Quinn held up two fingers. “Another for him and one for me, please.” He looked at Mack again. “You had anything to eat yet? You gotta eat. Whatever you want; I’m buying.”
“Thanks.” Mack gave an almost-smile and spoke to the waiter. “I’ll have what he ordered.”
The food arrived, and while they ate, Quinn told Mack everything that had happened—everything he’d done—to ruin his relationship with Abby.
“Yeah, I knew already. That was boneheaded,” Mack said, his tone neutral and nonjudgmental. “I have to ’fess up that I’m the one who told Abby about the petition. I thought that she and Reva had a right to know what they’re up against and why.”
“Yeah?” Quinn did a gut check to see how he felt about that news, and decided that he didn’t feel any sort of way. Mack was a good guy doing what he thought best. “I guess it was bound to come out sooner or later. How’d you find out?”
“I asked JP how he knew about the land, and he didn’t mind telling me. In fact, he didn’t mind telling me everything.”
“Of course he didn’t.” JP didn’t care about anyone but himself, and he loved to stir up drama and strife.
“What are you gonna do to get back in Abby’s good graces?”
“I don’t know.” Quinn swirled the bourbon in his glass, making the ice cubes clink. “I’ve got to find a way to convince the powers that be not to force Bayside Barn to shut down.”
“The city council is on your side. But the mayor’s eyes are dollar-sign green.”
“Hard to beat the lure of money.” Quinn finished his drink and signaled the bartender for another. “You want another one?” He asked Mack.
“Naw. Two’s my limit.”
“You gotta go back to work?”
Mack shook his head. “Not unless I get an emergency call. I figured since I lost my wife and my office manager this morning, that was cause enough to close early today.”
“Both?”
Mack gave Quinn a droll look. “Same person.”
“Welp, I can help you with part of your problem. Abby used to be an office manager, and she’s looking for a job, or at least she will be once Reva comes home. You should call her.”
Mack’s eyebrows went up. “Thanks for the tip. I will.”
The bartender brought Quinn’s second drink. He raised it to Mack before taking a sip. “Here’s to new beginnings, whatever they look like.”
Mack raised his nearly empty glass. “Here’s to the endings that have to come before the new beginnings, whatever that looks like.”
“I’m not ready to give up yet,” Quinn said. “There has to be a way to salvage the situation with Bayside Barn.”
“JP dangled a baited hook in front of the mayor,” Mack said. “But as bait goes, this one’s pretty slippery and liable to wiggle off before the big fish they’re hoping for comes along. JP’s idea has a lot of potential, but there’s also a lot of risk. They’ll have to do environmental impact studies that could take years, and buying up all those separate properties may not be as easy or cheap as JP makes it out to be.”
“Okay, so…” Quinn made a come-along gesture with his fingers. “It sounds like you have an idea. Let’s hear it.”
“Maybe you could dangle some bait that’s less likely to slip off the hook. A sure thing that would pay off quicker. Elections are coming up in the fall. Mayor Wright might trade the potential of money in the future for a better shot at job security right now.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“I dunno. Whatcha got?”
The bartender walked past, and Quinn motioned for the check. “All I’ve got is that estate I’m renovating. And to be honest, I was kind of thinking about moving in there myself. With Abby, if she’ll have me.”
“Well, she ain’t moving in with you if you don’t fix the problem you caused, so maybe you ought not put the cart before the horse. Especially since the horse ain’t even broke yet and is just as liable to kick you as to look at you.”
Quinn finished his drink and set the glass on the inner rim of the bar. “Point taken. So given that all I’ve got to bargain with is the estate, how can I use that capital to bait my hook?”
“The town’s been needing an animal shelter since forever. If you donated your estate—”
“Donate!” The word burst out of Quinn’s mouth before he knew it, and several people near them turned to look. “Donate,” he said more quietly. “It’s all I have. If I donate it, I’ll be throwing away all the equity I put into buying the place. I won’t even have a place to live.”
