Ciaran dropped his head to his chest. It was that gesture, one so eerily similar to just what Quentin and Clayton did when they were feeling contrite, that prompted her to relent.
“How are you helping him?” she asked.
“It’s about a friend of his…Harlow Tate. Apparently, her ex-husband is a bit of a jackass. The thing I need to know is where to find this particular jackass,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side, considering the implications of what he’d said. She’d known that Quentin was seeing someone, even if he had been particularly closed-mouthed about who it was. But Harlow Tate was the last person she’d expected. “So, go back a little…Quentin and Lowey? Are you sure about this?”
Ciaran knew then that he was in, a little bit of gossip could sweeten any deal. “They were staying at Ash Grove. Inthe carriage house. He was sleeping on the couch, I assume because he’s been a dick. But she’s pissed at him. And if a man can piss a woman off, there’s clearly a relationship there.”
“Huh,” she said, considering it for a moment. She could see it, oddly enough. They couldn’t have been more different on the surface, except for the giant chips on their shoulders. But maybe that’s what Quentin needed—a woman who wouldn’t bow and scrape and be bowled over by his charm and good looks. Lowey Tate was drop-dead gorgeous and took no crap from anyone. If they continually butted heads with one another, then maybe they could stop butting heads with the rest of the world.
“Why are you doing this,really?” she asked.
“Because Quentin wasn’t the only dickhead yesterday,” he replied. “I’m sorry I ruined your Thanksgiving. And I’m sorry that whatever visions you had of us having a happy family reunion were ruined by us behaving like savages…now tell me where I can find this Joseph Barnes so that I can go behave like a savage in someone else’s front yard.”
Mia laughed in spite of herself. Her new brother was too charming for his own good or hers. And he and Quentin were like two peas in a pod. It was no wonder they had clashed. “First off, it’s Joey. No one would ever call him anything asdignified as Joseph. He’s a moron. A violent moron, but a moron, nonetheless. He’s probably at his mama’s house out on Hwy 12. But I’d be careful. The only thing lengthier than his rap sheet is his family tree. He’s got a lot of cousins, and they all nest together like rats.”
“Duly noted. Thank you for the warning,” he said and rose from the chair. “If we do this at Christmas, I promise to behave.”
“And Quentin? What if he doesn’t?”
Ciaran shrugged. “That’s not really up to me. I can only promise you that I won’t take a swing at him…even if he begs for it.”
“Give me the keys,” Lowey said.
Quentin looked at her in horror as he pulled the keys in close to his chest. “I’m fine to drive.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You said you needed me to drive you…so, I’m going to drive you. Andyes, Quentin, that means you have to trust me with your baby.”
No one drove his car.Ever. But he’d used that as an excuse to keep her with him for the day, and there was no graceful way to get out of it. So, with great reluctance, he pressed the keys into her hand. If he let his linger just a secondlonger than necessary, if his fingertips brushed against the tender crease in her palm, and if even that simple touch set him on fire, it was all worth it to see the slight shiver that arced through her.
Lowey brushed past him and climbed behind the wheel. Quentin winced as she adjusted the seat. It would take forever to get that right again. He knew he had issues. When it came to being set in his ways, well, Quentin accepted that particular ship had sailed long ago. Patricia had laughed at him for it as a boy, teasing him about it. And yet when she’d served his dinner, none of the food on his plate had touched. She’d tolerated his eccentricities with good humor and patience. Recalling that moment the day before when he’d thought she’d been aware of his presence, he felt the words bubbling up inside him.
“I thought—” He stopped abruptly. Telling Lowey about Patricia, about what he’d thought he saw the day before would be a mistake. He didn’t talk about Patricia to anyone, not even to his siblings.
“You thought what?” she asked, adjusting the mirrors.
Every fucking thing in his car was going to be perfect for her, and he’d be struggling for months to get it put back the wayhe liked it. And she was enjoying it. He could see it in the gleam in her eyes.
“When I was in my mother’s room yesterday…I thought she looked at me,” he admitted grudgingly. Just saying it out loud made him feel like an idiot. It had been more than ten years. “It’s stupid,” he added. “If she was ever going to wake up, it would have happened before now.”
The teasing glint in her eyes disappeared. “I’m sorry, Quentin…I can’t even imagine what that feels like. My own mother was a lost cause. The best thing she ever did for me was drop me on my grandparents’ doorstep before she ran off. But I remember your mom. When I was little, I remember her. Seeing her in town, always dressed to the nines but never snooty or mean the way some of those women were.”
He smiled. “She loved clothes. And shopping…God above, she could shop for days.”
“She was good to me,” Lowey said sadly. “A lot of people in town looked down on my Papaw because of what he did…the bar. All of it. But I remember this time when I was running down Main Street, right on the sidewalk like a wild thing, and I fell. I tore half the skin off my knee. And a bunch of those women just stood there and shook their head like ‘is it any wonder with how she is being raised.’”
He grinned. “And you got one of Mama’s famous pep talks, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she agreed. “She walked over to me, picked me up, and brushed the tears off my cheeks. That’s when she told me to be tough, even when it hurt, especially in front of people who would enjoy seeing me cry. And then she took me to Partin’s for an ice cream and drove me home to my Papaw. Everyone in that bar was gawking when she marched me inside.”
Quentin couldn’t help but laugh. He could picture every bit of it. And even though it tickled him in so many ways to think of his mother, the lady to end all ladies, walking into a dive bar called The Kicking Mule, it still hurt. It chipped away at the hard shell he’d built around all the pain inside him.
“I bet she was mad as fire and gave your granddad the what-for,” he said.
Lowey shook her head and smiled sadly. “She didn’t actually. It was about a year after we’d lost Mamaw, and she just told him how sorry she was, and how it had to be so hard for him having a little girl there that he didn’t know what to do with…then they had a drink together, and the next thing I knew I was taking cotillion lessons that I know, now at least, we couldn’t possibly have afforded.”
It was so typical of his mother that it cut him to the quick. “I miss her. I miss her every goddamn day of my life…and I get so fucking mad. I’m a horrible person, Lowey.”
