Phylicia disappeared into the office—now her bedroom—and began scooting furniture around. The French doors were open, and he stuck his head in, clearing his throat to announce his presence. “Phylicia?”
“Oh. Hey, Quinn. Thank you so much for stopping by. We’d still be wrestling with that stupid box spring if you hadn’t showed up.”
“I think you ladies would have found a way without me just fine. The place looks amazing.”
“Thanks. We’re getting there.” She finished stuffing the pillow into its case, smoothing the fabric beneath her hand and tossing it onto a chair. She unfolded a fitted sheet and tucked a top corner of the mattress into it.
He went to the end of the daybed and pulled the sheet over the opposite corner.
“Thanks,” she said again.
They worked in silence until she seemed satisfied that the bedding was free of wrinkles.
She shook out another sheet and situated it on the bed. He reached for the corner at his end of the bed just as she snapped the whole sheet out of his hand like a ship’s sail caught by the wind.
“Sorry. I don’t know what the goal is here.”
She laughed. “That’s okay. I’ve got it from here.”
He stood, arms folded across his chest, watching her work. She tucked the sheets into corners, making the bed look as if it had been neatly gift-wrapped. Then she stuffed pillows into fancy pillowcases. Good grief. How many pillows did one woman need on a little bed? There must have been a dozen of them. Phylicia’s hair was pulled back into a clip, and he didn’t think she was wearing any makeup. He liked the no-fuss, natural look on her. Even if it did make her look even younger than she was.
She looked up and her eyebrows rose, as if she’d forgotten he was in the room. “You don’t have to stay, Quinn. I think we’ve got it from here.”
“You sure?” He cast about the room for an excuse to stay.
“I’m sure. Thanks again … for everything.”
“So, do I dare assume that you’re not mad at me for talking you into buying this place?”
She straightened, but with a bed pillow half in its case still tucked under her chin. “The jury is still out on that.”
“Ha! Now you sound like your sister, going all legal eagle on me.”
“It will all depend on how the work on the other cottages goes.”
He poked one cheek out with his tongue. “I was afraid of that.”
“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know that, right?”
“I don’t know. The jury’s still out on that.”
“Touché.” Her grin was the reason he’d come out here tonight.
“So, what does Melvin think of the place?” He cast about the room, searching for the cat.
Phylicia gasped. “Oh, shoot. I forgot! We meant to go get him after we moved the furniture. We can’t leave him there, because the agent is coming first thing in the morning to get set up for the open house.”
“I can go get him for you . . . if you think he’ll come to me.”
“Thanks, Quinn, but I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing else to do tonight. Although Mabel might be feeling a little neglected.”
“Mabel?”
“My dog.”
“Oh, I remember. The cat-eating dog. I thought her name was … Hazel.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Bad joke.”
He frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“You used to slip up and call Melvin ‘Marvin’ all the time. I was just giving you a dose of your own medicine.”
He laughed, surprised she remembered that. “Well, if you won’t tell Marvin, I won’t tell … Hazel.”
That got a laugh. He liked her laugh … and didn’t hear it often enough.
“Pinky swear.” She stuck out her little finger and wiggled it. “And seriously, Quinn, you’ve done more than enough. You don’t have to retrieve our cat too. But thanks for offering.” She started to say something, then gave a little shake of her head, as if she’d changed her mind.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. Just …” She gave the pillow a squeeze. “Can I change my mind? If you really do have time, there are a couple pieces of furniture I’d still love to bring out tonight, but I don’t think I can load them by myself.”
“Will they fit in the back of my SUV?”
“Oh, easily. It’s just a nightstand and a little bookcase. They’re not big, but they’re heavy.”
“Then I’m your man. Just let me know when you’re ready to go. And we can bring Melvin back here with us.”
“If you’re sure.”
“No problem at all.” He went for his jacket where he’d left it in the living room, then went back to her room to put it on. “So, this will be your first night to stay here?”
