Stacy took a generous pull from her mug, savoring the lighter accents in the bitter flavor as the coffee warmed her body. Grabbing a latte from the drive-through at Starbucks in the morning was fine, but a fresh roast at an independent shop was something else entirely. She'd definitely made the right decision in trying out the small shop before heading home from her holiday shopping.
Putting her mug down, she returned to staring down the half-eaten piece of cheesecake sitting in front of her. It was delicious, she hadn't had better in a long time, but she knew she was going to pay for it later. She wished she still had the metabolism of a teenager and could just eat what she wanted and not worry about having to hit the gym to work it off, not that she ever took advantage of her faster metabolism when she was a teenager; she nearly starved herself to death. In the end, her sweet tooth won out. Picking up her fork, she carved off another bite off the creamy dessert.
She had gotten the piece halfway to her mouth when a bell chimed, making her pause and turn her attention to the door. A blast of cold air blew in as it opened, and a woman entered the shop. She was on the short side, probably just a few inches over five feet without the boots she was wearing, with shoulder-length auburn hair that had been tousled by the wind. Something about her drew Stacy in, and she couldn't help but stare.
The long coat the woman wore kept Stacy from getting a good look at her clothes; not that she judged people by their clothes, well not for a long time anyway. She still enjoyed looking though. The coat itself was very nice; maybe a year or two old, but the simplistic double-breasted style was timeless. It was dark olive green, almost black, and a good enough fit to make Stacy wonder if it was tailored. As the woman pushed her hair back from her face and started to straighten it, Stacy got a better look at her.
She wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but she was certainly attractive. Her lips were painted a subtle pink; not bold enough to call attention to her, but enticing enough to draw you in if you were already looking. What defined her face most though, were her glasses. Stylish, but not to the point that it would affect function; narrow silver rectangles surrounded deep brown eyes with circles under them that Stacy could definitely relate to, brown eyes that were looking directly at her.
Caught staring, Stacy almost dropped her cheesecake, before quickly shoving it in her mouth and looking down at her coffee. Blushing furiously, she almost choked when she heard the man behind the counter address the woman by a very familiar last name, "Why hello, Ms. Morgendorffer. Good to see you out of your cave. Come down to steal Christmas from us poor little Whos?"
In a sarcastic voice that pricked at Stacy's memory, the woman replied, "Too much work. Besides, Amazon already stole the holiday and is making a killing selling it back. I'll settle for my usual... and a piece of the cheesecake my secret admirer over there is having."
The barista chuckled. "Alright, it'll be ready in just a bit. Try not to scare off my new customer, okay?" he asked, clearly amused. The woman let out a dismissive chuckle, followed by footsteps and the sounds of coffee being prepared.
Stacy sat frozen, waiting for someone to say something to her. When no one did, she forced herself to slowly raise her head, her cheeks still flushed. The woman was smirking at her, arms crossed over her chest. It was the smirk that did it. She'd been pretty sure, but once she saw that amused expression, she knew. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she asked, "Daria?"
Daria let out a resigned sigh, unfolding her arms and slumping a bit. Looking Stacy straight in the eye with what almost seemed like desperation, she groaned, "Please don't tell me you want to talk to me about the essay. I promise, I've heard it all."
"Essay?" Stacy asked, confused and a little embarrassed that she didn't know what the other woman was talking about.
Daria cocked her head and gave Stacy a quizzical look. "On the Huffington Post?" When Stacy didn't show any sign of recognition, Daria narrowed her eyes and asked, "How do you know my name?"
"We, um, went to school together. I was friends with your sister," Stacy explained meekly, immediately admonishing herself for responding that way. She hadn't acted like that in years. For some reason, talking to Daria had her feeling like she was back in high school.
Daria looked at her flatly. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific; Quinn had a lot of friends."
That hurt. Stacy hadn't realized how much she was expecting Daria to remember her. Trying come off as unfazed, she replied, "You probably don't remember me. I was in the Fashion Club with her and we roomed together in college."
Daria's brown eyes shot open as recognition, followed quickly by surprise, flashed across her features. "Stacy? Stacy Rowe?" she asked, the scowl that had formed over the course of their conversation disappearing and an almost imperceptible blush coloring her cheeks. It was the friendliest Stacy had ever seen her. Of course, that wasn't saying much; she'd kept herself pretty isolated when they were in high school.
"That's me," Stacy confirmed, giving a polite smile and a small awkward wave.
"Do you mind if I—" Daria asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from Stacy.
"Please," Stacy said warmly.
Daria started toward the table, before stopping abruptly. She quickly unbuttoned her coat and turned back to hang it on the one of the hooks next to the door, before moving toward the table again. Stacy took advantage of the brief moment to observe her old acquaintance without the heavy coat on. Daria was wearing a chocolate colored sweater that brought out her eyes and a pair of black slacks that matched her boots. She was as slim as Stacy remembered, but not nearly as flat; her college years had been kind to her.
