Yes, the night sweltered. Yes, her stomach complained mildly. And yes, she couldn't sleep. Raven in just her tank and boxer briefs made her way to the kitchen for more water. Sweat paid no attention to her eyebrows and just flowed into her eyes, stinging.

When she opened the fridge, she heard a breath. Abby sat on the couch staring into the empty fireplace. So Raven took out two bottles of water. The fan thrummed overhead. Raven crossed over to Abby and handed her the water.

Abby looked up with empty eyes. As she took the bottle from Raven, the cloudiness blew over, and a tiny spark appeared. Abby patted the couch beside her.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Raven, sitting down.

Abby shook her head. "You?"

"Nah. Too hot."

They sipped their water for a few moments. Abby looked back into the fireplace. Damp heat pressed Raven into the couch. She watched sweat drip down Abby's face, flowing from line to line, swimming down the tear tracks. Abby reached up to wipe her face.

"I can't imagine," said Raven.

"You don't want to. I hope you never have to," said Abby, "I mean, I've been living with this emptiness for a year. It doesn't get easier. When I'm working I can nudge it aside for a time— but it always comes back."

Raven knew loss. Hers had its own rhythm. It had its own timing, but that desolation— so familiar. Familiar as her own mother. And the loss that kept on— that's it, it just kept on. Because her mother wasn't dead, just missing. Even when she was in the same room. And sometimes she'd turned up out of the blue— needing Raven to take care of her, and— Raven just couldn't. Not any more.

Abby drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her head down.

"I'm sorry. I've disturbed you," Raven said, moving to go back to her room. But Abby caught her hand.

"You haven't. I like your company," she said.

Raven took a breath. "Me too. But I don't want to overstep, so—?"

"Stay," said Abby, letting her go. "Tell me about The Sky View Inn."

Raven settled back onto the couch and brought her feet up. She leaned against the arm and faced Abby.

"No story, really," she said, "I just wanted a place I— and whichever of my friends wanted to— could call home. So what I could buy— after a boatload of ships' contracts— was this shell. In Mexico." She shrugged. "Keeps me occupied."

"In an incredibly beautiful place." Abby's face warmed.

"It's becoming home, a little at a time."

"Home is good."

"Yes. It is."

Cooler air billowed through the windows, a prelude to a downpour. The palm fronds danced.

"Smell it?" asked Raven.

Abby nodded. "I didn't know it rains so much here," she said.

"I think it's what made me fall in love with the place," said Raven. "Otherwise it would be too hot."

Abby's face softened. "I like how you're using the skeleton you have to make the life you want."

Raven snorted. "Yeah, in more ways than one." She lifted her braced leg.

A smile hit Abby's eyes as one corner of her mouth slid down.

"What? This old thing? I've had it for years," said Raven. "More than half my life, in fact," she murmured.

Abby turned a little more toward Raven.

"A drunken accident, just stupid."

"Were you driving?"

"No. My mom."

Rain pattered through some neighboring trees. The ones that survived flexed in a storm. Raven liked that. The trees in the rain possessed the traits that had brought her here. Flexibility. Durability. Bending when circumstance called for it, but never to the breaking point. Raven took a breath.

"What's she like?"

"Mmm? She? My daughter?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I don't even know any more. Headstrong. Stubborn. Driven. Stunning. She has Jake's eyes. She got the best of both of us, really."

"But it's hard to be together?"

"Y'know how, if you knock out one of the legs on a three-legged stool, it just falls over? Without Jake—"

Raven exhaled. "I do know."

Abby's forehead creased. "Yes. I think you do."

"I really, really need to get some sleep. The kids— Lincoln and Octavia— will only be here a few hours Wednesday, and I'll need to feed them, so we should have the floor completely in before they dock Wednesday morning."

"I get it. You're abandoning me," Abby teased.

"What? No! You should sleep, too."

"I should."

Abby stood and extended her hand to Raven. Raven took it and stood.

"Well. Good night," said Abby.

"Sleep well."

They faced each other, not six inches apart, and hovered there for several moments, until Raven stutter-stepped back.

"I gotta— I'm gonna—"

"Go to sleep, Honey."

"Right. That's the plan."

Later, as she lay awake, Raven heard Abby's footsteps on the stairs. A sudden chill washed through. On the ship, it had been normal to be in close quarters with everyone. The spaciousness up top was reserved for the passengers, but the crew— belowdecks everyone lived on top of everybody else. Nobody thought anything of it if people grasped hands or touched someone's shoulder or—

Raven turned over again, trying to find the comfy spot. Tonight it remained elusive. Only one more day until her family arrived. And then another after they were gone until Abby's family arrived.

And work to do in between. So why the stress? Maybe she just wasn't cut out for Hospitality. She certainly hadn't mastered it yet.

