Re: *Winter's Present* - serialized

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:
> 
> 
>              Winter’s Present
>                     .
>                Bryan Simmons
> 
>      Table of Contents
> 
> Silver    9
> Winter    23
> Fast    29
> Wearing White    49
> Sex Kitten    59
> The Party    73
> Turkey Claus    101
> Boy Talk    121
> Scorpions    131
> Ann    147
> Lady Bear    173
> Cinnamon Buns    189
> Sandy Beach    205
> Our Tricycle    235
> Queen of Love    249
> Art    279
> Pillow Talk    291
> A Pink Line to Burritos    297
> Making Love    309
> Solomon    317
> Wearing White Again    323
> Change is Hard    333
> The Letter    337
> The Vapors    365
> Performance Issues    373
> Somebody Else's Daughter    391
> Love Kiss    399
> Bigamy    411
> Equality    425
> Anniversary    439
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons
> 
> 
> This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall 
> remain nameless.
>                           Ann

Winter had quietly dropped all of her classes other than Philosophy and 
Political Science.  She'd reasoned that she didn't need college for 
earning power, since she'd soon be wealthy, and that it was fine to go 
to part time, since she now had a full time job.  If Ian asked, she 
planned to tell him the truth, even though she knew he'd disapprove. 
She did spend a considerable amount of time on campus, and while some of 
that was devoted to excelling in those two classes, her primary reason 
was her pursuit of the blonde girl.  She'd observed her three times, and 
the mean girl had been nowhere in sight.  For the first time in her 
adult life, Winter was afraid of her own feelings.  She'd felt intense 
needs, and even frustrations, but background confidence and 
determination were always there.

For some reason, her capacity to plan, to scheme, seemed deflated.  She 
wanted so much for this to be pure, not of her own manufacture.  She was 
glad that about a month ago, Delia had shown up at her birthday party. 
It was helping give her courage now.  Certainly if the fifteen year old 
could have approached the unapproachable, Winter could do the same with 
a stranger who seemed like she'd be sweet.

Winter had been shaking the dice, blowing on them, almost asking for 
favors, and now the day had come where it was time to throw.  The girl 
was standing alone.  She had no books, and no other encumbrances other 
than a small purse, and it was an uncharacteristically warm January day. 
  "Come on seven."

Winter strolled across the courtyard and stood in front of her love 
interest.  She smiled, starry-eyed, and said, "Hi.  My name is Winter."

The girl seemed surprised, but not put off, and she extended her hand, 
as she said, "My name is Ann."

Unexpectedly, Winter took that hand the way Ian had Chloe's, and while 
holding it, almost in the manner of a proposal asked, "Do you believe 
that a person can fall in love with someone they've never met?  Because 
I think I'm in love with you."

Ann felt Winter radiating good will, kindness and complete honesty, and 
she silently thanked Jesus for answering her prayers to be loved as she 
laughed and offered her mouth.  They kissed, but kept it brief.  It was 
still too long for a greeting between old and dear friends, but not so 
overtly sexual as to cause problems, and it seemed that no one had taken 
notice.   In the ensuing conversation, Winter learned that Ann lived on 
campus, and that she was from Chicago.  Ann explained that in the fall 
she'd had a roommate, but that woman hadn't returned after break, so for 
now, the room was all hers.

Winter was feeling confident after rolling her natural, and decided to 
take that as an invitation.  "Can we go there and kiss some more?"

Ann was surprised, but laughed and said, "Sure."

On the walk to her room, Ann asked, "Do you do this all the time?"

"Go to girls' rooms to kiss?  Not as often as I'd like."

"No, walk up to someone you don't know and profess love."

"I've never done that...this, because I've never felt this kind of love 
for anyone.  You're the first."

Ann's room didn't look collegy.  There were no posters, no clothes 
thrown around, no empty pizza boxes or beverage containers.  Winter 
thought it rather resembled one of those motels that rent by the month, 
and she shared that impression with her new friend.  "It looks like a 
grownup lives here," and then quickly tittered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be.  I know what you meant, and I take it as a compliment.  I've 
seen other dorm rooms.  I was fortunate because they paired me with a 
girl who wasn't here very often.  I think she just got a dorm room 
because her parents were zillionares, and this place was a cover for her 
sleeping at her boyfriend's place."

