“You can thank me if you really want,” Abigail said.
“Thank you?! Why would I thank you?” Stephanie said.
“Sparing you the heartbreak and waste of time,” Abigail said. “What kind of a foundation do you think snapping up a random stranger because of a time crunch is?”
“I mean- That’s not the point,” Stephanie said. “So what if he’s not the best guy in the world? It’s still a date. It might go somewhere.”
Abigail looked up from the table for the moment, meeting Stephanie’s eyes. When she spoke, there was a slight terseness to her voice, a slight catch.
“I told you way back,” Abigail said. “You deserve someone better. Someone that would put you first, and would see you as more than a curiosity. Someone that cares for you. That’s all.”
“Sure, that’d be great,” Stephanie said. “But this is Middleton, not Austen. I’m happy with a few disappointing dates because where am I meant to find someone who’s like that right off the bat? Who cares about me that much already, before we’ve been on a single date?”
Abigail faltered.
Normally, Abigail had on a kind of mask – a face that promised she cared about nothing, that she was only doing what was convenient for her. Sometimes it was a very convincing mask admittedly, but most of those that knew her knew it was a mask.
And for a moment, that mask was gone. Stephanie stared into the cracks in her eyes, a flicker of vulnerability she’d never have imagined seeing on Abigail, a glimpse of doubt and confusion and hope and impatience and reluctance and need all at once.
And then the moment was gone and the mask went back up, tainted only slightly by a glimmer of regret. Abigail was wearing her usual smile. It seemed even more fake than usual.
Oh.
Stephanie suddenly found it very hard to look away.
“Doesn’t matter,” Abigail said, looking down. “You just deserve to be happy. That’s all. Some generic guy that leaves a bad tip isn’t going to do that for you – you know that.”
Stephanie didn’t move. Abigail snipped away at stems with a little more force than usual.
“Abigail,” Stephanie began.
She wasn’t sure why her voice was softer. She should still be mad, she was sure – regardless of motive, Abigail did seem to love being a pain. But all that frustration had gone… somewhere, been overwhelmed.
She didn’t know why. It shouldn’t change anything, knowing Abigail had just acted out of… what, jealousy?
No, that didn’t feel quite right. Abigail absolutely felt like she could be that petty, but she’d helped Stephanie’s love life as much as she’d sabotaged it. That wasn’t just jealousy. That was… Stephanie didn’t want to think about what it meant. She just knew it was something genuine.
She swallowed. Abigail still wasn’t meeting her eyes, still intent on the flowers she was preparing.
“How long is your lunch break?” Abigail said absently. “I don’t think you can afford to stay that long. You are the boss after all – it’d be awkward if you had to fire yourself for being late.”
Stephanie very nearly screamed. Abigail kept looking down.
“Why are you like this?” Stephanie said, frustrated.
“Like what?” Abigail said.
“So… so Abigail,” Stephanie said. “You don’t have to just change the topic whenever…”
“Whenever what?” Abigail said.
Every syllable was clipped and precise, her tone so completely innocent that it was palpably clear it was fake.
“I don’t know! That’s the problem,” Stephanie said.
She made an indistinct groan, then gave up, turning around. As she opened the door, she missed Abigail at last looking up from her flowers, watching her leave.
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Grey House was normally a relaxing place, everything about the B&B’s ambience carefully cultivated to make people calm down. The décor was gentle, and they were regular clients of Abigail’s for flowers to brighten up each room, and now there was the smell of baking coming from the kitchen.
The downside was that the rooms weren’t really designed for pacing.
Realistically speaking, they were just places for people to spend a couple of nights. Abigail had added more of a personal flair to hers, having stayed in it as long as she had, but she couldn’t add more room to walk in.
After a couple of minutes, she groaned, and walked out into the hallway. At least there was more room there.
The carpet was soft. Somehow the comfort was more frustrating; the hard part about feeling so full was that Abigail wasn’t sure what the outlet was meant to be, and being surrounded by layer after layer of cosiness and hominess just provided an excellent example of something that wouldn’t help.
“Abigail!” Cassie called from the kitchen.
Abigail barely noticed as she walked over to the same room as her cousin. She’d welcome the diversion.
“Don’t say it,” Abigail said.
Cassie was at the worktop, surrounded by several large bowls, each covered with damp towels. There were several lumps of dough in the oven as well, the fresh-bread smell filling the kitchen. Cassie looked up from where she was mixing, hands covered in flour.
“Say what?” Cassie said.
“Anything,” Abigail said. “You’ve got your advice-face on, and I don’t like it.”
“My advice-face?” Cassie echoed, eyes twinkling.
“You know what I mean,” Abigail said. “You’re going to say something so obviously right and helpful, and then I’m going to not be able to do it because I want to solve the problem myself rather than just take your answer, and things’ll blow up in my face. I’d rather not have my options limited just yet.”
Cassie smiled. Abigail rolled her eyes fondly, walking closer.
“I know, I know,” Abigail said. “I just don’t like relying on people.”
“I understand,” Cassie said. “No advice from me. How about you help out instead? Need someone to knock back the dough – deflate it with a few punches now that it’s risen, so there’s not as many larger air bubbles in it when it comes time to baking.”
“You need me to punch something?” Abigail said. She titled her head contemplatively. “I can do that.”
It was a distraction. Abigail went over to the nearest bowl and removed the towel laying over the top; the dough had risen up high, filling most of the vessel. She balled a hand up into a fist and hit straight down, feeling the dough give way underneath her and start to deflate.
“Huh. Kind of satisfying,” Abigail said.
She gave it a couple of more hits, just on principle. Then, on instinct, she started to shape it into a less awkward shape.
“I always find dwelling on problems to be unhelpful. It’s always better to be doing something, even if it’s small,” Cassie said. When Abigail looked up sharply, Cassie still wore her same gentle smile. “No advice. Just an anecdote.”
“Yeah, well, it’s great until you have more bread than anyone could eat in a lifetime,” Abigail said.
“Stephanie had an issue with her supplier this week, I thought I’d chip in,” Cassie said. “A few more loaves can’t go amiss.”
Abigail looked away for a moment. If Cassie noticed, she didn’t comment.
“I think I did something stupid,” Abigail said eventually.
She was quiet for a moment. Silent, she pushed the bowl in front of her away, and reached for the next. Punching down into the dough was still alarmingly satisfying.
“I… implied something I shouldn’t have,” Abigail said. “To the absolute last person I should’ve told. Which is going to mess all sorts of things up.”
“Hm,” Cassie said conversationally. “This thing you implied, is it true?”
Abigail looked over the worktop to her cousin; Cassie looked back innocently.
“Just a question,” Cassie said. “Still no advice.”
Abigail hesitated.
“I… Yes. It was,” Abigail said. “But that’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it?” Cassie said.
“I don’t like spilling all my secrets to everyone,” Abigail said. “And St- this person is going to act differently because of it. There’s no way they wouldn’t.”
Cassie said nothing. Abigail wasn’t entirely sure she was grateful that Cassie was keeping to her ‘no advice’ request. Weary, Abigail sighed.
