Part 20 - Six Dozen Cupcakes

At Ashok and Phillip's house in the San Diego suburbs, everyone is rushing around putting the final touches on little Khema's third birthday party. The backyard blowout has the festive theme of an early 1900s county fair. Sadly, Maura and her bestie boy bud are the only active participants in said theme.

Shoky adjusts his straw hat and frantically searches the house for his fair lady friend. He finds her crumpled on the floor of the upstairs guest room with her knees pulled to her chest, staring at her phone. He carefully approaches her.

"My dear, the party is outside - are you upset that we are the only two in costume?"

"No… well, yes, but I have a larger concern - Jane called earlier."

"Oh, of course she did - now what?"

Maura tries to speak but only a squeaky cry comes out. Shoky sighs and sits next to her. He holds her hand and pats it while grimacing at her phone.

"And what did your lovely antagonist do now?"

"I would like nothing more than to blame it all on Jane but Michelle is the instigator once again."

"That married officer she had a near tryst with?"

"Yes, her… our conversation was enjoyable, even positive until that very moment."

"Why was she there?"

"I am almost certain it has to do with work - I can tell when Jane is hiding something by the tone of her voice but she was as genuinely upset as I was by Michelle's intrusion."

Maura dries her eyes and spins her phone on the floor like a top.

"And the fact she has left 20 text messages and voicemails is a solid indication that she wants to explain what happened."

"Are you going to answer her?"

"Not now, I want to enjoy Khema's birthday."

"And that is exactly what you are doing sitting up her alone in the ugly bedroom attempting to use your phone as a ouija."

"I wanted time to process without the presence of unicyclists and jugglers."

"Maura, I know how much you love Jane but please do not let her ruin this day for you… or for us, I beg you!"

"Your authentic but ridiculous hat and my great-grandmother's parasol have already ruined the day for us, Shoky, more than you will ever know."

"And that's why we'll be bringing in therapists for Khema's fourth birthday party - now, hurry on down, we really need you to man the vegan booth."

"Yes, because me dressed up like this isn't humiliation enough - I am also the one who gets to hand out stuffed squash blossoms and gluten-free cookies to a bunch of toddlers screaming for cake and ice cream."

Shoky casually reaches over and pops open the top few buttons on Maura's dress to reveal her hidden cleavage.

"There… now you will at least get the attention of all the straight men at the party."

"Are there going to be any other partnerless, childless individuals here or do I get to play the freak show star as well?"

"You've already done that enough but I might be down a balloon animal artiste - ooh, I do believe Phillip invited Ronnie and Travis, they're single and a lot of fun."

"Perfect, they can flirt with each other while I perform quasi-sexual acts with latex tubing in the shape of a deformed chihuahua."

"You don't know how much that will entertain virtually everyone at this party… especially after a few drinks from the adult punchbowl.

Dr. Isles can't help but chuckle at the comment while Dr. Ramachandran gets up. He turns to her with a serious face as he helps her to her feet.

"You know, my dear, if you want me to fetch you a taxi so you can fly back to Boston right now and work this out with Jane, only say the word and I shall do so."

Maura leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

"Thank you, my friend, but this day is about Khema, not Jane."

"Agreed."

"Give me a few minutes, I need to compose myself."

"Make it quick, the brass band is about to start…"

"Honestly, Shoky, who thought it would be a smart idea to have loud musical instruments at a kiddie party?"

"We did…"

"Oh, God, you're right."

"We were freaked out about the possibility of the bouncy house flying away with the children inside."

"Is it too late for mimes?"

"It's always too late for mimes."

"Well, let's go find some cotton balls for the guests' ears and alert the double bell euphoniums that the big bassoons are on their way."

She frames her bosom with her hands and flashes her trademark smirk. He laughs, tips his hat to her, and exits the room with a flourish. Maura now turns to her phone, gives it a fleeting glance, and then buries it deep inside of her vintage satchel. With a heavy sigh, she grabs her parasol, twirls it in the air, and heads down to the party below.

The strong California sun bakes Maura in her booth for over an hour. She sits alone staring at her bland baked goods as the kids flock to the cotton candy machine and the adults swarm around the margarita blenders.

Only two souls were daring enough to try her stuffed squash blossoms so far. She thinks back momentarily to a month before the shooting — weeks before she and Jane became intimate — when she cajoled the reluctant detective into trying one of the blossoms in the BPD lunchroom.

"Instead of a highly questionable tuna salad sandwich from the health-code violating lunch truck, please sample one of these instead, Jane."

Rizzoli pauses mid-bite and wrinkles up her nose.

"What are they?"

"Stuffed squash blossoms."

"They look like they should be the centerpiece instead of the meal… what are they stuffed with?"

"Well, I know a simple answer of 'yummy goodness' would be your preference but in order to be specific, I will list all of the ingredients and how I prepared, mixed, and sautéed these blossoms to near perfection."

"Please don't."

"Your mother was impressed when I told her."

"My mother is impressed by string cheese."

"You need to give Angela a little more credit than that."

"Nah, I don't wanna talk about my Ma and I don't wanna talk about flowers as food, I just wanna eat my boring sandwich in peace."

"You eat eggplant."

"So?"

"If you eat fruits and vegetables, you eat various parts of the plant — the leaves, the stalks, the seeds, etc. — so, why are you extremely intimidated by the flower?"

"I am not intimated — flowers are for putting in vases and in your hair, not in your mouth!"

"Or… maybe the blossom represents something to your psyche on a deeper level and that is why you are opposed to eating it."

"OH, MY GOD, MAURA, STOP."

"WHY WON'T YOU EAT MY BLOSSOM, JANE?"

