“You’re not the first to move into Aster House after my grandfather lost it. I got used to it over the years. The only difference is that you’re the first new owner to invite me in, so it all came back.”
“Where were your parents?” Riley asked as she handed Quinn her second coffee.
“They ran a big, popular restaurant in town, and they were so busy over the summer months and didn’t have much time for us, so Rob and I moved in with our grandparents. We saw Mom and Dad, of course, but our life was here from early April until late September.”
“And are they still in the restaurant business?” Riley bit her lip and waved a hand. “Please tell me if I’m being too nosey.”
“No, it’s fine.” Quinn paused, wondering how much to share. But what did it really matter? It was in the past. “The restaurant was called The Harbor House. It’s still in business, just under new ownership. My grandfather owned the building, so when he lost Aster House in his bankruptcy, my parents lost the restaurant too. They eventually got a loan to start a new, much smaller restaurant, and they’re retired now, but times were really tough for a while.”
“Are they here, in Mystic?” Riley asked.
“They moved to Groton, as the rent was cheaper there, but they’re not far and I see them regularly. My grandmother is there too, in a home.”
“And your grandfather?”
“He went downhill after the truth about his gambling came out. He drank too much and isolated himself, even from my grandmother, and he died of a heart attack a few years later.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. From what you’ve told me, you were very close to him.” Riley reached over the table and squeezed her hand. Quinn’s story was a shocking revelation and her reaction last night made so much sense now. “And then some stranger from New York bought Aster House and complained about how terrible it looked.”
“Something like that.” Quinn looked around the kitchen. “But you’re right. It does need updating.” She reached into her back pocket and handed Riley a business card. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need help or advice, anytime. I know I said I was busy, but we can always squeeze in a few jobs here and there, and my people are excellent.”
“Thanks, but I won’t bother you. If it’s hard for you to be here, then—”
“Please. I mean it. Change is good, and the more I come here and see things change, the better.” Realizing she’d been here longer than she planned, Quinn got up. “I need to get to work but I’d love to cook for you in my humble abode.
“I’d love that.”
“Great. How about Sunday? If you’re okay with small spaces,” Quin added with a wink.
“Unless you live in a coffin or an elevator, I don’t see how I could get claustrophobic in your home,” Riley said with a chuckle as she followed her to the front door. “Message me the address, I’ll be there.” She closed the door, then sighed as she leaned back against it, relieved that she and Quinn were okay again. For some reason, it mattered what Quinn thought of her. Riley liked her very much, and she felt a strange kind of attraction to her that left her almost as shaken as Quinn’s story had.
It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in years, a tingle low in her belly. Was it because she had too much time on her hands to think? Had her mind been with her new friend simply because there wasn’t much else going on in her life, or did she really feel a hint of attraction there? Was it because she’d noticed Quinn checking her out a few times and she liked the idea of being desired again? It was probably a combination of all those factors, and she had to be careful not to stare at her again, like she had today when they were repairing the door. Quinn was attractive in every sense. Her eyes were mesmerizing, and her messy hair and the way she carried herself held a charming carelessness. She was kind, funny, strong, and capable, and Riley imagined she had a way with women. Her thoughts drifted to Quinn wearing a tool belt and checked flannels over those tight jeans before a vision of her in nothing but a tool belt manifested.
God, what am I doing?She’d never felt attraction toward a woman, but truthfully, she hadn’t been all that attracted to men either. After years of mediocre dates and equally mediocre sex, she’d given up on it altogether and decided her vibrator and her job were enough to keep her satisfied. Maybe she just hadn’t met the right man. Maybe she should try one of those dating apps everyone was on. It wouldn’t harm her to see what the area had to offer, and at worst, she might end up with some new friends.
Not yet, she told herself. First things first. She wouldn’t be able to focus on anything until those awful living room walls were white and spotless, and she was itching to get it out of the way. Heading there, she opened the large tub of white paint, poured some into a tray, then rolled her paint roller through it. She hated the carpet, so she didn’t bother covering anything up. Ripping it out would be the next big job.
Carefully rolling the paint onto the wall, she marveled at how satisfying it was to see the now brown and patchy wall turn spotless, and as she continued until the white area was large enough to give her an idea of the finished effect, she found herself rather enjoying the job. Quinn would hate the white, but this wasn’t her house, and the only way of making living here bearable was to erase anything that could possibly scare her.
18
QUINN
“Itold her everything.” Quinn took her grandmother’s frail hand in her own and kissed it. “Well, not everything, off course, but the general story. The new owner’s called Riley, and she’s nice. I invited her over for dinner on Sunday.”
Her grandmother smiled at her, and for a moment Quinn was convinced she understood what she was telling her. “What was her name again?”
“Riley,” Quinn said, returning her smile.
“No, I don’t think that’s right.” Her grandmother turned to the window and narrowed her eyes as she dug through her memory. “Her name was Dorothy. That was her name,” she said triumphantly.
“No, Grandma. That’syourname. You’re Dorothy.” Quinn stroked her hand. It was difficult when she got her hopes up because her grandmother still had the occasional bright moments in which she recognized Quinn and remembered things.
“Oh. I suppose you’re right.” From the way her smile dropped, the confusion was clearly causing her stress, so Quinn tried to distract her.
“How about we go outside to get some fresh air? It’s a beautiful day. Would you like that?” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed a blanket from the couch and put it over her grandmother’s lap, then steered the wheelchair toward the exit. “See? Sunshine. Isn’t that nice?” she asked, steering her over the path that ran through the yard. It was a decent home, with plenty of outside space and a communal living area where the staff organized music, movie, and game nights, and Quinn felt comfortable with her living there. “Not long until summer now. I can’t wait to swim in the river again.”
“Yes, it’s a lovely day.” Her grandmother raised her face toward the sky and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Quinn knew she was lost in the past. She recognized that faraway look, but more often than not, they were good memories that drew her back decades. “Where are we?” she asked. “I need to get home to prepare dinner. My husband will be home soon. He’s been away for business.”
