7. Quinn
7
QUINN
Q uinn waved goodbye to the guys that evening, still unable to believe that they’d been able to get the cutting finished and the trees loaded on time. It had been a whirlwind of hard work, and she felt like she was ready to go into hibernation after so many days of running on empty.
Maybe it had been a mistake to offer to stop by Beau’s place tonight, given that she was dirty and exhausted. But she was oddly looking forward to seeing the man and his funny little girl again.
Captain Christmas Tree , she thought to herself, shaking her head as she approached the caretaker’s house. She had always loved the cheerful green of the little place. It wasn’t nearly as grand as the big house where Anne-Marie lived, but it had a lot of personality.
Quinn herself was staying in one of the log cabins up on the hill. It was rustic and a little drafty, but it was also free. And since she was trying to save as much of her pay as possible, she really appreciated the Wilsons offering it up for her use.
She jogged up the porch steps and knocked on the front door.
It opened a moment later, revealing Zandy in front of a pretty living room with a cozy fire crackling in the fireplace. The cream-colored plaster walls were punctuated by exposed wooden beams in the ceiling. What the room lacked in furnishings, it made up for in toys. The sofa was strewn with action figures and stuffed animals. Picture books bound in library plastic covered the entire surface of the coffee table. And an easel set up in the corner featured a rainbow of brightly painted watercolors.
“Hello,” Zandy said, gazing up at Quinn before turning to yell over her shoulder. “ It’s Captain Christmas Tree.”
“Invite her in, please,” Beau’s deep voice called out from deeper inside the house.
“Come in,” Zandy said importantly, opening the door the rest of the way and making a sort of flourish with the starry plastic shield she held in her hand.
Quinn stepped inside, feeling instantly at home in the casual space.
“It smells really good in here,” she noticed out loud. Her stomach rumbled in response to the savory smell, and she couldn’t exactly remember when she had last eaten.
“My dad’s making me bacon macaroni and cheese,” Zandy said. “It’s my favorite.”
“That sounds so good,” Quinn told her. “Lucky you.”
“Come on,” Zandy said, darting off through the doorway on the other side of the living room.
Quinn followed her into a room that had been set up to function as a kitchen on one side and an eating area on the other. Four chairs surrounded a wooden table that was the first empty surface she had spotted in the house. The kitchen side had pale-green painted cabinets, and a nice set of copper pots and pans hung from a rack over the small island.
Two plastic plates and cups sat waiting on the counter.
“Hey, Quinn,” Beau said, straightening up as he pulled a casserole dish from the oven. “You’re just in time for dinner.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” she said weakly.
“Liar,” he said, winking.
Quinn had to grin at that. She most definitely did want to impose. Whatever was in that casserole dish smelled even better now that it was out of the oven.
“That’s bacon mac and cheese?” she asked.
“My specialty,” he said, nodding. “Or one of them.”
“You like cooking pasta?” she guessed.
“I like cooking whatever a certain someone will eat,” he said, chuckling.
“I like good food,” Zandy said, shrugging her little shoulders. “Like mac and cheese. And corn on the cob. And mashed potatoes. And apple butter on toast.”
“You have good taste,” Quinn told her.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Zandy chirped, her expression dead serious before she bolted out of the room.
Quinn froze in place, wondering what was going on.
“You can sit,” Beau said, chuckling. “She didn’t mean it literally. It’s just something my mom says.”
“Okay,” Quinn said, pulling out a chair.
She couldn’t help letting out a happy sigh as soon as she was off her feet.
“Long day?” Beau asked.
“A lot of long days in a row,” she told him. “This early harvest was a scramble.”
“Smart move though,” Beau said, nodding toward the window.
Sure enough, pretty white snowflakes were already drifting down again. Though at this point it seemed a sure thing that it wasn’t going to be enough to have slowed them down if they’d stuck to their schedule.
“I could only work with the info I had at the time,” she said, shrugging. “And at least now it’s done.”
She smiled at the idea that they had successfully cut the season’s trees in enough time to stock the lots. It might be her only year in charge, but there hadn’t been any big hiccups, and she’d performed well under pressure.
“You like this work,” Beau said, coming over to sit in the chair opposite hers.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s farming Christmas trees. Who wouldn’t love it?”
But Beau’s eyes were sad as he nodded.
A flicker of frustration went through her before she remembered that he’d just lost his dad—a man who loved Christmas trees more than anyone.
“ Whoosh,” Zandy whispered, tearing back into the kitchen.
“Wow,” Quinn said, noticing that the little girl had on what looked like a space suit costume with fairy wings and a crown.