Suddenly, they both notice the silence around them as everyone in the lunchroom stares in their direction. Isles clears her throat and cowers in her chair as Rizzoli buries her face in one hand and smoothes back her hair with the other. Overhearing the whole exchange, Detective Frost leaves his table and casually pulls up a chair at theirs. He looks directly at his partner.

"Eat her damn squash blossom, Jane."

"Oh, not you, too."

Maura folds her arms and shakes her head at Frost.

"Why does she whine so much?"

Jane does the same.

"Why does she annoy so much?"

Frost adopts a faux pensive look and studies them both. He turns to Maura

"She whines because that is her way of letting you know that she wants your attention and then when she has your attention, she wants even more of it, so her whining increases…"

He now turns to Jane.

"And she annoys you with meaningless facts and figures because that is her way of expressing her acknowledgment of your attention, aka the whining, and countering with a need for even more of your attention and when she receives that attention, she wants to hold on to it with a very firm grip — it's like foreplay but without the tonguing of nipples."

Jane blushes and scrapes at the tabletop with her index finger. She mockingly whispers.

"Thanks, Barry, thanks a lot."

She grabs one of the blossoms, gulps it down in two bites, and throws the crumpled napkin on the table.

"Mmm, happy now?"

Maura attempts to regain control with a more formal approach.

"I believe we all can agree on the fact that Jane and I are experts at getting each other's attention — thank you, Detective Frost, for your astute observation."

"It's an observation even dead victims in the morgue can make… so, Jane, what else is Dr. Isles going to make you put in your mouth?"

Jane nearly chokes, bolts up from the table, stomps over to the trashcan and spikes her half-eaten sandwich into it.

"GOD, I JUST WANTED TO EAT MY FRIGGIN' SANDWICH."

She quickly exits the room. Maura is about to say something but Frost holds up his finger to shush her and stares at his watch. Rizzoli reappears seconds later and looks directly at Isles.

"Dinner at The Robber tonight?"

Maura smiles the smile that only belongs to Jane and answers.

"I'll be there at six."

Rizzoli nods and leaves. Barry now bears an impish grin.

"Of course you'll be there, where else would you be, Dr. Isles?"

It's now Maura's turn to blush. Detective Frost gets up to leave.

"You know it's not a matter of 'if' but 'when' with you two, right?"

"Don't be absurd, detective…"

"It's not absurd, just an astute observation."

As he leaves, he pops one of her squash blossoms in his mouth and gives her the thumbs up.

Back in the present, Maura smiles at the memory until an image of a naked Officer Hall with her body strategically covered in squash blossoms and Jane eating them off of her explodes in her mind.

"Dammit, Jane!"

She unwittingly slams her hand down on the food platter, nearly knocking it and herself over. Maura is too busy straightening herself out to notice an intrigued female admirer across the way. The woman slowly walks over until she is practically on top of the booth.

"My, my… I wonder what those poor flowers ever did to you?"

Maura looks up and takes in the stunning sight before her. The woman is around her age and, like Jane, has a definite Latin look with jet black hair and smoldering brown eyes. Unlike Jane, she is three inches shorter with sexy dark red lips, voluptuous curves, and abundant cleavage. In fact, she is the only one at the party who matches Maura in bosom bragging rights.

The doctor attempts to answer but her mouth is too dry to launch vowels. The woman offers her a cold drink and a smoldering smile.

"You must be thirsty."

The doctor quickly realizes where her eyes are focusing and deploys a classic Rizzoli family maneuver to break the awkwardness with a joke.

"Actually, I'm Maura… Thurstie is over by the pool with her husband, Udo."

The woman looks confused. Maura gives up.

"Sorry, I believe I have the beginning effects of heat exhaustion."

"I'm not a doctor but maybe this will help."

She hands Maura a margarita.

"Not to be picky but I am a doctor and alcohol will most definitely not help this situation… at least, not until later on."

"Ah, keeping it prim and proper for the kiddies."

"For now… thank you, I am extremely flattered by your kind gesture."

Isles' eyes are now firmly locked with the ones across from hers. The woman nods her head and reveals a smile that is equal parts sweet and sinister.

"Not a problem, I could bring you some water if you'd prefer?"

"I actually would prefer if it's not too much to trouble."

"It's the kind of trouble I enjoy… for now."

As the woman exchanges the beverage, Maura strips off the smothering dress to reveal a peach lace tank top and khaki short-shorts. She wipes her face as her admirer returns with the icy H20. The woman immediately takes notice of the new attire.

"That was a remarkably quick change — are you part of the magic act?"

"Not that I wouldn't put it past Shoky to incorporate me into some kind of skit but I really needed to lose the dress."

"Absolutely no complaints here… or from the gentlemen over there by the gazebo, although their wives seem less than thrilled."

"Funny…"

The doctor pauses, glances back at the others and then laser-focuses her attention back on the woman before her.

"I haven't noticed anyone else but you."

Maura assesses the woman's body buried under the meticulous ensemble. She paired the formal black Escada suit and matching stilettos with a white dress shirt bearing French cuffs. It isn't quite right for a youngster's birthday backyard barbecue. Yet, it worked perfectly with her oxblood nail polish and lipstick which was now framing a vicious grin.

"Good… my spell must be working."

The two exchange a short laugh and a long stare. As Maura lolls in a slow swallow of cool liquid, the woman leans closer. Her distinct scent combination of apples battling cinnamon, vanilla, and musk is oddly alluring.

"And I can't wait to taste your squash blossom."

Maura nearly chokes on the water as the woman playfully picks up one of the vegan offerings. She nibbles curiously at the blossom and then licks her lips.

"Delicious."

Maura is relishing the attention more than the complement.

"Thank you."

