Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Three (7 page)

She remained rooted to her spot when Alexander walked downstairs and to the front door, pausing for a moment, looking at her, she knew, though she dared not return his gaze, and then left without another word, the
click
of the door closing ringing in the silence with a finality that fully unleashed her tears.

Chapter Nine

“One last piece and this thing will be roadworthy,” Joe said the next weekend as he turned the screwdriver to tighten Ethan’s brand-new bouncy seat. Quinn thought it looked dangerous, but every Internet site and the other moms she’d met at the park and gotten friendly with swore by them.

“Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it.”

And she did, really, but her appreciation didn’t change the fact that Joe, no matter how great he was, was not Alexander, didn’t change how
wrong
this all still felt. In her mind’s eye, she could so easily see Alexander in Joe’s place, hear his voice as he held up each piece and showed Ethan exactly how they fit together. The beauty of that image, the staggering sadness when it again hit her that it would never be so, nearly took her breath away.

“I think that’s it,” Joe said a few moments later as he turned the thing upright and gave it a few tentative pushes. “You wanna take this thing for a test drive, buddy?” he said to Ethan.

“I think he’d love that,” Quinn said, smiling at Ethan, who was just about the only person who could make her do so these days.

The doorbell rang, and Quinn went to answer it, tossing, “I’ll be back, guys,” over her shoulder.

A glance into the peephole revealed Verna standing on the stoop, hands full with grocery bags, Quinn’s mother behind her. Quinn quickly opened the door, surprised and so very happy to see Verna, who she hadn’t talked to since her vicious outburst.

“Hey, Vern. Hey, Ma. Come on in.”

“Hi, Quinn,” Verna said.

The familiar impish glint in Verna’s eye made Quinn laugh and immediately raised her suspicions.

“What are you two up to?”

“What are you talking about, Quinn? Can’t two people who like you simultaneously drop by unannounced without an ulterior motive?” Verna asked as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Not if you’re involved,” Quinn responded after she’d hugged her mother and followed Verna.

“I see you have company anyway. Hello, Joe,” she said with the tight smile and the peculiar tone in her voice that she reserved especially for him.

“Verna. Mrs. Jeffries,” Joe said with a nod.

“Hello, Joe. What brings you over today?” Quinn’s mother asked. Lily had always liked Joe, but she also couldn’t quite fathom the idea that a man and woman could be only friends, though Quinn had tried to explain the seemingly incomprehensible notion several times. No matter what, though, Lily stood firm in her belief that there was always a hidden agenda on one side or the other, so Quinn didn’t doubt that this firm belief led her questions.

“Just helping Quinn and E out. I put together his bouncy seat.”

“Dude, she’s a fuc”—Verna guiltily looked at Ethan and then Lily—“freakin’ architect. I’m certain she can put together a baby’s toy.”

“Of course she can, but that doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate having a man around to help her out.”

Verna stiffened her shoulders, a move that Quinn knew meant she was preparing for a face-off with Joe, and she quickly interceded before they could get started.

“I asked for his help, and he was kind enough to agree. Now, why are you here again?” She looked at her mother. “Both of you.”

“Well, I just happened to be in the neighborhood and your mother just happened to be with me.”

Quinn walked to the kitchen counter where Verna had deposited her freight and began rummaging through the bags.

“And you just happened to bring steak, fresh corn, and fixings for dessert, too, huh?”

“What? It could happen,” Verna said.

“Yeah, I suppose it
could
happen, but why does this feel like a combination intervention-get-well-soon party?”

“Frankly, Quinn Elizabeth, we’re all sick of watching you mope around after some man.”

“And that’s my cue,” Joe interjected. “Ethan, you want me to teach you how to make a blow gun?” he asked as he picked up the baby and headed for the backyard.

Verna, who also looked uncomfortable at the turn in the conversation, chimed in, “Actually, I’ve always wanted to know how to make one, Joe. Why don’t you show us both?”

“Traitor,” Lily said as she watched Verna scurry to behind the boys.

“I’m just saying, Mrs. Jeffries, some conversations are best left between mothers and daughters—”

“Got it, Verna. But you’re still making that low-sugar banana pudding, so don’t go too far.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said and closed the door with a resounding
thud
.

Both Quinn and her mother laughed and then Lily sobered. “Come sit with me, sweetie,” she said and headed toward the living room.

Quinn complied, but was still uncomfortable with this whole thing and said so as they settled in the living room.

“Was all this necessary? I mean, I’m fine, Ma.”

“My Quinn Elizabeth, the little girl who laughed when she fell off her bike and broke her arm, the strong, amazing woman who made me go to an amusement park the week after my husband of almost forty years died, has cloistered herself in this house like she’s in mourning, won’t see her friends and family, doesn’t do anything but go to work and come back home. Is that what you call fine?”

“Yes I do,” Quinn snapped, feeling increasingly defensive, her mother far too close to the mark for comfort.

“Mmm-hmm. You’re doing just great. And let me guess, you’re
fine
with Alexander being gone, just like you were
fine
when you found out he’s married.”

“Was married,” Quinn quickly corrected. “He had the papers drawn up.”

Lily quirked a brow. “Well, he moves quick. I’ll give him that at least. But I’d still like to see the final decree.”

Quinn pursed her lips, offended on Alexander’s behalf. “He said he was taking care of it, and I trust his word.”

Trust.

The thought crystallized in an instant. She’d never said it out loud, hadn’t even thought it, but she knew it was true. Even now, maybe especially now, she trusted him implicitly, trusted him with everything she held dear.

Including her heart.

That familiar pang twinged in her chest. It’d been there since she’d seen him last, a mix of pain at the betrayal, respect for how he handled things, and just plain old love, love that had been there since Geneva, she could admit now, and that hadn’t wavered a bit through this all.