What was that? Did Abby call?

Raven found herself outside Abby's door before she'd even thought about it.

"Abby?" She knocked softly. "Are you okay? I thought I heard something."

"Just a minute," called Abby.

The door opened, revealing Abby in shorts and a t-shirt. "Can't sleep still?"

"I thought I heard you call."

"No, but come in. If you'd like."

Raven hesitated, then did as she was asked.

"I'm questioning my aptitude for Hospitality."

"Oh?"

"I like you— like being around you— but I've never known a concierge who wanted to hang out with guests— with a particular guest— like, all the time."

"You only have one guest, and you seem perfectly hospitable to me."

"Is there anything you need? You know, to help you sleep, or—"

"No. I just miss him. You?"

"What, no. No. I'm good."

"All right."

"Yeah, I'm going now. Good night."

"Good night, Raven."

In the morning, or what passed for morning since it was still before noon, Abby brought Raven coffee.

"We have a floor to install, Sunshine. Let's do the thing," said Abby.

Raven just groaned and buried her head under a pillow.

"Up and at 'em. I'll have breakfast ready in a minute."

Raven moved out from under the pillow and opened her eyes. Once they could focus, she noticed Abby in her work clothes. Which alone was worth getting up for.

"Good, good. Be there in a sec."

Abby left her to dress.

"Okay, it's just scrambled eggs and bacon, plus homemade biscuits, just because I had to show off."

"Totally worth getting up for," said Raven, filling her plate. "Did you sleep?"

"Not much."

"I'm sorry."

"I just really want not to disappoint your friends."

"I just really want not to disappoint your daughter."

They shared a smile.

"Then eat up, and let's get at it before it's too hot."

Once they had laid out the moisture barrier, Raven demonstrated snapping together the laminated flooring.

"A little rough on the knees, I'd say," said Abby.

"True, but it's pretty quick. Well, quicker than a lot of kinds of flooring, anyway. There are knee pads, if you'd like."

They worked side-by-side through the hottest part of the day. Sun blared through the windows, but the heavy air clung to them. Raven set up an electric fan about a half hour in, and with periodic glasses of ice-cold water, they persevered. Then by the time the afternoon squall blew through, they wrapped up the largest part of the day's job. As the sky clouded over, as the wind picked up, as the room cooled, Raven looked over at Abby. Abby looked back.

"I must look a hot mess," said Abby.

"Hot, yes."

Abby smiled. Raven blinked.

"Is it lemonade time yet?" said Raven.

"I was thinking margaritas. Maybe even frozen ones," said Abby.

"Have to go to the tourist spots for that," said Raven.

"Maybe later, then. May I take you to dinner?"

"I think I'm supposed to make you dinner."

"I think we make our own rules."

"I'll be back with some lemonade." And Raven disappeared down the ladder.

The heat in her face met ice in her chest. Was Abby— Could she—? Oh, this was so inappropriate. It had to stop.

But Raven didn't want to stop. Where the fuck were the lemons? Right there, right where she'd put them. Right in front of her face.

Raven took out a clean rag, wet it, and wiped her face down. She breathed in. She breathed out. She finished making the lemonade and filled two glasses with ice. She put everything on a tray. Hell, why not? Go bananas. She put some cookies on the tray, too. She was about to head back up when Abby appeared in the doorway.

"I thought going up the ladder might be iffy with a tray."

"I was going to take the stairs and walk around. Trust me."

"I do, Raven."

Raven put the tray down on the breakfast table and served the lemonade.

"Thank you," said Abby, "Come sit down with me."

Raven obeyed. And then noticed that she had. And then noticed that it felt fine.

"This is without question the best lemonade I've had," said Abby. "This— is without question— the best vacation I've had— in a long, long time."

Raven made a face. "You're a doctor. I'm sure you've had better vacations than finishing out a room in a blown-out hotel on a hot island."

Abby put down her glass. "Without question," she said. She lay her hand, still cold from the glass, on Raven's cheek. Raven stopped breathing.

Abby took her hand away, and Raven started breathing again.

"I've made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry."

"No. Yes. I don't know," said Raven, "I—" She didn't want to fuck this up. Which was, by the way, fucked up. And the room was not finished. And she didn't— she didn't care.

And Raven set down her glass and picked up Abby's hand and put it back on her cheek. "In a good way."

"So, can I take you out tonight?"

"Yeah. Yes. It's a date."

"Good. It's a date." She took her hand off Raven, chugged the rest of her lemonade, and stood. "And now, drink up, we have some baseboards and a couple of room transitions to finish."

"I'm the foreman. I get to say that. We have some baseboards and a couple of room transitions to finish."

Raven's chopsaw made the baseboards go quickly. When they finished, they stood and admired their work.

"Do you think she'll like it?" asked Raven.