"I'm not a big fan of almond cheese but I am loving the mint."

"It's a new recipe for me."

"I usually add a little epazote in mine."

"That's a bold choice."

"I will have to make them for you sometime… if you don't mind non-vegan ingredients — I savor the flavors of a successful hunt, whether it's deep in the forest or at the local farmers' market."

"I would like that very much."

The woman finishes the blossom and extends her hand.

"Hello, I am Veronica Ortiz."

Maura gently squeezes it in hers.

"Maura Isles."

"It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Maura — and you may call me 'Ronnie,' everyone else does."

"Oh, you're Ronnie… I was expecting, well, I don't know what I was expecting."

"I hope you're not too disappointed."

"On the contrary."

They continue to build their mutual admiration clubhouse. Maximum Occupancy: 2. Maura runs her fingers through her hair and Ronnie counters with a crooked smirk.

"Thank you, by the way, for being the first one here to not call me The Evil Queen."

Maura is perplexed.

"Forgive me for not understanding your reference."

"Apparently, I am a dead ringer for the actress who plays the character on some reimagined fairytale TV show."

Maura is now aghast.

"Fairytales on television instead of in actual books… and that is why this country will be third-world status by mid-century!"

"Such an optimist."

"Sorry, I don't watch much television — I believe it is mostly for morons."

Ronnie cocks her head and lets loose with a slightly defensive yet still playful purr.

"It does have more than its fair share of reality disasters but there are more and more amazing dramas now, in fact, one could argue that due to the decline in live theater, as well as movies reduced to comic book blockbusters, television is the most important cultural medium today."

"God — if you believe in one — help us all!"

"This from a physician who peddles flower-eating to children as if they are old enough to tell which ones are potentially poisonous and which ones aren't."

Maura stands back as if she were just punched in the gut.

"OH, OH, NO… I didn't even consider that!"

The panicked doctor quickly gathers the remaining blossoms and places them back into a container. Ronnie playfully hands her the lid.

"It seems you and I are the only non-mother vagina owners at this event."

The doctor is still too disturbed to even respond. Ronnie takes notice and pats her hand.

"Hey, relax, it's fine… no harm done."

"I should… I should have realized that, so stupid."

"Please, we're at a children's party, everything here is stupid."

"Why are you even here?"

Ronnie points to Phillip's sister, Deanna.

"To support my business partner… and for the free alcohol, of course."

"That is always a solid reason."

"Especially when there are wall-to-wall toddlers."

"Not the maternal type, I take it?"

"Nooo… although, I do enjoy watching the little ones play and picking out which ones will grow up to be the criminals, which ones will grow up to be the victims, and which ones will end up as organ donors."

Maura can't help but be both horrified and amused.

"I certainly hope you do not attend many children's parties."

"I try to avoid them as much as possible."

A glittery pink and orange soccer balls rolls over to Ronnie's feet. A young girl with a blonde ponytail and two missing teeth smiles and waves to her to kick it back. Ronnie promptly kicks it over the girl's head and into the yard next door.

"It doesn't take them long to sense my disdain — how about you, Maura?"

"I believe children like me… but I tend to bore them with stories about science and literature."

"I'm sorry, you lost me at 'science and literature' — so, are you the maternal type?"

"No, not yet, maybe one day - right now, I'm trying to figure out my personal life."

Ronnie suddenly grows somber.

"You're Ashok's friend from Boston."

"That would be me."

"I heard about what happened, I'm so sorry."

"I don't really want to think about it today."

"Understood and I apologize if my prior comment was a little heartless but I was trying to say anything to get you away from this booth… even if I had to eat all of your squash blossoms myself."

"Your comment was a keen one, one I would have eventually made myself if I hadn't been so distracted by my… phone."

Ronnie looks around for the offending phone but only spies the blossoms. Maura follows her stare and decides to change the mood back.

"Although, it would have been interesting to see if you could handle all of my blossoms."

Ronnie throws her hand out, pops off the lid of the container and rapidly downs two. She stops midway through the third and attempts to speak with her mouth full.

"I'm sorry, not that these aren't succulent but they cannot compete with the kettle corn cart - would you please get out of the booth now, Dr. Isles?"

The two of them are playfully laughing as Maura takes Ronnie's hand and vacates the vegan concession confinement. They linger in the touch for a moment.

"Since you have utterly enchanted me, Ms. Ortiz, I will take that margarita now."

"Excellent."

"Let me go put the rest of these in the kitchen."

"And I'll find us a place to sit away from the circus."

"County fair… it's supposed to be a county fair."

The two of them finally part. Maura practically skips into the house and tries to make room in the refrigerator for her leftovers. Ashok is placing six dozen cupcakes on a tray. He notices her change in demeanor and smirks.

"Sooo, you've met Ronnie."

"Mmmm, I have met Ronnie."

"I knew you two would hit it off."

"Trying to fix me up when you know I'm with Jane?"

Shoky cocks his head and throws his hands up.

"I don't see Jane here, but I do see Ronnie with two drinks in her hand pretending not to watch your every move through the window."

"Ooh, how's my hair?"

"Trust me, honey, she's not looking at your hair."

"How long have you known her?"

"About four years now — she's the one who found us this house, our dream castle."

"She works with Deanna in real estate?"

"Now she does, before she used to work in the entertainment industry."

"Ah, that explains her defensiveness over television… probably not a good idea to insult someone's profession, even if it is a former one."

"My dear, why are you still talking to me?"

Maura finishes washing her hands in the sink.

"Good question."

"Go, go, ask her about tennis, she has a wicked backhand."

"I'd rather learn more about her forehand."

"Now, that sounds like the Maura of old — go play with your new friend, and please try to remember this is a children's party… no fornicating in the pool!"

