“I wanted him in the picture,” I say. “A young girl needs a father to protect her.”
Quinn’s eyes seem to see right through me. “You seem to be speaking from experience. Did something happen to you, Miss Margaret?”
Memories start to surface, memories I’ve mostly managed to keep buried all these years. I try to swat them away with a flip of my wrist. “Oh, it was all a long time ago.”
“Still, I’d love to hear your story.”
“Another day, dear. There’s something else I need to talk to you about right now. Someone came by. She was a casing... a caser...” I riffle through the pages of my notebook and finally find what I’m looking for. “A case manager. Miss Johnson.”
Quinn nods. “She and I already spoke.”
I look at my notes. “That’s what she said. I’m supposed to be here for the rest of the week, and then they want to transfer me to an inpatient rehabilitation hospital for a month or so. There’s one attached to this place that they recommend.”
Quinn’s head bobs. “I went over and looked at it. It’s excellent.”
There’s more in my notes. I read it aloud. “She asked about plans for after my release. She said I probably won’t ever be able tolive by myself in my own house.” This hits me afresh as I say it. Merciful heavens; I can’t imagine going into a nursing home or assisted living facility.
My eyes get a little misty. Oh, dear—I don’t want to cry; I don’t believe in indulging in self-pity, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for myself. “I’m worried about what happens when I get out of rehabilitation.”
Quinn leans forward. “I’d love for you to move in with Lily and me.”
I pause, unsure I’m understanding correctly. “Into your house?”
“Yes.”
“Until I’m well enough to go home or to an assisted living center?”
“Well, Lily and I would love for it to be permanent. For it to be your new home.” She gives a hopeful smile, like she’s asking me for a favor. “I can turn the downstairs office into a bedroom. That’s what it was originally. There’s a bathroom with a tub and a walk-in shower, so you’d have your own quarters.”
“Well, I...” I don’t know what to think, much less say.
“Lily would love to have you live with us, and so would I.” Her hazel eyes lock on mine. They’re sincere and full of affection. “And if you’re willing and able once you get better, you could be a big help with Lily and the new baby.”
“Oh!” My heart feels like it’s dancing. I clutch my chest. “Oh, Quinn, dear, I would love to help with Lily and the baby!” I hesitate. “But I don’t want to impose.”
“Are you kidding? You’d be helping me.”
I never, ever want to be where I’m not wanted or in the way. “Perhaps I could move into Brooke’s house.”
“Brooke’s house doesn’t have a ground-floor bedroom or full bathroom, but if you want to live separately later when you’re fully recovered, we can figure that out then.” Quinn reaches out and takes my hand. “The key thing is, Lily and I would love for you to come live with us after you get out of rehab.”
I wonder if she knows what a lifeline she’s throwing me. There’s a lot I don’t recall, but I remember that Brooke had wanted to turn full guardianship over to Quinn when I turned eighty. Before my heart attack and fall, I’d been planning to fight it. Oh, thank God I didn’t! That would have been a terrible mistake, one based on pride and my own personal history, history that has nothing to do with Quinn.
“That’s a wonderful offer, dear,” I tell her now. “I—I feel a little overwhelmed.”
“Take your time and think about it.” Quinn squeezes my hand. “But having you there to help with Lily and the baby would be the answer to my prayers.”
I squeeze her fingers back, my eyes as full as my heart. More than anything, I want to be useful. Being needed gives meaning to life. “It’s an answer to mine, as well.” She looks a little blurry to me, but the warmth in her gaze shines through. “If you’re sure you want me, the answer is yes.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Quinn
Friday, May 31
WHEN I WASa child, our house was a cluttered mess and my mother never invited people over. I promised myself that when I grew up, I wouldn’t live like that. I’d have a home I wasn’t ashamed of, a home that was pretty and neat, a home where people were welcome.
It’s a promise I’ve kept. Tonight the single parent group is here for an early dinner of pizza and salad. I won’t be able to make the usual monthly meeting at the coffee shop tomorrow, so I offered to host it this evening. The adults are gathered around my dining room table while Mac’s niece watches Lily, Sarah’s twins, and Annie’s son on the backyard deck.
