“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.” Quinn grins. “She wanted to be an actress—a movie star, actually—but she got pregnant with my brother and married my father. She said that’s what you had to do in those days. Neither of them were eager to be parents.”
Wow. Not exactly Mother of the Year material. “Are you and your brother close?”
She shakes her head and spears a piece of lettuce. “He’s ten years older than me. By the time I was eight, he was away at college. I grew up feeling more like he was an uncle than a sibling. Now he lives in Indianapolis and works in IT.”
“Do you stay in touch?”
She lifts her shoulders. “We email on holidays, but that’s about it. I’ve tried, but he has no interest in connecting more.”
“What about your dad?”
“He was a technical sales manager with an oil service company, and he traveled quite a bit. He wasn’t around a lot even when he was in town, though. When I was twelve, he left us for the other woman. She was a divorcée with two small children, so he moved on to a whole new family. I think that lasted for about four years, then he left her for someone in Texas. Mom heard he abandoned that woman, too, and now... I really don’t know where he is.” She lifts her iced tea.
“That has to be tough.”
“It’s okay now, but the divorce was awful. My mother was angry and vindictive. And I... well, I was stuck in the middle. I had to go stay with Dad every other weekend and for half of the summer. After I visited, Mom would pump me for details. Sometimes she’d drink too much, call Dad, and twist around everything I’d said.”
That explains her aversion to a split guardianship arrangement.
“Deborah thought I was a troublemaker and a liar. It was clear she didn’t want me there, although she didn’t mind using me as an unpaid babysitter for her kids. And Dad... well, he was just as much of a missing person in that marriage as he’d been with Mom.”
What a horrible situation for a child to be in.
“My escape from it all was school. I studied hard, and I was a good student. When it was time for high school, I said I wanted to go to the Louisiana School for Math, Science, and the Arts in Natchitoches—it’s a state boarding school for gifted students. I acted like I was passionate about getting a really good education, but mostly I just wanted to get away.”
She gives an embarrassed smile. “I’m sure that’s way more information than you bargained for.”
“No. I’m glad you told me.”
She fixes me with an earnest gaze. “I didn’t have a great childhood, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a good parent.”
“I don’t think that. I think you’re wonderful with Lily.”
“I see my upbringing as a cautionary tale. It made me keenly aware of how sensitive kids are. I know how important it is that they feel wanted and valued and listened to.”
I nod. “I can understand that.”
We eat our salads in silence for a moment.
“Do you have grandparents or any other family?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Both sets of grandparents were already dead when I was born, but I had some supportive adults when I was growing up. I had some really encouraging teachers, and the mother of a friend in elementary school kind of took me under her wing. And then there was a neighbor across the street—an elderly woman, Mrs. Robichaux—who moved in when I was nine. She was a real character.” Quinn smiles.
“Oh, yeah?”
Quinn nods. “Mom said she was crazy and Dad thought she was superstitious, but she was really kind to me, and my folks didn’t mind me being over there all the time. I quickly learned it was best not to repeat everything she said, though.” Her eyes go soft and fond. “Mrs. Robichaux said that coincidences are miracles where God chooses to remain anonymous, and that heaven gives us little signs to guide us. She said that if you get goose bumps and a strong feeling, that’s your angel whispering in your ear.”
“And you believed it?”
“I still do.” She grins. “When you think about it, it’s not as crazy as it sounds. There are lots of things we can’t see—things like air and sound waves and gravity. So why is it so far-fetched to believe that we might get a little divine nudge through a song, or an overheard snippet of a stranger’s conversation, or even our hair follicles every now and then?”
I smile. “I don’t think it’s all that far-fetched.” I like the fact thatshe believes in a spiritual dimension. Jessica thinks it’s all baloney. “So how did you end up in interior design?”
“I had embarrassingly simplistic motives.” She grins. “I loved the idea of creating happy homes—places that are warm and welcoming and beautiful, where families want to spend time together and gather with friends.”
There’s an honesty about her that touches me. It’s easy to see how her childhood shaped her adult life.