Daria pulled out the chair and sat, explaining, "Sorry. If I don't treat that coat right, Quinn somehow knows and I start getting angry texts."
Stacy giggled. "That sounds like Quinn. How is she?"
Daria's eyes widened in surprise behind her glasses. "You're not in touch? I thought you two were pretty close."
Stacy shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. It wasn't a subject she liked to think about. Turning to look out the window, she wistfully said, "You know how it goes. We kept up for a few years after college, but between the distance and our lives going such different ways… we just lost touch."
"Mnh," Daria mumbled pensively in what seemed like agreement.
Stacy got the feeling she had more to say, but didn't want to push. Instead, she tried to get the conversation back on track. "So, Quinn's doing well?"
Snapping out of whatever mood she was falling into, Daria said, "Well, she hasn't gone out of business yet."
"Business?" Stacy asked, having a hard time believing her ears. It was difficult to reconcile her image of her old friend with that of a businesswoman.
Daria's eyebrows raised slightly. "You really haven't talked in a while. She opened a boutique in San Francisco a few years ago."
"Wow," Stacy said, the image clicking neatly into place. "I mean, I know she got her degree in fashion management and was working in the field, but she's really doing it." She had to admit she was a little jealous.
"Yeah, it's still hard to imagine my bratty flake of a sister running a successful business," Daria said without malice, her lips briefly forming a small smile before returning to the neutral expression she had maintained through most of their conversation.
Stacy smiled at Daria's pride in her sister. It hadn't always been that way. "I remember when she wouldn't even admit you were her sister."
"Hard to believe that was over a decade ago," Daria said, something about her voice difficult to read.
Stacy gave an exaggerated groan. "Don't remind me. Can you believe we're old?"
"Don't tell me you're one of those," Daria said, a touch of exasperation in her tone.
"No, no," Stacy said quickly, holding up her hands and shaking her head. "Life may not be perfect, but I wouldn't go back to Lawndale if you paid me."
Daria opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted when the barista from earlier walked up to their table and set her coffee and a plate of cheesecake in front of her. He glanced at Stacy, then smirked and turned to Daria. "I see you're hitting it off with your secret admirer. You usually don't give anyone the time of day."
"I usually don't tip nosy baristas either." Stacy could tell Daria was joking with the man, but there was an edge of warning to her voice as well.
The barista either didn't pick up on it or didn't care. "Seeing one of my best customers chatting with a cutie instead of buried in a book or typing away on her laptop is tip enough for me," he said with a chuckle, turning and hurrying back to the counter before Daria could get another word in.
Stacy couldn't keep herself from smiling. "He seems to know you pretty well. I'm guessing you come here often?"
Daria sighed. "It's a short walk from my apartment, and Kyle's roasts are worlds better than what you get from one of those chains," she explained, looking over her shoulder at the man and loudly adding, "even if he is a nosy yenta."
"It's only because I worry about you bubala," Kyle called back in a bad Yiddish accent.
The fact that Daria hadn't denied being attracted to women didn't escape Stacy. Memories of the summer before her senior year came unbidden; she could clearly see her younger self awkwardly blushing and stammering around her best friend's older sister. Pushing the embarrassing memories aside, she asked, "You live downtown?"
Daria took a cautious sip of her coffee, then nodded. "My apartment's a couple of blocks from here."
"Wow, I can't even imagine," Stacy said, dreamily. Living downtown in a fancy high-rise had been a secret fantasy of hers since she first moved to the Seattle area. "What do you do for a living? If you don't mind my asking that is. You said something about an essay earlier?"
"I'm a writer," Daria answered curtly. As if that were enough of an answer, she picked up her fork and took a bite of her cheesecake.
Stacy took a drink from her mug, waiting for more. When it didn't come, she carefully prodded Daria. "It seemed like you were upset about that essay."
Daria finished washing down her cheesecake with coffee and put her mug down with more force than was strictly necessary. Pushing up her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose, she said, "I have a new book coming out soon, and my agent got the idea in her head that I needed to promote it, never mind that I've never had trouble selling before. So I wrote an essay for the Huffington Post; I know some people there and I've worked with them before."
"That doesn't sound so bad," Stacy offered, encouragingly.
Daria continued, ignoring Stacy's interjection, "My mistake was trying to be topical. The new book isn't even political, but it's what people expect of me. Some idiot from the alt-right found the essay and decided I was just the feminist social justice warrior they needed to get their base riled up. For the past few weeks I've had people pestering me everywhere I go; if it's not Trump loving bigots throwing slurs at me, it's bleeding hearts trying to 'support' me and get a selfie in the process."