“I should never have said anything,” Abigail said.
“Sometimes people surprise you,” Cassie said. Abigail shot a warning look over and, as ever, Cassie was unaffected. “Just an observation.”
“You know that ‘innocent’ act is only cute when I do it, right?” Abigail said.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Cassie said.
Abigail sighed, and pushed the bowl away once she was done.
She wasn’t one to linger on false hope. Yes, sure, for a while she’d wondered about the possibility of exploring things with Stephanie, but she wasn’t just going to wait around.
She reached for the next bowl, and was surprised to find the dough in a small lump at the bottom, thoroughly unrisen.
“Er, Cassie,” Abigail said.
Cassie craned over the counter to look into the bowl. Slowly, she pulled back from what she was making to wash her hands.
“Must’ve forgotten to add the yeast to that batch,” Cassie said. “Oh well, easily fixed.”
She reached for an empty cup, added a packet of yeast, then measured out a little water from the kettle and added it. She stirred it up, and put it down.
“I’ll mix that in, once it’s activated,” Cassie said. “Nothing’s ever completely ruined, even if it looks it. There’s always something you can do.”
“We are talking about the bread,” Abigail said.
“Of course,” Cassie said.
She took the bowl of dough back from Abigail and placed it next to the cup, clicking a kitchen timer on and adding that beside them.
“I swear, if you ruined a loaf of bread just for some lesson…” Abigail said.
“No lesson. Just bread,” Cassie said. “And it’s not ruined – there’s always hope. You just have to remember what you thought before things went bad.”
“Meaning, should’ve added yeast,” Abigail said.
“Should’ve added yeast,” Cassie said, nodding.
Well that certainly wasn’t relationship advice. Abigail focused on that; whatever conclusions she ended up drawing from that, they were down to her, not Cassie. She much preferred being self-sufficient.
Always hope. She had hoped things with Stephanie might have been closer, before. There was no point assuming the worst just because she regretted what she’d let slip.
Suddenly, Abigail felt lighter.
“Feeling better?” Cassie said.
“Mm. Yeah. I think so,” Abigail said.
She paused.
“I never mess up anything,” Abigail said. “Only needed to remember that.”
“I’m sure,” Cassie said.
Abigail smiled back to her cousin, eyes bright, playful. Then she reached for the last bowl – this bit of dough had risen up nicely. Her expression softened.
“Thanks, Cassie,” Abigail said, voice gentle.
“For what?” Cassie said.
Abigail tapped the bowl.
“For something I could hit,” Abigail said. “Very therapeutic.”
“Vote for Stephanie for Harvest Queen!”
The one good thing about the run up to the Harvest Festival was that she was too busy to dwell much on any of the confusing thoughts Abigail had started. Her to-do list was lengthy: posters to put up, flyers to hand out, lots of little things to win the votes away from Abigail.
Abigail. Maddening Abigail. Abigail who kept doing whatever she could to get in the way of everything, and even if she seemed to ensure things always worked out, it was still so, so exasperating. Abigail who kept running through her mind when she was trying to focus on other things, Abigail whose pretty, annoying, beaming face was plastered on the posters she was very quickly covering up with her own.
Abigail who had looked at her like that. Maybe just for a moment, maybe immediately followed up with a flash of regret for showing vulnerability, but it had still happened. Abigail who made her heart race in her chest in a way that wasn’t nearly as mystifying as Stephanie wanted it to be.
No, no, she was meant to not be dwelling. Stephanie slapped another poster up, feeling a flicker as she passed another of Abigail’s posters. Abigail’s face. She swallowed.
That was… new.
And overwhelming. And something she didn’t want to unpack this soon before the trip to New York. And something that made her very glad she could focus on her campaigning and not think about-
“Stephanie!”
Stephanie jumped, flyers nearly scattering out from her hand as Abigail appeared. She took a second to catch her breath.
“Where did you come from?” Stephanie said. “No. Never mind. Busy, busy, no time to talk.”
“What if I want a flyer?” Abigail said. “I’m a potential voter. You should care.”
“You’re my competition,” Stephanie said. “Why would you vote for me?”
“I won’t if you’re going to give up before you start,” Abigail said.
Stephanie rolled her eyes.
“Although, while we’re on the topic of how you can sway voters,” Abigail began. She gestured behind her. “Your campaign car’s blocking my shop. Care to help?”
Stephanie looked past her; oh for crying out loud…
It wasn’t much of a campaign car, honestly. Stephanie had just hung a sign out of the window of her usual vehicle. Still, it served the purpose well enough; she could ride it down the street, drawing all the attention she needed.
It was parked not too far from Abigail’s shop. Stephanie frowned.
“It’s not in the way of the door,” Stephanie said.
“It’s blocking my window,” Abigail said. “Who knows how many potential customers are being dissuaded because they can’t see everything I’ve got on offer?
And there was that infuriating smile again; Abigail could probably get it patented. She wore it any time she made a request that was utterly unreasonable, but she’d insist it was simplicity itself.
Not so long ago, Stephanie actually felt like she’d glimpsed something of the real Abigail: now, though, she was back to being spiky and uncooperative. Stephanie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She sighed, starting to walk over to her car.
On top of that, Abigail just had to appear when she was trying to process thoughts that were much harder to focus on now Abigail had shown up to make her stomach do flip-flops.
“So is this just your way of making sure I don’t go expecting you to actually be open again?” Stephanie said.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Abigail said.
Did she really just flutter her eyelashes? That faux-innocence was… there were only so many ways Stephanie could think of the word ‘frustrating.’
She got into her car. After a quick check around, Stephanie carefully backed up a couple of metres, freeing up the oh-so important view of the very edge of Abigail’s shop.
Then she stopped, and pulled up the handbrake, looking over to the sidewalk. Abigail was still standing there.
Stephanie sighed – and the sigh came more easily than she expected, weariness overtaking everything else. Driving was a strangely good way to de-stress. She wasn’t exactly one who loved getting in a car, and for that matter she had very little reason to in a town as small as Middleton, but there was something about it that quite effectively distracted her.
Maybe it was just that she drove rarely enough, that none of it had quite become second nature yet. The whole routine of checking blind spots, gauging her acceleration, edging back, it ate up enough of her focus that she just didn’t have the time to get lost in all those Abigail thoughts.
Though she still felt a flicker of irritation at the fact Abigail might actually have been helpful again.
Speaking of…
“Thanks, big help!” Abigail said, coming up to the side of the car.
Stephanie opened her mouth to retort something suitably witty, only to falter. Instead of continuing their routine snark, she glanced around, made sure no one was too close to them, and dropped her voice.
Her frustration had faded, somewhat; Abigail had given her what she needed on that count. Though that just meant something else was vying for her attention.
“So. About earlier,” Stephanie said.
There was an almost imperceptible hesitation in how Abigail shifted.
“Earlier?” Abigail said, her forgetfulness clearly feigned.
“You said you were, er,” Stephanie said. “You know. Just… how did you know?”