"I live with my parents.  I figured a dorm room would be Hell, but if I 
had a roomie like you, it wouldn't be bad."

"So now you want to move in with me?

Winter laughed.  "No, I didn't mean that, just that you seem more 
civilized than the other girls.  Anyway, I love living at home.  My 
parents are great."

"I wish I could say that."

"You don't get along?"

"I haven't spoken to them for months.  They're super fundamentalist, and 
I don't measure up to their moral standards."

"Because you like girls?"

"Oh, they don't even know about that.  They don't like that I don't go 
to their church anymore.  They don't approve of my political opinions. 
They don't like the way I think.  I just didn't turn out the way they 
wanted me to.  Coming here to school crossed another line.”

“Moving away?”

  “No.  My father hates the Catholic Church, and he saw me accepting a 
scholarship to a Catholic university as another betrayal.  He thinks 
everything is about him."

"Wow.  That *is* out there.  My parents are completely fine with me 
liking girls.  I like boys too, but not many people know that."

"My experiences with boys haven't been good, but to tell you the truth, 
my only relationship with a girl wasn't either."

"The one I saw you with last term?"

"Yeah.  Her name was Ashley.  I guess it still is.  She's goes to Wash 
U, and that's where we met, but I don't want to talk about bad things. 
We were going to kiss."

Winter smiled, "We *are* going to kiss."  She kicked off her shoes and 
lay back on one of the twin beds, and Ann joined her.

Winter's kissing was nothing like Ashley's, and Ann had no idea how to 
react other than passively.  This wasn't lust.  Winter kissed Ann's 
mouth and face for what seemed like hours, and Ann thought, "Ashley 
would have had her hand in my pants before five minutes.  I'm not going 
to make this girl wait any longer," and she gently pulled away and 
started removing her clothes.  Winter reciprocated.

They both smiled as they admired each others' bodies, and Winter asked, 
"Is there anywhere you have to be today?"

"No."

"Can we be together all day?"

"Yes."

In the weeks since she'd met Ian, Winter had developed a real fondness 
for slow, almost neo-tantric touching, nothing hurried.   This time, 
she'd be on the giving side.  "I've got to call my employer and let him 
know I won't be there today."

"You're calling in sick?"  It was more a statement that a question, but 
Winter didn't want to leave it uncorrected.

"Not sick.  Just not available.  He's cool.  He'll be happy for me."

Ann looked puzzled.  "Happy for you?  Where do you work?"

"I'm a personal assistant for a wealthy, older gentleman.  It pays well, 
the hours are flexible, and he genuinely will be happy for me."  Winter 
went into her purse and pulled out her phone.  "Ian, hi."  "I'm not 
going to be there today."  "No.  I'm fine.  More than fine.  I think I'm 
in love."  "Yep."  "I'll be by tomorrow morning."  "Bye."

"You just told your boss you're in love."

"He's not my boss.  I just work for him.  It's not like a regular job."

"What do you do?"

"Oh, this that and the other.  Whatever he needs me to do.  Really, 
mostly just keep him company.  He's a widower.  I make him laugh.  You 
know, in addition to being a good kisser, you'll find that I'm awfully 
funny, so I guess one of my duties might be described as jester.  Winter 
put the phone away and walked back to the bedside.  "Have you ever had a 
full body massage?"

"No."

"Well I have, but I've never given one.  This is a day of firsts, and 
it's our first day, Ann.  First, I'll start with your feet."

Ann interrupted, "My feet are probably smelly."

"We shall wash them."

"Tell you what, I'll just go take a quick shower."

Ann got out a towel and grabbed her robe before leaving the room and 
heading down the hall to the shower.  Winter called Ian again.  She told 
him in some detail about the imminent massage, and that Ann was 
showering.  "She's sweet, Ian, and she really needs someone right now. 
She's estranged from her family, and doesn't really have anybody.  Thank 
you for being understanding about today."

"Winter, I told you, I believe in love."

"I told her you'd be happy for me."

"She knows about me already?"

"Only what my parents know, but if this works out like I think it will, 
I'll have to tell her."  When Winter heard the door opening, she ended 
the call.

When the door opened, and Ann entered in the robe and slippers, and with 
a towel, turban-like on her head.