"She has no choice. She'll love it. I need a shower."

Raven caught Abby's hand. "Wait." She pulled her in and wrapped her arms around her. Abby's surprise rolled off her almost immediately. She wrapped her arms around Raven.

"This is nice," said Raven.

"It is nice."

"You smell incredible."

"I'm sure I do. And that is why I need a shower."

Raven let her go. And she went.

I am, without a doubt, completely and absolutely out of my mind, thought Raven. What am I doing? She'll be gone in a few days and—

And isn't that what I do?

But it had only been two days. And Abby had a life, a career, a family. Raven, although a long time do-it-yourselfer, had never thought of herself as a U-Hauler. Time to slow down. See what Abby had in mind. Go along. Get along. Meet the daughter. Holy shit.

Definitely. Slow. The fuck. Down.

Luna's Ocean View provided a fine, if touristy, meal, and a fine, if touristy, frozen margarita. It did have a gorgeous view, and in a stroke of luck, nature really put on a show for them. Pink shimmered off more mackerel clouds, against a silvery sky.

"Salmon sky, salmon sky," said Abby.

Raven raised one eyebrow. "Tuna. It's Tuna Tuesday." And they laughed, as though they had known each other for years.

After coffee, after a serviceable but not stellar flan, they walked across the beach. Moonlight shimmered across the water. Raven snickered.

"What?" said Abby.

"This is just so cliché."

"Just wait 'til you're my age. Everything starts to feel cliché."

"Oh, shut up!"

Abby just smiled. Their hands brushed together lightly. Then Abby took off.

"What are you doing?" called Raven.

"I need to get my feet wet!" Abby called back.

And then Abby started to take her top off.

Raven had initially used a chair, crutches, and later, a cane and a long brace, because that's all there were. But the brace was clumsy and bulky, and it just pissed her off. She spent hours and hours sketching, making prototypes, experimenting. And then she found a design for a short brace that worked for a lady with a similar condition. Raven had made some modifications, and it took a long time to get acclimated, but the new short brace took advantage of the fact that her knee still hinged and the bones in her lower leg were still supportive. With a lot of practice, she could walk, climb, and yes, run— kind of.

So she ran— kind of. By the time she caught up with Abby, Abby stood in her underwear with her toes in the surf. Beaming. Which, well.

"What, not down to the skin?" said Raven. She'd noticed Abby liked a challenge.

"Do you need some help, Raven?" countered Abby.

"Never until you came along."

"My pleasure."

Abby helped Raven with her shirt and shorts.

"Can your brace go in the ocean?"

"Are you kidding? This motherfucker is carbon fiber. They make submersibles out of it. But only the really good ones."

"Would you like to join me in the sea?"

"Skinny, sure." And Raven made it so.

"Some would say so, some would say not," said Abby, but she followed suit, unsuited, and strode into the waves.

The water was warm.

They swam out, just far enough that their feet lifted off the seafloor. Floating, weightless, here with Abby, among the stars, Raven lay back, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. When she opened her eyes, there were Abby's gazing back. Raven righted herself.

"This is perfect," she said.

Abby smiled.

"Is it too soon?" asked Raven.

"I don't know. But I don't want it to be too late," said Abby.

The salty sea buoyed them as they tangled their fingers together. And then, quite naturally, their lips.

"Perfect," gasped Abby. All Raven could do was nod.

They paddled in slightly, so that their feet could touch bottom. And Raven's hands curved around Abby's back and made their way lower as again their lips met. Gentle waves bobbed them on and off the sandy sea bed as their lips met and opened. The sea in their hair dripped down their faces as the tips of their tongues met. Raven opened her eyes.

"Abby, are you crying?" she whispered.

"What if I am?" Abby said.

"You're perfect, that's all."

"I'm not, but kissing you might be. I'd better make sure the results are replicable."

And she did. And they were.

The sea pulled them out a little, and kissing, weightless, smooth, one against the other, breasts and legs and arms and lips tangled, one, one with each other. One with the sea.

Only when a wave swamped them did they separate and come together and smile.

"I'm ready to go in," said Raven.

"Works for me," said Abby.

They showered in the courtyard, under the outdoor shower, pulling flotsam from each other's hair.

"Chilly," said Abby.

"I see," said Raven, raising her eyebrows.

"So do I," said Abby, lifting one of hers.

"Come to bed with me? I'll warm you up."

Abby caught her breath. Warm drops started from the sky.

"It is too soon, isn't it? It's okay, Abby. That's fine."

"Could I just— hold you— for awhile? And then sneak off like a guilty teenager?"

Raven laughed. "Yeah, you can. But no guilt, okay? And if you decide you don't want to sneak off, that's okay, too."

"Yes?"

"Yes." Raven nodded. "Yes."