Finders Keepers

By Karin Kallmaker

Setting out on the vacation of a lifetime, Marissa Chabot is well-provisioned with sun block, rum and a stack of good books. As one of the founders of the successful, high-tech "soul-mate matching service" Finders Keepers, Marissa knows from experience that vacation romances are nothing short of hopeless.

When the tall, dark and beautiful Linda Bartok sweeps her off her feet, Marissa yields to the magic of moonlit walks on the beach and longed-for whispers of passion. Though it hardly seems possible that the Amazonian, adventurous Linda could be truly interested in a desk-bound computer geek, their erotic encounters soon bring about Marissa's complete and total surrender.

Vacations end. Real life resumes. Waiting for the phone to ring, Marissa wonders if what she had seen in Linda's eyes could have possibly been true. Was it just a vacation romance? Or was she going to end up losers weepers?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bella Books
• Release date: Feb 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781594939310

Karin Kallmaker

Karin Kallmaker's novels span lesbian romance, lesbian erotica and lesbian science-fiction/fantasy. More than five dozen short stories have appeared in anthologies and standalone collections. Her writing career began with the venerable Naiad Press, continues with Bella Books and includes more than two dozen novels in print. In 2008, she joined Bella Books as the press's first Editorial Director. When she isn't writing books she is thinking about books.In previous lives, Karin worked as a non-profit accountant for a senior housing association and a low-income housing lender, and had a brief stint as a document processor on an oil refinery. She is the mother of two teenagers and lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her partner. She is descended from Lady Godiva, a fact which she will tell anyone who will listen,and she likes her chocolate real and her iPod loud.Lambda Literary AwardsWinner, three Lambda Literary Awards for The Kiss that Counted and Maybe Next Time in Lesbian Romance and In Deep Waters 2 in Lesbian Erotica, with multiple additional shortlist nods for Lesbian Romance, Lesbian Erotica and LGBT Science-Fiction Fantasy works.GCLS Goldie AwardsWinner of the Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award for The Kiss that Counted, the 2011 Trailblazer Award, with another six awards won for Frosting on the Cake 2: Second Helpings, Above Temptation, Just Like That and Sugar in Lesbian Romance and 18th & Castro and In Deep Waters 1 for Lesbian Erotica, along with numerous finalists.BookmarksRichards LaBonte - Kallmaker transcends cliche with vivid characterization, logical plotting, and plenty of deep research...Friends and FamilyHer characters are so real you can't help but picture them in your mind...Lambda Book ReportCarol LeMasters - The best romances don't simply evade issues; they offer us another way of dealing with them. After all, the issues with which these women struggle--homophobia, mortality, barriers of age and class--are ones we all encounter. More than enjoyable diversions, they can offer humorous insights into how we conduct relationships and truths we can take with us into "real life." Situations may be cliché but not the authors' treatment of them, and no matter how far-fetched the circumstances, the characters' emotional experiences ring true.

Book preview

By the Author

Writing as Karin Kallmaker:

Just Like That

Sugar

One Degree of Separation

Maybe Next Time

Substitute for Love

Frosting on the Cake

Unforgettable

Watermark

Making Up for Lost Time

Embrace in Motion

Wild Things

Painted Moon

Car Pool

Paperback Romance

Touchwood

In Every Port

Writing for Bella After Dark:

18th & Castro

All the Wrong Places

Stake through the Heart: New Exploits of Twilight Lesbians

Bell, Book and Dyke: New Exploits of Magical Lesbians

Once Upon a Dyke: New Exploits of Fairy Tale Lesbians

Writing as Laura Adams:

The Tunnel of Light Trilogy:

Sleight of Hand

Seeds of Fire

Feel free to visit www.kallmaker.com

Title Page

Copyright© 2006 by Karin Kallmaker

Bella Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 10543

Tallahassee, FL 32302

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

First Edition 2008

Editor: Anna Chinappi

Cover designer: LA Callaghan

ISBN-10: 1-59493-072-4

Dedication

For Maria, who watched me inflate and deflate, and pointed out the efficacy of sweatbands.

Dedicated to all the women who struggle, and those who encourage, especially MJ, Reese and Romy for their examples of determination, and the denizens of Thud, where seldom is heard a discouraging word.

Nineteen, on the edge

About the Author

Karin Kallmaker, the author of more than twenty romances and fantasy-science fiction novels, began her writing career with the venerable Naiad Press and continues with Bella Books. Her works include the award-winning Just Like That, Maybe Next Time and Sugar. Short stories have appeared in anthologies from publishers like Alyson, Bold Strokes, Circlet and Haworth, as well as novellas and short stories with Bella Books.