"Is the porch swing off limits, too?"

Shoky winks as Maura is all smiles. She exits the side door and joins Ronnie on the porch swing away from the others. The woman's eyes light up as she hands over the margarita.

"We could join the others if you'd like, Dr. Isles, but I was hoping for something a little more intimate."

"Wow, you're direct."

"Intimate… for conversation."

"And that is the second time I have put my foot in my mouth with you."

"You do have a lovely pedicure."

"I apologize for my earlier statement about television being for idiots."

"Morons, I believe you used the term morons."

"I did and I am sorry."

"Don't be, I appreciate your candor, especially when you're mostly correct."

Maura drains nearly half of her drink. Ronnie leans back and sips hers as she nods toward the kitchen.

"Checking up on me with Ashok?"

"Guilty as charged… and you do look more like a realtor-slash-former-TV-exec than an evil queen."

"That's because I haven't shown you my crown and scepter yet."

"I think I need another margarita."

"How long are you on sabbatical from your job in Boston?"

"I definitely need another margarita."

"Let me go get that for you, my pretty."

Ronnie jumps up and returns almost instantly with another cocktail. Maura changes the topic back to the woman's occupation before she could ask more about Boston.

"I thought being in the San Diego area would be far enough from the entertainment industry."

"You're in the state of California, you're never far enough away."

"So, what did you do and why did you leave?"

"I was the chief benefits coordinator for a major studio but the recession hit and, quite frankly, I could no longer deal with the hypocrisy and manipulation."

"And that naturally made you turn to real estate?"

"Heh, cute — if you're an adult who gets screwed by the market, that's your own fault for not doing your research — I feel no remorse over that… but I could no longer sit by and be a part of an industry that perpetuates harmful subtext and blanket stereotypes to the detriment of my own tribes."

"Tribes, plural?"

"The LGBT/POC tribes… I'm what they call in the biz a 'triple play' — they can tick off the female box, the Latina box, and the lesbian box all in one swoop."

"That's a lot of ticking boxes."

"But they go off separately with a subdued whimper instead of a unified boom."

"It's difficult when the bomb squad is all hetero white male."

"And if I were also a Sunni amputee, I would have my pick of government jobs."

Maura's jaw drops and lets out a chuckle.

"That is truly evil, Ronnie."

"Thank you!"

"You really don't think things have gotten any better?"

"To a degree, but with hundreds of shows and channels, there's still so much work to be done."

"My fam… my friend's family is always mentioning how Italians are still portrayed as guidos, goombahs, and gangsters."

"Well, that's because they are."

"What?"

"I'm half Argentine and half Cuban, I can get away with that."

"Whereas I could definitely not."

Ronnie slowly fingers the top of Maura's shirt and notices the redness and freckles.

"You are definitely not tanning so you are definitely super caucasian and you most definitely could not."

"The curse of the Irish gene, I need to apply more sunscreen."

"I'd be more than happy to help you with that…"

Before Maura can even pull the tube completely out of her satchel, Ronnie snatches it up and begins to rub her upper arms and shoulders with the lotion. The doctor's nanosecond of hesitancy quickly vanishes. She attempts more conversation but is thoroughly enjoying the massage.

"Um… yes… uh, what… what were you saying… about work… to be done?"

Without missing a beat, Ronnie continues her train of thought.

"What angered me the most when I worked for the studio was how many power lesbians behind the scenes didn't do enough to advance the cause when they're in the perfect position to do so - and I know because I slept with most of them… sorry, TMI?"

"No, no, I'm far from a saint myself."

"That's good to know."

"But isn't it about niche and numbers?"

"Congrats on buying the party line, those are all easy excuses, not solid reasons — look, you know who was the biggest niche in the 70s when there were only three networks?"

"I'm guessing you are about to say blacks because they were less than 10% of the U.S. population back then."

"Someone is very good with statistics."

"It's my job… and it kept me busy in school when no one would speak to me."

"Aw, no one spoke to you? — that's hard to believe."

"They were too busy speaking to my breasts."

"I remember those days… it still happens."

The two share an insider's laugh. Ronnie continues.

"It took the guts and gamble of a white Jewish man to make 'The Jeffersons' and it changed the course of history beyond entertainment."

"Movin' on up…"

"Indeed — when I looked around and saw queer women with the pull and the platinum to do something but they deliberately sat on their fat asses in their Malibu dream houses with their Barbie wives waiting for straight guys or Canada to do it…"

"Je t'aime, Canada!"

"I had enough and, one day, I quit."

"From flipping the bird to flipping property."

"Heh, in a manner of speaking, yes - and when they finally do something about it, it's usually in the form of an ancillary character which is lazy writing and completely missing the point - enough, yet?"

"No, go on, I'm enjoying this… and you missed a spot on my elbow."

"Sorry… better?"

"Much."

"Slapping a piece of duct tape on your mouth for an image-rehabbing photo shoot after a decade of homophobia is not for the benefit of the LGBT community, it's for the benefit of individual careers dependent on the generosity of queer casting directors."

"Isn't that always the case in entertainment?"

"It doesn't have to be — what really enrages me are the lesbian "influencers" who use their voice to actively promote and carry water for these cockroaches in exchange for favor and profit."

"That is vile but I am a big believer in karma — I've witnessed it constantly on my job."

"Don't get me wrong, there are always exceptions but do you think anyone outside of the industry unions gives a flying fuck about how many gay directors or ethnic show runners are behind the scenes? — that sexually confused teenager in Mississippi needs to see a happy and productive queer lead who doesn't kill or die, and kids growing up in the barrio need to identify with main characters who are more than thugs and druggies."

Maura puts down her empty glass and applauds.