But that didn’t matter. He was gone, and she had to get over that if she had any hope of keeping it together, of not falling apart when she saw him again.

She blinked at the thought and refocused on her mother. “Really, I appreciate this, but I’m fin—” She couldn’t get the words out around her hiccupped sob. “It hurts so bad, Ma…” she said, no longer bothering to try and pretend.

“I know, honey,” her mother said as she grabbed Quinn’s hand and gave it a squeeze before she leaned over and enfolded Quinn in her arms, holding her as she cried.

“I don’t know what to do,” Quinn said a long time later. She pulled back from her mother’s hug and wiped at her eyes with the tissue her mother produced seemingly from nowhere.

“What do you want?”

“I want this to never have happened.”

“So you wish you’d never met him? Wish Ethan didn’t exist?”

Quinn’s eyes flew open with shock. “Of course not! You know that’s not what I meant. How could you even say that?”

Her mother shrugged nonchalantly in that infuriating way of hers. “I didn’t say anything; you said it.”

“Well, you know that’s not true.”

“So I’ll repeat the question: what do you want?”

Quinn sighed and chewed on her lower lip, staring at her mother. “Am I really having this conversation? Am I sitting on the couch talking to my mother about my lover, the father of my child, who until recently was married and may in fact still be?”

Her mother cut her a sharp glance. “Don’t get smart, young lady. And don’t think you can change the subject. You’re in a grown-up situation that you need to handle like a grown-up, and let’s not forget my grandson. He shouldn’t suffer because you and Alexander insist on this petty drama.”

“Petty? He was married, legally bound in the state of holy matrimony with another woman. And he neglected to mention that little fact.” She looked at her mother, knowing what was coming next. “And don’t even say it, Ma!”

“I don’t have to. You know you were wrong. Let me say this, though. He should have been honest, but at first you were just a…mistress”—she waved dismissively—“and then you were the mother of the baby he didn’t even know about. Look, honey, you don’t have to be together, but you can’t be hurt and angry, and you
must
be able to raise that baby. Cut the man some slack. Like he did you.” She raised her eyebrow significantly and launched into one of her beloved sayings, “If you hold anything against anyone, forgive him so that your Father who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.”

Quinn jumped up from the couch. “You’re quoting the Bible at me now? You’re making me miss Daddy even more than usual, you know?”

Their gazes met and both women laughed out loud, the musical sound filling the room, some of the tension of the conversation dissipating.

“I’m sure. He always was soft on you,” she said as she rose and walked to Quinn, giving her another hug. “Now let’s go get Verna and Joe before they kill each other.”

They walked out to the balcony where Verna stood with Joe as she held Ethan. Quinn was surprised. There were no tears that she could see and no blood had been drawn. She must have really been in bad shape if those two had worked together without inciting World War III.

“Joe,” Lily called out as she plucked Ethan from Verna’s arms, “I need you to come do some manly stuff over there in the kitchen with me. Right now.” She walked back inside.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe said. And then more quietly, “All you had to do was ask for some privacy.”

Verna cut a glare at him. “It’s called subtlety, Joe. You should try it.”

“Verna…” Joe said, voice almost a growl and hackles clearly raised.

“I apologize for my
rude
friend, Joe,” Quinn cut in, glaring at Verna. “I know she was raised right. The sun must be getting to her brain. But she’s making dinner and would be happy if you could join us.”

“I’d be delighted,” Joe said, voice oozing syrupy sweetness. He followed Lily, ignoring Verna’s eye roll.

“Thanks for volunteering me,” Verna said sarcastically. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting back on my good side?”

Quinn laughed. “Joe’s a good guy, and it wouldn’t hurt you to be nice. As for your good side”—she looked over at Verna soberly—“I do owe you an apology.”

Verna nodded and added regally, “Go on.”

Quinn laughed.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist,” she then said.

“Yeah, I know.” Quinn smiled. “Seriously, V, I am sorry. There’s no excuse for treating you like that, especially when you were just trying to help.”

“Well, Mama and Daddy always say I talk too much anyway, and it looks like they might be onto something.” Her voice was light, but a furrow marred her brow.

“In this case, I’m the one who talks too much. I think you talked just the right amount. And isn’t that what real friendship is? Telling people stuff they don’t want to hear and not having them react like mean, psycho bitches?”

“I hope so, ’cause I seem to do a lot of that. The talk-too-much part, not the mean-psycho-bitch part. I think you got that covered,” she said with a wicked smile.

“Touché.”

They stood in silence for several minutes, just looking at the backyard.

“You know what I said isn’t true, Verna.”

Another small smile curved her lips, but she didn’t look at Quinn. “Technically, what you said is absolutely true, well, except the thirty part. I do live in my parents’ basement, and I am a waitress. Pathetic, especially compared to the exciting life of an architect who has a gorgeous Swiss guy chasing her around the world.”

Verna’s words were playful, but Quinn could hear the pain underneath and wanted to kick her own ass for being the one who put it there.

“Don’t put yourself down, V. I can’t do that, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Wow,” Verna made a show of yawning loudly, “this topic of conversation is so incredibly boring, I might just fall asleep right now if we don’t. Change. The. Subject.” She punctuated her words with a hard glare.

“Fine, fine,” Quinn raised her hands in defeat, “so we’re cool, right? I’m still your bestie? We can start sitting together at lunch again?”

Verna narrowed her eyes. “If you think some half-assed apology is all it takes to get back in my good graces, then you’d be one hundred percent correct.” She finished with a smile. “But you have to be nice to me, because when you’re not, I have to complain to other people, and for some reason, no one else appreciates my charm quite like you do.”