Free One Degree of Separation by Karin Kallmaker Page A

dated the old owner, Marsha, who lives on Brookside now with her partner, Julie. Julie Y., not Julie S. Go up to the next street and turn left.”

    Liddy followed the instructions, then turned into the narrow alley that ran between the backyards of the houses. “I drove down here once, but there’s no gate. Climbing the fence wasn’t all that appealing, and I thought I might get towed.”
    “The realtor should have showed you. Marsha had a party and everyone came in the back way because Dodge is so busy.” Liddy pulled into the cleared area behind her house. “This is my parking space?”
    “Sure. Usually there’s room for two cars, but this one is, um, a bit large.”
    “Yeah, I know. It’s a guilt gift from my biological father, heap big mountain macho man.”
    Marian nodded as if that made perfect sense to her. “The gate’s buried under all that ivy. No wonder you didn’t see it.”
    “Ah, the Hidden Gate. Sounds positively Jane Eyre.” Using bare hands, they stripped away a lot of the overgrowth.
    Sure enough, there was a lovely gate. Now she realized that if she’d been out in the backyard she’d have seen the stepping stones embed-ded in the too-tall grass. Sheesh.
    “Thank you so much—I was thinking of selling the damned car.”
    “Everything works out for a reason.” Marian’s heavy sigh was at odds with her philosophical tone.
    “Your friend has your keys so I can find out about this gate? The universe can be twisted.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    They tromped in the back door and Liddy remembered her manners. “Do you have time for some tea or coffee?”
    “I don’t, actually, but thank you.” Marian headed unerringly in the direction of the bathroom. It was odd to think of her being familiar with a house Liddy didn’t yet feel comfortable in.
    Liddy put away her purchases while she waited. Marian returned quickly, her face a uniform well-scrubbed pink. Liddy offered her the bottle of Murine she’d fished out of her still unpacked toiletries bag.
    “It’s bad for your eyes, but it’s a special occasion.”

    Marian hesitated, then took the bottle. She carefully squeezed in the drops and wiped her cheek. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”
    “It really is a bad habit.”
    Marian cocked her head slightly. “Oh, yeah. It is. I’m sorry, I’ll ... Forget it.”
    Relieved to see the glimmer of a smile, Liddy shepherded Marian back to the car. She realized then that the passenger-side steps didn’t seem as helpful as the ones on the driver’s side, and Marian had trouble reaching the overhead grab bar. She nearly helped, then thought she hardly knew Marian well enough for even a dispassionate hand on the backside.
    They were halfway to the library when Marian broke the silence.
    “I’m not usually like this, just so you know. Rough day, that’s all.”
    “Friends’ moving can be traumatic.”
    Marian gave her a surprised look and Liddy flushed.
    “Sorry, I overheard you in the store. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” The lie, she was sure, had tinted her ears red.
    “I was worried you were a mind reader, that’s all.” Marian sighed.
    “It’s hard not to have everyone know your business. It was a big adjustment when I first moved here.”
    “Where are you from originally?”
    “Chicago. You?”
    “San Bernardino, but I grew up in Berkeley.” Marian nodded as if she understood the vast difference, but somehow Liddy doubted it. “You’ll get used to the close-knit com-munity. You lose some privacy, but there are compensations.”
    “I’m only here for a research project. Until end of July.”
    “Oh. Weatherwise it’s not the best time to see I.C.”
    “I can’t imagine the dead of January being much better.”
    “No, you’re right. April and September are lovely. The colors are beautiful.”
    Liddy pulled into the loading zone at the library. Marian gathered her bags and opened the door.
    “I really appreciate this. If I can head off the posse I