"Brava."

"Sorry, I tend to get up on my soap box after a few drinks… speaking of, let me refresh ours."

Before Maura could offer to take her turn and get them, Ronnie is off like a shot again. Philip walks by and gives her the thumbs up as Ashok runs over to her and fans her chest area with his straw hat."

"What did I say earlier about this being a children's party? — your headlights are on high beam, put them away, putthemawaynow!"

"Sorry, Shoky, once they're on, it takes awhile for them to dim."

"UGH."

Shoky runs off and then comes back with a white swan pool floatie. He wraps it around her bosom and rushes off. Maura calls after him.

"No, this won't attract attention at all!"

Ronnie returns with the drinks and stares quizzically at the inflated waterfowl. She sighs and takes her seat next to Maura again.

"Lemme guess… Ashok made you cover up?"

"He did."

"Then, let me take care of that for you."

The woman sips her drink in one hand and pops the air valve with the other. The blow-up bird hisses to its death as she tosses it aside. Ronnie leans into Maura's ear.

"I'm not in the mood for swan."

"Yes, my queen."

The two grow closer and relax in each other's company. Ronnie takes off her jacket and loosens her collar. She muses out loud.

"You know, I was only supposed to be here for about 20 minutes."

"I'm so glad you stayed."

"So am I."

As the porch swing slowly rocks, their lips are within millimeters of each other. Both sense an impending kiss when a tall, blond man with blue eyes and a goatee suddenly appears before them. He has an annoying accent.

"Hi, I'm Travis — I heard the singles corner was over here?"

Both Ronnie and Maura glower at him like he is death incarnate. The realtor growls through clenched teeth.

"Keep moving, Travis…"

She waggles her fingers in front of his face for emphasis.

"You need to vanish… now!"

He is too frightened to respond and does an about face in the opposite direction. Alone again, Maura makes a verbal observation.

"I hate beards."

"As do I."

The two laugh away the tension. Once again, Ronnie takes Maura's hand in hers and squeezes it.

"Please forgive me if I have been a bit too aggressive today — when I see something I desire, I use any and every potion I know to get it."

"I like aggressive and I admire your passion when you speak your mind… it reminds me of someone else who does the same."

Maura's voice trails off for a moment and so does her gaze. Ronnie recognizes that look in herself and gently releases her hand.

"It's okay, you can say her name… if it is a 'she' we are speaking of, and I haven't completely misread the situation."

"Not entirely, I am with a woman presently but I've been with men in the past, I believe it is the 'B' in your LGBT equation."

"It is and thanks for not shying away from that… and is this 'she' the reason you totally shut down the topic of Boston?"

"How very preceptive of you."

"I have my talents."

"I have noticed."

"What I haven't noticed is your girlfriend."

"Her name is Jane and she isn't here."

"If she were, I'm pretty sure I would've been thrown into the fire pit by now."

"Yes, you would have — we're… working out our differences."

"It's hard to work on those differences when you're on opposite ends of the continent."

"I am discovering this with each passing day."

"Unless there's a new time travel app I am unfamiliar with."

"We're still processing."

"Shall I take my leave?"

"No, especially since she is processing with Michelle — your turn!"

"O-kaaaay, my ex and I broke up six months ago and yet it feels like six minutes ago… I still have a hard time saying her name."

"Do you know American Sign Language?"

"I'd prefer to write it on a piece of paper, chew that piece up, and then spit it into a men's urinal."

"But how do you really feel?"

"My ex-girlfriend is gorgeous — a rebel soul with a snow white smile."

"Can you dig it?"

"Heh, but she also has an unsavory savior complex, as well as poor taste in leather jackets… but, could she ever rock a chainsaw with those arms."

Ronnie licks her lips and pauses for a moment to reflect. Maura recalls how sweaty Jane used to get after her workouts and how hot to the touch she was when she taught Maura how to use her gun. Both women are now silent, lost in their own individual memories. Suddenly, they both feel a spray of water on their faces. Ashok stands before them with a toy blaster.

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but we have a bleeding child on the side yard, DOCTOR!"

Maura jumps up from the swing.

"I'll be right back."

Ronnie thinks about helping them for a brief second, ignores that thought, and returns to her drink. Ten minutes later, Maura struts over and resumes her position.

"A minor abrasion due to running on an uneven brick pathway, no ambulance required."

"I must be tipsy enough to have an expression of concern on my face."

"You're really, really not into children, are you?"

"It's why me and the ex broke up — she wanted them and I didn't… I prefer horses."

"Jane and I are nowhere near that level of discussion in our relationship yet… we have to get past certain outer genitalia before we venture in utero."

"Are we ready to change the subject yet?"

"More than ready."

"Are you a general practitioner or do you have a specialty?"

"Actually, it's pathology — I'm the chief medical examiner for the commonwealth."

"Wow, you go, chica! — so, what made you want to see dead people?"

"I wanted to be their voice of justice."

"Is it a deep, creepy voice that sounds like this? — RRRAAARRRGGGHHH."

Ronnie scares the child across the way as Maura's somewhat drunken cackle echoes loudly.

"Only if the vocal chords have atrophied."

"At least dead people can't sue for malpractice."

"Depends on the lawyer… funny, there is a story about how I became a ME, a story I haven't even shared with Jane yet."

"Uh-huh.

"Jane is not one for medical talk, in fact, she stopped playing word games with me when I pulled 'choledocholithiasis' and 'esophagogastroduodenoscopy' out of my ass… the last part of that phrase was hers, not mine."

"I never would've guessed."

"I remember when Jane…"

Ronnie holds up one finger to Maura's lips and silences her immediately. She then uses that same finger to point out an overweight man in a corner with headphones and a laptop.

