Dearborn

by Jenni Moen

  He looked confused. “What does that even mean?”

  “I’m thinking I’ll serve a five-star dinner and then the guests get to act out the game. One person is designated as the victim, and everyone else are potential murderers.”

  He laughed. “And since everyone in town already thinks this house is haunted …”

  “Right. And maybe when I’m not full, local people will make dinner reservations, too. The more the merrier.”

  “I think it sounds like a great idea. What’s the other one?”

  “Okay, another option is to decorate each of the bedrooms upstairs with a different theme. I was thinking one could be an enchanted forest and one could be 1,000 Leagues under the Sea. Maybe with some mermaids. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud though.” I was suddenly very nervous again. The only other person I’d told my ideas to was Ryan, and he had been kind of ‘meh’ on both, but he didn’t really have a vision for it. He’d have to see it finished before he’d actually get it.

  Quinn leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all, but why not do both?”

  “Both?” I asked, bewildered. I hadn’t thought of that.

  “Why not? All of the bedrooms are on the second floor, and all of the rooms you need for Clue are on the first floor, right?”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m pretty sure the original Clue game had a bedroom as one of the game rooms. The only bedroom on the first floor is mine, and I don’t really want guests tromping through my room every night.”

  “Hmm … yeah. That’s a problem, but this is such a cool idea. It’s definitely different from anything else in town.”

  “Well, there is only one other inn in town, so it won’t be hard to stand out. I figure, between the tourists the park brings in and the visitors to the college, it will do okay.” I didn’t tell him I thought it might also be popular with some of the more eccentric in town.

  “I think so too.” He leaned back in the chair again, deep in thought. Suddenly, the room was alight in rosy pink and hyperactive orange, and my nerves were buzzing. “You could have an Arabian Nights room and make the bed float like a magic carpet. Another room could be a jungle theme with a stuffed bear in the corner.”

  I hid my shudder. This was as excited as I’d felt Quinn get. I didn’t want to discourage him, but taxidermy of any kind was out of the question. “No bears, but I love the magic carpet idea. I’ll have to do some research to figure out how to do that.”

  “I can help you. Now, you only need one more theme.”

  “Two. There’s the garage,” I reminded him. “Maybe I could move into the garage, but I feel like it might not be close enough to the guests.”

  “Okay. A few problems to work out but still doable.”

  I was silent while I let him brainstorm some more. Whatever he was thinking about, it wasn’t upsetting to either of us. “You’ll still keep the diner, right?” he finally asked.

  “Absolutely. I love the diner, and I have to serve them breakfast somewhere, right? Since it’s just next door, I think it works. I might rename it, though.”

  “What about Candlestick Inn and Revolver Diner?”

  “Oh, my God, I love it. Hold that thought for a second.” I stood up and walked the short distance to the entryway. I threw the door open to find Ryan’s hand extended to knock. Gaston, Janice’s Russian blue cat, snaked between his legs before disappearing into the house.

  “Took you long enough. I thought maybe your Ry-dar was broken. Hell, with the state I’m in, you should’ve felt me coming a mile away.”

  I threw a finger over my lips and hissed at him. “Shhhhh. I have company.”

  His eyes narrowed and he sniffed. “Who? Now that you mention it, I’m getting a weird vibe from this house tonight.”

  “Come see for yourself,” I said, careful not to say the name of my visitor in my head.

  In the living room, Ryan nodded curtly at Quinn. “Dearborn. Good to see you again.” Then he turned and gave me a look letting me know how he really felt about finding him here.

  Quinn muttered a hello as Ryan sat down next to me on the couch, much closer than was customary for us.

  The room was full of aggression, and I found it curious. Ryan wasn’t usually so territorial and couldn’t make a claim on me anyway, and Quinn … well … I didn’t know what to make of him. I didn’t know him well enough even to venture a guess.

  “Quinn helped me tear out the first bathroom upstairs,” I said, filling the awkward silence.

  “Yeah?” Ryan turned to Quinn and sized him up.

  Quinn seemed unconcerned. “She said you were tied up tonight, so I thought I’d help out.”

  Ryan dismissed him with a nod, but I could feel his disapproval diminish a bit. “Listen, Will. I’m really sorry I stood you up. I’ve had a hell of a night though.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I spent the evening at Pond & Duck with Nessie.”

  Ahhhh. Here it is. A trip to the most expensive restaurant in town could only mean one thing: changes were on the horizon. Ryan only took her there when they had something big to discuss. It could only mean one thing.

  “So you asked her then?”

  His face twisted in disbelief. “No, she took me there. She asked me.”

  “To dinner?” I asked hopefully.

  He snorted. “No. To marry her.”

  “She asked you to marry her?”

  “Yep. I was as shocked as you are.”

  I laughed. “I guess she was tired of waiting for you. I have to give it to her. For such a little bird, she’s got big cojones.” She obviously didn’t care about his family’s feelings toward her. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wanted to be impressed by it, but it was going to cause many problems for Ryan. Regardless, I had to give it to her. She got things done.

  Ryan looked briefly at Quinn, weighing something, and then shrugged dismissively. “I guess it’s going to be public knowledge soon anyway. She’s pregnant.”