All of Karin’s work can now be found at Bella Books. Details and background about her novels and her other pen name, Laura Adams, can be found at www.kallmaker.com.

She and her partner are the mothers of two and live in the San Francisco Bay Area. She is descended from Lady Godiva, a fact which she’ll share with anyone who will listen. She likes her Internet fast, her iPod loud and her chocolate real.

For more information about the health, fitness and nutrition resources used while researching this novel, go to Kallmaker.com and visit the page for Finders Keepers.

Part One

Chapter 1

This is our manifesto: there is someone perfect for you out there.

Marissa Chabot paused to tuck a stray lock of streaky blond hair behind her ear. The crowd filling the meeting room was thoroughly mixed, with over-fifties and under-thirties, skin colors ranging from ebony to hothouse mushroom and hair styles screaming het soccer mom and baby butch. The all-female audience was Marissa’s favorite kind.

That someone isn’t at the coffeehouse. Not hanging out at the library. Not at your job or just down the street. That someone is on the Internet. Like you, works long hours. Like you, has no time to go hunting for a date who could turn out to be the worst mistake of their life.

She didn’t really need the note cards she’d arranged on the lectern. She’d given this speech so often in the last two months she knew it by heart.

"Your perfect someone is there. Like anything in life, your perfect someone is worth looking for. Why not look smart? Why not let technology help? Antony found Cleopatra in a social circle of less than a hundred—and that didn’t turn out that well, did it? Today you’re meeting and considering possibilities with thousands of potentially compatible people. Your lives are busy, your jobs take energy and who has the time to figure out if that intriguing person is genuine?" She clicked the first slide of her PowerPoint deck and watched as their company name formed out of a splash of shooting stars.

At Finders Keepers, we believe in love. We believe in romance. We believe in first meetings, second dates, third anniversaries and relationships that can last a lifetime. In the next ten minutes I’m going to explain why our questionnaire and statistical analysis has resulted in a three-out-of-four chance that the match we find for you will still be in your life in the best possible way three years from now.

She clicked steadily through the slides, pausing briefly when she realized her dangling earring was making contact with the microphone boom.

Ninety-seven percent of our clients will match up with a high degree of compatibility with four to seven other clients. That means most of our clients complete their questionnaire and get a profile back that looks like this.

Using the laser pointer she highlighted the paragraph that summarized their personality and then the list of fictitious names grouped by their compatibility match scores, starting with the 98s. Ninety-nine percent matches are rare, so most people get one or two names in the ninety-eights, several more in the ninety-sevens or sixes, and a few more in the ninety-fives. The report stops at ten names maximum, as we’ve found more than that can leave clients feeling overwhelmed.

The audience was engaged and she fielded cautiously excited questions when she concluded her ten-minute spiel. She made a note in her mental Palm Pilot about the size and time of the presentation. She wasn’t used to being on commission like the other sales people. Even though she and Ocky argued about money all the time, it was only fair that she was compensated the same way everyone else was for doing direct sales work.

After the last question, she stepped back with an inclusive gesture. Thank you, everyone, for your attention and kindness, and many thanks to the organizers of today’s Women’s Forum. I’ve got business cards galore here at the front, with a note on how to get a discount on your set-up fee. Thanks again.

The applause was polite but abbreviated as women gathered up their belongings. Marissa lingered near the podium, first slipping her earring back on, then packing up her laptop as she chatted with women who came to the front to get business cards. It was a low-key sell because that was their style. Finders Keepers wasn’t about pressure. One of the first things they told clients to do was simply relax.

The next sessions got under way and Marissa escaped to the parking lot with her laptop case slung over one shoulder. Dappled sunshine warmed her face and for just a moment she heard the hiss of surf spreading on hot sand. She shook the sound out of her head. It was just as quickly replaced by the low question, Is this what you wanted, Marissa?

She made herself think about the unusually warm winter weather, about her shoes, about statistical regression—anything to silence that memory. She was enjoying the record high temperatures for January, she told herself cheerily. San Francisco, over the hills and on the water, was also setting records.

The San Ramon Ranch Conference Center was not far from the FK office and she had elected to walk for the exercise. It was only five minutes and she wasn’t going to get in a run until tomorrow, after all. Sunny, beautiful day. Who needed a tropical paradise when the Amador Valley would soon be green with spring while the rest of the country still froze?

It went great, she told Heather as she collected her messages at the reception desk. There were probably two dozen cards taken, so we’ll see six contacts or so and might sign three.

Good work. Heather brushed back her hair with a long hand. Octavia left for that marketing association thing and said the servers are slow again.

