Twenty-One
The morning after driving away from his mam’s childhood home, Quinn looked out at The Cat’s Meow, the park, and the Catholic church across the street, thinking how quickly he’d become accustomed to these sights in just a short time. Pulling on the front door handle of Mulligan’s, the bell sounded, and he strolled inside.
“You’re sure you’d be okay with it, mate?” Quinn asked Paul Brennan twenty minutes later.
“Wouldn’t regret it for a second, Quinn. Would be handing her over to great hands.” Paul winked at him and went back to wiping down the countertop.
How many times in one lifetime did bartenders wipe down the same bar? Quinn wondered. He reminded himself that if he was going to do this, he’d have to follow the same advice he’d given Lilly about not becoming a slave to the business.
“Alright,” Quinn muttered, swigging back his pint. Setting the glass down on the counter, he paid his tab and headed back to the motel room to start doing the numbers. It wasn’t until he rummaged through his travel bag, searching for the notebook where he jotted down ideas that he noticed something.
His mother’s journal was still missing. He hadn’t seen it in his suitcase last night. He dashed out to the car, checked on top of the seats and under them. He checked the trunk and the path from the car to the room, in case it had fallen out and was laying there.
“Dammit. Dammit, dammit.”
He thought about texting Lilly, but being as they’d been living in the same house, they’d never exchanged phone numbers. Besides, after what had happened the previous morning, he didn’t want their first contact to be, “Hey, do you have my journal?” That would make him a jerk more than she probably already thought of him.
He’d have to go back to Russian River House to get the journal. At least it would give him the excuse of seeing Lil again so he could apologize for the way he’d acted.
Without thinking twice, he got in his car and took the long and winding road back toward the bed-and-breakfast, marveling at what a fantastic day it was with all its golden browns, greens, and yellows. With the car window open, the air washing over him felt crisp and clean, and Quinn found himself wishing Lilly were with him. They could take a drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, much like Mam had wanted to do with Ken all those years ago. They could have one of her infamous picnics. They could climb into the backseat and ravage each other with wild abandon.
Damn her, for leaving indelible marks on his heart. And damn himself for not being more understanding of just how difficult it was for her to stand up to her mother, especially when he’d known that had been a problem for her long before she’d ever met Quinn. Was it possible she could forgive him for the way he’d acted and the horrible things he’d said?
Maybe not, but it wouldn’t be for his lack of trying. He was going to put his money where his mouth was, and do what he’d criticized his mam for not doing. He was going to fight for his family in all forms, and that’s what Lilly was to him now. The woman he loved.
Part of his family.
When he finally reached the bed-and-breakfast, he cut the engine and stared at the quaint house and surroundings. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, which meant she was probably running errands at the grocery store or fetching flowers for the guest areas. Sucking up his courage and running a hand through his hair, he made his way up the walk to the front door covered in fake cobwebs and spiders, knowing his interaction would most likely be with Penny Parker today, laughing at the irony of the creepy décor.
As expected, he was right.
Her blue eyes, which he could admit for the first time were pretty just like her daughter’s, peered over the top of the counter. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hullo, is Lilly here?” Quinn closed the door and noticed all the Hallow’s Eve decorations that had emerged since he’d left. “Whoa, creepy in here.”
“She’s gone,” Mrs. Parker muttered with a faint victorious narrowing of her eyes.
Quinn’s chest deflated. He stared at her aghast. “Gone?” Had she left already? But she wasn’t due to leave for another week! Did he piss her off so badly that she figured she’d just leave early?
“Yes, gone. Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Deadpan serious question. Her raised eyebrows had it in for him. “For her to leave her hometown, go explore the world, spread her veritable wings? Well, you got what you wanted. Congratulations.” She returned to working on her ledger.
Craning his neck around the column to the back, he scanned for Lilly there, not completely believing Mrs. Parker. Fresh faces of new guests all enjoyed a wonderful breakfast, some of them even slathered butter on what were surely Lilly’s muffins.
But no Lilly.
“What? You don’t trust me?” Mrs. Parker raised an eyebrow.
“Can you blame me?” He tapped the counter and headed toward his old bedroom to see if the journal was still there.
“I can blame you for quite a few things, yes. Is that what you O’Neills do every time you come to Green Valley? You wreak havoc and turn everything on its head?”
Quinn stopped and spun. “I don’t know what you’ve been told or what you think, but I haven’t turned anything on its head. Your daughter already had plans to leave before I even got here. If anything, I might have delayed her leaving.”
“Flatter yourself, why don’t you, Mr. O’Neill.” Mrs. Parker chuckled with an edge of sarcasm in her voice, but Quinn detected a betrayal of tears at her eyelids.
“Has she gone—gone for good, to Miami, or do you mean she’s gone for the day?”
“I told you she left. You can’t go down that way. You’ve already checked out, and there are new guests there.”
“Was anything left behind? Anything of mine? I think I left something here,” he said.
“Not that I know of. We cleaned the room out, and all you left behind was a garbage can full of toilet paper. Way to save the environment, O’Neill.”
“Sorry about that.” He stood there, debating whether or not to tell her about the journal.
“Is there something else I can help you with today?” The hard edge returned to her voice.
Quinn opened his mouth to say yes, actually, did you find a journal belonging to my mother? But closed his mouth, thinking the better of it. Last thing he needed was to alert Penny Parker that the enemy’s own, handwritten thoughts were close at hand if she didn’t already know.
“No, that was it.” He smiled as sincerely as he could muster. “And thank you so much for everything. In my hurry when I left, I forgot to mention how utterly charming and hospitable the staff here at Russian River House was to me and my brother. I will be sure to post a review telling the world about your friendliness.” He turned on his heels, heading for the door.