“Well now, hold on.” Mack’s wide brow furrowed in thought. “What if you donate the land to the city for the shelter, and offer to renovate the house and property to that end? You could stipulate that the city would have to pay you for the renovations—they’d have to pay anyone else they hired—and you could further stipulate that you want to live in the pool house while you do the renovations. That’d give you a steady income and plenty of time to find another place to live.”
“Shit, Mack.” Crazy. Reckless. Stupid. Those words flew through Quinn’s head as he took care of the bill. Why would he give away every ounce of financial security he’d managed to hang onto after the divorce and the collapse of his career? If he did that, he’d have nothing, no safety net.
But maybe if he threw everything he had down the well, he’d get to keep his relationship with Abby—or at least a chance to try again. “It might work.”
Mack stood. “I came in on my boat; it’s tied up to the dock. I’m gonna hang out on the water a while. You’re welcome to join me if you’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll go back home and think about your idea.” Quinn stood, too, and slipped his wallet into his back pocket. They walked out of the restaurant into brilliant afternoon sunlight. Quinn slipped his aviators on.
Squinting, Mack clapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Thanks for lunch. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Quinn waited till Mack’s battered old fishing boat puttered away from the dock, then put on his helmet and headed home. As the wind blew through his hair—metaphorically; he was wearing a helmet—and his mind, Quinn let Mack’s idea spin around in the mental whirlwind. All the pros and cons fluttered like bits of paper set loose in a hot Louisiana breeze. By the time he’d made it back to the estate’s driveway, all but two of those bits of paper had fallen to the ground.
Con: Lose everything—not just lose it, but give it away.
Pro: Have another shot at making a life with Abby.
By the time he stepped on the kickstand and took off his helmet, he’d made his decision.
The Pro won.
* * *
After talking with Mack—and then with Quinn—Abby decided that Reva deserved to know that Quinn’s complaint to his real estate agent was what started this entire mess. This flaming snowball of shit was getting bigger by the minute, and it had gathered enough momentum that nothing could stop it from rolling straight to hell. Somebody had to do something, and Abby was at a loss. She and Edna—and Quinn, too, she had to admit—had done everything they could. Quinn had no influence over JP, and if he could have stopped the impending disaster, he would have done it already. They needed everyone brainstorming together to figure out what to do before it was too late.
Abby sent a text telling Reva that she’d call the dormitory phone that evening at seven, and Reva responded with a thumbs-up icon. At the appointed time, Reva answered on the first ring, her voice breezy, happy, and just a little bit out of breath. “Hello, love. How is everything at the farm?”
Terrible? Horrible? Dealing with impending doom? Abby cast about for an appropriate answer. “The animals are all fine.”
“Oh.” Reva’s joyful-sounding voice crashed to earth. “What’s going on?”
Abby sat at the kitch
en table and poured out the whole sad story. When she finished, the connection went silent for a couple of ticks. “Reva? Are you still there?”
“Yes, honey. I’m still here. Just thinking. Give me a sec.” After hearing this kind of news, most people would be screeching loud enough to burst Abby’s eardrums. But Abby could visualize Reva at this moment, because she’d seen it so many times before. When other people would be pacing the floor with steam coming out of their ears and blood pulsing behind their eyes, Reva would sit quietly with her hands clasped and her eyes closed, listening to someone or something beyond the veil between this world and the next. “Where’s Wolf? Have you communicated with him lately?”
A swift change of subject. “No. But when Quinn left, Wolf went with him.”
“Two outcasts who’ve been betrayed by those they loved.”
“But I didn’t betray Quinn; he betrayed me. And you. He betrayed us.”
“No, he hasn’t betrayed you, because the farm isn’t yours. And he didn’t betray me, because he doesn’t know me at all, let alone well enough to betray me. The important point to remember going forward is that you haven’t betrayed him yet. But you might be next in line, because you also haven’t given him the benefit of your understanding and compassion, have you?”