She thinks lightning is slow. Your hair looks great, by the way.

Thanks. She brushed it back again. I think I need a clip or something, though.

The price of fashion, Marissa quipped. My underwire is piercing my armpit right now. She took her leave as Heather laughed in sympathy.

The soft, deep purple carpet of the reception area gave way to a more durable gray as she punched in the code and passed through the double doors to the main farm. Cubicles occupied the center of the large space. She dropped off her laptop case at the overflowing desk in her office and removed her rings and the chunky gold necklace and earrings that matched. Another set of codes gained her entrance into the server room and she gratefully sank down at the administrative workstation. She’d always found the chilled air and steady hum calming.

Her fingernails clicked the keyboard as she typed in the first diagnostic command. Time for a trim, she realized, then pouted as she added the To Do to her mental Palm Pilot. As the diagnostic tallied service statistics she expanded on the note in her head.

Dear Self,

Don’t forget to record the presentation code for your commission and trim your nails.While it’s depressing that the nail trim is for the keyboard and not because you’re avoiding giving someone an ouch in bed, there’s no need to whine.This week is a No Whining Zone.

Love, Marissa

As usual, the service stats were fine. She printed the report to silence Ocky’s complaints and went back to her desk where a stack of questionnaires waited to be entered manually. She was going to personally find and dismember the guy who sold them that pieceof-garbage optical scanner. Maybe she could get a temp. Maybe the temp would do it right. Maybe California and Hawaii could become their own country. Right.

She pushed aside last night’s empty take-out salad container and a large pile of accounting reports joined their predecessors on the floor. Ocky had left several yellow squares stuck to her monitor.

Dear Octavia M. Zant,

Put another sticky note on my screen and I will personally bad sector your writing hand.

Love, Marissa

One of these days she’d really tap that message out and send it.

The office had stilled when she finished the last questionnaire. So much for the prestige of being part owner of the fastest growing Internet matchmaking service in California. Her arms were cramped and all she could think about was some dinner and maybe a trip to the gym. A door slammed and she heard a familiar rustle combined with the rhythmic crackle of headphones. Ocky was back.

From a nonchalant pose at Ocky’s office door, she watched her business partner put her notebook back in the slot where it belonged, stow her briefcase and set her phone and Mp3 player on their chargers. She waited until Ocky looked up before saying, How’d it go?

Great. You look tired.

Questionnaires. The service guy is here tomorrow morning. There’s nothing wrong with the servers, by the way. Marissa wished she hadn’t taken off her earrings. You look tired too.

Late night. And not a great one. Ocky kicked off her sandals and curled back into her desk chair, legs tucked under her. Tell me one more time why I don’t fill out my own questionnaire and get myself a real lover?

I could run a thousand miles a day, Marissa thought, and not have her slender, toned legs. Because you can’t afford to tell the truth should you end up the one-in-four who doesn’t find a good match through our system. She didn’t want to admit at that very moment that she herself was now a Finders Keepers client. It wasn’t the right time to break that news to Ocky.

So I’m stuck with mismatch after mismatch using my own hunter-gatherer skills. At least the sex is great. Well, it wasn’t last night but it usually is.

Marissa didn’t let herself think too much about what did and didn’t work with Ocky’s long string of short-lived girlfriends. Octavia liked them tall, blonde, lithesome and temporary, all things Marissa would never be. Not that her own dating record had any more success. Accidents and twisted fate had played too large a role in her love life. She was hoping her future, with guided assistance from statistical analysis and algorithms she’d written herself, would improve.

As they chatted about finances, Marissa again heard the hiss of distant surf on warm sand and the quiet but intense question, Is this what you wanted, Marissa? Maybe the memory persisted because of the sunshine today. Just nostalgia.

Tomorrow would be one year to the day but who was counting? A vacation romance was an unreliable thing. Passion at the time but no real connection. Tears at parting, a promise she would be in touch as soon as possible—Marissa told herself she’d been a fool to believe any of it. She was over it, just as she was over her crush on Ocky. Fussing about Ocky’s girlfriends and how she looked when Ocky was around was a habit she was trying to break.

So when your next trust payout comes along, I think we’ll be able to expand the office site and roll out some national advertising. Ocky tapped at her keyboard, rapidly reading and responding to messages. Those cash infusions have been great for the business.

It’s the last one, Marissa said slowly, since I’m turning thirtyfive this summer. We need to talk about it because I really should get myself out of renting and into a condo or something.

We should be in for some big withdrawals as partner bonuses within five years, Ocky said. She glanced up with one of her confident smiles.