Abigail raised her eyebrows; Stephanie suddenly looked away, staring at the dashboard as though she still needed to make an adjustment, cheeks suddenly flaming.
It was just a question, she told herself. She wasn’t saying anything personal.
Still, she braced herself, fully expecting Abigail to say something unhelpful.
“You don’t really know,” Abigail said, surprisingly gently. “You just feel. I imagined the future, and whoever I imaged standing beside, it could’ve been anyone.”
“Oh,” Stephanie said.
Her hands were still on the wheel. Slowly, she dropped them down, tension draining from her. She still didn’t look up; she wasn’t sure she was ready for Abigail’s expression, if Abigail was actually being genuine for once.
“So it’s just… stray thoughts?” Stephanie said. “Huh. Thought it’d be… grander, somehow.”
“It still is,” Abigail said. “When you start embracing it. But there’s no big fanfare. Any particular reason you’re asking?”
Stephanie cleared her throat. Carefully, painstakingly, she stepped out of her car without turning back to face Abigail. Her blush was starting to diminish slightly.
“No reason,” Stephanie said. Her voice felt uncomfortably higher-pitched. “So. Er.”
Change the topic, change the topic.
“You mentioned you had your eye on a… person,” Stephanie said. Then she winced. Maybe not that topic.
“I did,” Abigail said.
“Do. Er. You know if she’s…”
“The same?” Abigail said. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling.”
Abigail and her feelings. She was alarmingly like Cassie sometimes. Stephanie felt her cheeks start to redden again; she forced herself to turn around, finding Abigail staring at her with an oddly keen look in her eye.
“Why, what do you think?” Abigail said, her voice a playful whisper. “Think I have a shot?”
Stephanie stammered, and cursed herself for it. She wasn’t like this! She wasn’t going to lose her voice over some schoolgirl cr-
She faltered. It really was a crush, wasn’t it? She swallowed.
“How would I know?” Stephanie said, voice higher.
“I trust your instincts,” Abigail said.
Abigail was still looking at her. A twinkle in her eyes, a smile on her lips like she was enjoying toying with her, and for that moment all Stephanie’s frustration bubbled up and turned into sheer purpose. She straightened.
“I helped you with your shop,” Stephanie said, voice steadier now. “I need your help in my kitchen. Come with me.”
Abigail blinked. That was satisfying, a rare moment of catching her off-guard.
“Sure?” Abigail said. She was audibly bewildered, but she also was never one to back down first.
Stephanie led the way, and hoped her newfound focus wouldn’t immediately desert her. It was strange how a myriad overwhelming thoughts could all so neatly come together.
When Abigail got like this, it was hard to not want to wipe that smug grin off her face. She was fairly sure Abigail did that on purpose. Add that to the confusing haze of feeling, the rush of self-consciousness that she was powering past, and the simple fact of Abigail, and it all resolved into a simple path.
Abigail had said that, when she imagined who she’d be with in the future, it could be anyone – Stephanie didn’t quite see things the same way. Now, as soon as she imagined being by someone’s side for that long, she could only see one person.
It was… a little scary how thoroughly things could change.
She walked into the Bistro, then walked back past the counter. It was a quiet time; no one else was back there.
That was good. She didn’t want to draw too many eyes.
“Alright. Here,” Abigail said. “What did you need help with?”
There was a note of confusion in Abigail’s voice, even if she was willing to go along with it. Stephanie turned around to face her, scanned the kitchen briefly, and then opened her mouth to answer.
And then decided to not bother with words, and leant in to kiss her.
Abigail stiffened. For a split-second Stephanie was afraid she’d somehow horribly misread the situation, and she was already beginning to formulate apologies and explanations and excuses – and then she felt Abigail’s hands on the back of her head, pulling her in.
Stephanie closed her eyes.
Feel, Abigail had said. In that moment, all Stephanie felt was how much she very much did not want to pull away. The faint noise of the Bistro beyond the doors faded under the sound of the gentle scritching of Abigail’s fingers against her hair and pounding in her chest.
When the kiss broke, they both had to catch their breath. Stephanie looked over to her; Abigail was smiling, there was no doubt about that, but it looked so much more genuine than her usual. At that, Stephanie couldn’t help but feel a bubble of pride.
“So what you’re saying is,” Abigail said softly, breathlessly, “The woman I have my eye on might like me back?”
“There’s a chance,” Stephanie managed.
She wanted to do it again, she realised. Not just to finally be the one to do something to surprise Abigail, not just to get past the messy feelings and realisations she was coming to, but just because it had been good. She swallowed.
Stephanie took half a step forwards, and then jumped at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor in the Bistro. Her head jerked to face the door, close enough Abigail had to pull back to avoid a headbutt.
Not here. She took a breath.
“How about,” Stephanie said slowly, “You visit my place after closing? We should… probably talk.”
“Talk?” Abigail said.
“Talk,” Stephanie said. She paused. “And kiss a bit more. A lot more.”
Abigail chuckled. The mask she wore didn’t quite do enough to hide the brightness suddenly there in her eyes.
“That sounds like a plan to me.”
Simple proximity had never felt quite so intoxicating before. Stephanie had liked people, of course, but this still felt new.
She leant in for what felt like the hundredth time, and Abigail returned the kiss without even thinking.
“Your lips are soft,” Stephanie said.
“So you said,” Abigail said, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“Oh. I did?” Stephanie said. “Just making sure.”
She leant in for another, lingering for a few seconds. Abigail chuckled.
Then Stephanie groaned. She buried her head in the crook of Abigail’s neck, wriggling first to get Abigail’s hair out of her face, then wriggling again because she decided she’d rather rest against it.
“What am I doing?” Stephanie said.
“I think it’s called kissing,” Abigail said.
Another groan. Quietly, Abigail lifted a hand, gently stroking the back of Stephanie’s head; Stephanie slowly relaxed into it.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Stephanie said.
“Always a good start,” Abigail said.
“But when I woke up today, I was so sure of what I wanted,” Stephanie said. “Beat you in the Harvest Festival, find a suitably nice guy to date, and ride off to New York leaving you behind. Maybe rub it in a little, but only a strictly tasteful amount.”
“Of course.”
“And now I’m dating you,” Stephanie said. “Something I never considered as a possibility for a whole host of reasons, and…”
“You’re worried about what people would think?” Abigail said.
“Yes,” Stephanie said. She hesitated. “No. Maybe? You?”
“I think they’d think you have exceptionally good taste,” Abigail said.
Despite herself, Stephanie snorted. She pulled back slowly, looking up at Abigail. There was something so very touching about being able to see Abigail like this; there was no façade now, the playfulness never quite left her expression but now Stephanie could see past it.
“What about you?” Stephanie said. “Like, this is all pretty new to me. But you, you’ve known you liked girls for… a while, I’m guessing?”
“A while,” Abigail said.
“And you haven’t exactly gone waving it around,” Stephanie said. “So should I, this soon after figuring it out? What if I’m wrong and this is just some screw-up, or a one-off, or I’m misinterpreting-”
Abigail initiated the next kiss. Stephanie melted. It was some time before she pulled back.