"I see you've returned with daisy fresh feet."  Then, Winter got a 
doubtful look on her face.  "Daisies don't smell good."  She pondered 
for a moment, "How about cherry blossom fresh?"

As Winter began kissing her toes, Ann said, "No one's ever kissed my feet."

Winter stopped only for long enough to say, "Welcome to my world." 
After ten minutes or so, she switched feet, and in the transition said, 
"There's probably going to be a lot of places kissed for the first time 
today, and the first shall not be the last."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I want to kiss you again tomorrow.  Relax, and let me love 
on you."

Many hours later, they both lay on their backs, exhausted.  Ann's world 
had been transformed since colliding with Winter's just that morning, 
and she mused aloud, "I wonder when I'm going to wake up."

"If you'd like," Winter suggested, "in the morning, with me next to you."

"I was kidding, but this *has* been the most perfect day I can remember."

"There's a love song called Perfect Day."

"It can't end perfectly though, because I can't let you stay here.  If 
the school found out, I'd be in trouble.  I could lose my scholarship."

"OK.  I'll go home tonight, but what if tomorrow I move in officially?"

"You're not kidding.  You do know it's really expensive."

"Ann, I can afford a few thousand dollars, and I've got the perfect 
justification for wanting to do so.  My job is so close to here.  Unless 
you don't want me to."

"Winter, I don't want you to leave tonight, but you have to.  Tomorrow, 
maybe you won't."

"Good.  Let's celebrate.  Dinner.  On me.  Anywhere you like."

"There's a Greek place close.  I've never been there, but it's supposed 
to be good."

"Greek it is."

Winter was famished.  Breakfast had been a grapefruit and a giant iced 
coffee, and lunchtime was spent making love, with little thought of 
sustenance.  No wine, no bread, but plenty of thou.  At the restaurant 
she ordered olives and feta, and a gyro salad, and stressed to Ann that 
money wasn't an issue, and that she should order anything she pleased. 
  Ann told the waiter, "I'll have the same."

Winter added, "Oh, and the dressing on the side, please, and my salad 
with no cucumber.  Also, would you bring everything at the same time? 
And could you bring us a pitcher of water?  We don't want to be 
disturbed for refills."  Winter's sincerely warm smile, coupled with the 
twenty she proffered, elicited a, "Yes, Ma'am," from the server, and 
after delivering their repast, the staff ignored their table for the 
rest of their stay.

When the waiter left, Ann asked, "Are you rich?"

"Rich enough, and we're celebrating.  Besides, this counts for two meals 
because we didn't have lunch."

"So you're really moving in tomorrow?"

"That's the plan.  I'll just have to go into some office or another and 
explain my situation, and tell them that I know another student who 
doesn't have a roommate.  I'll say that I recently got a job in Richmond 
Heights, and I'm sure they'll be fine with it.  Ann?  May I call you Ann?"

Ann burst into tears of laughter, but it was tinged with other emotions, 
"You've been calling me Ann all day, and that's my name."

"I'm sorry, but I'm as overwhelmed by this as you are, maybe more."

"If you were a guy, I'd be running out the door."

Winter said, "I understand that.  If you'd been a boy, or if I were a 
boy, I'd have taken things a lot more slowly."  Winter bit her lower 
lip.  "Hey, if this doesn't work out, Ann, we're just a couple of bi 
chicks who'll part with however much sadness, but we'd let it go, and 
wouldn't be looking over our shoulders for a stalker, but I'm pretty 
confident.  I've never been in love before, and I'm willing to accept 
heartbreak.  I've never run from my feelings, and you're not running 
either, so let's make a run at it, let love run its course, run toward 
our feelings instead of running away.  Right now, the orange groves are 
in full bloom, and we can run through them, ducking together when 
passing under the low branches."

Ann couldn't believe what she'd just heard, and all she could think of 
to say was, "I bet you say that to all the girls," even though she 
assumed that wasn't true.

"No, Ann.  With all the other girls," and she added, "and boys, it was 
just about sex, bodies, and I love that so much, but with you, it's 
more.  I don't know how to say it, but it's more."

When the food came, it looked so sumptuous.  Winter offered Ann an 
olive, which she placed adoringly into her mouth.  Ann took it, but then 
said, "We can't do this in public.  It's bad enough that I kissed you 
out in the commons, and hopefully that went unnoticed."