Understanding and compassion. When had either of those virtues done anything other than break her heart? “But Reva,” Abby sputtered, “you should be angry at him. He started something that might… I mean…” Abby could feel Reva’s patience on the other end of the connection, and she pulled her thoughts together. “Everything you’ve worked for all these years, everything you’re working for now—”
“Won’t be wasted.”
Abby felt the wind in her sails die down. “But what if you lose?”
“What if,” Reva replied in a gently mocking tone. “Maybe we should forget about what ifs and think about what is.”
Abby’s mind felt scrambled, and she wished she had called Reva much sooner. “Please tell me what is, Aunt Reva. I think I need reminding.”
Reva took a deep breath, and Abby knew she was connecting into some other consciousness, maybe an animal or maybe an angel or maybe someone’s spirit guide. “Wolf tells me that Quinn loves you dearly—”
“Well, he hasn’t said so yet,” Abby responded with a huffy tone she couldn’t keep out of her voice.
“—And he is brokenhearted over what happened.” Reva didn’t pause or acknowledge Abby’s outburst. “He didn’t mean for his… Hang on—I’m searching for the right word…his unthinking actions…no, his hasty actions…to have any effect other than blowing off steam.”
That was almost exactly what Quinn had said.
“Wolf says that Quinn has come up with a plan to reverse the impact of his bad decisions, and he is already acting on the plan. Your hostility—”
“I’m not hostile!” Abby butted in.
“Your hostility,” Reva repeated patiently, “is reducing Quinn’s power in creating this change he’s working toward. You need to stop sending anger and start sending love. You need to release your frustration at the world’s unfairness and recognize that most people—like maybe sixty-one percent—are doing the best they can, given their circumstances. And I’m telling you that Quinn is part of the sixty-one percent.”
Reva’s words surrounded Abby like a warm blanket. “Should I go over there and apologize?”
“Leave it be tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and when all is well, Quinn will come to you. Meanwhile, you have some inner work to do. Talk to Wolf; he has advice for you. Write in your journal; your higher self has advice for you, too. And once you’ve done all that, sit with Georgia and meditate on what you want to manifest for your future. She’ll help.”
Abby sighed. “But what about your future? What about the future of Bayside Barn?”
“Those are my concerns, not yours. Ever since this controversy started, I’ve been doing the inner work I’m advising you to do, and I’m certain that whatever happens will be for the greater good. Now. I want you to take the rest of the evening to journal and meditate. Will you do that?”
Abby’s conversations with Reva always ended up with a list of marching orders. “I will. Anything else I need to know?”
“Aside from the fact that I’m coming home this weekend?”
“Oh, shit.” Abby glanced at the calendar on the wall above Reva’s desk. Reva’s course was ending on Friday, and Abby would be picking her up at the airport in New Orleans late that evening. “Yes, of course. I hadn’t forgotten.” Not exactly. She would have looked at that calendar sooner or later.
“When’s the city council meeting?” Reva asked.
“Not this Friday but next,” Abby supplied. “That’s when they’ll make their decision—and if it’s in our favor, we have to hope that the mayor won’t veto. That’s honestly my worst fear, that we’ll have everyone on our side but the mayor.”
“And what is fear?” Reva asked gently.
“False evidence appearing real,” Abby answered dutifully. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Please do,” Reva said. “And stop worrying. Let’s not put any energy into projecting outcomes other than those we want.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, so. You have your marching orders?”
Now that Reva knew everything, Abby felt more settled and confident than she had in days. If Reva wasn’t freaking out, then maybe Abby shouldn’t be, either. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much for not blaming me for everything that’s happened on my watch. I’m really sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me for letting this situation get so out of hand.”
“Honey, if you needed forgiveness for anything, I’d have already given it to you. But there’s nothing to forgive.”
“But—”
“Do me one more favor before you go to bed tonight, please,” Reva added.
“Anything,” Abby answered.
“Forgive yourself.”