“It will. Although we’ve practically stayed all night a couple other times. The other night, we just kept saying, ‘Let’s paint one more wall.’ When we finally looked at the clock, it was two in the morning!”
“Ouch. That makes for a long day at work the next day.”
“Tell me about it.” She tossed one last pillow onto the daybed. “Let me tell the girls what we’re doing, and then I’m ready to go.”
“I’ll go crank up the heater. Meet you in the car.”
Chapter 18
Phee hadn’t thought about the fact that Quinn’s offer meant they’d be riding into town together—alone. She’d been so intent on getting those two pieces of furniture for her room moved tonight—and on picking up Melvin too—that she hadn’t thought things through.
Now, as she climbed into the dark interior of his SUV, nervous energy made her talkative. Quinn listened politely as she went on and on about the house and their plans for the other cottages. But when the dashboard lights illuminated a hint of a grin on his face, she willed herself to shut up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”
“No, keep going. I’ve been wanting to hear what you had in mind for the other cottages.”
She tilted her head and regarded him. “Then what was that smug smile about?”
“What smug smile?” He looked genuinely perplexed.
“Never mind. Anyway, we’re almost there.” It struck her that, except for the supper at McAlister’s that she’d ended so abruptly, she hadn’t really spent much time alone with Quinn. She wondered why she’d been so nervous with him before.
They drove through town in silence. When they got to her dad’s, Quinn backed the car into the driveway and waited while she unlocked the house. Melvin didn’t come to greet them the way Phee expected. He’d probably heard Quinn’s voice and gone into hiding, although the cat had warmed right up to Quinn the last time he’d been here.
She flipped on the lights as he followed her through the house toward the back bedrooms where the smaller furniture she wanted for her room was. He paused in the living room.
“The house looks really nice. Did you have it professionally staged?”
“Ha! Dad would never spend money on that. We cleaned it, obviously, and put away some of the more personal items, but it’s pretty much the way Mom had it decorated.” She made a face. “Well, except for the things we’ve taken out to the cottage. Quite a few, actually. Mom had this house stuffed to the gills with furniture and ‘pretties’”—she chalked quotation marks in the air—“as she called them.”
He panned the room. “It does actually look bigger than I remember, so maybe taking some stuff out was a good move.”
“Yes, let’s go with that. Thanks. I don’t feel so guilty now.”
“Guilty?”
She shrugged. “I know it’s our stuff. My parents’ … Dad’s. And he says he doesn’t want most of it, but it feels kind of funny taking things from the house when Dad is … still living.” She stopped and looked at him, debating whether to broach the subject of her father. It was one she was trying to avoid thinking about … at least until they got through
moving and the open house. “Have you talked to my dad lately?”
Quinn shook his head. “Not since he called about the bank stuff … your deposits being made and everything. How’s he doing?”
She eyed him. “If you’d asked me that a few days ago, I’d have said I don’t have a clue. But I actually had a good talk with him a few days ago … Monday, I guess it was. Did you know he and Karleen broke up? Or broke it off … whatever you call it when somebody their age is … dating.”
Quinn’s eyebrows went up. “No. I haven’t talked to your dad in quite a while. At least not about anything but business. So … he’s not getting married after all?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. Well, at least not now. They’re taking a break.” She gave him the abbreviated version of what she’d told her sisters after talking to Dad.
“Well, I guess if it’s mutual, that’s okay.” He touched the sleeve of her jacket briefly. “How do you feel about it? Relieved?”
“I’d feel better if I knew it was permanent. It was just …ridiculous for him to be dating someone her age, and if she—” She stopped short, sorry she’d made him privy to her snarky thoughts. But oh, if he only knew. She was relieved about Karleen, but even more confused and bewildered about what the discovery of Mom’s secret might mean for her personally.
“So, tell me how you really feel.” Quinn’s droll grin said he was being facetious.
