“I am,” Mrs. Moore says. “She lives with me in Alexandria now. It’s lucky you came by this weekend. We’re only in New Orleans for a few days.”
Mrs. Moore strikes me as too old to care for a toddler. Wait—is a three-year-old still a toddler? There’s so much I don’t know about kids. “Do you have other family in Alexandria?”
“Other family?”
“A daughter or son or granddaughter or someone who can help you with Lily.”
She shakes her head. “Lily and I are each other’s only family.”
“You have me.” Quinn shifts toward the edge of her chair. “I’m like family.”
“Yes, dear, but you aren’t. Not real family. That’s why I reached out to Lily’s father.”
Quinn’s lips part. I’m sure my jaw drops as well. An awkward pause hulks over the room, punctuated by the ticking of the old clock on the mantel.
“Oh, my—I’m sorry, Quinn, dear. That didn’t come out right at all,” Margaret says. She touches her chest again. Her upper lip is perspiring. “I’m very fond of you, you know that. You’ve been nothing but splendid, and I know you adore Lily and Lily adores you. It’s just that, well—blood is thicker than water, and since Lily still has a living parent, I thought it was important to get him in the picture.”
Another round of uncomfortable silence hunches over us.
“Oh, goodness.” Mrs. Moore struggles to her feet. I stand, too, ready to help her. “I’m forgetting all my manners. Let me get you some iced tea. Or would you prefer coffee?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Actually, I’m anything but fine. What doesin the picturemean?
“Nonsense. Never in my life have I failed to offer hospitality. My mother used to say, ‘It’s rude not to offer, and rude to refuse.’ So what would you like? Coffee, tea, or water?”
Apparently she’s not going to take no for an answer. “Um... just water, please.”
“I’ll get it, Miss Margaret,” Quinn says, rising from her armchair.
“Oh, no. No, no, no, no.” She flaps her wrist. “This is my house now, and I insist on doing the honors. You stay here and keep Mr.—Bradford, was it?”
“Bradley,” I supply.
“Mr. Bradley. Quinn, dear, you stay here and keep Mr. Bradley company. What can I bring you, dear?”
Quinn reluctantly sits back down. “Um... just water, too. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
I watch the older woman shuffle out of the room, then look at Quinn and sit back down. “I’m so sorry about Brooke.”
“Thank you,” she says stiffly.
“You and Lily are close, I take it?”
“Very. I’m her godmother and the backup guardian.” She lowers her voice. “Brooke was going to change her will to make me guardian after Miss Margaret’s next birthday, but she passed before...” Her voice breaks. She puts her hand over her mouth for a moment.
She has one of those expressive faces where every emotion shows. My heart goes out to her.
She swallows and takes her hand away. “Anyway, yes, I’m very close to Lily.” She gives a wry smile. “And you might not know it from what she just said, but I’m close to Miss Margaret, too.”
“She seems sort of frail.”
Quinn’s forehead creases. “She’s not at her best today. She’s in great shape for her age, but it’s been really hard on her, losing Brooke. Being back in Brooke’s home and going through all of her things to put the house on the market is taking a toll on her.”
“She’s selling this place?”
Quinn nods. “Movers are coming later today to pack up the contents of the closets and drawers. We’ve taken down all the photos to depersonalize the place so prospective buyers can envision...”