“Okay,” Stephanie said, slight breathlessly. “Maybe I’m not wrong about it. But still. This… what do you think? How open should we be, who should we tell? I… I like having a plan, okay? This is a lot to process.”
“I think,” Abigail said, smiling softly, “That I wouldn’t mind the town knowing, in theory.”
“In theory?” Stephanie echoed.
“In theory,” Abigail said. “People would be accepting. I know that – my cousin wouldn’t settle any place without those vibes.”
“So?” Stephanie said.
“I’m more concerned about them being too accepting,” Abigail said. “If the town knows, then sooner or later, Martha will know.”
Abigail paused; Stephanie winced.
“Ah,” Stephanie said.
“I don’t particularly want to deal with her hanging rainbow flags up and down main street around my shop,” Abigail said. “All that fussing around to prove how welcoming Middleton is, it’s not for me.”
“She would, wouldn’t she?” Stephanie said.
She buried her head in Abigail’s neck again. Abigail chuckled, voice dropping to a tender whisper even as she raised her tone to a shrill parody.
“Two more lesbians in Middleton! That’s three more than Blairsville!”
Stephanie laughed. Abigail smiled fondly.
“That sounds far too much like her,” Stephanie said. “Stay on the down-low, then?”
“Up to you,” Abigail said. “It wasn’t worth dealing with when I didn’t have a good reason to. I… might not mind, if it means I can go out with someone I care about.”
She half-shrugged, then stopped, avoiding knocking Stephanie.
“I’ve never been one to listen to Martha when I didn’t have to,” Abigail said. “Depends what you’re ready for. I may push the limits sometimes, but I know when not to.”
“I know,” Stephanie said. “You’re a good person. Even if you don’t like showing it.”
“I’m being nice, there’s no need to be rude,” Abigail said, pouting playfully to show she didn’t mean it.
Stephanie, reluctantly, moved back. She sat close by Abigail’s side, still trying to keep what contact she could.
“I don’t know,” Stephanie said. “I… think I want to process things for a bit, on my own terms. Without the whole town knowing. I like how fast news spreads around Middleton, most of the time, but this is… not that.”
She hesitated.
“Are we dating?” she said suddenly. “I don’t think we ever explicitly talked about…”
“I think we are,” Abigail said. She pressed her lips to Stephanie’s temple. “Do you?”
“I think I’d like to,” Stephanie said. “A lot.”
“Then that’s settled,” Abigail said.
“Mm-hmm,” Stephanie said.
She was staring at Abigail’s lips. It was very distracting.
Then she groaned again, and decided to treat herself to another kiss; Abigail gratefully gave it.
It was the sudden fluttering that really brought the moment into clarity: she was dating Abigail. This was happening. She was with Abigail – those stray thoughts that had haunted her, Abigail introducing her girlfriend and Abigail holding someone’s hand, those would be with her.
She was with Abigail, and she could barely keep from grinning.
Stephanie slowly moved back, barely blinking.
“What was the groan about?” Abigail said.
“Realising one of us is going to have to get up eventually,” Stephanie said.
Abigail’s face twisted sympathetically.
“Ugh,” Abigail said. “That sounds awful.”
“Doesn’t it just?” Stephanie said.
Another kiss. Abigail was the one to shuffle closer then, snaking an arm around Stephanie’s shoulders.
“Not for a while though, I hope,” Abigail said.
“Definitely not,” Stephanie agreed.
Abigail was visible through the door of the Bistro; Stephanie just about managed to not react. God, what was with her? She could swear her heart was poised to leap out of her chest every time she caught a surprise glimpse of her girlfriend.
Oh, there it was again. Just thinking the world girlfriend and she had a stupid grin on her face. Stephanie schooled her expression just in time for Abigail to walk into the shop.
“Abigail,” Stephanie said. “Your order?”
Oh god, was she overplaying the professionality? She wasn’t good at this, secrets were not her specialty, especially not when it came to her love life.
And wait, why was Abigail holding flowers?
“No order this time,” Abigail said. “Making a delivery.”
She placed a small vase on the counter. It was bright, delicately patterned petals in a neat arrangement, a stark contrast to the more mundane wood-toned surface beneath it. A ring of lavender, surrounding darker-petalled violets, with brighter lilies positioned in the centre. And those were just the flowers Stephanie could name offhand.
A dozen conflicting thoughts raced through her head – awe, gratitude, adoration, then followed by a sudden gut-level panic that this wasn’t subtle enough, that-
“You have a secret admirer,” Abigail continued, voice sounding perfectly natural. “I’m just the delivery girl.”
She smiled across the counter. All at once, the tension drained out of Stephanie.
“They’re beautiful,” Stephanie said. “Er. Tell them that. Whoever they are.”
The advantages of a florist girlfriend, she supposed. And there it was again, her heart and/or stomach somersaulting when she thought the word.
“This is… actually really sweet,” Stephanie said.
“Whoever they are, sounds like they’re a lucky person,” Abigail said.
Quietly, Stephanie took the vase, already trying to look for a place to display it. There was a part of her that just wanted to look at it.
Somewhere out in the open, somewhere that, even if they were just flowers for most customers, she could always spare a look at it and feel that giddy grin threaten to rise anew. She got that for me, and I have a girlfriend, in floral form.
“I think I’m the lucky one,” Stephanie said.
It was amazing the plausible deniability that being a florist offered, Abigail reflected. While she couldn’t really afford for Stephanie to visit Grey House without attracting attention from everyone there (annoyingly perceptive as her family was), she could more than pay a visit to Stephanie’s – and whatever eyebrows an evening caller might raise, the simple fact of her holding a bouquet allayed any suspicions.
Which was lucky, really, because she really felt like bringing flowers.
It was a strange feeling, being invested enough in a relationship that she was willing to put effort in. No more going through the motions, no more just getting what she could, no more filling-time.
Suddenly she wanted this to work out. It was a little scary, honestly. Relationships were so much easier when there was no worry about stakes.
She knocked on Stephanie’s door. It opened, and she offered the bouquet out ahead of herself.
“Special delivery,” Abigail said.
“Oh really?” Stephanie said. “Huh, there’s no card. Know who they’re from?”
“My lips are sealed,” Abigail said, playful. “Though I can tell you it was someone with dazzling good looks.”
“Well, if that’s all…” Stephanie said.
She shot a look back over the threshold, taking the flowers and half-threatening to close the door – apparently she wanted to prove she gave as good as she got when it came to the teasing. Abigail couldn’t help but smirk.
Let her try.
“There is a small gift that comes with them,” Abigail said. “May I come in?”
“If you insist,” Stephanie said. And there, she was barely holding back a chuckle.
That time Abigail didn’t bother hiding her smile, walking inside and kicking the door shut behind her. She wasn’t sure which of them initiated the kiss.
“I love you,” Abigail murmured.
She barely registered Stephanie freezing for a second, until her brain caught up with what she said. Then she jumped herself.