"Oh," Stacy sighed, crestfallen. She awkwardly poked at her cheesecake as she tried to figure out what to say. She couldn't just say nothing, but she didn't want to come off as being pushy or insincere and scare Daria off either. After a stretch of awkward silence that couldn't possibly have been as long as it felt, she finally hesitantly said, "I can't imagine what you're going through, but it must be terrible to not be able to go out without people harassing you."
Daria chuckled. "You know, back in high school I would have killed for an excuse not to leave the house."
"You never were much of a social person," Stacy agreed, smiling in relief.
"And yet here I am, having coffee with a member of the Fashion Club."
Stacy couldn't help but laugh at that. "The closest I come to fashion these days is playing dress up with my kids."
"You have kids?" Daria sounded almost disappointed.
"What?" Stacy asked, confused for a moment until she realized exactly what she'd said. Almost tripping over her words, she clarified, "No, no. I mean, maybe one day, but no. No kids."
"So you dress up other people's kids?" Daria asked, smirking at her from across the table.
"No, well yes. I mean—" Stacy took a deep breath. Again, Daria had her off balance, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. The sarcastic wit and from their high school days was still there, but it was good-natured instead of dripping with vitriol. Exhaling, she explained, "I'm a teacher; I teach kindergarten and work at an after school program."
Daria didn't respond right away, instead taking a moment to stare at her appraisingly while taking a long drink. Stacy did her best not to squirm under the other woman's gaze. Finally lowering her mug, Daria said, "Somehow that suits you."
Stacy realized she might be being optimistic, but Daria's words didn't feel derisive or even just a statement of fact. There was recognition, and maybe just a touch of warmth there. Not wanting to ruin the moment, Stacy replied with a simple, "Thanks."
The conversation fell off after that, both women focusing on eating their cheesecake and finishing their coffee before it got cold. Stacy usually wasn't great with silences; she got into her head too much when she wasn't engaged. This was different though, comfortable.
She found herself sneaking glances across the table as they ate, just a quick look at Daria's face or hair when she didn't think she'd be spotted. Daria's hair was beautiful; it always had been, really. Even in the past, when she claimed not to care about that kind of thing, it had good body and was that amazing dark shade of auburn that lit up when the light was just right. Now, her long tresses were clearly in the care of a professional and kept up well between appointments, the careful shaping and maintenance only enhancing its natural beauty.
Most of all though, she just enjoyed Daria's presence. The strength was familiar, but there was also a fragility there that made her feel more human and made Stacy want to be there for her. Daria had clearly been through some things, and Stacy could definitely relate to that.
Coffee almost drained and cheesecake finished, Stacy broke the silence and asked, "What are you doing for Christmas?"
Clearly startled, Daria almost choked on her coffee. After setting the mug down and taking a moment to swallow, she said, "Well, that's a non sequitur. I don't really have anything planned. I'll probably just get some Chinese food and make fun of bad Hallmark movies."
Stacy leaned back in shock, appalled on several levels. First, she didn't like the idea of anyone being alone on Christmas, although that was a little hypocritical of her. Second, Chinese food was not an acceptable Christmas dinner. And third, she liked those Hallmark movies; sure they were cheesy and all had pretty much the same plot, but they were romantic and heartwarming.
"Why not go down to see Quinn or celebrate with some friends?" Stacy chanced, hoping not to hit any sore spots, but unable to resist.
Daria didn't seem offended. She just shrugged and said, "The few people I know that aren't just professional acquaintances putting on an act for their own benefit have families to spend the holiday with. Quinn's visiting our parents this year, and I... don't want to go to Lawndale."
Stacy didn't press Daria about Lawndale. She had her own reasons for not going home, and didn't exactly like talking about them. She knew what she wanted to do, but she also knew it could easily scare Daria off and ruin any chance to get closer to her.
Biting the bullet, Stacy nodded and boldly proclaimed, "Alright, I'm cooking you Christmas dinner."
"Excuse me?" Daria asked, sounding more taken aback than offended.
"I'm coming over to your apartment on the twenty-fifth and cooking you a proper Christmas dinner," Stacy stated as matter-of-factly as she could. It was one of the ways she had learned to overcome her anxiety; she just ignored it the best she could and forced herself to move forward. "I'm not letting you stay cooped up alone eating fried rice and egg rolls on Christmas."
Daria quickly recovered from her shock and went on the defensive. "I'm sure someone as cheery as you has someone you'd rather be spending Christmas with. Friends, a boyfriend maybe?"
Glad Daria hadn't brought up family, Stacy shook her head. "Nope and nope. My friends are as busy as yours, and I haven't had a date in longer than I'd like to admit."
Daria grinned as a look of realization lit up her face. "You have no idea where my apartment is," she said, a hint of triumph in her voice.
