THIRTEEN Quincy
“Have you heard anything from the NWS, Quin?” Mia opens her fridge and grabs a charcuterie spread that’s neatly arranged on a wooden cutting board. I steal an olive before she has a chance to set it on the marble island. “They’d be out of their minds to not call you back for a second interview.”
“Not yet, but it’s only been a week.” I pop a piece of cheese in my mouth. “No news is good news, right?”
“You’ll hear something.” Harlow uncorks a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. “Anyone else want some?”
“No, thank you. Richard is getting home from his business trip later tonight.” Mia hands us each a napkin. It’s embroidered, a tiny MR—her future initials—stitched in the corner with swoopy letters. “I haven’t seen him in weeks, and I don’t want to fall asleep too early.”
“He’s still gone?” I ask.
“He had to extend his trip.” Her smile is forced as she takes the stool on my other side. “It’ll be nice to have him home.”
“I could never have a job like that. Spending all your time in an office talking to people about money and pretending to be interested? Fluorescent lights that give you a headache? Having to wear a suit and tie? Sounds miserable.” Harlow reaches past me, swiping a cracker off the cutting board.
“Speaking of money, do either of you have any references for an accountant?”
“That is a very adult question, Har, and my brain is turned off for the night. Ask me again tomorrow.”
“Don’t you have an accountant?” Mia asks.
“She’s out on maternity leave, and I have some questions about moving funds around into different accounts. Google hasn’t been helpful.”
“Whoa. Hang on. Is everything okay at The Hideout?” I give her knee a gentle nudge. “You know we’d both give you a loan if you needed it.”
“Everything is fine. There’s no reason to panic.
The last few months have been tight with finances, but that’s always the case in the summer.
Sales dip. It’s hot outside. People are out of town.
” Harlow swirls her red wine around and takes a long sip.
It doesn’t seem like she’s worried. “It will all work out like it always does.”
“You should talk to Nate,” I suggest. “With his two businesses, he has to know someone.”
“Good idea, Quin.” Harlow rests her head on my shoulder. “That smart brain of yours isn’t totally turned off for the night.”
“It’s been a while since someone flirted with me. Thanks, Har.” I grin. “Mia, don’t you have a cake tasting coming up?”
“Oh.” She brightens, glad to talk about her big day.
“I do. I had hoped Nate would be available, but he said he wants to enjoy the party as a guest. He already has thirty weddings scheduled for next summer and twenty on the calendar for the year after. One of his cake baking videos went viral, and the number of emails he’s getting is absurd.
I don’t know how he manages everything without an assistant. ”
“I don’t think he sleeps. Who did you end up going with?” I ask. “And do you have any leftover samples you can share with us?”
“Of course I do. I have to take care of my girls. I’ll bring them out after dinner.
” Mia laughs. “The baker I want to use, Cakes by Kate, is double-checking her availability. She does these beautiful three-tiered monstrosities that are so gorgeous, you almost don’t want to eat them.
Richard’s mother also recommended her, so I know she’s fantastic. ”
“Dick’s mother?” Harlow smirks, and I swat at her. “What? Come on. Who knowingly names their child Richard? Or Peter? Or Johnson?”
“Your knowledge of phallic names is impressive.” I look over at Mia. “Do we like Richard’s mom? She was … intense at your dress fitting a couple months ago.”
“That’s how his whole family is.” She pops a grape in her mouth, chewing it slowly.
“Lots of money, very particular. Everything has to be perfect, from the way the tablecloths are folded to the shape of the vases for the flowers. You all know me. I don’t care about any of that.
I’d be happy in a vintage dress and Converse.
Beef carpaccio as an appetizer? I’d rather eat a slider.
But that’s a part of marriage, I think. Compromising. Finding a happy medium.”
“As long as you don’t give up too much of yourself.” Harlow gives Mia a look. “Ten years down the road, you don’t want to be wondering who the hell you are.”
“I’ll never forget who I am. I have you all to remind me.” Mia beams at us. “Oh! Speaking of that, your bridesmaid dresses came in.”
She jumps off her stool, hurrying down the hall. When she disappears around a corner, Harlow takes a big sip of wine.
“If she comes back with pink, frilly, cupcake dresses, there’s a one hundred percent chance I’m walking down the aisle drunk.”
“Oh my god.” I burst out laughing. “I would kill to see you in a cupcake dress.”
“Shut up.” She sticks out her tongue, straightening when Mia skips back to the kitchen with a garment bag. “It looks fairly small,” Harlow says out of the corner of her mouth. “Definitely not cupcake sized.”
