by Louise Clark
He was standing in his open doorway, leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Listening in on a couples fight is uncomfortable. Only hearing one side must be torture."
His mouth quirked up in a half smile as he pushed away from the doorjamb and came toward her. "I don't care what the cat said. It's what you said that matters to me."
She watched him approach, not moving, her thoughts despairing.
When they were face-to-face, he reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I understand why you want to leave Vancouver. I don't think it will solve all your problems, but I do understand."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffed back the tears that threatened. "Thank you."
His hand stroked down her cheek and came to rest on her shoulder. "There has to be a way to sort out the Shively problem without resorting to relocation to another province."
"I don't want to go, but it's the only option I can see."
"All I ask is that you don't rush away immediately. Give me a chance to work this out with you. Together we found out what happened to Frank, despite the odds against us. We can figure out what to do about Shively as well."
"Quinn, I—"
He brought his hand up again, and put his finger on her lips. "Shh. Come out to dinner with me tonight. We can talk it out quietly, without the damn cat interfering."
Despite herself, Christy laughed. It was little more than a chuckle, but it sounded good to her ears, although maybe it was Quinn's faith in her that lightened her mood. All she knew was that she wanted to be with him tonight. "All right. I'll come out with you and I won't make any arrangements until we've talked."
He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone in a tender gesture. "I'll pick you up at six."
* * *
The afternoon was as beautiful as the morning had been. The air was clear, with just a hint of crispness, and the sky was a cloudless blue. In the woods surrounding the path, the sun shone through the stark, bare branches of the maple and cottonwood trees and made the dark needles of the evergreens gleam. It was a day to savor and enjoy, because the dull skies and raw drizzles of winter would soon be the norm. Vancouver's weather wouldn't matter, of course, if she relocated to Ontario, but Quinn's faith in their ability to solve this latest problem gave her at least a smidgeon of hope that she'd see another rainy BC winter rather than a snowy Ontario one.
"Let's go for a walk along the path before we head home," Christy said when picked up Noelle at the school.
"But Mary and I—" A glance at Christy's face made Noelle frown and swallowed the protest she was about to make. "Okay."
Christy bit her lip. She didn't want her daughter to fret, but she had to talk to her about their future and she thought it would be better to do it away from the house. She held out her hand and Noelle took it, then they walked together to the rear of the school grounds and out onto the path through the greenbelt.
When they had walked some distance from the school, Christy said, "Aunt Ellen was officially arrested today, sweetheart."
Noelle's eyes widened and she paled. "That sounds bad, Mom, but what does it really mean?"
"Aunt Ellen may have to spend some time in jail and then she will to go to court. It won't be nice for Aunt Ellen." Christy bit her lip. "Or for us."
Noelle kicked at the fallen leaves littering the path. "You mean like when Daddy disappeared and everyone thought he was a bad man?"
Christy sighed. "Yeah. People judge even though they don't know all the facts. It will be stressful."
Noelle was quiet while she processed this. She trudged down the path, her hand clutching Christy's. That she wasn't skipping along, full of exuberant energy, was evidence of the weight Ellen's arrest put on her. Christy's dark, troubled mood deepened. Finally Noelle said, "Do you think she did it, Mom? That she hurt that lady like the police said?"
Christy hesitated. Did she think Ellen was guilty of causing Brittany's death? Ellen Jamieson was a difficult woman and she could be cold, but murder? "There's a lot of evidence against Aunt Ellen. The murder happened in her condo, so naturally the police are suspicious."
"Yes, but do you think she did it?"
Yes or no. Christy had to jump down on one side or the other. She swallowed hard and stared at the lacy fronds of a distant cedar tree without really seeing them. "No, I think Aunt Ellen is innocent."
"Good," said Noelle, sounding more cheerful. "Because Daddy doesn't think she's guilty, and neither do I. I like Aunt Ellen. I'm glad she's come to live with us and I don't want her to go to jail."
Out of the mouths of babes. "Good point."
They walked on in silence for another few yards. Christy said cautiously, "What do you think about going to Kingston to visit Grandma and Grandpa?"
Noelle looked up at her, a big grin on her mouth. "Yeah! I love Grandma and Grandpa! When? For Christmas?"
"No. Sooner." Tomorrow, so Joan Shively can't take you away from me. But she remembered her promise to Quinn and said, "In a few days, perhaps."
Noelle frowned. "But what about school?"
"We could homeschool you while we were in Kingston. Or we could enroll you in a school there."
Noelle shook her head, a horrified expression on her face. "But Mom! My school is doing a Christmas concert just before the holidays. Every class has a project and mine is doing a play. I have one of the big parts. They can't do it without me!"
"Someone else will be given the part," Christy said.
"No! It's mine!" Noelle pulled her hand out of Christy's and stopped. "It's important, Mom. Mary and I are partners. We're going to practice together. We promised each other!"
