Late Thursday morning, Abigail goes to the Hyatt, where Jillian’s conference is being held. Numerous participants are milling around the lobby in groups of varying size. An attractive, dark-haired woman in a light silk top and dark slacks takes note of Abigail and heads toward her.
“Abigail?”
“Yes. You must be Jillian.”
Jillian scrutinizes her very closely. “I don’t think we look that much alike.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Abigail says.
“To hear Neil tell it, we’re separated at birth.”
“He tells me it’s more attitude than appearance.”
Jillian continues to examine her. “Neil says you’re gay.”
“Why don’t we just skip the pleasantries? Yes, that’s right. Something we have in common I understand.”
“Do you drink?” Jillian says.
“I’ve been known to.”
“Good. Let’s blow this pop stand. I’ll introduce you to queer Portland.”
“I’m not totally naive, you know. I’ve been to clubs.”
“Good. Who knows? We might get lucky.”
“Lucky? Neil said you’re in a relationship.”
“Okay, you might get lucky, and I’ll get lucky vicariously.”
“I can’t hang out too long. As I mentioned, my Mom and cousin are in town.”
“Yes. Your miraculous cousin.”
“Miraculous? I’m not sure I’d call her that, but she’s a good kid.”
Jillian gives her a half smile. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Never mind. I’m just messing with you. The bar’s nearby.”
As they walk, Abigail says, “You called my mother for my number, right?”
“Guilty.”
“Why didn’t you just ask Neil?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