"You're completely right.  I've been little kid giddy all day.  Well, 
not all day.  There were a few hours there where."  Winter cut it short 
because she'd detected a guy at the next table who seemed to have his 
ears focused more on their conversation than that of his fellow diners. 
She smiled at him in a way that he knew he'd been caught, and he smiled 
back apologetically, but Winter gave him an almost imperceptible air 
kiss, one that said, "You're probably a nice man, and are happy to see 
and hear about this new love."  "You're right, Ann.  We should be more 
discreet."

After Winter dropped Ann off, she didn't drive to her parents' house, 
but to Ian's.  He hadn't expected her.  The house was dark except for 
one table lamp, and there was gloomy music that was playing loudly 
enough that Ian wasn't aware she'd arrived.  She listened to the song of 
male despair, and there were three more that followed.  The last one 
began, and Ian finally noticed that she'd arrived, but instead of 
greeting her properly, he sang along with the macabre dirge, one so 
tragic that she was hesitant to announce her own joy, at least until 
she'd determined Ian's mood.  He'd sang directly to her, and when the 
music ended, she confronted Ian, "What was *that*?"

"Darkness."

"I guess it's good that your little ray of sunshine is here."

"I'm not depressed, Winter.  I use art to adjust my emotions.  Surely 
you get that."

Winter made funny faces at him until he laughed.   "You've obviously 
done a terrible job, but Underdog has arrived just in time."

Ian laughed.  "You look more like Polly Purebred."

"I don't *look* like either."  Then she said, "God.  Don't tell me that 
you get turned on by anthropomorphic cartoon animals.  That crosses so 
many lines."

Ian extended his arms to her and implored her to share her day.  She 
seated herself on his lap, and recounted every detail, but left the part 
about moving in until last.  "You know I have to tell her in the 
morning, first thing, before I go to the office.  I have to tell her, 
and I'm scared."

"Why don't you call her now and make arrangements for breakfast?"

Winter agreed, and called Ann, and after the call ended, said, "That was 
our first phone call."  Ian noted that the last words Winter had said 
were, "I miss you too, Ann."

"She has a nine o'clock class, so we're meeting at seven."

"We'd better get some sleep then."  Ian walked her to bed, and kissed 
her good-night.  When she offered to put him to bed nicely, he said, 
"You need your sleep.  Grasping her arm gently below her elbow, Ian 
said, “Big day tomorrow."

Winter woke up a few minutes before the six o'clock alarm, and turned it 
off so it wouldn't wake Ian.  After a quick shower, she made herself an 
iced coffee to go, then out the door, into her car, and toward the future.

Ann was waiting outside, and like all the students from northern climes, 
she was dressed as if it were a warmer day.  She got into the car with 
an open expression that melted Winter's heart, almost as if she hadn't 
really expected Winter to show.  When Ann spoke, she seemed different, 
even better, like she'd slept on the events of the past day, and was 
embracing the possibilities of new love.

Winter had never been to the diner that Ann had suggested for breakfast, 
but the coffee was excellent, and the food quite good.  It stuck her as 
strangely coincidental that the place had a New Mexico theme.  Ann 
ordered pancakes, but Winter saw something called Jonathan’s Famous 
Fiery Scramble, and chose that, hoping that it really was "fiery," and 
would give her a hit of endorphins.  "Ann, there's something I have to 
tell you before I move in with you."

"What?" asked Ann, with a mouth full of cornmeal pancake.

"It's about my job.  I told you the truth, but not the whole truth.  I 
said that I was a personal assistant, and that's true, but I didn't tell 
you how personal."

Ann's eyes widened, but all she managed to say was, "You?"

"Yes, Ann.  I'm a courtesan, a very, very highly paid companion."

"But how?  Why?"

Winter recounted the whole story while Ann listened, not saying a word, 
but when Winter told her that highly paid meant three million dollars 
over three and a half years, Ann said, almost in disbelief, "Three 
million dollars."

"I'm paid weekly, and before taxes that's a little over seventeen 
thousand dollars a week.  The dorm fee?  I make more than that in two days."

"I don't know what to say."

"Ann, I hope I don't have to make the choice.  I really like my job, but 
if I had to choose, I'd choose you.  Just say the word, and I'll end it 
with Ian."  Ann looked at Winter, then away, and back again, and burst 
into tears.  Winter tried to console her.  "I'm so sorry that I've hurt 
you."  Ann's bottom lip was protruding, and tears were falling off of 
her cheeks.