“Oh,” Abigail said. “I mean…”
“It’s- um,” Stephanie said. “Sorry, it’s just… soon.”
“I know, I know,” Abigail said quickly. “Ugh, it’s usually not me dropping that too soon. Ignore that. Didn’t plan on…”
“Right,” Stephanie said. “Mm-hmm.”
She faltered.
“It’s been a day,” Stephanie said.
“Maybe for you,” Abigail said.
Abigail winced. Stephanie took a moment.
“Okay, being a healthy and well-adjusted person for a moment,” Stephanie said. “You know this is a lot for me, right? Just, lots to start piecing together, and think about, on top of a new relationship that changed an old relationship. It’s complicated for me.”
“I know,” Abigail said. “I didn’t mean… It just slipped out.”
“I know,” Stephanie said. “Just so long as you know, me not saying that back, it isn’t… it doesn’t mean anything more than ‘I need more than a day,’ with everything else that’s happening. It’s not an ‘I don’t,’ it’s a… ‘later.’”
Abigail nodded, a little too quickly.
Inwardly, she was ranting at herself. This wasn’t her. She didn’t slip up and rush a relationship, she didn’t have the big serious talks, she didn’t get this sappy. She just didn’t.
And she didn’t start feeling this light when Stephanie looked at her and all but promised that she might say ‘I love you’ at some point in the future.
Stephanie met her eyes for a few seconds more; Abigail looked back, doing her best to convey that she knew, she understood, and she did not want to talk about feelings any more.
“Okay, good,” Stephanie said. She paused. “Now we’ve done with the mature stuff, I sense gossip. Spill!”
Abigail blinked.
“Er, what?”
“’Maybe for you,’” Stephanie quoted. “Meaning you’ve liked me for a while. Since when?”
Stephanie stared at her; it was hard to tell how much was just normal drama-hungering, how much was sheer curiosity, and how much was just trying to swing the topic onto something less awkward.
Well, less awkward for her.
Oh screw it, she was committing to this sappiness as it was.
“Since the first moment I saw you,” Abigail said.
Then, it was Stephanie’s turn to falter. After a moment, she laughed.
“Oh, come on,” Stephanie said. “That’s a line if I’ve ever heard one.”
Abigail didn’t laugh. It took more effort than she expected; every instinct she had wanted her to just play it off as a quip. But Stephanie had asked, and she didn’t feel like lying this soon into a relationship, especially one she was committed to.
Eventually, Stephanie quietened.
“Wait, seriously?” Stephanie said.
“I sensed something,” Abigail said. “Wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it, back then, but it felt… important. Like you’d be important. Which is more Cassie’s thing, but I still felt it.”
She paused. Stephanie hadn’t immediately started laughing again, so that was something; Abigail took a breath and quickly continued on before her nerves failed her.
“I felt you’d matter to me right from the start,” Abigail said. “I didn’t fully feel how much until, I guess, probably the storm.”
“I slipped in the Bistro,” Stephanie said slowly. “Hurt myself; I could barely move, but you came in. Took care of me for hours before things cleared enough for us to get help.”
Abigail smiled softly.
“I knew, then, I didn’t want anything to happen to you,” Abigail said. “As soon as you were hurt, I knew I hated it. I wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.”
Abigail paused.
“Though don’t get me wrong, really glad it is with me after all,” Abigail said. “It feels… it felt a little bit meant-to-be.”
She tried to offer a smile, a joke, only to be met with Stephanie silently staring at her. Abigail laughed nervously; she hated that feeling of being seen.
“I didn’t realise,” Stephanie said, quiet.
“Yeah. Well. Not great at saying,” Abigail said. She gestured vaguely at herself. “I was planning to just stand around in the distance for a bit, but I finally realised that sucked, and you were single, so I wanted to at least put it on the table.”
“I’m glad you did,” Stephanie said.
She paused.
“God, I used to hate you back then,” Stephanie said.
“Gee, thanks,” Abigail said.
“Back then!” Stephanie said quickly. “I swear, sometimes it felt you would just pick the most maddening things to do on purpose. Made it hard to get to know you.”
Abigail awkwardly looked down.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “It was easier.”
“It was?” Stephanie said.
“If I pushed you away, I wouldn’t expect anything.” Abigail said. She grimaced. “Then you had to go and be nice. Kinda mean of you.”
“My apologies,” Stephanie said, snorting.
She leant in closer; Abigail met her lips in turn.
“I think I can forgive you,” Abigail said.
Reluctantly, eventually, Stephanie pulled back. She stared half-dreamily back at her; Abigail didn’t dare look away. She was hardly going to complain about the kissing, but there was just something about someone looking at her like that. About Stephanie looking at her like that.
“That sounds… nice,” Stephanie said.
“Huh?” Abigail said.
She blinked, slightly bewildered – nice wasn’t the word she’d use for years of silent pining. It hadn’t been exactly actively painful, but there had always been that ache, that knowledge something just wouldn’t be.
She much preferred this, Abigail had to admit. No contest.
“Looking at someone, and just knowing,” Stephanie said. “I wish I had that. Would’ve made this a lot easier.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” Abigail said.
“Maybe for you,” Stephanie said. “I’m running a Bistro, a catering company, and I only just realised I was into girls. That’s something it feels like I could’ve done with a hint about sooner.”
Abigail shifted; her fingertips traced a pattern on Stephanie’s shoulder, comforting and careful.
“You had hints. I’m sure,” Abigail said.
“Easy for you to say,” Stephanie said.
“Make a bet?” Abigail said.
“What are the stakes?” Stephanie said; Abigail smiled.
“If I win, I get to kiss you,” Abigail said. “You win, you get to kiss me.”
“Deal,” Stephanie said.
She chuckled, but turned around to better face Abigail; she did seem to enjoy a challenge.
“So?” Stephanie said. “What hint did I miss?”
“You had at least one… friend, growing up,” Abigail said. “A woman you were close to, loved spending time with, and you’d insist it was only friendship, but you still think of them occasionally. Maybe you were a little bit more affectionate than most people seemed to be with their friends. Or if you weren’t, you wanted to be. Familiar?”
There was a pause. Stephanie wilted.
“Why did I make a bet with a Merriwick?” Stephanie muttered.
Abigail chuckled.
“I win?” Abigail said.
“You win,” Stephanie said. She sighed, but couldn’t hide the glimmer in her eyes as she shifted to offer her lips to Abigail; happy, Abigail collected her winnings.
After a few moments, Stephanie was again curled up close, head tucked into the crook of Abigail’s neck. Abigail kissed her forehead.
“It’s just like that,” Abigail said. “Just a feeling, but it’s up to you to realise what it’s saying. Life would be so much easier if we could just be told who we’d end up with.”
“Mm,” Stephanie mumbled.
Abigail smiled fondly, content in the softer expression so long as no one could see her face; she looked down.
Even if the pining was years wasted, it still felt worth it. She’d savour every second.
“Abigail?” Stephanie murmured.
She looked up lazily; Abigail kept looking down to her.
“Mm?” Abigail said.
“Kiss me again.”