"Deanna's husband is about to play DJ with his reggaeton version of 'Material Girl' - that, coupled with all the sudden Jane references, is my cue to leave."

Maura grabs Ronnie's arm and holds it.

"Wait… please don't go yet."

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hmm, I'm enjoying your company… Veronica."

The woman offers a wicked grin as she sucks in air through her teeth.

"Damn, Maura, you have me spellbound."

"Then my charms must be working."

"They don't have to work too hard."

The daring doctor offers up her left clavicle as a reward and the regal realtor kindly accepts with simple, soft kisses placed near the distal end. Both women are wise enough to not take it too far. For now. The two watch and listen to Phillip's brother-in-law mix/murder the throwback hit. Ronnie rolls her eyes.

"I would ask you to dance but not here and most definitely not to this."

"Another time for sure."

Maura suddenly pays close attention to the earphones on Deanna's husband. They are the exact same brand as the DJ murder victims back in Boston.

"How interesting!"

"Those margaritas are clouding your judgment."

"No, not the track, the headphones."

"His nephew is one of the biggest DJs in the area, he probably borrowed them from him."

Isles struggles with herself to resist work mode and files this fact away for later. She returns her attention to the warm woman sitting next to her. Ronnie is now engrossed in text messages. She is none too pleased.

"I sincerely apologize, Maura, I need to go tend to a business matter… but I was hoping maybe you would come with me later to this little cantina in the city that serves the best yellowfin ceviche north of Baja?"

"That sounds amazing… but I promised Shoky I would help clean up after."

"Of course, I understand."

The look of disappointment on her face isn't enough to cloud the sudden annoyance over the distracting texts. She still manages a seductive smile aimed right at the center of her target.

"Here is my card — please give me a call if you change your mind… it was a true pleasure meeting you, Dr. Isles."

The two share an extra long embrace.

"You, too, Ms. Ortiz."

The two consider kissing each other goodbye but think better of it since they sense the opposite effect would happen. Ronnie takes her leave and Maura makes a beeline for the snow cone stand to cool down. Moments later, she goes up to Deanna's husband and pretends to like his music.

"That's… that's really good."

"Thanks."

"I enjoy your… unique versions of retro pop — very innovative."

"Glad you like it, my heavy metal version of 'No Scrubs' is gonna blow your mind — wanna hear?"

"Nooo, no, that's okay — consider my mind already blown… but I do have some questions about your headphones if you have a second?"

"I don't really know that much about them except they cost over 3k."

"Wow, they cost as much as my favorite boots… I've only seen this particular model on the East Coast."

"Yeah, my nephew got them when he did a session in NYC, said they're a piece of junk."

"For that amount of money, that's very surprising — did he say why?"

"I have no clue because they work just fine for me, he was gonna trash them."

"May I?"

"Of course, here."

Maura slips them on and listens carefully to the sound. She then digs deep in her satchel for her phone, ignores the messages from Jane, and takes multiple pictures of the audio equipment. The wannabe DJ is too busy enjoying the doctor's cleavage to notice his wife giving him daggers across the way. Maura notices her instantly and hands back the headphones.

"Okay, thank you so much, enjoy the rest of the party."

She escapes inside the house and stares at the phone in her hand. The temptation to call Jane is overwhelming but she wrestles it back.

"This can wait until tomorrow."

Maura then plucks out Ronnie's card and memorizes the number. Ashok sneaks up from behind.

"Call her, Maura, you know you want to."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know you, not in the Biblical way — thank God — but I know your brain."

The two chuckle.

"But, I'm here to help you and Phillip clean up."

"Darling, please, I am not an invalid — the party is winding down and we have it all taken care of."

"I don't want to appear too eager with her."

"You do realize the two of you spent nearly three hours practically sitting in each others' laps, ignoring everyone and everything around you?"

"Oh."

"What did you two talk about?"

"I don't really know."

"Righty then… and don't even get me started on the dueling nipple-thon you had going on."

"It was cold."

He points out the window.

"The thermometer still reads 87 degrees… in the shade."

Dr. Isles throws up her hands in defeat and smirks at Dr. Ramachandran.

"Fine, Shoky, you win — I will admit that it was nice to be in the company of a woman who is secure in herself, secure in her sexuality and…"

He cuts her off.

"Secure in her ardent attraction to you!"

"I was going to say secure in her choice of overpowering fragrances but I like yours better."

The two of them laugh and he gives her a quick hug.

"For us boring married couples, seven o'clock on a Saturday night is late but the night is very young for you singles."

"But, I am not single."

"You are not married, either, and, more importantly, you are not in Boston."

"You know I love Jane."

"A woman who inspires you to sit on floors and tranquilize yourself — sure!"

"That's not fair."

"I am not disputing that, Maura, but isn't the whole point of you being out here is to be away from Jane for awhile so you can have a better perspective on what exactly your relationship is?"

"Agreed, but complicating it further with a fling with another woman is not the best solution."

"You're the one who said 'fling' just now, I was only pushing for dinner."

Maura hangs her head and blushes. Ashok pats her shoulder.

"Darling, you have absolutely nothing to feel ashamed about — you're human, you're hurting, you're…"

She cuts him off this time.

"I swear, Shoky, if you say 'horny,' I will throw a cupcake at you!"

"First of all, I hate that word, it's vulgar, secondly…"

He gets in her face with a wink and a smile and a decidedly more shrill singsong voice.

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT'S GOING THERE — AGAIN — I was going to say, 'hungry' as in hungry for a respite, hungry for a new friend, hungry for… I dunno, a fish taco supper."

The two of them are now practically falling over from laughter.

"YOU'RE HORRIBLE."

"I KNOW."