Marissa didn’t want to give in, not this time. They’d had this discussion five years ago. She’d invested a lot in the business and things were really going to start paying off, it was true, but she didn’t want to be forty and still paying rent in one of the most expensive real estate markets in the country. We’re going to need to talk about it. There may be other ways to finance what we need to do.

Let’s go have a hot fudge sundae or something. I could use the pick-me-up.

Thinking longingly of the gym, Marissa said, I can’t be that indulgent today.

Ocky frowned. Still dieting?

This isn’t temporary. Our ancestors spawned in different oceans and I got the oversized genes.

I can’t even get you to split a pizza these days.

Marissa didn’t say, Splitting a pizza means I eat two-thirds, gain three pounds overnight while you have the metabolism of an atom bomb. Instead she said, with a gesture at her tummy, I’m trying to make up for twenty years of indulgence here. Maybe we could have coffee instead of ice cream? You can always get one of those brownie things you like.

Ocky agreed with poor grace and they went about locking down the office. A few minutes later they pulled into adjoining parking spaces close to the door of the Village Roaster.

Though the desserts were arranged in the display case as seductively as possible, Marissa knew the calories, fat and carbs for each item. Knowledge was power and she was inured to their charms. She ordered her coffee iced with skim, no cream and stirred in nocal sweetener and a dash of cocoa powder while she waited for Ocky to join her. Even though she didn’t want the large brownie and the whipped mocha with real sugar that Ocky was going to consume, she still felt a pang of resentment over the matter of genetics. It wasn’t fair but whining didn’t burn calories.

So I really think we’re going to be able to pull out a quarter of our capital each by the end of the next five years. Plus increase our partners’ draw. Finally make a real living after all our hard work and investment. Ocky bit off a substantial chunk of the brownie and licked chocolate sprinkles off her lip.

Thing is, in five years condos are going to cost that much more, Ocky. You already have a place.

With a second mortgage on it for the business.

I know, Marissa conceded. If she had to, she would point out that Ocky’s condo had appreciated double in the ten years she’d owned it. Patiently, she said, If I use my trust payout this time I can get into one of the complexes about three miles from work. I could run to work, in fact. The idea of being able to combine her need for regular, consistent exercise with her commute suited Marissa’s sense of symmetry.

She took a large swallow of her iced coffee before adding, It’s ideal. The mortgage payment will be more than rent but I’d get the interest deduction and come out ahead. It makes such good financial sense for me right now.

Ocky licked an errant bit of cream from her upper lip. I understand that but we’ve been planning your capital investments since almost the start.

I know, but the last year has been so good I thought the business could get a real business loan instead of Bank of Marissa’s Dead Grandmother.

Ocky frowned. This is all out of left field, you know.

We talked about it five years ago. I know I said I’d be willing to invest, so yeah, I’m changing my mind. Marissa wanted in the worst way to add, Haven’t you noticed that I’ve changed? But she took a deep breath instead and watched Ocky’s fingers drum the table, even as a small part of her realized she wasn’t all gooeyhearted at the sight of Ocky licking her lips. That, at least, was something.

Are you sure you don’t want a bite? Ocky abruptly leaned forward with a large chunk of brownie on her fork.

Marissa reared back as if stung. No, but thanks.

Really? They’re good today.

It’s like crack at the moment, Ocky. One bite and I’m ten pounds up. How often do I have to say it, Marissa wondered.

You’re obsessed about calories.

Sharply, Marissa answered, I have to be. It’s gotten results, she could have said too. But maybe—and the thought was simultaneously a slap and a comfort—Ocky really didn’t notice how she looked. More calmly she added, Better to be obsessed with what I won’t eat than what I will.

Ocky shrugged. Seems like an obsession either way, but you’re the one with the nutritionist and the new friends.

Was Ocky jealous of the women at the gym and her weekly weight bitch session? Maybe. I just know I’m healthier.

Ocky had moved on. It’s not like I haven’t invested, though I know you’ve put in more.

I know—for the first five years you did all the public contact. You were the front woman for it all. I know that. We both worked hundred-hour weeks. And you’ve put in capital too. I know you’ve got as much at stake as I do. It’s not about that. I just need a place of my own. I want to put out my own welcome mat. She sipped her iced coffee, savoring the chill and bitter edge.

Are you seeing someone? Ocky leaned back with a considering look. You’ve been dressing to the nines lately.

Okay, it was pleasing to know that Ocky did actually see her in detail and not just as a vague outline labeled Marissa. I’ve been doing lots of presentations. And . . . She shrugged. And discovering there are things I like about myself now. Better than before. I like shoes. She cracked a smile. Nearly as much as you.