Stephanie’s feet had taken her to Bell, Book and Candle before she ever even noticed. It was something of an instinct – if she ever felt any kind of doubt, any kind of turmoil, she always found her way to Cassie’s shop.
The bell over the door chimed as she walked in. Stephanie lingered on the threshold for a moment.
Then her eyes were drawn to something. She should’ve been used to that feeling by now; something sparkled atop a freshly-reorganised display table. She approached, peering down curiously.
They were earrings, likely homemade by the look of it, but with a delicate charm. A thin, gleaming base of silver, and what looked like a green jewel set into it, silver band delicately winding around it. A stud, rather than one that dangled; Stephanie wasn’t sure why she was staring at it.
“Free of charge.”
And then she heard Cassie’s voice. Stephanie jumped, not even questioning where on earth the shop-owner had come from. Stephanie shook her head.
“I don’t think they’re really my style,” Stephanie said.
“Still, they might suit someone,” Cassie said.
Stephanie paused, then frowned, looking down at them again.
For a moment, she had a very clear mental image: sweeping a wave of gorgeous red hair to the side, a green jewel set into an earlobe, glinting in perfect contrast. Stephanie swallowed.
They would suit Abigail. Stephanie hesitated.
“She told you,” Stephanie said. Cassie shook her head, expression kind.
“She didn’t need to,” Cassie said. “You’ve not been complaining about not having a date for the Festival recently, but if you had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t be hiding it. Which suggests…”
Cassie dropped her voice, more for the benefit of Stephanie’s nerves than any practical reason.
“And a certain someone’s been seeming a lot happier when she’s at Grey House,” Cassie said. “I just put two and two together. You two have always seemed like you clicked.”
Stephanie expected to suddenly feel tense. She’d wanted time without anyone knowing, after all; it was easier to figure things out without the pressure of others’ expectations. Girlfriend felt like such a weighty word when uttered outside of more intimate confines.
But instead, with Cassie saying it in that gentle tone of hers, it felt remarkably encouraging.
Quietly, Stephanie lifted the small, velvet box up; she peered at it closer, the silver of the earrings shining in the shop’s light. For that moment, all she wanted to do was give them to Abigail and see Abigail’s response. See her happy.
It came into focus, then; she wanted that. She wanted that so much.
She cared for her. Okay, she’d known that, in so many ways, but sometimes it took a jolt to really make her think about how she cared. It had just been there, for so long, that it had been ages before she’d considered that maybe she wanted more than friendship.
And all the chaos of sexuality, instinctive worry over how people might reaction, the endless paradox of loving gossip while being wary of being the subject of it… All that paled next to that image.
Abigail wearing earrings she’d bought for her; Abigail with a smile on her face that Stephanie had put there. Abigail standing by her side.
“Thank you,” Stephanie said, almost silent.
“Sometimes, all you need is something small,” Cassie said.
Another one of Cassie’s smiles. Stephanie smiled back, hands shaking a little as she pocketed the gift.
“Thank you,” Stephanie said again. She hesitated. “Er. Can you not say, to anyone?”
“Not a word until you’re ready,” Cassie said.
Bell, Book and Candle really did always help. Any time she was worrying, this place was an instant salve.
When she left the shop, it was significantly more resolve on her step, and a happy gleam in her eyes that wasn’t going away.
Stephanie stared up at Grey House. Abigail had moved in there since coming to town – normally they spent time together at Stephanie’s place to avoid too many prying eyes but, well, if Cassie already knew then there didn’t seem to be much point in hiding things.
Most people paid a visit to Cassie as it was; she was the best source of advice in the town. That, and people would likely just assume she was interested in someone who was in town for the upcoming Festival.
Grace was too young to really worry about, and Sam and George, well, they were hardly what you’d call gossips. It was hard to feel pressured by any of them.
Still, there was a little flutter in her chest when she crossed the threshold, not as Cassie’s guest, but as her cousin’s girlfriend. It felt… bigger, somehow.
Unsurprisingly, Cassie was already standing there, waiting.
“Stephanie, good to see you,” Cassie said.
“I hope I’m not, er, intruding,” Stephanie said.
“You never could,” Cassie said.
She took a step closer; the embrace was perhaps warmer than Stephanie normally expected, but it felt right, somehow.
“Top of the stairs, second on the right,” Cassie whispered. “I’m sure she’s waiting for you.”
“I was planning on surprising her,” Stephanie said. She paused. “I don’t know why I even tried.”
“I think you’ve surprised her more than you know,” Cassie said. She nodded. “If you’re hungry, we had some leftovers from dinner I stored away. Just let me know; we’ll be up for a while.”
“Oh. I may take you up on that,” Stephanie said. She blinked, surprised. “Didn’t eat much before coming over here. Er, butterflies, you know.”
“That’s lucky then,” Cassie said, smiling warmly. “Well, don’t keep her waiting.”
Stephanie nodded, still a little dazed. Cassie placed a supportive hand on her shoulder.
“Do you want some tea?” Cassie said.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Stephanie said. She took a deep breath. “Um. Thanks.”
She carefully moved towards the stairs, quickly feeling her pockets to make sure she still had the earrings with her.
Abigail’s door was ajar. Stephanie paused for a moment just outside it; she wasn’t quite sure what she was meant to do. Visiting a guest at a B&B wasn’t something she’d ever really needed to learn the etiquette for.
Like so many things, it was new; like so many things, she was looking forward to figuring it out.
“Come in, Stephanie,” Abigail said, before she even had the chance to knock.
Why had she even worried? Stephanie chuckled, entering the room.
“I hear someone’s dropped out of the running for Harvest Queen,” Stephanie said.
“Yeah,” Abigail said. She shrugged, turning around. “I figure I could convince the winner to take me to New York anyway, so why worry about competing?”
“Is that the only reason?” Stephanie said.
“Naturally,” Abigail said.
She smiled, and seemed well aware of how false it looked; Stephanie approached, sitting down in a chair conveniently close to her.
“I was going to give you a present if it turned out you were just being nice,” Stephanie said. “I guess that isn’t really fair after all, though.”
“Let’s not be hasty now,” Abigail said.
And suddenly Stephanie found herself smiling; it wasn’t even a particularly good bit of banter, but it just made her so happy.
“Well, if you insist,” Stephanie said. “I saw these and thought of you.”
She pulled the small box out of her coat pocket, handing them over; Abigail’s brow knitted, confusion and surprise at once as she took the gift from her.
It took her a second to open the box. The two earrings rested on the dark, cushioned interior; she stared at them for a long moment, silent; Stephanie hesitated. For a moment she suddenly felt self-conscious.
“It’s okay if you don’t like, them, or-”
“I love them,” Abigail interrupted. Her eyes widened. “I really do.”
“They’re not the most expensive,” Stephanie said.
“But they’re from you,” Abigail said. She flashed a smile, and looked at them for a few moments more. “Thank you. Really.”
Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief; Abigail slowly closed the box, but still held it. She looked curiously up at Stephanie.
“Breathe,” Abigail said. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous.”
