Wrong Number, Right Woman Page 5

  That led to several minutes of trying to outdo each other in finding the most ridiculous emojis. The competition ended when Sneaker Woman sent a weirdly pixelated purple blob.

  What is that? Denny asked.

  Isn’t it obvious? It’s an alien monster.

  Denny eyed the blob again. What?

  I looked it up on Emojipedia.

  You just made that up. There’s no such thing as Emojipedia.

  No. I pinkie-swear. Sneaker Woman added the call-me emoji—a hand with its pinkie extended. It exists.

  Pinkie-swear? Denny grinned. How cute was that? And her creative use of emojis was pretty cute too. Denny appreciated a woman who hadn’t lost her playfulness and was a little silly every now and then.

  Just as she was about to send a teasing reply, someone cleared their throat not even a yard away.

  Denny jumped and hit her knee on the table.

  When she glanced up, Julie stood in front of her, flushed from dancing. She pressed a G&T to her cheek and gave Denny a reproachful look. “Hey!” She raised her voice over the clacking of the pool balls, the music from the loudspeakers, and the din of conversation. “I’ve been looking for you all over! Have you been up here all this time?”

  “Um, I was hungry.” Denny flipped her phone over, even though she told herself she had nothing to hide.

  Unfortunately, that move drew Julie’s attention to the phone. “Who do you keep texting every chance you get? You’ve been doing it at work too.”

  Denny bit back the “no one” on the tip of her tongue. Sneaker Woman wouldn’t hear it, but it still felt wrong to act as if she were someone of no consequence. “I’ve been texting with this woman who—”

  “Ooh, a woman!” Julie slapped her shoulder.

  Denny stared at her. The teasing twinkle in Julie’s eyes was unmistakable, even in the low light. “You know I’m gay?” While she wasn’t in the closet by any means, she had never talked about her sexual orientation with Julie. She’d been single for most of the time she’d worked at the Grocery Port, so she’d had no reason to mention it. She also wasn’t sure how comfortable Julie was with having a lesbian friend.

  Her upbringing had probably been very different from Denny’s. She had met Julie’s parents several times when they dropped off bánh su kem and other Vietnamese pastries for the entire staff. They seemed like nice people, yet she got the feeling they were pretty conservative, so she wasn’t sure how LGBT-friendly the Ngos were.

  Julie waved a hand at her, indicating Denny’s short Ruby-Rose-on-a-bad-day haircut, her button-down shirt, and her baggy men’s jeans. “I might be stereotyping, but…hello?”

  Denny gazed down at herself, then back up into Julie’s face, which sported an amused grin. “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry.” Chuckling, Julie patted her arm. “I’m not freaking out. So if that’s why you aren’t downstairs with the rest of us, getting your groove on…”

  “No, that’s not it. I’m just not a good dancer.” If there was one thing more awkward than her trying to flirt with a woman, it was her attempts at dancing.

  “You think I am? Have you seen me? No one cares as long as you’re having fun.” Julie tried to pull her up from the table, but Denny withdrew her hand and shook her head.

  The mere thought of dancing in front of all these people made her break out in a sweat. Julie and her friends were all confident, beautiful, and feminine. She would stick out like a sore thumb. “No, thanks. Dancing is not my thing. I think I’ll head home now.”

  “Come on! It’s barely even…” Julie pushed back her sleeve, but she wasn’t wearing a watch. “…whatever o’clock.”

  “It’s after midnight,” Denny said. Gosh, she really felt like a senior citizen.

  Julie sighed. “All right. See you Monday, then.” She waved in the direction of the cell phone. “Tell your girlfriend hi.”

  “She’s not my—”

  But Julie had already turned and was striding away.

  “—girlfriend,” Denny called after her.

  Julie disappeared in the crowd in front of the bar.

  Denny groaned, flipped her phone back around, and scrolled up to read the texts she had missed.

  The first was a screenshot of a website, proving Emojipedia really existed.