She ignored that and answered as if he were really asking how she felt. “I am relieved. Except … I worry about Dad. I mean, he sounded really good when I talked to him, but he sounded lonely too. I don’t understand why he doesn’t come back here … especially if things are off with Karleen.”
“She’s not back in Cape for good?”
“Oh … I don’t know … She didn’t say.” Phee hadn’t thought of that possibility.
“Maybe it’s just too hard for him to be here, where all his memories of your mom are.”
“I guess. Maybe.” She desperately wanted to change the subject to something less likely to make her tear up. “Come on back. I’ll show you the nightstand I want to take.”
She led the way to the bedroom and went to the other side of the oak stand, ready to help, but Quinn picked it up with both hands, as if it were a cardboard box, and started down the hallway with it.
She skirted around him and hurried to open the door. They loaded the bookcase next, and while Quinn secured everything in the back of his SUV, Phee went back in the house to straighten the rooms and do a quick walkthrough to be sure everything was ready for tomorrow’s open house.
Quinn appeared in the doorway. “So, where is Melvin? Do we need a carrier for him?”
“Yes, I’ll get it. He must be downstairs. That’s where his food and litter box are. And sorry, but that stuff has to come too.”
“No problem. Just show me where everything is.”
She went down and loaded Quinn up with the bucket of kitty litter, a bag of cat food, and Melvin’s empty food and water dishes. The cat was nowhere to be found, but he’d recently been in the litter box, so he had to be here somewhere. While Quinn took a load to the car, she cleaned out the litter box and called for the cat. “Melvin?”
She carried the empty litter pan upstairs and started searching Melvin’s usual hiding places. She was starting to worry after looking under the last bed with no sign of the cat, but when she stepped into the hallway off the master bedroom, he trotted out of Britt’s room. She hadn’t looked there, since they’d moved the daybed—now her bed—out to the cottage.
She scooped Melvin up with one arm and put him in the carrier, then tucked the empty litter pan under her other arm. When she picked up his carrier, Melvin wriggled, trying to escape. “Cut it out, Melvin. Don’t you know we’re going to your new home?” She dropped the litter pan to get a better grip on the carrier. She knelt and put her fingers through the slits of the carrier to scratch him under the chin. Her voice went up an octave into baby-talk mode. “You’re gonna love it out there, buddy, with all the mousies and squirrels and skunks and—”
Low laughter made her look up. Quinn was watching her with a bemused smile.
“Hey, you can laugh all you want.” Heat rose to her cheeks. “I was just trying to get him calmed down before I loaded him in your car. You know, so he won’t rip your upholstery to shreds … or pee on your car seats.”
“Hey, did I say anything?” Despite his serious expression, a little snort escaped. “Besides, how is he going to do all that if he’s in his carrier?”
“Oh, this one’s an escape artist. I could tell you stories.” She angled her head toward the litter pan. “Can you grab that … and get the door. I think I’ve got everything else.”
He did as she asked, still chuckling under his breath. Quinn loaded Melvin’s gear in the back seat, then opened the hatch.
Phee deposited Melvin’s carrier inside. “Okay, shut the door.”
He lowered the hatch but didn’t latch it. “I don’t want to crush him.”
“You won’t.” She peered through the back windshield. “He’s fine. You can close it.”
He gave the door a little shove and the latch caught.
She went around and got in the passenger side. She reached to close her door and was surprised to see him standing there waiting to close it for her. “Thanks again for doing this, Quinn. You don’t know how much we—”
“Yes, I do.” He put a finger to his lips. “You and your sisters have thanked me about a gazillion times. You’re starting to embarrass me.”
She laughed. “It won’t happen again.”
Quinn leaned one arm against the car’s doorframe and gave her a look she couldn’t read. “I’m happy to help. Anytime.” He scuffed at the gravel with the toe of his shoe, looking like he was about to say something. Instead, he closed her door and came around to slip behind the wheel.