  I jumped up from the couch and stalked across the room, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Whipping around, I stared down at him. “Say that again.”

  Quinn stood, too, and moved into the middle of the room. “I should be going. You guys need to talk.”

  “It was an accident,” Ryan said, ignoring him. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Accident, my ass. There are things to prevent these types of accidents, which makes them not accidents but acts of stupidity.”

  Ryan jumped up and pointed a finger at me, and streaks of violet and purple instantly bathed the room as Quinn reacted, too.

  Anger. Disappointment. Shame.

  Three competing states of mind pummeled me at once. I couldn’t tell where one stopped and the next began. Which one was mine? Was I angry or disappointed? Lightning bolts of searing pain shot through my head, and I crumpled into a chair in the corner. Instantly, Quinn was in front of me, standing guard between Ryan and me.

  If I hadn’t been so sick, I would’ve been amused. I knew Ryan better than the back of my hand. We understood what it was like to be different. Our arguments often got heated, but I was never in any danger with him. Even if he shifted, I was safe. The same couldn’t be said for Quinn. He had no idea how dangerous Ryan could be. Yet, here he was, standing guard over me.

  Ryan backed down first, sinking back onto the couch. I knew he had just pulled something out of Quinn’s head and that something had changed Ryan’s opinion of him. I’d seen it flash through Ryan’s eyes. I felt his disapproval turn into something more attune to acceptance.

  He looked at Quinn as he spoke, the expression on his face something between surprise and awe. “I would never, ever hurt her, man. Never. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  They stared at each other a moment longer, as if having a silent private conversation where I wasn’t allowed. I knew it wasn’t really fair since only one of them knew what the other was thinking, bu
t Quinn seemed to be holding his own.

  I could ask Ryan for a rundown on Quinn’s thoughts the next day at work, but I wouldn’t. I already liked Quinn too much to violate his privacy like that. Whatever Quinn thought about me—or anything else, for that matter—I wanted him to tell me himself. Secondhand would never be good enough.

  Their standoff ended, and Ryan turned to me. He shook his head before dropping it into his hands and threading his fingers through his hair. Tears sprang into my eyes, my sorrow a reflection of his. “I didn’t think you were the one I had to worry about, Will. Someone has to be in my corner, and I need it to be you.”

  I looked at his fallen face and slumped shoulders and melted.

  He’s going to be a dad.

  He was nearly thirty years old. He had someone who cared about him. She might not be my choice, but he was definitely in a better place than I was. The only guy I’d been attracted to in at least three years made me sick on sight.

  All I had was a cat—and not even my own cat, since I’d inherited him with pretty much everything else I owned. I was doomed to grow old; a lonely spinster in a house full of strangers … and that was only if my bed and breakfast was a success. Ryan, though … he had a family now.

  I rubbed my temples and forced a smile through the headache. “Of course, I’m on your side. What do we do next?”

  “Plan a wedding?”

  “What kind of wedding?” The two-natured typically had two weddings—one they could invite their human friends to and one for their immediate family and pack or clan, as the case might be. The latter was an intense ceremony requiring the bride and groom to exchange vows first in human form and then in shifted form. The group’s leader typically performed it. In Ryan’s case, that meant his grandfather. His parents would also have a role, so without his family’s support, there would be no such a ceremony, and they would remain unmarried in the eyes of those who mattered most to them.

  “She doesn’t care that she’s knocked up. She wants an old-fashioned white wedding with a reception afterward,” he said, answering my question.

  “Ahh. Where?” Woodland Creek was short on party venues, but there was the community room at the library and the ballrooms at the university.

  Ryan ducked his head and winced. “I kind of told her we could do it here.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Ryan! The house is nowhere near ready for guests, let alone a party.”

  “When?” Quinn asked, showing a sudden interest in Ryan’s predicament.

  “Six or seven weeks, but it’s perfect, Willow. Think of it like a sneak peek for people to see the magnificence of what’s coming to Woodland Creek.”

  “In the backyard?” I asked, hopefully.

  He looked exasperated. “It’s going to be freezing cold in six weeks.”

  “We’ll get tents and those heater things. And swans.” I thought about one of my favorite movies as a little girl. That was how they’d done it, and how I’d always imagined my own wedding would be. There was nothing more romantic than swans.

  “You’re such a sap,” he said laughing. “We don’t know any swans.”

  “True.” I snuck a glance at Quinn to see if he’d caught Ryan’s reference to the two-natured, but Quinn seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  I was just thankful the room was a normal hue and whatever he was thinking about wasn’t affecting me. I was too zapped to even try to construct the wall again. I suspected I would be a wreck the rest of the evening, so it would help if everyone could get along.

  “I actually told Nessie we could have the wedding in here, and she could walk down the staircase. She wants a grand entrance.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course, she did.

  “What if people want to go upstairs? There’s no way it can be ready in six weeks.”

  “That’s cool. Seven’s fine.”

  I glared at Ryan.

  “I can help,” Quinn interjected.

