"So," I say. "Genesis."
Sloane's eyes widen. "I just — I've actually finished my chapter for the night."
I narrow my eyes at her. "I don't believe you."
"Show her," Ruthie says.
Sloane looks at Ruthie like she's betrayed her. "I don't think I need to —"
"Show her, honey. She doesn't believe you."
Sloane's hand goes to her purse and to my surprise, she really does lift out the Bible. She's about to put it back when I reach across the table and take it from her. It's almost a reflex — Sloane Archer the party girl reading scripture is too bizarre to take at face value.
"Don't," she whispers. "Seriously, don't."
I open it, fully expecting Genesis. Instead, I get this:
"You don't get to tell me how to run my barrels," Tessa said. Her hand was still on Grace's wrist. "You don't get to tell me anything."
I keep reading, because I'm so confused that I don't immediately understand what I'm looking at. There's a headerat the top of the right-hand page in a small italic typeface that readsA Taste of Her. There's a Tessa and there's a Grace and that can only mean one thing. Cawley library doesn't hold that many sapphic titles and I've read them all.
"Oh." I close the book, study the sleeve cover with HOLY BIBLE in gold across the front, and try very hard to keep a straight face.
Then I look at Sloane and hand her back the book. She's gone the color of a tomato.
"Yeah," I say. "Genesis. I do love that book. I've read it too."
Sloane blinks.
"You have?" Her voice comes out small.
"Mhm. A while ago. It was good. I should pick it up again."
The color deepens even more in her cheeks and I can see her swallow.
"You too, Maggie?" Ruthie's still standing at the end of the booth with the coffee pot. "Well," she says, "isn't that lovely. I'm always saying the Lord brings people together."
"He does," I say, without looking away from Sloane.
I don't quite know what I'm feeling as this is the last thing I expected. Why on earth would she read a sapphic romance? Is she closeted or simply curious? I take a sip of my coffee, look out the window and think, at speed, about what to say next. The wrong thing will close her up so I decide humour might be the way to go.
"Behold," I say, "a woman in a vineyard."
Sloane shoots a quick look at Ruthie before turning back to me. "What?"
"From Genesis. Famous bit. Noah plants a vineyard after the flood. Or is it Lot? I always forget. And lo, the two women did look upon each other across the barrels."
"Well, you've lost me there," Ruthie says. "Honestly, Maggie, for a woman who only sets foot in our church for weddingsand funerals you've got a remarkable memory of the Bible." She waddles off to the next booth.
Sloane waits until she's gone and lets out a strange sound. She puts both hands over her face and her shoulders shake. I can't tell, for a couple of seconds, whether she's laughing or crying but then she drops her hands and lifts her face with a quiet, helpless laugh.
"Oh my god. This is so embarrassing," she says through chuckles.
"And the woman from New York said unto her, thou knowest nothing of these barrels —"
Sloane is laughing out loud now. "Maggie, stop, I will literally die." She wipes under her eyes with the heel of her thumb. "It's… It's not what you think."
"You don't owe me an explanation," I say. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grabbed the book out of your hands. Although I will say, the dust jacket was inspired. Fifteen-year-old me would have killed for that idea."