“Hey, Zandy,” Beau said fondly. “Time for dinner.”
“I’m not Zandy,” the little girl said indignantly. “I’m Princess Space Flyer.”
“Oh, well, Princess Space Flyer, can you tell Zandy it’s time for dinner?” Beau asked politely.
“You’re supposed to say Your Majesty ,” Zandy whispered, like a stage manager giving an actor his line.
“I’m sorry, can you tell Zandy it’s time for dinner, Your Majesty?” Beau asked.
There was a dramatic pause as the royal astronaut considered.
“Yes,” Princess Space Flyer said regally before whooshing out of the room again.
“She’s pretty energetic,” Beau said, looking like he was worried she might think Zandy was weird or something.
“She’s amazing,” Quinn told him quickly. “I love how she commits to her characters.”
“That she does,” Beau said, chuckling. “Let me just fix us a couple of plates so it’s ready when she gets back in.”
Quinn hopped up to help and together they scooped mac and cheese and green beans onto three plates. Then Beau poured out milk for Zandy while Quinn poured iced tea into two glasses for the two of them.
By the time Zandy was back, the table was ready.
Quinn watched as the tiny girl scrambled up into the chair next to hers.
“Okay,” Zandy said, bowing her little head.
Quinn bowed hers too, and for a moment there was gentle silence as they all gave thanks.
“Do you like Grammar Girl ?” Zandy asked, popping her head back up.
“I’ve never seen it,” Quinn admitted.
“I watch it after dinner,” Zandy confided. “Want to watch with me?”
“Quinn and I have to talk about the farm,” Beau told her. “But you can still watch your show.”
“Grammar Girl is from Paragraph City,” Zandy said. “She knows how to read and fly .”
“That sounds like a good show,” Quinn told Zandy.
Zandy smiled up at her and then took an enormous bite of her dinner.
“ Mmm ,” she hummed around her food. “ Mmmmmm-mm-mm .”
“Better praise than a Michelin star,” Beau declared.
“What’s that?” Zandy asked with her mouth full.
“Let’s not talk with our mouths full,” Beau warned her. “It’s an award for a really good restaurant, I think.”
Quinn smiled and took a bite of her own dinner. It was absolutely heavenly when the savory flavors of the creamy macaroni burst on her tongue.
“ Mmm,” she heard herself hum.
“Now you have two Michigan stars, Dad,” Zandy pointed out.
Quinn tried not to laugh, but when Beau caught her eye from across the table she couldn’t help smiling.
As they ate, Zandy told them a long story about preschool—something about a boy named Josh and a toy horse, but she was laughing so much it was a little hard to follow. Quinn just enjoyed her enthusiasm and didn’t worry about the details.
“Somebody’s getting sleepy,” Beau teased his daughter. “You’ve got the sleepy sillies.”
That only made her dissolve into more giggles.
“Why don’t we put on some Grammar Girl ?” he said.
“Yay,” Zandy yelled, sliding off her chair like she was partly melted, and then running into the other room.
“I’ll be right back,” Beau told Quinn.
She nodded to him, and then carried their plates to the sink when he disappeared into the living room.
She began washing up, sort of enjoying washing three cups and plates instead of just one. She was almost finished with the empty pan from the green beans when Beau came back in.
“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing? You’re a guest.”
“It’s fine,” she told him. “Now we have more time to talk.”
“Ah, trying to trick me into spending more time working on the books, huh?” he teased, winking at her as he joined her at the counter.
She watched him scoop the rest of the macaroni into a plastic tub and put it in the fridge before putting the casserole dish in the sink to soak.
Why do I feel comfortable with him?
But there was no answer to that. Sometimes her shy nature made her feel like she would never be able to speak again, and other times she felt okay.
This was different though. She didn’t just feel comfortable—she actually felt good around Beau and Zandy. And for a moment, she let herself imagine what it might feel like to come home to a life like this after work.
“Okay. I guess let’s get this over with,” Beau said, looking over at her miserably.
“Your dad didn’t like doing the books either,” Quinn told him, then pressed her lips together. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.
“Believe me, I know,” Beau laughed. “I used to catch him at his desk late at night, tugging at his beard so hard I thought he’d pull it clean off.”
“Why don’t we just look at how they’re set up tonight?” she offered. “We can get the lay of the land first, and then go into how to enter the info another time.”
“Sounds good,” Beau told her, real relief in his voice as he glanced around like he was looking for something. “Did you bring the books?”
