All That Glitters Read online

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Once the hot tide of passion began to simmer down to a warm, liquid glow, Marcel filled her hands with Naomi’s dark curly hair and kissed her.

  “Tell me again why we bother putting on pajamas,” Marcel said with an exhausted, sleepy voice.

  Naomi kissed her sweetly on the lips before rolling over beside her.

  “Because coaxing you out of your clothes is some of the only exercise I get all day.”

  Marcel chuckled and put her arm around her spoon-fashion. Her nipples felt good pressing against Naomi’s back.

  “So will you go on vacation with me?” Naomi whispered sleepily into the darkness.

  “After what just happened I’d go anywhere with you.”

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  Copyright© 2007 by Peggy J. Herring

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  First Edition

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Cover designer: Stephanie Solomon-Lopez

  ISBN-10: 1-59493-107-0

  ISBN-13: 978-1-59493-107-9

  For Stormy

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Frankie J. Jones, always my first reader. Your suggestions are invaluable and right on target.

  Thanks to Martha Cabrera for the brainstorming sessions that help me stay focused. The more outrageous the ideas get . . . the better time we always have.

  A special thanks to Freida and Abel Russell for sharing the adventures of Fireball. It was a moment I’ll never forget.

  With loving thanks to Laverne Bell. You have a way of goosing the muse right out of me. I need that more than you realize.

  About the Author

  Peggy J. Herring lives on seven acres in south Texas with her cockatiel, hermit crabs, two wooden cats and several chickens. When she isn’t writing Peggy enjoys traveling. She is a recipient of the Alice B Award and the author of Once More With Feeling, Love’s Harvest, Hot Check, A Moment’s Indiscretion, Those Who Wait, To Have and to Hold, Calm Before the Storm, The Comfort of Strangers, Beyond All Reason, Distant Thunder, White Lace and Promises, Midnight Rain and Shelter from the Storm. Peggy is currently working on a romance titled Forsaking All Others to be released in 2008 by Bella Books. You can contact Peggy through Bella Books at Bellabooks.com or directly [email protected].

  Chapter One

  “I never thought I’d hate the sight of a Hamburger Helper box,” Cricket whispered to Marcel as she took a few things out of the refrigerator to make a salad.

  “It’s not as traumatic for me now that I’m older,” Marcel whispered back, “but I know what you mean.”

  “What are you two talking about over there?” Roslin asked. She set the box on the kitchen counter and reached for a measuring cup in the cabinet.

  “We’re discussing the condition of some of these vegetables,” Marcel said, holding up a tomato for closer inspection.

  “I’d prefer there not be anything questionable in the salad if we can help it,” Roslin said. “Will Naomi be joining us?”

  “She’s hosting the gay and lesbian teachers’ meeting this evening,” Marcel said. “After dinner I’ll be going to her place to spend the night.”

  Marcel could see the relief and a silent “thank you” in Cricket’s eyes. Neither of them liked the Hamburger Helper dinners that Roslin insisted on preparing after a streak of bad luck on a gambling trip. No one ever knew what to say to her the first night back if there weren’t any winnings to talk about. Over the years Roslin’s daughter, Marcel, had handled scores of evenings like this. Cricket, Roslin’s lover, had mentioned several times that having her there for Hamburger Helper night made things much better for everyone. The three of them had been through a lot together over the last few years with Marcel retiring from the army and getting her antique shop up and running. Lately they had all settled into a quiet routine that involved food and friends.

  Roslin Robicheaux had spent the last forty-five years of her life as a professional gambler. She was good at it and had made a nice living for her and Marcel. Cricket and Marcel had been best friends since the seventh grade, so the Hamburger Helper meals weren’t new to either of them. Roslin always made the concoction each time she returned from an unsuccessful business trip. No one dared ask her how much she had lost while she was away. That particular information was never revealed, but now that they would have to endure a meal that came out of a box, it was obvious that things hadn’t gone well with the cards. Marcel had explained to Cricket once that this was her mother’s way of reminding herself how bad things could get when the cards weren’t dealt her way. It didn’t matter what they had in the freezer or the pantry when Roslin returned after a bad run of cards. Her first meal home from a losing streak had to be Hamburger Helper. Once they got this meal over with, things would be back to normal again in a day or two.

  “What else do we have to go with this?” Roslin asked. She opened the pantry door and tied an apron around her waist that had “Life is too short to drink cheap wine” printed on the front of it.

  Cricket washed her hands in the sink and dried them off on a paper towel, leaving Marcel in charge of the salad. She slipped up behind Roslin and put her arms around her. “I missed you,” Cricket said.

  Roslin leaned back against her and tilted her head so Cricket could kiss her neck.