"You didn't hurt me, Winter”  Ann's body was now shaking..  “You've 
known me less than a day, and you just told me that if you had to choose 
between me and millions of dollars, you'd pick me. *Me*.  Of course I 
still want you to move in, and I won't ask you to give up your job.  I 
love you."

"And I love *you*, Ann.  I was so worried that you couldn't accept this, 
and I almost felt that I wasn't honest with you yesterday when I told 
you about my job, but it was so sweet.  I wanted to have you for that 
one day, and I wanted to give myself to you."

Ann continued to cry, and noticed that Winter had been surveying the 
scene.  After a few moments, she said, "I'm not embarrassed about crying 
in public," and she shrugged, "I'm used to it."

Winter accepted that declaration.  She wanted to accept every aspect of 
Ann, and she recollected Ian's words about wanting all of her faults, as 
well as her strengths, the whole person.  What she said was, "This 
weekend, I want you to meet my Mom and Dad."  Then, "Hey, you know what 
just occurred to me?"

"What?"

"We don't even know each others' last names.  I'd like to introduce 
myself, Winter Sue Williamson."

"Elizabeth Ann Schultz.  Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"So you could have been a Beth, or a Betsy, or a Liz, or a Liza, or even 
a Betty."

Ann giggled, "But I'm an Ann."

"My Ann."

"Your Ann, and you're my Winter.  It's weird.  Your name is Winter but 
you're the warmest person I've ever met."

"Cold name, warm heart."

"It's a beautiful name.  Like freshly fallen snow."

"Mom named me Winter because I was born just after midnight on the first 
day of Winter.  My middle name was just because she liked the sound of 
Winter Sue.  She said it sounded all Southern, like Bobbi Jo or 
something.  When she told me that, it made me think about Bobbi Jo, and 
why you could give a girl two boy names and have that be a girl name.  I 
thought that maybe the two boynesses canceled each other out."

Ann was now laughing as hard as she'd cried.  "Like multiplying negative 
numbers."

"Exactly.  Eventually, though, I concluded that Bobbi Jo probably stood 
for Roberta Josephine, and figured that I'd dodged a serious bullet," 
said Winter, as she noddingly added her laughter to Ann's.

"You told me you were funny."  They looked at each other across the 
table for a very long time, and Ann finally broke the silence.  "Do you 
have a favorite book?"

Winter had to think. "No, but I'm crazy about Shakespeare, and I love 
Dickens."

"*A Christmas Carol* always makes me cry.  If I start thinking about it, 
I'll be blubbering again."

Winter almost told Ann that Ian had said almost exactly the same thing, 
but didn't voice it because she needed to keep the two of them separate 
in her own mind.

"My parents didn't approve of the story.  They thought it was heretical 
because it had ghosts, but the ghosts in *A Christmas Carol* were like 
angels.  It was just that they were called ghosts.  They couldn't get 
past that.  Scrooge finds Jesus' love, and he's changed."

"Ann, it's one of the most wonderful stories ever.  A person rejects 
selfishness, and embraces generosity.  Whatever one's religious beliefs."

"Do you believe?"

"No.  Can you, are you OK with that?"

"You've made me believe even more.  Are you OK with that?"

"I am."

"I prayed for you, Winter."

"Thank you."

"No, I mean I prayed for someone like you, someone to love me.  Jesus 
gave me you.  I'm sure of that."

"A tall order to live up to, but I'm game."

On the way back to school they agreed that there would be no public 
displays of affection, not merely on campus, but anywhere in public. 
When Ann went to class, Winter went to the office.  She paid for the 
dorm for the rest of the semester, and was told that she could also 
renew for the summer, but since she'd gone part time, full time students 
would be given preference come fall.  Winter was assuming that in May, 
they'd be getting an apartment.  She could certainly afford it since she 
was keeping her job.  She and Ann had planned to meet for lunch, 
cafeteria lunch.  The room came with a meal plan, and Ann liked the food.

It was just before ten when she got to Ian's house.

He asked, "How'd it go?"

"I'm here, and I'm happy."

"What was her reaction when you told her?"