Ocky finished the brownie. You didn’t answer my question.

Instead of What’s it to you? Marissa said, without mentioning the ten women listed on her personal Finder’s Keepers analysis as Highly Compatible Profiles, I’m dating a little bit. But if I wanted to, I’d like to live somewhere I’m proud to invite people in. And my apartment complex—you know what the place is like.

Ocky sighed. Yeah, I do. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ll get a loan or something.

Relief welled up inside Marissa, so much so that she thought she might drown. She rarely won these kinds of arguments with Ocky. Thanks for understanding. I really was going to bring it up at our next sit down.

This counted.

Watching her friend’s face, Marissa said again, You do look tired.

Last night—jeez. Major crying jag and I never the hell knew what it was about. I hate that.

Had she been drinking?

No. Ocky cast her gaze heavenward. There might have been something about me not being around enough but it’s not like I’m not up front about how much I work.

The tale sounded all too familiar to Marissa. Perhaps you should get involved with women who are themselves workaholics.

Easy to say. Marissa tried not to watch as Ocky’s tongue wetted her lips. They don’t often have legs that go from here to Argentina.

Glancing down at her own legs—which merely stretched from her hips to the floor—Marissa hid her inward sigh.

They parted at the door and Marissa turned toward the gym, finally. She was suddenly restless and anxious. A workout would make her feel better.

The steady thud thud of her running shoes was only apparent when Marissa turned down her iPod. It made her booty move. Her booty wasn’t dead, oh no. The workout last night had felt great but she was even happier to finally get into a full sweat.

Swerving into the complex where she’d lived for the last twelve years and would be so happy to leave behind, she slackened her pace as she crossed the patch of oil-slicked asphalt that separated the buildings. The morning was cool but the brilliant sunrise promised more winter warmth.

At the common mailboxes she slowed to a halt, willing her breathing to return to normal.

Damn! she swore quietly as stinging sweat pooled into the corners of her eyes.

Straightening, hands pressing into the small of her back, she walked toward her front door, realizing as she got closer that there was someone waiting there. At this hour? A small alarm trilled inside but she discerned it was a woman, which allayed some of her fear.

It was a tall woman with dark hair down her back. And when she turned around her eyes were brown.

In her head Marissa heard, clearly as the night it had been said, Is this what you want, Marissa?

Now she also heard her breathless, adoring answer. Yes. Please, yes.

The smile Marissa had tried to forget. The charm she’d tried to deny. The memory of those hands, that body, everything she’d tried to erase from her consciousness, rushed back into vivid reality.

One year since the moonlight and kisses. It had taken months for her heart to finish breaking when each day brought silence and more silence. She didn’t want to go back in time. One year since the vacation of a lifetime had changed her life, for the worse and for the better.

Fighting for breath, but no longer due to exertion, Marissa willed herself to meet the sparkling brown eyes with a chilled stare of her own. What do you want?

You, Linda answered.

Chapter 2

(OneYear Earlier)

Abandon ship! Proceed in an orderly fashion to your assigned lifeboat station. Abandon ship! This is not a drill!

Jolted out of sleep, Marissa’s first thought was that she was trapped in a nightmare but when the message repeated in what sounded like Italian, logic asserted that she did not have nightmares in languages she didn’t speak.

The small cabin had no clock and she’d been so exhausted on arrival she’d not unpacked her own. Dull blue lighting had sprung up near the door and she pushed herself upright, trying to shake off the jittery fog of sudden awakening.

French, possibly, then once again, in commanding but modulated tones, Abandon ship! Proceed in an orderly fashion to your assigned lifeboat station. Abandon ship! This is not a drill!

Her cabin mate had likewise sat up and they stared at each other in confusion. With a shuddering gulp of air into lungs cramping with fear, Marissa scrambled out of the narrow bed and nearly fell as she fumbled for the clothes she’d left folded at the foot of the bed. Socks. Shoes. Backpack from the airplane, not

Reviews for Finders Keepers

[Jane Daugherty · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Karin Kallmaker’s extraordinary ability to create characters with charm, intelligence, AND flaws pulled me into this book’s unusual plot in the first chapter. I had other things to do, but after running two errands, I couldn’t put this book down. It even had two protagonists struggling w self-image issues, including one with a lifelong battle with her weight instead of the usual most beautiful lesbians in the world falling in love w each other. Now it’s 3:35 a.m. and there’s only one other activity that could evoke a bigger smile than the one I’m wearing over the way this story ended. Fortunately no early Zoom meetings tomorrow morning — so I’ll probably look for another treat from Karin or her talented colleagues at Bella Books to continue semi-quarantine from Covid-19.