"I LOVE YOU, SHOKY."

"WHO DOESN'T?"

Phillip enters the kitchen with an empty punch bowl and smiles at both of them. Ashok doesn't see him and continues with his slightly tipsy, too loud voice.

"AND IF RONNIE WANTS TO GO DOWN ON YOU LIKE A VAGINAL VIRTUOSO, THEN I SAY, BY GOD, LET HER."

Phillip plops the punchbowl down on the counter, spins on his heel, and exits the kitchen without saying a word. Maura steps back and coughs. Ashok steadies himself.

"Oh, dear — did we have an audience just now?"

"I believe so."

"I better go help clean up, and you need to go call Ms. Ortiz — out front because the kitchen is a dead zone for reception."

She squeezes his elbow.

"Thank you, my friend."

Before he disappears into the backyard, he turns around.

"Maura, I have one more word for you in case you're still hesitant… Michelle!"

Before she can answer, he slams the sliding glass door shut and hurries off.

Maura grimaces and heads out the garage door. It's open for easier entry to house for both supplies and partygoers. She pulls out her phone and is about to dial Ronnie's number when she sees another call from Jane. While she debates which button to push, a figure emerges from the edge of the garage. The doctor looks up and nearly drops her phone. The dark figure looks like Jane for a moment until she realizes the height difference.

"Ronnie?"

"I'm sorry, Maura, I didn't mean to frighten you…"

She searches around Phillip's tool box and holds up a wrench. She clears her throat and tries to act nonchalant.

"I… was looking for this."

"A box wrench?"

The woman curls her lips into an evil grin and pops the tip of her tongue out as she bites it.

"Heh, uh, yeah… of course it is — I, uh, I… needed it for… oh, nevermind!"

Ronnie tosses the wrench aside and it clangs down on the cement floor. She strides right up to Maura.

"I never left, I was in my car for the last 20 minutes trying to find excuses to come back here and steal you away from this party."

"I thought you had business?"

"The great thing about being a boss is that you can delegate."

Maura leans in closer to her.

"Mmm, a boss."

Ronnie now murmurs in her ear.

"So…"

"Hmm?"

"Do I need to find excuses?"

"Nm-mmh."

As Ronnie deposits one small kiss on Maura's cheek, Ashok playfully pops his head in the garage.

"Take it elsewhere, ladies, preferably down the road… goodnight!"

The two share a guilty chuckle as Ronnie steps back and Maura folds her arms across her chest. They exit the garage in silence and step out among the many parked cars on the driveway and in the street.

"Are you still up for dinner, Maura, or has your stomach hit its limit with kiddie food?"

"I could eat…"

Embarrassed by the unintended double entendre, the doctor shifts uncomfortably on her feet. The realtor takes the high road and politely doesn't respond. She only offers her arm to her suddenly demure dining companion.

"Come, my carriage awaits."

Maura takes the extended extremity and they head down the block. Dr. Isles abruptly halts and regards her way-too-short shorts and tank top ensemble.

"Oh, I'm not sure I'm dressed appropriately for dinner — maybe I should stop and change?"

"Chica, please, this isn't the East Coast — being half-naked with flip flops is traditional attire out here…"

Ronnie runs her eyes entirely up and down Maura's body and unleashes a salacious smile.

"Besides, I'm enjoying the view."

Both flattered and flummoxed, Dr. Isles is still slightly uneasy with handling the heated attention from a female who isn't a certain Boston homicide detective. Sensing this, Ms. Ortiz shrugs off her jacket and wraps it around Maura with a quick flourish.

"There… not exactly a well-matched look but it works for tonight."

The doctor draws the lapels closer to her bosom and clasps Ronnie's hand.

"Thank you."

"Ready?"

"Lead the way."

The two cross the street and stop next to a 1980s black 560 SL Mercedes Benz. Maura is impressed.

"A classic beauty."

"It's the first thing I bought when I earned enough money to do so — it's a bit showy but it's not as bad as that ostentatious monstrosity across the way."

She nods right at Maura's Maserati. The doctor nearly chokes on her own tongue.

"Uh… huh."

Before Maura can form a word, let alone a rebuttal, Ronnie pops open the door to her car and guides her passenger inside. She slides into the leather interior and expresses her admiration to its owner.

"It's in remarkable shape."

"I enjoy lavishing my attention on it."

Maura is fully capable of adjusting her seat and buckling her belt but Ronnie has already done those things for her. The doctor recalls how nice it feels to be fussed over by a sexy suitor and delights in the indulgence.

"I have't been in one of these since my boarding school days."

"Yeah, all the rich girls in my class got one for their 16th birthdays, I was lucky to get my brother's beat-up Camero at 21."

The doctor can't help but notice how gorgeous the realtor is, even from a side view, but keeps her comments to car talk.

"I bet you still have that Camero."

"I do — fully restored and sharing the stables with my other thoroughbreds."

"I'd love to go for a ride someday."

Ronnie leans over and looks Maura right in the eye.

"Anytime you want."

The engine roars awake and they pull away from the curb. The rest of the evening is spent inside the dimly lit cantina adorned with folk art, flowers, and candles. Ronnie knows the waitstaff well and is rewarded with a quiet corner table and privacy.

The two women have a good time over tapas talking about light and airy subjects like food, and tennis, and making adolescent fun of the other diners. Nothing too deep like work or family crosses their lips. Maura grows more comfortable in the easy silences and nonverbal flirting.

Ronnie was right about the delicious ceviche but Maura's interest in the meal was secondary to her interest in the woman next to her. Their earlier repose of relaxing against each other in Ashok's backyard once again returned as a finger tango commenced between them under the table. A gentle knee squeeze was returned with a slight thigh trace. Bold but nothing too inappropriate. A loud crashing of plates interrupts their seated dance.