  Then, when Denny had dropped out of the conversation, Sneaker Woman had typed: Hello? You still there? Should I assume I exhausted you with my superior emojiing skills, or have you gone dancing after all?

  Sorry, Denny typed hastily, hoping Sneaker Woman hadn’t given up on waiting for an answer. No dancing. My friend just came looking for me. She didn’t know how to explain the conversation with Julie, so she didn’t even try.

  No answer came.

  Damn. Sneaker Woman had probably finished her little fox and gone to bed.

  Sighing, Denny made her way to the door and then down the street to where she had parked her dyke mobile, as Salem called her eleven-year-old Subaru Outback. As she climbed behind the wheel, her phone dinged. She nearly dropped it in her haste to read Sneaker Woman’s message.

  No problem. I was just getting ready for bed.

  An image of Sneaker Woman in a sexy satin nightie with spaghetti straps flashed through Denny’s mind, then she firmly shoved it away. The woman was straight and out of her league, and thoughts like that would only make her self-conscious any time they talked. Sleep tight, she typed back. I’m heading home too.

  Talk to you tomorrow. Drive carefully.

  Denny smiled as she put the phone onto the passenger seat and started the engine. Apparently, Sneaker Woman was now taking it for granted they would be talking every day—and that was more than fine with her.

  Chapter 5

  On Thursday of the following week, Eliza slid another cactus wood snowflake onto the red-and-green-striped sisal rope.

  Making ornaments for their bird-safe Christmas tree in late April felt weird, but since they handmade each of their products, they had to get an early start to have enough for the holiday season.

  She tied off the rope and tugged to see if it would hold up to some rough treatment from strong beaks. Yes, that should work. She gave a triumphant smile.

  Her job in the tiny company wasn’t making her rich, but it filled her with satisfaction, and that was more important to her than all the money in the world. She got to use her creativity and work with her hands while giving customers a toy for their pets they didn’t have to worry about.

  She set the string of snowflakes aside and glanced at her watch.

  The apple tree branches she had hand-stripped and scrubbed with an antibacterial solution should be dry by now, so she could sand the edges. But that would have to wait until after her lunch break.

  Instead of grabbing something from one of the Third Avenue food carts, which were just a five-minute walk from the office, she had brought a sandwich every day this week so she could spend a few minutes chatting with Whisperer.

  Either they coincidentally took their lunch break around the same time, or Whisperer had adjusted to her mealtimes.

  She cleared a corner of her worktable and sat with her sandwich in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

  Oops. Apparently, she was late for their unofficial lunch meeting. Whisperer had already sent her a Hi, how are you? ten minutes ago. The shy greeting always made her smile.

  Sorry for not answering sooner, Eliza replied. I was testing out a new toy.

  The bubble with the three dots appeared but vanished a second later, as if Whisperer had deleted what she had written. Finally, a simple Oh popped up on the screen.

  Eliza burst out laughing. Not that kind of toy, pervert. Playfully calling her a pervert reminded her of her interactions with Heather, but at the same time, talking to Whisperer felt entirely different.

  Well, of course it felt different. After all, Heather had been her best friend for five years, while she and Whisperer had only been texting for three weeks.

  I didn’t… I wasn�
�t thinking that, Whisperer replied.

  Suuuure. Eliza still had no idea what Whisperer looked like, but she would bet her paycheck she was sporting a blush.

  So, what’s for lunch? Whisperer asked.

  Eliza chuckled at the transparent attempt to change the subject. She took mercy on her, snapped a photo of her turkey-avocado-radish sandwich, and sent it. You?

  Mine isn’t nearly as healthy as yours. A picture of a cupcake decorated with gummy bears appeared on Eliza’s screen.

  Gummy bears? On a cupcake?

  Yep. Lunch of champions, Whisperer replied. After a few moments, she added, My niece remembered it was her turn to bring cupcakes to school right before bedtime last night, and this was all we had in the house to decorate them with.

  It’s kind of cute, Eliza said.

  Like pairing a dressy skirt with sneakers?

  Exactly.

  There was a short pause, and Eliza sensed what was coming.