How would he find the journal in the house, if he couldn’t bring himself to mention it to the gatekeeper? Quinn sighed, glancing around the bed-and-breakfast living room, taking in its symmetry, vintage furniture, and all the new spooky additions before he never saw the place again.
“Quinn?”
Turning slowly, he stared at Lilly’s mam.
“I know you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, swiping at her eyes. “I’m just scared to lose my daughter.”
He considered this change in tune. It made sense. He knew there had to be an underlying reason for her harshness when he hadn’t done anything to offend her. “I understand, Mrs. Parker. I’m sorry for undressing in your kitchen. I’m sure that didn’t help.”
She shook her head, looking down. “In a small town, you either love it or you hate it. If you hate it, you rarely come back to live.”
“I don’t think Lilly hates it here, Mrs. Parker, but she’s at that tipping point.”
“And I don’t blame her.” Mrs. Parker gave a sardonic laugh and brought a tissue to her nose. “With an overbearing old hag like me for a mother?”
“You mean a loving mom like you?” Quinn said, giving her a contained smile. “It’ll all be alright. Just trust her, and everything will be alright. You raised a good girl.”
“Yes, I did,” she said, straightening her composure. “And you? You staying or leaving?” she asked, sounding like she actually cared what happened to him.
“I’m staying for another week at least.” Of course, he planned to stay for much longer than that, but she didn’t need to know that yet.
“Well, good luck then,” she said. “And Quinn? I’m sorry about your mom.”
Her condolences were real. He could see that much from her softened expression and smile. “Thanks.” He opened the door and walked into the fresh sunshine. Sighing, he marveled at how many different sides one person could have to their personality and what brought out the worst in them. It was satisfying, at the very least, to know that she had nothing against Quinn personally, though she really seemed to fear losing Lilly.
He couldn’t blame her. He felt the same.
An idea occurred to him and he scuttled across the lawn into the parking lot, rounding the corner. Remembering the way Lilly had shown him when they snuck up to her room that wonderful night under the stars, he edged his way along the side wall of the establishment until he reached the side doorway. Finding the door unlocked, he slipped inside the warmth and headed for the side stairs.
Nobody was around, which meant he could climb the stairs quickly without running into anyone and having to defend himself. He cringed, imagining how quickly Penny Parker would change her mind if she knew the boy she had suddenly forgiven was now prowling around her house. Chuckling to himself, he reached the top steps of the third floor and approached Lilly’s closed bedroom.
“Please, please be open,” he muttered, placing his hand on the door knob and turning.
Locked.
“Fuck.”
He reached up to feel along the top edge of the door frame, and sure enough, his fingers ran across a thin piece of metal. He plucked it off and looked down at his open palm. An interior door skeleton key. Without thinking much about it, before he changed his mind, he pushed the narrow tip through the hole in the center of the knob and turned to the right.
Open sesame.
Her bedroom brought back instant memories of that one, amazing night. For a woman who’d supposedly just left to live in Miami for six months, she hadn’t appeared to have taken much. Her bed was littered with crumpled clothing, even a few freshly-laundered underwear. Though his curiosity tempted him to lift one and give it a good look, he resisted the urge to peruse Lilly’s clothes while she wasn’t around. He was hot for her, but he wasn’t a creep.
Scanning the room, he didn’t spot the journal anywhere. “Come on, come on…”
He searched everywhere he’d be if he were a leather-bound journal—on the desk, under the mountain of clothes, on her nightstand… He stopped. Her laptop was here. Why, if she had left for Miami, would she have left her laptop? Underneath the silver edge of metal was a little piece of paper. He tugged at it—a Post It Note with L 3 Q written on it.
So, not only had she not left yet, but she was thinking about him, eh?
He smiled.
A heavy weight seemed to lift off his chest just knowing that she was still around, that she was just as much in love with him as he was with her. He pocketed the piece of paper and went to her French doors to the patio. Unlocking and opening them up, it was like all of Green Valley had come home to just him. The rolling hills, the now-familiar rows and rows of vineyards, both from the Parker House and other town families, blanketed the land.
Quinn sighed. He wasn’t sure what was more beautiful—this view underneath the stars or during the morning light. Light footsteps walked across the wooden deck, as Quinn inhaled the scent of gardenias and hydrangeas soaking up the sun. The aromas reminded him of Lilly. Whether her skin had smelled of flowers, or her flowers smelled of Lilly, he wasn’t sure. Maybe they were one and the same.
Reaching her lounge chair, he pressed back against the rest and enjoyed the view.
A gust of wind raced through the valley, sending a fresh burst of dry leaves dancing all over the deck. Something fluttered next to him. On the wooden side table next to the chair, pages from a book flapped in the breeze. He spotted the leather brown cover—Mam’s journal.
He distinctly remembered leaving it on the nightstand in his room. She must have recovered it for him then sat outside here reading it. And why not? It made for a fascinating story and he’d already told her he didn’t mind if she read it. He scooped it up and thumbed through the pages, internalizing his mam’s handwriting, noticing that someone had marked the pages—the gazebo at the park, the bleachers at the football stadium, the flower shop…all places she had spent time with Dad.
Lilly had marked them, of course.
She was just as fascinated with this voice from the past as Quinn was. After having lived here her whole life, he wondered how she’d felt seeing it through his mam’s eyes. If doing so had renewed her appreciation for life by the Russian River where the land was fertile and the nights were magical. He wondered if once she learned that Quinn was going to settle here, if it would tempt her to return after her internship in Miami was over. Because he was no longer worried that telling her of his plans might unfairly sway her decisions.
He was doing what he wanted to make his own dreams come true. Part of that dream was that Lilly would be a big part of his life, but he couldn’t control that. All he could do was apologize for what happened, tell her he loved her and would always support her, and then the rest was up to her.