He pulled out of the driveway in silence, but as soon as they drove through the neighborhood’s entry gates, he turned to look at her briefly. “Phylicia, I’m not helping out just because I’m a nice guy. In case you haven’t caught on, I actually enjoy spending time with you.”
She eyed him, trying to decide if he was setting up a joke. But that ornery twinkle wasn’t in his eyes the way it had been a few minutes ago. “Well, thanks. We enjoy having you around. Especially when you’re carrying in heavy furniture and mattresses for us and—”
“I didn’t mean your sisters, Phylicia.”
“Oh?” She felt pulled in two directions. She liked Quinn. But was she ready for things to move to the next level with him? She scrambled to change the subject. “You might be sorry you ever made that offer to help. Have you seen the other two cottages?” She twisted her mouth, affecting a look of horror far out of proportion to the actual state of the cabins.
He laughed. “You reminded me so much of your dad just then.”
“Really?”
“I’ve seen him make that exact face whenever we took on a project he didn’t think we should have.”
Quinn had no way of knowing the profound effect his simple observation had on her. Of course, if it was true—if she really had looked like Dad just then—it might merely be the result of being raised by Turner Chandler, of living with him the first nineteen years of her life. It was only natural that she might have picked up some of his mannerisms and facial expressions.
“Well, I have a feeling Dad was making that same horrified face when I talked to him last week. Except we weren’t on Skype, so I couldn’t actually see him.”
“Talking about the cottages?”
“No, something else. I caught him in a lie.”
“About what?” Quinn’s expression said he was skeptical.
“My dad isn’t as perfect as you think he is, Quinn.” She looked at her lap. “He’s not as perfect as I thought he was.”
“So, what did he lie about?”
“I guess it’s not fair to say I caught him in a lie. Actually, it’s worse than that.�
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“What happened?” A deep furrow formed between his eyebrows.
She hadn’t meant to step into this with him—or maybe, subconsciously, she had. She needed to talk to somebody, and besides being a good listener, Quinn knew her family and the situation. She wouldn’t have to start from the beginning.
She took a deep breath, then blew it out. “I found out my mom was married before.”
“What? Before your dad? He told you that?”
“Only because I forced him to.” She told Quinn about finding the photo and the jewelry in Mom’s desk and about Dad’s revelation when she’d confronted him about it.
“Wow, that had to be a stunner. And you had no idea she’d been married before?” It was obvious Quinn was trying to rein in his own shock for her sake.
“No clue. It’s weird—in so many ways, we’re still trying to grasp that Mom is really gone. That we’ll never see her again. In some ways, this is almost anticlimactic.” Of course, she hadn’t told him the real shocker. And she wouldn’t. She wasn’t ready to voice her suspicions—her fears—out loud yet. Not to her sisters and certainly not to him.
“If you call that anticlimactic, it says a lot about how hard it was—is—to lose your mom. I remember how that felt …” His voice trailed off.
Her breath caught. “I’m sorry. I kind of forgot you’d lost your mom … and your father too.” She remembered Dad talking about how Quinn had lost both of his parents a few years back—their deaths coming quite close together, if she recalled correctly. It made her realize that Quinn understood firsthand what she was going through. Considering that, she didn’t feel quite so bad for spilling everything to him.
“Honestly, Phylicia, I grieved when I heard your mom had died almost as much as I grieved my own mom. I hope that doesn’t sound weird. I guess . . . seeing how much your dad loved her … I felt for him. Everybody at the office felt her loss, even though some of them had never even met her.”
“Wow. That means so much, Quinn.” She struggled to speak over the lump in her throat. “I guess I never thought about how everyone at the company empathized with Dad. With us.” She remembered how hard her coworkers at the flower shop had taken her mom’s death. But she’d never connected that it was probably even more so at Langhorne Construction, given that Dad had been there so much longer and even more people there had known and loved Mom.
Reason to Breathe Page 15