* * *
Quinn tried to see the mayor that day, but the best he could do—after wasting over an hour getting cleaned up and dressed up and driving into town—was to make an appointment for the following day and go home. Sean was at his mom’s and Abby wasn’t speaking to him, but at least he had Wolf, who’d been lying by the pool house’s sliding glass door when Quinn parked his bike on the patio. “Hey, buddy,” Quinn said. “You want to come in this time?”
Wolf looked up at him sideways without lifting his chin off his paws.
“Well, okay, then.” Quinn stepped over the dog to enter the pool house, but left the door open in case Wolf changed his mind. “In case it matters, I’m grilling steak for dinner.”
Wolf declined to come inside, even when Quinn put a big, juicy steak out on the kitchen counter to marinate. Griff snuck in and hopped onto the counter, but Quinn caught the cat a split second before he could steal a taste of homemade steak marinade. (Abby’s cooking prowess had somehow sparked some culinary creativity in Quinn, but he planned to confine his newfound talent to grilling.)
Quinn tossed the cat out and took a cold beer out with him onto the patio. When he fired up the grill and put the steak on, Georgia showed up. She hung out until Abby called her, and it broke Quinn’s already-battered heart to see her and Wolf parting after each tried to convince the other to stay together. But Wolf refused to budge, and Georgia had to leave.
Griff tried to cuddle with Wolf, to offer him some consolation, but Wolf looked away and growled softly. When the steak was perfectly browned, Quinn dished up a delicious but lonely dinner, wishing Abby or Sean—or Abby and Sean—were there to share it with him. Wolf still wouldn’t come inside, and mosquitoes were starting to drift in, so Quinn admitted defeat and closed the door.
After dinner, he went to bed early, since there was nothing better to do. He had that same dream he’d had before in whi
ch Abby was a mermaid in the frog-green pool. As before, the dream started out erotic and turned out dark. But this time, she wasn’t dragging him down. This time, she was stuck underwater, unable to breathe, and hopelessly tangled in a net he’d thrown over the pool before he knew she was down there. And no matter how hard he swam, he couldn’t get past the net’s sturdy mesh to save her.
When Wolf’s lonely howl outside the door woke Quinn at 2:00 a.m., he was almost relieved. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, but at least he could stop dreaming.
* * *
Georgia’s high-pitched howl woke Abby from a dead sleep at 2:00 a.m. She bolted upright. “What?”
Georgia howled again. Abby listened to the sounds outside, alert for signs of an intruder breaking in. But all she could hear was the familiar nighttime chorus of tree frogs and crickets. “What is it, Georgia?”
The little dog howled again, the sound mournful and distraught. And then, Abby heard Wolf’s answering howl coming from next door. “Oh, girl.” Abby stroked Georgia’s fur. “Are you missing Wolf?”
Georgia howled again. Of course she was missing her friend. But she and Wolf had chosen opposite sides in this ongoing war between Abby and Quinn. “I’m sorry,” Abby said. “You can go over there if you want to.”
But Georgia only lifted her face to the ceiling and howled again.
“Come here.” Abby hauled Georgia up close and tried to snuggle her back to sleep, but Georgia’s body remained taut with tension. Abby held Georgia still and managed to drift off into dreamland herself, but Georgia bolted upright at 3:16 a.m. and started howling again.
Abby took the little dog’s face in her hands and stared into her worried brown eyes. “Georgia. If I promise to talk to Quinn tomorrow, will you please let me sleep?”
Georgia pulled away and howled again. Wolf howled back, and Abby almost considered going to Quinn’s right away. But thoughts of the swarms of mosquitoes that would attack her between here and there held her off. “I promise, I’ll talk to Quinn tomorrow if you’ll just let me sleep tonight.”
After few minutes more of singing the songs of her people while Wolf sang back from Quinn’s side of the fence, Georgia quieted down and seemed to relax. “That’s it, girl,” Abby crooned and massaged Georgia’s tense muscles. “You just relax and go to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll all do better tomorrow.”
Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay Page 31