  So, Whisperer finally typed, you test toys for a living?

  Grinning, Eliza simply answered: Yes. It was fun to make Whisperer work for it.

  Like dolls and fire trucks?

  More like sola crepe balls and nut cages, Eliza typed back.

  I have no idea what you just said.

  Eliza took a big bite of her sandwich before she answered, I work for a small company that makes toys for parrots and other pet birds.

  Wow, how cool! Do you like it?

  Love it! Eliza added several hearts for emphasis. We handmake most of our toys, so I get to play with craft stuff all day.

  Sounds wonderful, Whisperer replied instantly. How long have you been doing that?

  I’ve been doing it full-time for only a month. The company is still pretty new.

  What were you doing before? Whisperer asked. If you don’t mind me asking.

  So far, it had mostly been Eliza asking the questions and keeping the conversation going whenever they talked, and Eliza had a feeling it wasn’t lack of interest but more a lack of confidence that held Whisperer back. It was good to see her asking some questions of her own.

  I don’t mind at all, Eliza replied. I worked all kinds of jobs while selling some of my stuff at craft fairs and teaching craft workshops on the side. That’s how my bosses and I met—they fell in love with a flying-owl mobile I made and asked if I could make something similar with bird-safe materials. They hired me to work for them part-time in January and then full-time three months later. Boy, was I happy to give up my job as a barista!

  You were a barista? Can you do those milk foam ferns, hearts, and stuff?

  Yeah, but not very well. I wasn’t the greatest barista. Heck, I don’t even like coffee!

  Whisperer sent several bulging-eyes emojis. You. Don’t. Like. Coffee?

  Let me guess. This is where you tell me we can’t be friends. As soon as Eliza had typed it, she paused. Friends. Was that what they were becoming? They didn’t even know each other’s names. Finally, she shrugged and sent the text anyway because it felt right.

  Close call, Whisperer answered. But I’ll let it slide because I can empathize. Not with not liking coffee. But I used to be the world’s worst waitress.

  An image of a woman in a cute waitress apron flashed through Eliza’s mind, and not for the first time, she wondered what Whisperer looked like. What made you so bad at it? Don’t tell me you don’t like food!

  Ha! No. I like it a little too much. Being in the kitchen might have suited me better. But being outgoing and talkative to charm guests wasn’t my thing. I didn’t make enough tips to keep a mouse alive, much less two women and a child.

  Was she referring to herself, her sister, and her niece? Why was it on Whisperer to earn enough to keep them all alive? Eliza hesitated to ask. That veered into personal territory, and she didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Finally, she decided on a less personal question: So what are you doing for a living now?

  Nothing as cool as what you do. Whisperer seemed to hesitate for a moment, then a second sentence followed. I’m a cashier at a supermarket. She didn’t give Eliza time to comment on her job before she asked, So that bird toy company…where’s it located?

  A smile tugged on Eliza’s lips. Are you trying to find out where I live?

  Maybe?

  I thought you wanted us to stay anonymous?

  Well, yes, but unless you live in a tiny town, you’ll still be anonymous.

  Eliza hadn’t been the one insisting on anonymity, so she had no problem replying, Okay. I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.

  I’m in Portland, Whisperer typed back. I live in Lents.

  So they were living in the same city. Eliza liked that. Me too. In Portland, I mean. Not in Lents. But that wasn’t what I was going to ask.

  Oh.

  Eliza ate the rest of her sandwich and stared at the screen. She knew what she wanted to ask—the same question she had contemplated earlier: Was Whisperer living with her sister and niece? And if she was, why? But now she was familiar with the natural rhythm of Whisperer’s texts and what the little pauses meant, so she could tell she was wary.

  Here’s my question, Eliza typed. What’s your favorite gummy bear flavor?

  Whisperer took a while to answer. Either she had to taste all the gummy bears on her cupcake to decide, or the question had startled her. She had probably expected a different question. Finally, the text bubble popped up. Green.

  Did you know they’re strawberry flavored? Eliza asked.

  I thought that was the red ones?