"Bewilderment.  It was sweet, Ian.  I told her that I'd end it with you 
if she asked me to, and she cried.  She said that the fact that I'd 
rather have her than all that money, well, she could hardly believe it, 
and she gave our covenant a thumbs up.  Oh, covenant reminds me.  She 
seems pretty religious, Christian religious.  She said she was sure that 
I was the answer to her prayers."

"That seems rather bizarre."

"She obviously believes in a God who isn't anti-gay."

"Does the religion thing change your feelings for her?"

"Not at all.  I'm in love.  That makes me even hotter to you, doesn't it?"

Ian didn't answer.

"I know what you want to do.  You're practically drooling."

"No, I'm not."

"No, you aren't really drooling, not physically at least, but I am 
right.  You want to smell me and taste me, even more than usual.  I'm 
all gooey for Ann, but she's in class all morning, and it'd be such a 
waste."

Ian offered his hand and they headed to the bedroom.  "You're here and 
I'm happy too."

"Good.  This is my favorite part of the job."

"Not the salary?"

"OK, my second favorite."


When the day came to introduce Ann to her parents, Winter went into 
coaching mode.  No one had ever betrayed her confidences deliberately. 
She placed her loyalties carefully, and convincingly persuaded each 
person she'd shared with to accept her need for privacy.  The intensity 
of her love, and her giving spirit, had always been enough; loyalty was 
assumed, because Winter made each person feel integral to her life.  She 
impressed upon every confidant, "We don't hurt."

"My job," said Winter, "my parents don't know the scope of my duties.  I 
made up a story about helping Ian write a memoir.  I hate asking you to 
lie for me, but you understand, right?  They've always given me, I guess 
the best word is, 'agency.'"

"I do," said Ann.

"They've assumed that I've had a girlfriend for the last several weeks, 
and that's why I've been away from home a few nights every week, so if 
they ask, we've been together since mid-December, OK?"  Ann nodded, and 
Winter added, "I told my mom that I've found my one true love."

"It's so weird, going to a girl's house to meet her parents."

"It won't seem weird at all to them.  Now, if I brought a guy home, 
they'd find that queer."

"Winter."

"You'll get used to it.  Are you ready?"

"I am."

"And Ann, in my family it's not considered impolite to kiss, or 
otherwise show affection around each other.  Would it make you feel 
uncomfortable if I kissed you in front of them?"

It took Ann a moment to answer.  "That first day, well, Tuesday, when 
you said, 'Welcome to my world', you weren't exaggerating.  This isn't 
the planet I grew up on."

"Like I just said, you'll get used to it.  Hey, you know what day it is?"

"Saturday."

"Well yeah," said Winter, "but it's also Groundhog Day."

"You believe in Groundhog Day?"

"I believe if every day were exactly like the day we met, that I 
wouldn't complain."

"Little kisses are fine,” said Ann, “but not making out."

Winter clarified, "We don't get all hot around each other.  It's just 
that affection is like, 'awww,' instead of 'ewww.'  And Ann, they'll 
love you.  How could anyone not?"

Ann didn't protest.  Winter had said, "Welcome to my world."  She'd even 
spoken those words herself, a minute ago, almost in disbelief.  "Maybe 
in Winter's world," Ann thought, "I *am* lovable."

Because her parents were expecting them, Winter didn't knock, but just 
entered the house, Ann in tow.  Winter's parents were in the front room 
waiting for them.  Ann was worried that this was going to be awkward, 
and the introductions had included hugs.  She didn't know whether Winter 
had sensed her anxiety, but probably she'd had the introduction planned, 
as she looked around the room furtively and asked, gesturing with both 
hands, "Where are the decorations?"

Winter had drawn all attention to herself, and all three regarded her 
with puzzlement, and she faked bursting into tears, "How could you? 
It's Groundhog Day!  Ann, this is worse than the year they forgot 
Columbus Day."

When the laughter died down, Ann, wanting to make conversation, said, 
"It smells really good in here."

Natalie replied, "There's a cake in the oven."

Winter wasn't going to let that go unanswered, and this time dancing as 
well as employing her hands, sang, "They knew we were coming, so she 
baked a cake, flinging her pointer at her mother on the word, "she."

The tension was broken, and Richard asked Ann, "So, you're the woman who 
has finally melted our Winter's cold, snowy heart, her Spring."

Winter cracked up, and Natalie finally asked, "OK, what is it now?"