  “I missed you, too. So what goes good with Hamburger Helper?”

  Marcel knew Cricket was refraining from saying what she thought at that particular moment since in her opinion there wasn’t anything that could save this meal. Going along with Roslin’s desire to fix a simple economical dinner seemed like a good idea to both of them at the time. Giving Roslin a hug, Cricket said, “We could pretend it’s filet mignon and nuke some baked potatoes in the microwave or something.”

  Roslin nuzzled Cricket’s hair and then nibbled on her ear. “Can you call them baked potatoes if they’re nuked?”

  “Sure you can,” Cricket said. She kissed her lover and gave Roslin’s butt a slow rub. “Nuked potatoes don’t sound as appetizing as baked potatoes, but it’s sure a lot faster.”

  Marcel cleared her throat loudly on the other side of the kitchen to remind them that she was still in the area. “We’ll never get dinner ready if you two don’t cut that out.”

  “Who invited her?” Cricket asked as she
kissed Roslin’s neck again.

  “You did,” Roslin and Marcel said at the same time.

  “Oh, yeah,” came the reply above their laughter. “That’s right. I guess I did.”

  It always surprised them when they ended up enjoying a Hamburger Helper meal. It didn’t seem right that something coming out of a box and looking totally unappealing at first sight could actually taste so good. Marcel reasoned that another positive thing about having such a meal was being with her mother again. Each time she went away for a gambling tournament, any type of homecoming was an event to celebrate whether Roslin had won or lost on the road. At least now they were all together again.

  The other interesting thing for Marcel was seeing how her mother slowly transformed into her old self again once they had finished the meal. It was evident that for Roslin the hamburger preparation was nothing more than a ritual and some sort of bizarre punishment for coming home without much more than the original bankroll she had started with. Roslin was a superstitious woman and insisted on keeping up with her routine. In her eyes, luck was extremely temperamental and any deviation from the norm could only be viewed as tempting fate.

  Marcel poured the last of the wine into her mother’s glass and offered to clear the table and do the dishes before she left.

  “You don’t need to do that,” her mother said.

  Cricket laughed. “Sure she does! It’ll give us more time to be alone.”

  Marcel looked briefly over her shoulder and said, “You two go into the living room and finish your wine. I’ll take care of the dishes and be out of here in no time.”

  The three of them shared the six bedroom, four bath house that Roslin had acquired several years ago in a local high stakes poker game. The house was nestled in one of the oldest and most prestigious neighborhoods in San Antonio. There was plenty of room for everyone and they all respected each other’s privacy. Naomi Shapiro, Marcel’s lover, had her own home on the other side of town, but Marcel and Naomi spent nearly every evening together at either one place or the other. Naomi had chosen not to move in with Marcel since it didn’t seem like a good idea for her and Cricket to have the same address being as they taught at the same school. While at work Naomi and Cricket went to great lengths to give the impression that teaching was the only thing they had in common. Keeping their personal lives under wraps was working well for them so far. All four women got along and were good friends. Even though Naomi didn’t officially live there, she was considered an intricate member of the household.

  The 1919 Tudor mansion sitting on two acres of prime real estate near Trinity University was one of the many assets Roslin had acquired over the years through gambling. This was her home and it was paid for. Everything else she owned was used to sustain her lifestyle and keep her gambling bankroll where she needed it to be in order to stay competitive in the world of poker. The house and surrounding property she owned in Key West had been lost, won again, and exchanged for so many other pieces of real estate or expensive jewelry that it was known throughout Roslin’s gambling circle of friends as the Florida Shuffle. Occasionally, instead of money, she would come home with a new piece of property from somewhere around the world to add to her collection. Along with the Key West real estate, she owned condos in Las Vegas, Manhattan, Honolulu and Berchesgaden, Germany. The Tuscan villa, the beach house in Tahiti and the condo in Vancouver were holdings she seldom visited and had very little emotional investment in owning, so they were used more often to settle gambling debts when she needed something extra to negotiate with. Since she had acquired them that way in the first place, it seemed fitting to continue using those holdings for the same purpose if the cards weren’t kind to her.

  Marcel unloaded the dishwasher, put away the clean dishes and then filled it up again. On her way out of the kitchen she made plenty of noise in the dining room by pushing all the chairs in against the table, making sure her mother and Cricket knew she was still in the house. She disliked catching them engaged in some form of intimacy. After all, Roslin was her mother.

  “Okay, you two,” Marcel called from the foyer as she collected her overnight bag and car keys. “I’m leaving now. I’ll call you tomorrow, Mom.”

  “Come and give your mother a hug,” Roslin said.

  Marcel set everything down again and went to the living room where she found her mother and Cricket sitting next to each other on the sofa holding hands. She leaned over and gave her mother a hug.