"Well, that was untimely."

Ronnie cranes her neck around to make sure the dish destruction was confined to the kitchen. When the realtor returns her focus, she finds the doctor cowering under the table.

"Did you drop something, Maura?"

"Only my dignity."

Ronnie immediately drops down to her. Still trembling from the clatter, Maura tries to catch her breath.

"I'm… I'm so sorry… sudden loud noises still remind me of…"

"There's no need to explain."

The protective embrace of the woman encourages Maura back into the booth. Ronnie keeps her arm around her and doesn't let go. She holds up two fingers to a passing waiter and commands the premium tequila. They both down the shots as soon as they arrive.

"Two more, por favor!"

"No, I appreciate it but I cannot handle anymore alcohol."

Ronnie waves off the order and smirks.

"Who said they were for you?"

Maura is not sure if that was a joke.

"Oh, please order more if you want."

"Just kidding, a failed attempt at lightening the mood — I won't ask you about what happened with the shooting in Boston but if you need to talk about it, I am right here."

"Thank you, but I'd rather not speak about it right now… in fact, I'd rather not speak at all."

"That works for me."

The two clasp hands as Maura closes her eyes and steadies her breathing. Their fingers convey all the communication that is necessary. Ronnie covertly slips her other hand up inside her own jacket that still covers the doctor and begins a basic back rub. Not enough to make a display of themselves for the other patrons but the massage is more than enough for Maura's traumatic tension to turn into a different kind. A soft moan of encouragement escapes her lips. The realtor catches it in her ear and responds accordingly.

"You know I can conjure up other ways to take the edge off if you'd like?"

"I would like that very much but I believe we've already had our flan for dessert."

Maura tries to laugh but Ronnie does not. She is intense with her intent.

"You do know I want to take you home?"

"Well, since we drove here in your car, that makes sense."

Ronnie growls in Maura's ear.

"You do know I want to take you to bed?"

The doctor lets out a deep sigh and wobbles as she stands up.

"And that is why I need to call a cab."

The realtor darts up immediately and takes Maura's hand again.

"I deeply apologize, Dr. Isles, I pushed too far."

"It's fine, Ms. Ortiz, since I'm quite guilty of encouraging you to push."

"Let me fetch that cab for you…"

Before Maura can protest, Ronnie is already barking orders to the cantina's hostess. Moments later, they step outside and wait together for the yellow hybrid. Other couples are picking up their vehicles from the valet. The doctor realizes the realtor's jacket continues to hang from her shoulders.

"Here, let me give this back to you before you go."

"Keep it, I insist, it's cool out now."

"I'll return it to you the next time we meet."

"That's a relief… that we'll see each other again."

Maura shines her eyes, bleary as they are, at Ronnie and speaks barely above a whisper.

"Of course we will."

Ronnie pulls her close.

"Good… and I honestly don't care what happens to the jacket."

The two chuckle. The realtor continues.

"How about a match?"

Maura starts to search her purse.

"Sorry, I don't smoke, but I usually carry a some kind of flint because you never know when you'll need a spark."

Ronnie is caught off guard by the sudden glimpse of Maura Isles: Science Goofball but her perplexed visage fades back to hot fawning. She stops her from searching, takes her hand in hers, and softly caresses it.

"I don't think we need anymore sparks… I was asking you for a tennis match."

"Yes, of course, that would be fun — we have amazing clay courts where I'm staying."

"I have tomorrow afternoon off, how about 4:00?"

"I'll be there."

More cars pass by as they continue to wait. As much as the doctor is complimented by the relator's sense of chivalry, she secretly wanted her to leave because it was taking all of Maura's self control not to invite Ronnie back with her.

"Are you okay to drive home, Ms. Ortiz?"

"I know my limit and I'm fine, thank you."

She now turns to face Maura.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Umm..."

"Would you like me to leave?"

"Uh, yes…"

Ronnie raises a somewhat shocked eyebrow but quickly wrestles it back in place. Still searing into Maura with her gaze, she offers a half smile, a half bow, and starts to step away. Maura grabs her arm.

"And no…"

They both pull each other into a long embrace. It is both strong and comforting and what the doctor has desired since the shooting. Ronnie was not wrapped in the messy, conflicting emotions that covered Jane from head to toe. What the realtor offered was simple, bold, and reassuringly easy. Maura feels the kissing coming but decides not to stop it. Ronnie takes full advantage and only halts when the yellow hybrid pulls up and honks. Maura jumps back.

"We are cursed with bad timing and loud noises."

Ronnie licks her lips and shoots an evil grin.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your lipstick, Maura."

Knowing she absolutely had to get in that cab alone, the doctor diffuses the flammable feelings with humor.

"Thank you for not asking to borrow my yeast infection cream."

Instead of a cringing chortle, Ronnie's only expression is of wide-eyed silence. Maura digs herself deeper.

"I… I don't really have a yeast infection… now… I did but it's gone… I threw up on myself… the new yoga pants were too tight… you see, Candida albicans can…"

Ronnie holds up one solitary finger to Maura's lips.

"I am going to stop you right here because I don't need the fantasy completely obliterated — goodnight, Dr. Isles."

The realtor pivots on her heel and heads off. Maura waves and calls after her.

"I'll see you on the green clay tomorrow, Ms. Ortiz, I look forward to getting dirty with you… in a non-fungus producing way!"

Ronnie pauses for a moment but does not turn around. She continues on as Maura climbs into the cab and giggles with sheer delight. The doctor was looking forward to a long bath later that night and, for the first time in a long time, thoughts of Detective Jane Rizzoli were nowhere to be found.