Winter spoke seriously, "I know what kind of cake that is.  It is, right?"

"It's German chocolate."

Again, Winter went into musical theater mode, dropping her voice down an 
octave, and punching her fist in the air, she sang, "Springtime, for 
Hitler," and Richard joined her in the words, "and Germany."  The two of 
them hugged, and Natalie rolled her eyes at Ann.

Winter took note, and said, "Alright, Mom.  I think I'm finished."

"Well good, because it's time to check on the cake, and after I take it 
out, it's payback time."

After her mother left the room, Winter got a worried look on her face, 
"Ann, when she says that, it always forebodes something frightful.  Hold 
me darling.  Protect me."

Ann just smiled, and waved her off.

"I guess you're accustomed to this behavior by now," said Richard.

Ann knew that she was supposed to give the impression that she had known 
Winter for far longer than she actually had, and replied, "She told me 
I'd get used to it."

Natalie returned from the kitchen, announcing that the cake was out of 
the oven.  She was carrying a familiar box, and Winter huffed, "Ha. 
Baby pictures.  That's the best you could do?  I'll have you know, she's 
already seen me naked."

Richard stood abruptly, and shook his fists, "Where's my shotgun, ma?"

Natalie set the box of photos on the coffee table, and motioned for Ann 
to follow her back to the kitchen.  "The cake's still too warm to frost, 
but I thought I'd better get you out of there, and besides, I'd like to 
get to know you.  You have to be a pretty special person, because Winter 
has never had so much as a crush on anyone."

"It really doesn't bother you that I'm a girl?"

"Ann, Winter is lesbian, so of course you're a girl.  It's bodies, 
sweetie.  Winter prefers female bodies, just like I like males.  My 
daughter has healthy relationships with men, obviously.  I mean, listen 
to them out there, and her and her brother are good friends, but her 
sexual attraction is to women.  I've never known her to make bad choices."

"But she chose *me*, and I'm afraid that she'll get bored with me 
someday.  I mean, like you said, listen to her now, being all funny and 
vivacious, and I'm in the kitchen with her mother, holding back tears."

"I'm in this kitchen too, and the difference is that I know that 
Winter's father loves me, and he loves me forever, Ann, even though I'm 
in the kitchen having a meaningful conversation, while he's doing what 
he's doing.  She sees something in you.  I don't know what, you 
seemingly don't know what, and I doubt that Winter could put her finger 
on what it is either.  Let love happen.  It worked for me."

"Thanks, Natalie."

"Call me Tally, and if you're ready, we can go out there and dig into 
Winter's baby pictures."

"Is the cake ready, like cooled enough to frost?"

"Close enough, *girl*."

"This is foreign to me, Tally.  She's everything to me, and I've never 
had anyone."

"First loves are scary, Ann, but I've never seen Winter like this.  She 
outright told me that she feels like you're the one, and she is 
meticulous about telling me not to share if she wants anything kept 
private.”  Natalie pursed her lips and said,  “First Eric, then Winter, 
and you're both pretty, blonde physicists.  I think it might not be a 
coincidence."

"Except I'm not a physicist.  The physics and math are really 
pre-engineering.  My advisor has a connection at Rolla.  I have three 
more years undergrad, then I'm hopefully transferring there.  I want to 
design bridges, or sewage treatment plants, or maybe even nuclear 
reactors, infrastructure things"

"So you won't be spiriting my daughter away from me anytime soon."

"I'd never take her away from you."

"I was kidding, sweetie, and Rolla is only an hour and a half away. 
Less if Winter's driving."  Natalie insisted that Ann finish the cake.

"It's all crooked."

"Substance over style."

Ann thought, "This family, these people, don't seem to care about 
anything superficial.  A malformed cake wouldn't be disappointing."  She 
anticipated gentle teasing at her incompetence, but got none, as the 
call for cake was answered by a rush to the table, and cuts that left 
the remnant looking no worse than any other cake that had been similarly 
assaulted.