“Yeah,” Stephanie said.
She hesitated, not sure what else she was meant to say. Abigail was right. It wasn’t that nothing ever got to her, but she was usually much better at powering past it. Now, though, she was just flying – which meant she was much more worried about crashing.
“I think it’s hitting me how much I really don’t want to mess this up,” Stephanie said.
“You won’t,” Abigail said.
“It’s easy to say that,” Stephanie said.
“Please, when have you messed up anything you set your mind to?” Abigail said. “You’re kind of incredible.”
It should have been easy to dismiss that kind of remark as a disposable compliment; instead, with Abigail looking at her like that, she felt herself starting to blush.
“Thank you,” Stephanie said.
“Things are going to go great. I have a feeling,” Abigail said. She paused. “Speaking of, we should probably talk about the festival.”
Right. That had been on Stephanie’s mind too, a little; they were only a day from the official crowning of the Harvest Queen, and the final big celebration.
It would have been the final tallying of the votes. Now, with Abigail out of the running, Stephanie was unopposed – it was little more than a formality, a fun little ceremony that would see her crowned, see her have fun with the traditions of Middleton, before she was given the tickets.
This year, it was planned to conclude the evening; after all the snacking, drinking, conversation, the crowning would mark the end of the official festival.
“Do you want to go together?” Stephanie said.
“Do you?” Abigail said.
“I… wouldn’t mind,” Stephanie said. “We could go as Harvest Queens together. No harm in it. Besides, we’ll be in New York by the next day, the rumour mill will have run its course by the time we come back.”
“On one condition,” Abigail said.
“Sure,” Stephanie said.
“If you’re going on my arm,” Abigail said, “Make sure you look your best. We want to look good together after all – and I have a reputation to uphold.”
“I have my Harvest Queen outfit planned ready,” Stephanie said. She smiled; “How about you?”
“Well I had a look, just didn’t have the earrings to match it,” Abigail said. She tapped the box she’d been given: “Something tells me that problem’s been fixed.”
Stephanie chuckled.
And she was looking at Abigail’s lips again. She swallowed. She was happy though, just thinking about going to the festival by Abigail’s side. It was, she reflected, something of a mixed blessing how any closeness between two women could be construed as platonic.
She found she wasn’t feeling so much tension about that now, though; she knew. The more time passed, the more certain she was.
At some point she started kissing Abigail. Even Stephanie couldn’t say quite when she’d closed the distance between them, just that it seemed so very easy for her to.
They’d had one kiss at the Bistro, but beyond that most of their affection had been saved for behind the closed doors of Stephanie’s home; the somewhat familiar décor of Grey House was an interesting new addition. It felt different kissing her here, even just because of the setting.
“Mm,” Stephanie said.
“What are you thinking?” Abigail said.
“That I want to kiss you again,” Stephanie said.
“Now where have I heard that before?”
“Not just here,” Stephanie said. “Everywhere. I want to feel what it’s like, being that close to you, in all kinds of places. My place, yours, the Bistro, your flower shop, just out in a field somewhere, I don’t care. I just want to feel it again and again.”
“Well, I can offer you New York,” Abigail said, lips close enough that her breath tickled Stephanie’s face. “How does that sound?”
“It’s a start,” Stephanie said.
Stephanie closed her eyes; sometimes she wondered how Cassie and Abigail did it, always knowing who was approaching even when they didn’t turn around. At that moment, though, she felt like she’d always be able to know when Abigail was near. She felt her.
And she couldn’t imagine being without her.
The day of the festival came; the ever-present cliché of the Monster Mash played in one corner while people danced, and at another stall people were carving pumpkins. Cassie and Sam walked arm-in-arm through the attractions, the Mayor kept darting from one booth to the next making sure everything was in tip-top condition – and then Abigail and Stephanie met, not far from the square at the centre of everything.
And for a moment, Abigail was lost for words. Stephanie was beautiful. Even with a slightly cheesy Halloween costume, fitting the theme of the day, she just shone; she didn’t seem to be trying for any particular character, more just putting together an outfit that suited the season and aesthetic while staying practical. Her blonde hair was artfully messed up, her dress detailed with lace and spiderwebs and a skirt that flared out to look more wild than it was – brightly coloured pants on beneath added an almost carnival flair to the look.
A neat silver necklace was the last adornment, a delicate silver heart hanging on the edge of the chain. Abigail was a little flustered at that; she’d given it as a gift to Stephanie a while ago. She hadn’t expected her to remember.
Certainly not a cliché to fawn over, but then that at least meant Abigail had no shame about doing just that.
“Abigail,” Stephanie said, tone impish. “What a coincidence running into you.”
Oh, right, conversations were usually easier if they both talked. Abigail cleared her throat, refocusing and managing to continue smoothly.
“Absolutely,” Abigail said. “Nice dress. Looks good on you.”
“I was trying for spooky,” Stephanie said.
“I don’t think I could ever be scared of you, sorry,” Abigail said. “I may not be your target audience.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Stephanie said. “You haven’t seen me baking under a deadline. I can get pretty scary.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to stick around to find out,” Abigail said.
She winked; Stephanie chuckled, and offered her arm to Abigail.
“Speaking of costumes,” Stephanie said; she nodded to Abigail’s.
Abigail had managed to throw something together; it was faintly Wonderland inspired, if a hodgepodge of aesthetics. She had the red hair, enough roses, and enough club-suitable clothing from living in the city, to put together something that was acceptable by Middleton’s standards, and stylish enough for her.
Along with the black and red dress, with careful tears for the hell of it, her last flourish on the outfit had been to pull her hair back while keeping it under a small, silver, glittering tiara; the green on the earrings was a stark contrast to the rest of the outfit, but set it off precisely because of that. Some part of her was just proud of having them visible.
“Like it?” Abigail said.
“Trying to look like a Queen?” Stephanie said.
“Well, we do both know who’d have won if I’d stayed in the contest,” Abigail said. She flashed a smirk; Stephanie raised her eyebrows.
“You know what you said about me not being scary?” Stephanie said. “Say that again and find out.”
“Tempting,” Abigail said. She dropped her voice: “But it’s hard enough not to kiss you right now, and I feel that would just make it even harder to keep it subtle.”
A little colour rose to Stephanie’s cheeks, visible even beyond the painted-on cracks and chips she’d decided on.
And together, they walked on into the festival.
Abigail couldn’t remember enjoying any Middleton event as much as she did that one – true, it had taken her a while to adjust to begin with. The crowds at a small town festival had a very different flavour to the hustle and bustle of a city, despite the surface level similarity. It took a while to adapt to crowds that struck a balance between noise and calm.
It required… commitment was probably the best word. Gone were the days where she could just breeze from place to place and soak in the atmosphere. Rather than a ubiquitous aura, there were lots of small things, each one needing more time, more attention – she’d always struggled with that. It was so hard to see the point.
Now, though, she found herself genuinely enjoying every second. Company added to a lot. Middleton had grown on her as it was, but she was starting to see more of the appeal of even this kind of celebration.
