“Everyone, this is Emilia,” Angie said to the group.

“Hi.” Emilia wished she had brought Nell after all for emotional support.

“Danielle Watson,” said one of the older women. Her short hair and firm grip reminded Emilia of every large animal veterinarian over the age of fifty she had ever met. Something about her confident stance, weathered face, and no-bullshit aura just radiated “I’ve wrestled cows bigger than you into submission.”

“My wife, Patricia,” Danielle continued.

“Call me Patty.” Patty gave Emilia a motherly smile that balanced her partner’s stoicism.

The entire queer population of Seal Cove must be in this room right now, Emilia thought as she shook more hands.

“Can I get you something to drink? We have beer and wine, and liquor somewhere, and soda and tea,” said Lillian.

“Beer sounds wonderful.”

“Take your pick. The rest is out back,” said Stevie as she opened the fridge. “But if you go out there, Morgan will steal you.”

Emilia’s cheeks warmed at the words, but she laughed it off and chose a beer at random.

“Ready for a tour?” asked Angie.

The first floor of the sprawling house opened from the kitchen into a large living room. Both rooms shared a partial wall, which was occupied by a large stone fireplace.

“Wow.”

“Right?” said Angie. “We don’t leave these two rooms in the winter if we can help it. Morgan gets free firewood from one of her clients.”

Comfortable couches and armchairs filled the rest of the living room. Piles of veterinary magazines and journals littered the coffee table, and while someone had clearly vacuumed and dusted recently, a fine layer of dog hair had already reclaimed lost territory. Bookcases lined the walls. More veterinary texts filled the shelves, along with an eclectic assortment of novels. Lillian caught her scanning the titles.

“The detective novels are mine,” she said.

“Along with the period romances, not that she’ll admit to it,” said Stevie.

“And these are Stevie and Angie’s,” Lillian said in a tone that suggested she did not share their appreciation for speculative fiction. Tattered science fiction and fantasy paperbacks abutted the detective series.

“This is neutral territory.” Angie pointed to a collection of Harry Potter and Tamora Pierce books.

Past the living room and down another hallway lined with animal photographs they came to a smaller room that would have been suitable for an office had it not been occupied by a large TV screen, beanbags, and a plush carpet. Several gaming consoles kept the TV company.

“Angie and Stevie’s lair,” said Lillian.

“Are you into gaming?” Hope shone from Stevie’s face.

“Sorry. Last thing I played was a Nintendo, before they were retro.”

“They have one,” said Lillian. “Consider yourself warned.”

“And down here is Lil’s lair.” Stevie led them through a door with steamy glass panes.

Emilia froze on the step, feeling like her eyes might fall out of her head. “This is incredible.” Greenery exploded at her feet, and it took her a moment to find the glass walls of the greenhouse through the jungle. Tropical plants shared space with citrus trees and vegetables, and the sound of trickling water came from a fountain in the center, which poured into a pond. She walked down the brick path toward it, entranced.