Stacy froze for a moment, before something occurred to her. With a predatory smile and an innocent voice that didn't match it at all, she replied, "You know, I think I still remember your parents' number. Maybe it's about time I catch up with Quinn."
Daria eyed Stacy with respect. "I don't remember you being this good."
"A girl can change a lot in fifteen years," Stacy said with a smirk, feeling rather proud of herself.
Daria's gaze fell down to the dregs of her coffee. "Yeah," she half-whispered, talking more to herself than Stacy.
All of Stacy's confidence, false and otherwise, evaporated. She wasn't sure what she'd said, but it had clearly caused Daria to go somewhere unpleasant, which was the last thing she wanted. Backpedaling, she said, "So, um, I'll come over around two. Is that okay?"
Daria looked up from her coffee and blinked a few times, the faintest touch of red on her cheeks. She shrugged and smiled softly. "Why not? I can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Might be nice for a change."
Stacy cringed inwardly. She really hoped Daria was joking about her diet, but somehow got the distinct feeling she wasn't. Returning Daria's smile tenfold, she said, "Great! I'll give you my number so we can coordinate."
"Let me get my phone," Daria replied, getting up and walking over to her coat.
While Daria pulled the garment off the hook, Stacy reached down and dug through her purse for her own device. Why women couldn't have pockets was one aspect of clothing that Stacy had never been able to understand. Okay, it disrupted the profile a bit, but she really cared more about utility most days.
When Daria returned to the table, she slid her phone across the table to Stacy. It was unlocked and open to the new contact window. "It's easier than shouting our personal information across the coffee shop," she explained.
Stacy wasn't particularly concerned about someone stealing her number, but with what Daria had been dealing with, she could certainly understand the precaution. Mirroring Daria, she unlocked her phone and slid it across the table. Picking up Daria's phone, Stacy entered her information into the provided fields and pressed the button to create a new contact. As she did, she noticed the time.
Reaching across the table to hand back Daria's phone and grab her own, she quickly explained, "I'm so sorry to do this, but I have to go. I have a hair appointment and I'm really close to running late." As she started gathering up her purse and the multitude of bags she'd picked up on her shopping trip, Daria walked around the table and grabbed several herself. Stopping and turning to face Daria, Stacy smiled and said, "Daria, you really don't have to."
"You're cooking me dinner; the least I can do is carry a few bags to your car. Don't worry, I have plenty of practice from when I lived with Quinn," Daria joked as she grabbed the last of the bags, carrying more of them than Stacy was.
"You lived with Quinn?" Stacy asked as they walked toward the door.
As they passed the coat hooks, Daria hastily grabbed her coat and slung it over her shoulder with her free hand. Hesitating as they made their way out the door, she eventually elaborated, "My move out west was a bit... sudden. Quinn helped me get back on my feet."
Something truly bad had happened to Daria, and she was still reeling from it. Stacy desperately wanted to know more, but also knew not to push. Trying to put as much sincerity and personal experience into her voice as possible, she shared, "I think I might have some idea what you're talking about. It was really rough when I first moved here."
"Mnh," Daria intoned, her mind clearly elsewhere.
They continued down the street in silence, but like before, it wasn't awkward. It was a companionable silence, as Stacy thought back on what brought her across the country and imagined Daria was doing the same. Still, it was a relief when the sight of her yellow subcompact broke her from her thoughts. She reached into her purse and found her keys, unlocking the car. Walking around the back, she opened the little hatchback's backdoor, careful to make sure it wouldn't hit the car behind her, and she and Daria quickly loaded her purchases into the car.
A cold breeze made Stacy shiver as she and Daria moved onto the sidewalk and stood awkwardly next to her car. "I'd offer you a hug goodbye, but I'm guessing you're not much of a hugger," Stacy joked, breaking the silence.
"Good guess," Daria confirmed, a brief smile gracing her face.
"Well, I'd better go. I guess I'll see you in about a week," Stacy said, walking around her car to the driver's side. Stopping, she turned around and added, "It was great to see you again. I'm really glad I stopped to get some coffee."
"Yeah, me too," Daria replied. Again, there was something in her voice, or maybe more than one thing, but Stacy couldn't parse it.
She climbed into her car and buckled up, watching Daria put on her coat and walk back toward the coffee shop in her peripheral vision. As she started the car and pulled out onto the road, Stacy wondered what she was getting herself into. She had just had coffee with someone who might as well be a complete stranger and was clearly going through something, then invited herself into their home to cook them Christmas dinner. It was ridiculous and more than a little crazy, but somehow, it felt right.
Happy holidays,
I actually wrote this first part a year ago, but I decided to continue it and then... life happened. Long story short, I finished the whole story last summer. I really like this one, and I hope you do too. The rest is coming when it's set, Christmas day. Consider it a Christmas present I guess.