Author's note: 2019 marks the 50
th
anniversary of the Stonewall riots in New York City. What better way to celebrate the progress society has made than with a story about coming out and finding love?
As always, I welcome your thoughtful feedback.
***
Staring at the stoplight, Kryssa Kowalski revved her Miata's engine, anticipating the change from red to green. A light breeze ruffled her blond ponytail as the summer sun warmed her all the way through. She laughed with delight. Home! After years away at university and then learning her trade in a big Chicago architectural firm, she was finally back where she belonged.
Beside her, a car full of young men -- boys, really -- pulled up. As they frantically lowered their windows to get a better look, the light changed and Kryssa took off, enjoying their frustrated expressions in her side mirror. A perfect day had brought dog walkers and couples out in force, and a significant percentage eyed Kryssa as she drove past, hair rippling in the wind. She grinned. Ever since the spring day that her eight-year-old self had spotted a beautiful blonde in a powder-blue Mustang convertible, she had wanted this! Unconsciously, she pressed harder on the gas pedal, and had to brake abruptly when the next traffic light caught her by surprise.
A few seconds later, the carload of boys pulled up next to her metallic blue Miata and began shouting to get her attention. A slight frown touched her lips as she endured their catcalls. Meatheads, with unoriginal, crass lines. Like dogs chasing a car, they wouldn't know what to do with me if they caught me, she thought. Seeing nothing coming down the cross street, she obeyed a sudden impulse to gun the engine and take off, waving as she went and grinning at the thought of thwarting them.
As Kryssa focused on her new surroundings, she slowed way down to check out the Victorian and Arts and Crafts-era homes that lined the quiet street. The Old West End was Toledo's architectural gem -- it said so right on the city's website. She couldn't count the number of times she had strolled down its streets as a youngster with her parents, both of them pointing out the features they loved on each home. Her smile returned as she rolled past the grand ladies of a century ago, sighing over the craftsmanship, the details that made each house distinctive. One never saw that anymore in residential or commercial construction, however well built or well financed.
Memories of all those walks around the Old West End returned, and a feeling of peace enveloped her as she drove further into its treasures, making turns as the mood hit her. What luck that the men in the car had irritated her so! She been away from Toledo for so long, she had forgotten enclaves like this existed. Perhaps she would buy a house here one day. She liked the thought of using her carpentry and construction skills, learned at her father's side, to make it her own special jewel.
She spotted a woman hammering in a side yard and rolled to a stop, frowning. What the hell was she doing? Before she could think, Kryssa had parked and was running across the yard, shouting, "No! Wait! You can't do that!"
The other woman dropped her hammer in astonishment as Kryssa charged up to her.
"You can't do that!" Kryssa repeated, looking with dismay at the damaged dark wood and a new, blindingly white vinyl door propped against the side of the house.
"I can't do what?"
"You can't destroy any part of a historic exterior!"
The young woman scowled, her dark eyes snapping as she glared up at Kryssa.
"I own this house and I can do what I want with it. And it's none of your business, anyway!"
"You're opening yourself to action from the historic preservation board, not to mention installing an eyesore!"
"What do you mean, action?"
"This is a historic district. You have to get all exterior changes approved, or they will come down on you like the hounds of hell."
The shorter woman stopped scowling, apprehension replacing anger.
"No one told me that."
"Surely you know that if you live here. It's Rule One of the Old West End."
The woman sighed deeply. Nothing wrong with her lungs -- or the full breasts that covered them, Kryssa noted absently. Or her trim waistline and curvy hips, for that matter.
"I just inherited this property, and nobody told me a thing," the woman admitted, derailing Kryssa's train of thought. "All I know is this old doorframe leaks air. My uncle always meant to fix this himself, but he never got to it."
"Well, for heaven's sake, stash that door away and nail the trim back up before someone reports you," Kryssa said, looking at the splintered wood and wondering if that was even possible. The woman apparently had the same thought.
"Assuming I can," she replied, her voice sour. "It never occurred to me that I needed to be careful. This is really not where my talent lies."
"I'll give you a hand," Kryssa offered. "I know a little about home repair. My dad's a builder."
"You don't even know me," the woman protested.
Kryssa stuck out her right hand. "Kryssa Kowalski."
The other woman took her hand and a slight frisson ran up Kryssa's arm.
"Michelle Adams."
"Now I know you," Kryssa teased.
Michelle smiled suddenly, showing an unexpected dimple, and Kryssa rocked back on her heels, heart pounding.
"I'm glad," Michelle said, oblivious to Kryssa's inner agitation. "Help me get the door on the porch and then we can tackle the doorframe."
Two hours later, Michelle and Kryssa sat at a table in the backyard, sipping cold drinks and snacking on diced watermelon.
"That was truly impressive to watch," Michelle exclaimed. "The way you figured out how each piece fit together... I never could have done that." She glanced over to the repaired doorframe, bulging with C-clamps purchased on a quick run to the hardware store. "It's a miracle."
Kryssa snorted. "It's really not that hard. My dad's business is new construction, but he and my mom both love old buildings. We always had some project like this lying around."
"It still takes talent," Michelle insisted. "My parents were both computer programmers, but I don't know a thing about writing code, and I don't want to. It never interested me."
"My brother was the same way with buildings and projects! All he ever cared about was animals. Now he's a vet, and I'm an architect, come home at last to join my parents' business."
"Why didn't you come home right after college? That's what most people going into a family business do, right?"
Kryssa laughed. "True. My parents and I talked it over and they wanted me to learn from others first, get exposed to different ideas and ways of seeing things. And, truth be told, I wanted to get out of Toledo for a while and experience life in a big city like Chicago. So that's what I did."
"What made you come back now?"
"Good question. I'm not sure. It just felt like my, um, inner timer rang and I wanted to come home. Does that make sense?"
Michelle nodded. "Oh, yes. It makes perfect sense."