  Nope. Those are raspberry.

  OMG, Whisperer typed back. My entire life has been a lie!

  Eliza burst out laughing.

  A knock on the door prevented her from answering.

  Eliza shot off a quick message to Whisperer, telling her she had to get back to work, then called, “Yes?”

  The door to her office swung open, and Dee stuck her head in. “Hey, I’m making a donut run. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

  Eliza bit back a grin. When she had first started working at Feathered Friends, she had tried to deal with Austen—the warmer, friendlier of her bosses—as much as she could because Dee came across like a prickly ice queen. However, it hadn’t taken long for her to discover Dee was tough but fair…and a total marshmallow when it came to her partner, including spoiling her with her favorite donuts at least once a week.

  “If they have any with gummy bears, one of those would be great.”

  Dee raised one eyebrow.

  Why could everyone but her do that?

  “Gummy bears?” Dee repeated. “On a donut?”

  “Yes,” Eliza said with a straight face. “Lunch of champions.”

  “Right.” Dee walked off, shaking her head and mumbling something under her breath.

  Eliza went back to work with a smile.

  That evening after her shift, Denny lay stretched out on the couch with her printout, memorizing the PLU codes for the seasonal fruits and veggies. She paused at strawberries. Instead of the four-digit number, the first thing that came to mind was green gummy bears.

  “4248,” Denny firmly told herself. “Focus.”

  Salem looked up from her phone, which she was using to read a romance novel. “Yellow bell pepper.”

  “No. That’s 4689.”

  “Ah. I knew it was something with a four, though.”

  Denny laughed. “Most of the conventionally grown produce starts with a four. Don’t quit your day job.”

  “Not planning to.” Salem’s smile let Denny know she was thinking of one particular perk of her job: getting to see Matt every day.

  It was nice to see her sister so happy and smitten but also a little weird—maybe because it had been so long since Denny had been infatuated with anyone that she hardly remembered how it felt.

  When Salem continued reading, Denny went back to memorizing the PLU numbers. But now that she thought about gummy bears and her earlier conversation with Sneaker W
oman, her code sheet no longer held her attention.

  With a sigh, she gave in, reached for her phone, and typed into the messages app, Hi, how was work?

  It didn’t take long for an answer to arrive. Good. My boss got me a marshmallow donut.

  Denny wrinkled her nose. And you consider that good?

  Hey, no judgment from someone who had a gummy bear cupcake for lunch! Besides, I only got the marshmallow donut because she couldn’t find a gummy bear one.

  Okay, okay. Denny smiled at the thought of Sneaker Woman sending her boss out for a gummy bear donut. Then she sobered. Earlier, when we were talking at lunch…

  Yeah?

  Denny pushed her glasses higher on her nose. That wasn’t what you really wanted to ask, was it?

  No. Usually, Sneaker Woman was the talkative one, but now she left it at this one word.

  Denny knew she could do the same. Sneaker Woman wasn’t the type to pressure her into talking about herself if she didn’t want to. She seemed to have a sixth sense for when to back off. But Denny found she wasn’t reluctant to answer anymore. Maybe it was the fact they still didn’t even know each other’s names that made it easier, or maybe because she’d had the upper hand at the beginning of their acquaintance, with Sneaker Woman accidentally texting her. Or maybe Sneaker Woman was just easy to talk to.

  Whatever it was, Denny took a steadying breath and typed, You can ask.

  Okay. But if you don’t want to answer once you hear my question, you don’t have to, Sneaker Woman replied. I was wondering… Earlier, you sounded like… Do you live with your sister and your niece?

  That was her question? Denny exhaled. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Likely, she had made it into a big deal in her mind when it wasn’t. Yes. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say they live with me since I lived here first. But now we both pay half of the rent for the townhouse in Lents. My sister got pregnant when she was seventeen, and when she told our parents, they kicked her out.

  This time, it took a while for Sneaker Woman to answer, as if she had to process that first. I’m sorry. That must have been tough. How old were you?

  About as old as you are now. I’m a lot older than my sister.