  Oh, man. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. There was no way I could spend the next six weeks sick as a dog. Then again, I hadn’t been worried about it at all when I’d been begging him to kiss me upstairs. When it came to Quinn, I was in a constant state of confusion, torn between needing to get as far away from him as possible and wanting to pull him closer.

  I tore my eyes from Quinn to find Ryan scowling at me, probably because I’d just admitted to wanting Quinn to kiss me upstairs. He had to understand that I couldn’t accept Quinn’s offer. “That’s so sweet of you to offer, but I can’t ask you to do that. Besides, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”

  He shrugged. “I really don’t.”

  “And I can’t afford to pay you much … if anything.”

  Ryan piped up. “I can vouch for that. She’s been abusing me for months, but she’ll feed you well and keep you in beer.” I narrowed my eyes at him. Why was he suddenly so supportive of this idea?

  “That’s payment enough for me. I’m not supposed to work yet anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Medical reasons.”

  That concerned me. “If you’re still healing, then this is definitely a bad idea. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  I could feel him shutting down on me. “It’s nothing like that. This will be good for me. At least, it will get me out of my mom’s house for a few hours every day.”

  “Sounds like the perfect solution,” Ryan said, “because I need to get a real job.”

  I went into full glare mode. “You’re not even going to help?” I was going to put the hurt on him next time I saw him when Quinn wasn’t around.

  “I’ll help, but I need to make some extra cash in the evenings. I have a baby on the way.”

  “Do you realize what a pain in my ass you are?” I asked him before turning to Quinn. “Are you sure about this?”

  He nodded happily. “I’ll get started tomorrow.”

  I didn’t need Ryan’s help to know Quinn’s intentions were genuine. I chewed on the inside of my cheek while I considered his offer. If I could manage to stay on my feet when he was around, it could work out well for everyone. Vanessa would get her wedding, and Ryan would get to play her savior. Quinn would have somewhere different to go every day, which seemed important to him. And I might be able to open my bed and breakfast years before I’d planned.

  It would work.

  Maybe.

  WILLOW

  QUINN’S TRUCK WAS PARKED AROUND the back of the house, sitting in front of the garage as if it belonged there. The sight of it filled me with equal parts apprehension and excitement.

  This whole situation still felt like a disaster in the making, but how could I say no? Ryan hadn’t left me with much of a choice. It was going to take someone working nearly full time to get this house ready for a wedding in seven weeks.

  As much as it should be Ryan’s problem, I knew he couldn’t do it. He’d spent this afternoon combing the streets looking for a second job. I couldn’t pay him enough at the diner to support a family. Maybe if we stayed open for dinner too, but that would mean giving up my dream. I couldn’t be at the diner every night and run a bed and breakfast. Even if they were next door to each other, I couldn’t be in two places at once.

  My bigger fear was that I was going to lose him completely. If he found a job that paid better than I could, I was sure he’d quit the diner altogether. Good cooks were hard to find, so the thought terrified me, but I’d decided not to dwell on it for the time being.

  After all, I had another problem to focus on—Quinn Dearborn.

  He was in my house.

  He’d spent all day working upstairs, and I’d spent all day preparing myself for the roller coaster ride of emotions I’d have to deal with when I got home. Both his and mine.

  I’d decided to take a proactive approach. Before I’d left for the diner this morning, I’d gone down to the basement to hunt for the tea recipe Janice had used when I’d come down with the Dearborn Flu during high school. Luckily, Ja
nice had always kept meticulous records of her concoctions. The basement shelves held stacks and stacks of journals. Some of the pages read like recipes while others read more like diary entries, but all had dates. It hadn’t taken me long to find the book most likely to have the information I needed.

  I’d flipped quickly through the October entries during 2001 until I’d found a page titled ‘Willow’s Tea.’ The ingredients were common enough, and I found the chamomile, ginger, and cinnamon bark I needed in Janice’s jars of weirdness.

  Before I’d left for work, I’d made a big pitcher of the vile smelling tea and gulped down an even more vile tasting glass of it. I’d put the rest in the refrigerator, knowing I was going to need to mainline the stuff when I got home from school. I parked my car next to his truck, grabbed dinner off the seat, and ran around to the front steps with that in mind.

  To my surprise, he was standing in the kitchen eyeing the microwave. “Oh no, I was really hoping you hadn’t eaten yet.” I held up the bag of Chinese food.

  “I haven’t.” He shifted on his feet as if he wasn’t entirely at home standing in my kitchen. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it yet either.

  “Were you looking for something to drink?” I stepped around him, opened the cabinet, and pulled two glasses out.

  “Uhhh, yeah.”

  Gosh, I hope it’s not going to be this awkward for the next seven weeks. The night before we’d been completely at ease with each other, but now, we were both acting as if we’d never met.

  “What would you like?” I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of tea.

  The smell hit him not long after it hit me. His eyes grew wide, and he covered his nose. “Not what you’re having.”

  I giggled. “I don’t blame you. You know what? There’s still some beer in here. Would you like one of those instead?”

  “That would be great.” He went to the refrigerator to get it himself. While he dug around for a beer, I frantically drank my glass of tea. I did my best to keep my expression level but coughed midway through when the wretched stuff went down the wrong pipe.