  “Will I see Naomi tomorrow?” Roslin asked.

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Enjoy your evening, baby.”

  “See you both tomorrow,” Marcel said. On her way back to the foyer she felt such a huge sense of relief to be leaving. She was no longer the one who had to help see her mother through a patch of bad luck. That had become Cricket’s responsibility now. There was no guilt associated with leaving for the night, and Marcel was just glad to know that her mother had someone who loved her and would be there to nurture her back from the complicated highs and lows of a gambling loss. It certainly made Marcel’s life less complicated having Cricket there.

  Chapter Two

  Marcel parked in the driveway behind Naomi’s car and saw Juanito’s truck in front of the house. That meant there were still a few stragglers left from the meeting. Opening the front door, she set her overnight bag down near the potted fern by the bay window. Marcel could hear Reba’s laughter in the kitchen.

  “There you are,” Naomi said. She took Marcel into her arms and kissed her sweetly on the lips. “Steak or hamburger tonight?”

  “Hamburger,” Marcel said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. How’s she doing?”

  Marcel shrugged. “Mom’s okay. Not saying much yet. I’m sure Cricket will get it out of her and tell me more tomorrow.”

  They went into the kitchen holding hands and found Reba and Juanito, two retired gay teachers, putting away leftover snacks from the meeting.

  “Marcel!” Juanito said. “Good to see you!”

  “How was the meeting?” Marcel asked.

  “Two new people came,” Reba said. “That’s always encouraging.”

  “Are they keepers?” Marcel asked. That was usually the first question she asked after a new gay or lesbian teacher came to a meeting. As with any organization, some members of the group were more trouble than they were worth, while others joined for the right reasons.

  Juanito nodded. “So far so good. Two more lesbians. One a P.E. teacher. Imagine that. A lesbian gym teacher.”

  After the chuckles died down, Reba said, “He’s just waiting for the perfect male Home Economics teacher to stroll into one of these meetings.”

  Juanito laughed. “Oh, puleeze. Where are the gay male coaches? Or the handsome Driver’s Ed instructors who would admire my parallel parking skills?”

  They sat down on stools at the breakfast bar. Reba and Juanito were on one side and Marcel and Naomi were across from them.

  “I almost failed Driver’s Ed in high school because the Sex Education class always had the car,” Marcel said. She reached over and took a handful of peanuts from a dish on the counter. Naomi leaned against her in a rare fit of giggles.

  “I ran over a scarecrow in my mom’s garden once trying to stop my father’s old pickup,” Reba said. “I had nightmares about fleeing scarecrows for months after that. We didn’t have anything like Driver’s Ed when I was younger. That’s what older relatives were for.”

  “Or Sex Ed either, for that matter,” Juanito added. “If we had depended on parents for that kind of info back then, we would’ve been in really bad shape.”

  “I think kids tend to learn about sex from each other,” Reba surmised. “I know I would’ve been horrified if either of my parents had tried to discuss such a thing with me.”

  “Same here,” Naomi said. “All I ever got from my parents was ‘you’ll find a nice Jewish boy some day’.” Her exaggerated New York accent made them all laugh.

  “I guess I was
lucky,” Marcel said. “My mother was very informative and helpful when I had questions about anything— including sex. I felt comfortable asking her all sorts of things.”

  “But you don’t have an average parent,” Naomi said.

  “Oh, don’t I know it.” She moved the dish of peanuts closer to Juanito. “How many male teachers are in the group now?”

  “Three,” he said with a frown.

  “We’ll get more gay male teachers in this group,” Naomi said. “I promise we’ll step up the recruiting efforts.”

  “He just hates being the only one who can open a pickle jar once everyone gets here,” Reba said, teasing him.

  “Eventually there will come a time when I won’t be able to get one of those jars open,” Juanito said, “and it would be nice to be able to hand it over to another guy instead of the closest lesbian P. E. teacher.”

  Marcel and Naomi walked out to the truck with Reba and Juanito where they continued chatting for another twenty minutes. Finally, they waved and Reba and Juanito drove off. Marcel and Naomi went back in the house and began winding down for the evening.

  “Those two are something else,” Naomi said. “They’ve been very helpful whenever the group needs something done.”

  “Reba’s a big help at the shop, too,” Marcel said. “Carmen loves having her there.”

  Carmen Morales was Marcel’s business partner at the Antique Villa. They specialized in selling and restoring antique furniture. Carmen and Reba were lovers who shared a home with Juanito. The three of them were avid yard sale, garage sale and estate sale fanatics. Reba, Carmen and Juanito had so many things in common that it was rumored their neighbors kept wondering if perhaps Juanito had started his own harem.