“It’s all online now,” she told him. “If you have a laptop, we can take a look. Or I can run back to the cabin and grab mine.”
“No, no,” he said. “I’ve got one. Hang on.”
He jogged out of the room, and she waited.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked when he returned a moment later with a laptop under his arm.
“I think I half-expected you to come running back in here with a costume on,” she said.
“How do you know I didn’t?” he asked her, pretending like he was going to unbutton his flannel to reveal a logo like she had done earlier with her sweater.
She laughed.
“You know what’s so wild?” he asked, sitting beside her.
She shook her head, trying not to notice the scent of him. He smelled like Christmas trees and a spicy, musky fragrance that she figured was his aftershave, or maybe just him.
“Zandy did that exact thing the other day when I dropped her off at pre-school,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“She lifted up her sweater and she had on a costume under it,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s funny that you did the same thing for her. I know she got a kick out of it.”
“She’s such a happy girl,” Quinn said. “And not a bit shy.”
“Nope,” Beau said. “She knows who she is and what she wants.”
Me too, Quinn thought to herself. Not that it matters.
“Are you excited that the farm will be yours?” she heard herself ask.
“Honestly?” Beau said. “All I ever really wanted was to be a mechanic.”
“That makes sense,” Quinn said. “You’re really good.”
“Thanks,” he told her. “I knew my parents wouldn’t go for it, so I joined up to get my training. I was planning on working at the local shop this year.”
“Max’s place,” she said quietly, surprised he’d had a real plan.
“I thought he was going to hire me,” Beau said. “But I went over there today to tell him I couldn’t take the job after all. Turns out he wanted me to buy the place and take over.”
Quinn studied Beau’s face. There was all the sadness he had been doing such a bad job of hiding earlier.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Oh, wow.”
“It’s kind of my dream come true,” he admitted. “And the price he wants, well it’s way under market—it’s the business and the building—all for less than the price he could probably get for the tools. Not that I can afford it. Or disappoint my mom.”
Quinn nodded slowly, feeling surprisingly heartbroken for him. She could certainly relate to lost dreams.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess I sound like a spoiled jerk, don’t I? My mom’s being super generous, and the farm is amazing. I know you love running it.”
“But it’s not your dream,” Quinn heard herself say.
“We have to keep it in the family,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s been in Wilson hands since the 1800s. And she wants it to stay that way. Which is too bad, because otherwise, I’d try to get her to sell it to you.”
“Well, I’ve been saving forever, but I could never afford it anyway,” Quinn said, shaking her head. “This much land would be worth a fortune.”
“So, you have savings, but you don’t want to buy a mechanic’s shop,” Beau said, shaking his head. “And I’m about to inherit a farm but all I want is a shop.”
“My dad always says that God has a sense of humor,” Quinn ventured with a smile.
“Too bad we can’t just get married,” Beau said.
She was pretty sure he’d meant it as a joke, but the words hung in the air for a moment, and she felt her cheeks heat.
Don’t be an idiot. A man like Beau Wilson would never marry you.
“Let’s look at the books,” she said quickly. “I know you’re probably tired, and Zandy will have you up early.”
“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat.
She watched him open up the laptop and then she took it for a moment to sign in and give him a username and password.
“There, now you can enter the portal anytime and just see what’s going on,” she told him, unable to hide her own excitement as she pointed out the sections on planting, supplies, contracts, and equipment.
The next fifteen minutes or so seemed to melt away in no time.
“ Grammar Girl isn’t on anymore,” Zandy yelled suddenly from the other room.
“I’ve got to get her to bed,” Beau said, turning to Quinn. “But if you want to stick around, I can be back down here in ten minutes or so?”
“I guess I should get going,” Quinn said, though she really didn’t want to. The last thing Beau needed at the end of a long day was to be forced to focus on something that didn’t interest him. “Maybe we can pick this up another day.”
“Definitely,” he told her.
She followed him out to the living room, where Zandy was peeling herself off the sofa.
“Are you tucking me in, Captain Christmas Tree?” Zandy asked politely.
“Quinn is going to go home now,” Beau said. “But we’ll see her again soon.”
“Thank you for having me over for your favorite dinner,” Quinn said.
“Wait,” Zandy yelled, darting around the sofa to wrap her arms around Quinn’s waist.
Quinn was stunned, but she smiled and remembered to hug back when Zandy gave her a good squeeze.
“Don’t be sad about the trees,” Zandy whispered to her. “There will be lots more next year.”
Too bad I won’t be around to see them , Quinn thought to herself as she stepped outside into the swirl of lazy snowflakes.