Carving pumpkins was dull if you did it just to get a carved pumpkin – but it was fun if you didn’t want it to end, if you were sat beside someone you could laugh with, poking fun and paying compliments in equal measure.
It was when they left the stall, and picked up some flavoured cocoa to warm their hands and selves from a nearby truck, that Stephanie really looked at her again.
“Someone was staring at us, back there,” Stephanie said after a moment.
“Mm?” Abigail said.
She took a sip of her drink, burning her lips slightly. That was something she did miss about the big city – indoor parties tended to be much warmer when they wore on into a fall evening.
“I don’t know. Might be my imagination,” Stephanie said. “It just seemed like they… knew. Looking at us because we weren’t acting like just friends.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Abigail said.
Stephanie faltered.
“I kind of liked it,” Stephanie said. “Is that weird? I was so nervous about it, but as soon as it seemed to actually happen, or I imagined it happening, whichever, I felt so happy with it. I liked being seen as your date.”
“I mean, you do have good taste,” Abigail said.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve made that joke before,” Stephanie said.
“And it’s still true,” Abigail said. She flashed a smile.
Then she paused. Sometimes her usual flippancy didn’t feel enough.
“Feel however you want to,” Abigail said. “There’s no wrong way, there’s just your way. You said you wanted to puzzle things out – has it helped you?”
“Yes,” Stephanie said. She hesitated. “Yes. It has.”
Stephanie slowed for a moment; barely thinking about it, Abigail stopped beside her. She waited for Stephanie to drink some of her cocoa.
“Can I ask a favour?” Stephanie said.
“How much effort will it take?” Abigail said, sighing; she cocked her head, eyes twinkling to make clear she was kidding.
“Not much,” Stephanie said. She bit her lip. “Call me your girlfriend. I… want to hear what it sounds like, coming from you.”
“Hmm. I think I can manage that,” Abigail said. “If you give me a bit to get up the energy.”
Stephanie elbowed her; Abigail laughed, then leaned in to whisper.
“You are my wonderful, wonderful girlfriend,” she said.
And when she pulled back, Stephanie was wearing a downright silly grin. Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle again at that.
“Like that?” Abigail teased.
“It feels right,” Stephanie said. She smiled. “Girlfriend.”
She said it like she was just trying the word out – and Abigail would fervently deny her heart skipping a beat.
It was hardly her first time dating a woman, though the careful dance to see if someone was so inclined was that little bit harder out of the city. Still, it was worth it this time.
So worth it.
Arms interlocked again, they continued on, past kids getting their faces painted, and past a few cheap games.
Until the evening started to die down, and Martha hurried up to the stage, preparing to announce the crowning of the Harvest Queen. Slowly, Stephanie and Abigail’s attention was drawn towards the platform.
“Wonder who’s going to win,” Abigail murmured.
“Very funny,” Stephanie said. She paused. “Why did you decide to run again this year anyway?”
“Just felt like the thing to do,” Abigail shrugged. “It worked out, didn’t it?”
“Guess so,” Stephanie said.
Their hands were together. Dimly, Abigail registered that she’d probably have to let go when Stephanie went to collect her crown; well, that was a problem for future Abigail.
Martha was clearing her throat, beginning to try and get everyone’s attention; vaguely, Abigail looked around.
Cassie was looking at the two of them – she was smiling encouragingly. Abigail shot a sharper look back, steadfastly refusing to be part of any couple she considered cute; that didn’t diminish Cassie’s smile.
“Ahem!”
Martha finally had everyone’s attention. Slowly, Abigail turned her focus to her.
“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Martha said. “The Harvest Festival goes back many years, and we’ve always had a tradition of…”
There was a slight murmur in the crowd. Perhaps wisely, Martha curtailed her planned Middleton history lesson, receiving a sealed envelope from an aide who seemed more dressed as an elf than anything spooky.
“And who else?” Martha said. “Our Fall Harvest Queen is… Stephanie Borden!”
Abigail cheered a split second before the crowd started clapping; Stephanie was downright radiant as she took the stage, greeted by polite applause (from most people) and unashamed whooping (from Abigail).
For all the build-up, the ceremony was simple enough – the Mayor handed over a cheap, if sparkly, tiara to mark her as the winner, and gave her the envelope, tickets enclosed. Stephanie posed briefly with the tiara, beaming, before slipping it onto her head.
Even with all the effort they’d both put into the Harvest Queen ceremony, it was over in a minute. Stephanie hopped down off the stage, leaving Martha to debate giving a speech, before she too was coaxed down by her aide.
The result had been expected. Despite that, Stephanie looked no less cheerful, and Abigail could hardly blame her.
“Your Majesty,” Abigail teased, offering a half-curtsy. Stephanie rolled her eyes.
“Oh, c’mere,” Stephanie said.
She wound her hands in Abigail’s hair and pulled her in close. The kiss knocked her tiara askew; she didn’t seem to notice until some time later, quietly pulling back. Her hands lowered, but only as far as Abigail’s shoulders; in turn, Abigail kept her arms tightly wrapped around her girlfriend.
“You were worried about people staring before,” Abigail murmured.
“I don’t care,” Stephanie said. “I don’t think there’s much else for me to figure out.”
“Mm?”
“Mm,” Stephanie said.
She moved one hand to adjust her tiara, and then looped it around Abigail’s shoulder again; she didn’t break eye contact for a moment.
“I love you,” Stephanie said.
Abigail opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out; instead she offered a smile.
She’d never entirely understood why people made the fuss they did over those words. They were just words – it took no especial effort to say them. They’d felt so meaningless before.
Now, they didn’t. It wasn’t the words; it was what was behind them, the look in Stephanie’s eyes, and the promise of so much more.
“I love you too,” Abigail said.
She was still so distracted by smiling, by feeling like she was standing on air, that she almost missed Stephanie coming in for another kiss.
Eventually, though, she did move back a little way.
“What do you say we bail on the Festival’s closing?” Stephanie said. “Let the gossips tire themselves out. I have a tickets for two for a rather nice getaway, as it turns out.”
“A Queen, leave her subjects?” Abigail said, faux-scandalised.
“I’m willing if you are,” Stephanie said.
“Well, I suppose you could convince me,” Abigail said.
It was hard to look playful when her grin kept breaking through her façade. Eventually she gave up, kissing Stephanie again.
She was always glad she’d come to Middleton, but some days more than most.
Even when they pulled apart, Stephanie’s hand trailed down Abigail’s arm to hold her hand; Abigail squeezed encouragingly, and they turned away to face the park. Only a couple of people still looked at them: Cassie was smiling in her own quiet way, and Martha already seemed to be running mental calculations on how much revenue a pride parade could bring in.
Slowly, Abigail turned back to Stephanie; Stephanie completed the same glance-around of the park before in turn returning to regarding her girlfriend.
“Ready?” Abigail said.
She tapped a coy hand on the envelope, still held under Stephanie’s arms. Just then, a holiday together sounded like a really good idea.
“Ready,” Stephanie said.
And, together, they left the festival.