The childhood photographs of Winter didn't feature her naked, and Ann 
learned that the time she'd spent in the kitchen had given Winter the 
opportunity to organize the jumbled collection into a loose 
chronological order.  As they sat together on the couch, Ann to Winter's 
right, and Natalie to her left, with Richard on the floor facing them, 
the memories evoked feelings of intense affection that Ann could feel 
coming off Winter in waves, even as her attention was directed 
elsewhere, and Winter had the sense of presence to place her hand on 
Ann's forearm, however briefly, resting more than caressing.  Love was 
welling up in Winter, and it was flooding the room.  Even as pictures 
were shown to her, Ann felt outside the bond, and she knew that Richard 
felt it too, as he gave her a smile that she returned with her whole 
mouth.  Ann was fighting off envy, not wanting to pollute the moment 
with self pity.  This hospitality wasn't fraudulent.  Winter's family 
was a place of love, and she'd been handed a golden ticket.

As the time line progressed, there were bicycles, campfires and canoes, 
all images of a youth rich with freedom.  Winter, twelve, perhaps 
thirteen, standing atop a rock outcropping that appeared to jut up with 
no discernible footholds for ascent, posing akimbo, was the same person 
who'd taken her hand, bedded her so softly, and day after day, went 
about the happenings of those days with no pertubations.  Winter was the 
executive of her life, balancing the present and future.

Ann hadn't noticed the camera on the end table until Winter reached for 
it, extending her body across her mother's instead of asking that it be 
handed to her, the daughter's side briefly pressing against the mother's 
breasts, Winter's face passing inches from Tally's, and it almost seemed 
like it was done purely for intimacy's sake.  It would have been far 
easier to ask that the camera be passed to her, or to get off the couch 
and retrieve it herself, since after grabbing it, Winter stood anyway, 
and walked right past where the object had been.

“Ann, I want to take pictures of you looking at pictures of me.  If you 
see any that make you all cooey—and please note everyone, that I said 
cooey, not...”  Winter was doubled over laughing at her own joke.

Natalie's melodious peals, and Richard's deep belly laugh were perfectly 
parallel, Ann thought, to the words she'd heard earlier, “It's just 
bodies.”  This was the kind of impropriety that would have ended the 
evening in her old world, and though her delight was tinged with a 
generous sadness for her own parents, she was glad that they'd orphaned 
her.  Little Annie was in a better place now, and while she barely 
laughed, every part of her face smiled.

“I meant,” said Winter, “that if you come across photos that you think 
are cute, you should hold them out, showing them to my Dad, and I'll 
stand back here.”  Winter backpedaled several paces.  “That way 
everything will be in focus.  Pretend I'm not here.”

Natalie shaped her lips at Winter in a way that said, “Yeah, right.”

“Okay, then just ignore the camera,” and Winter sang to Richard, “All 
you gotta do is...”

He finished the line in a basso, “Act naturally.”

That was advice that Ann took.  It animated her to the point that when 
Winter made funny faces at her, she gave Natalie's shoulder a gentle 
shove.  This was good touching, safe affection, answered with a smile; 
it was spontaneous, not at all a test,  but if it had been, everyone had 
passed.

After the pictures had been snapped, Winter announced, “I have to get 
this one home.  She has an early, early class tomorrow.  She's like 
Benjamin Franklin.”

“A womanizer?” asked Richard.

“No, Dad, a person of science who understands the value of a good 
night's sleep.  Au revoir,”  said Winter as she kissed her mother on 
both cheeks, and then her father.

Ann followed suit, and once outside the door asked, “Does your family 
usually say good-bye that way?”

“No.  We usually just kiss one cheek.  We've never done the French 
thing, but after I said, 'Au revoir,' it seemed appropriate.”

“Do you speak French?”

“No.  I mean I had to take it in high school, but I was never any good 
at it.  I did well enough to pass.”

“You'll have to take a foreign language to graduate.”

Winter opened the car door for Ann, assisted her in, then closed the 
door and walked around to the driver's side.  Once seated, she said, 
“Ann, if I can keep Ian happy, a college degree will be pretty 
extraneous.  Speaking of which, you remember that I have to sleep with 
him tonight.  He's been awfully understanding, but it's my job.  You're 
still okay with that?”

“More than okay.  I'll miss you, but I really do have an early class.”

Winter dropped Ann off at the dorm, and proceeded to Ian's house.

-- 
--Bryan https://www.instagram.com/bryangsimmons/

For your safety and protection, this sig. has been thoroughly
tested on laboratory animals.

"Most of the food described here is nauseating.
We're just too courteous to say so."
-- Cindy Hamilton