“Two things were nonnegotiable for me: my dress, and your dresses. I don’t care what Richard’s sisters wear down the aisle, but you two? I’ve been waiting for this moment since high school.”
Mia carefully lays the bag on the island.
She unzips it from the top and pulls out two gowns.
The first is dark blue, the color of the sky at midnight.
Thin straps, a low back. The flash of silver when the soft material moves under her touch as she passes it my way.
“For you, Quin. It reminded me of the moon, which reminded me of you.”
“Mia.” My thumb traces the intricate stitching. “This is gorgeous.”
“I thought you might like it. And for Harlow—” She holds up the next dress, the silk a rich green with a slit that comes halfway up the leg. “A showstopper for a showstopper.”
“Shut up.” Harlow touches the soft fabric. I swear a tear rolls down her cheek. “It is so not a cupcake.”
“A cupcake? What—”
A shrill sound cuts her off. All three of our phones light up on the counter, and I reach for mine, eyes bulging wide at the emergency alert issued for the area.
“That scared the shit out of me.” Mia puts a hand on her chest. “Is it an Amber Alert?”
“No. A tornado warning. You all need to take immediate shelter in an interior room.” I jump off my stool and put the dress back in the garment bag, not wanting to ruin it. “And I need to go.”
“Go? Go where?” Harlow puts her hand on my arm. “Quin.”
“What?” I toss the bottle of water I’ve been sipping in my bag. “I’m obviously going to chase it.”
“That is the exact opposite of what the alert told us to do,” Mia argues.
“It’s part of my job.”
“It’s the worst part of your job. I always worry about you.” Harlow fills a napkin with cheese cubes, shoving it my way. “Take this. You need sustenance.”
“You’re an angel.” I smile. “And I promise I’ll be careful.”
“Text us,” Mia calls out, but I’m already halfway down the hall. Shoving my feet into my shoes and hustling down the stairs of her porch to my car.
I’m only partly paying attention when I shove the keys in the ignition, too busy pulling up my favorite weather radar app that shows where the center of rotation is likely to be. I plug in the GPS coordinates of a nearby landmark, anticipation sitting low in my belly.
The weather was forecasted to be shitty tonight.
It’s why we moved our dinner from an outdoor restaurant to Mia’s house, knowing if things got too bad, Harlow and I could share the guest room instead of driving home.
Severe thunderstorm watches and warnings were issued earlier, but this kind of intensity is unexpected.
A supercell is heading east toward the beaches, and based on the imagery, we’re going to have a tornado on our hands sooner rather than later.
I barely make it down the street before my phone rings. Sebastian’s name scrolls across the screen, and I snort when I slide my thumb to answer his call on speakerphone.
“Where are you chasing?” he asks before I have a chance to say hello.
He’s breathless, and I imagine he’s moving as quickly as I am right now.
We both know how fast these things pop up, how small a window we have to get to where we need to be, and we’re racing against borrowed time.
“Looks like the rotation is going to be close to Oviedo.”
It is going to be close to Oviedo, but I make a split-second decision.
I consider it payback for the nice guy he fended off at the chili cook-off all those weeks ago, for the way I haven’t had a second of peace since he’s been back in town.
I don’t feel an ounce of guilt when I feign innocence and say, “Really? Radar shows more like the Casselberry area.”
“Casselberry?” There’s a lull on his end. His car beeps, and it’s followed by the shudder of an engine. “I thought it was moving due east.”
“Northeast now, and picking up speed.”
“Want to meet near Lake Kathryn? We had so much fun chasing together last time.”
“Sure.” I nod even though he can’t see me. I’m not driving anywhere near Lake Kathryn. “I’ll be there in about twenty.”
“Twenty-five for me. Hope I make it. This thing came out of nowhere.”
“Means it’s going to be a hell of a time. I’m hanging up so I can do a live stream.”
“I’ll see you soon. Be careful, Quinny baby,” Sebastian says, and the urgency in his voice makes my head fuzzy when I end the call.
A part of me is tempted to get him back on the line and tell him where I’m actually headed, but traffic is moving.
I keep my eyes on the road instead of my phone screen.
Conditions have a tendency to deteriorate quickly when a storm like this one forms, and I don’t want to end up under a falling tree before things get started.
I find a field near a nature preserve where I park my car a safe distance away from anything that could become potential projectiles. There’s not a ditch around, the preferred place to hide when there’s not a sturdy building nearby, so I need to be prepared to make a quick exit.