“Will be fine. As you already said, Jeff will be here a little later. The timing will work out perfectly. Grandmother invited Wyatt and me to dinner. We’ll keep Tristan occupied.”
Brett glanced at his watch. “Quinn is working at the art gallery until five.”
“Which gives you time to freshen up and swing by the flower shop to buy her a bouquet of flowers before whisking her away for a romantic dinner,” Morgan pointed out.
“I like your plan. Yes, I think surprising her with dinner is a great idea. I’ll track Tristan down, freshen up and head out.” He excused himself and hurried out of the room.
Elizabeth hesitated, a hint of concern flitting across her face. “He has his hands full.”
“Yes, he does,” Morgan agreed. “Despite Quinn understanding Brett is in a tough spot and is only trying to dothe right thing, she needs to feel like he hasn’t forgotten about her.”
“Some time alone should help smooth things over.”
“Parenting can be tricky, but I believe if Brett puts in the effort, their relationship will be back on solid footing soon.”
Chapter 22
Quinn darted from the desk to the back counter, verifying the pieces the Easton Harbor Art Gallery had received on consignment had been catalogued properly.
Despite the bright interior lights, dark, stormy clouds outside the window made the winter day gloomy…much like Quinn’s recent mood. Or maybe it was her life.
She and Brett had been getting along so well. He surprised her with spontaneous romantic outings, showering her with flowers and thoughtful love notes. Her soulmate had courted her, as Elizabeth had teased, “in a most serious manner.”
Brett was everything Quinn could want—thoughtful, caring, sharing common interests, funny, with a quiet, assured air, a man who was comfortable with who he was.
She admired those qualities and many more. In fact, there were times she literally had to pinch herself. “Prince Charmings” like Brett were few and far between. The way he made her heart flutter, how she felt when he kissed her, how her heart pitter-pattered whenever he walked into the room.
To sum it up, Quinn had finally found a man she could envision one day marrying, raising a family and creating a loving home. The couple’s relationship had been hunky-dory until the day Tristan Blakely and his uncle showed up on Easton Estate’s doorstep.
A tinge of guilt filled Quinn. It wasn’t Tristan’s fault. The boy had lost his mother and was living with an uncle who couldn’t care for him, even though he tried. The man he looked up to as a father figure had gone MIA.
And he was a nice kid—thoughtful, affectionate and filled with wonder at living on Easton Island, which made her feel even more like a heel. Brett, working hard to ensure his son felt loved and welcome, was showering him with attention, both understandable and necessary.
The fact of the matter was, Quinn no longer knew where she fit into Brett’s life.Things will settle down soon,she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. The entire Easton family was going through a period of adjustment, even Morgan, who was making a point of being involved in Tristan’s life.
Try harder.
“I will,” Quinn whispered to the empty room. “Tristan deserves one-hundred percent support from everyone in his life. I’m going to step up,” she vowed. “Starting today.”
With the solemn vow firmly set in her mind, she finished inventorying the art and tidying her desk.
A customer arrived, searching for a birthday gift. After going over several pieces, the man finally selected a Sia Vortman piece from an up-and-coming artist who was popular in the Great Lakes region.
“We offer gift wrapping now.” Quinn showed him the rolls of paper on the wall behind the desk. “Would you like the painting wrapped?”
“I’m not good at wrapping. What a great perk.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, casually looking around. “Does Mrs. Easton still own this place?”
“Mrs. Easton-Ainsworth. She does and even works here when she’s in town.” Quinn prepared the artwork, protecting the delicate piece by wrapping it in glassine, a translucent paper. She ran a strip of tape along the center and then added cornerprotectors before placing it inside a cardboard box. “Which paper would you like?”
“The gold.”
“Excellent choice and my personal favorite.” Eyeballing the amount needed, Quinn expertly cut a sheet of the embossed gold foil paper and placed it on the counter. “Do you live on Easton Island?”
“No. I’m from Port Huron but am here visiting my birthday friend. I noticed the gallery was open and decided to stop in. I’m glad I did.”
Quinn finished wrapping the gift and placed a glittery gold bow on top. Completing the transaction, the man left, and the gallery was once again quiet.
With only a few minutes left before closing, she cleaned the coffee pot, turned the breakroom’s dishwasher on and grabbed her things.