"But Noelle—"
"Mary was scared and she didn't want to do the part, but I said I'd be in the play too and she said she'd try. I can't dump her and run away, Mom. She needs me!"
Noelle, the child of wealth and privilege, was used to being the focus of attention, hiding her moods and thoughts in front of others, acting on a stage that had nothing to do with a school play. She wanted to help her friend and now she had a way to do it.
"Noelle—"
"I love Mary, Mom. We are total BFFs. If I left, Mary would drop out of the play and then Mrs. Morton would be mad at her and she'd get into all kinds of trouble." She looked up at Christy, her eyes despairing. "How can I do that to her?"
Christy stared down at her daughter. Since Frank's disappearance Noelle's life had been one upheaval after another. Now she was putting down roots in this small neighborhood and at the local school. Christy should be relieved. Instead she was terrified. She no longer had the option of cutting and running.
She wasn't certain how she was going to make sure Noelle stayed in her care, but she knew one thing. She would fight to make damned sure Noelle had the opportunity to practice her lines with Mary Petrofsky for the next few weeks and that she would be on stage at the school's Christmas concert come December. She crouched down so that she was at eye level with her daughter. "Okay, kiddo. We'll visit Grandma and Grandpa some other time. We'll stay right here for now."
Noelle threw her arms around Christy with such enthusiasm that she almost knocked her over. Laughing, Christy hugged her back.
Now all she had to do was make sure Ellen didn't go to jail and to do that all she had to do was figure out who killed Brittany Day.
Simple.
Yeah, right.
Chapter 17
Quinn looked at the collection of ties on the tie rack in his cupboard and pondered which one he would wear tonight. He didn't have a lot of ties. Men with a lot of ties wore suits everyday to work and he didn't have to, thank God. He did have enough to make the choice of which one to wear tonight a bit of a decision, though. Then again, so far every one of his wardrobe choices had been a decision. Not surprising, he thought, when his future was hanging in the balance.
If Christy left Vancouver, it would probably mean the end of the very promising begin
ning of their relationship. He wasn't sure if, when, or how that relationship might end, but he was certain he didn't want it to end now. So tonight he had to convince Christy that if she stayed here in Vancouver, together they would they would be able to keep Noelle safe from the wicked witch of child services.
Clothes, it was said, made the man. Christy might not have been born a Jamieson, but she had lived as one for ten years. She knew the power that money and status brought, and she knew how men who wielded that power looked. They wore dark, expensive suits, power ties, and pressed white shirts. Their chins and cheeks were clean shaven and their hair was styled and combed.
Tonight he was wearing each and every one of the visual clues that said he had power and knew how to use it. He was taking Christy to a restaurant on Robeson that was not the most expensive place in town, but it was currently the spot for those in the know. Visiting movie stars making a film in Vancouver. Corporate executives who wanted to prove their discerning taste. Socialites who loved the new and unusual. He would take her there and he would show her that he could slide easily into this world, because he knew and understood power.
And then he would convince her to put her trust in him, stay in Vancouver, and explore the wondrous possibilities a relationship between them could bring.
He contemplated his tie collection. For what he planned tonight there were only three possibilities. One was a solid red silk that would contrast nicely with the navy blue fabric of his suit and stand out against his crisp white shirt. Red was a power color, another bonus, but it was also a favorite of Canadian politicians of a certain stripe. He moved on.
Option number two had a pattern of thin alternating stripes of blue and silver. The blue was a nice marine color and the silver had a bit of a shimmer to it. It too would work well with the suit. But how about his shirt? He held it up against one white sleeve. The silver washed out a bit, so the tie didn't have the punch the red one had. Still, he liked the combination. He put it aside for the moment.
The next choice was striped as well, but the stripes on this one were wide and the blue and red combination was eye-catching. The colors were also those of his alma mater. In fact, the tie was the official school tie.
He looked at the tie. Power was owned in many ways. Money and old wealth were the obvious ones, but networks made through friendships, shared experiences, allied interests, and personal outlooks were another. This tie represented such a network, one that was part of the new Vancouver, because the university was an upstart institution from academic expansion of the 1960s. Formed in the heady days of student protests, it began as an innovative school where the rebellious and radical congregated. Over the fifty years since, the student body had sobered up from that intoxicating beginning. The rebels of the sixties and seventies turned into the corporate CEOs of today and the upstart itself became one of the top educational institutions in Canada.
The red-and-blue striped tie said he was resourceful, inventive and creative. He might not have old money behind him, but he had something better—a link to some of the brightest minds and most successful entrepreneurs in the country.
He slipped the old school tie around his neck, flipped the shirt collar down around it, then knotted it.
After shrugging on the suit jacket, he fiddled with his shirt collar to make sure it lay flat, then moved the knot an infinitesimal bit to the left, just to be sure it was perfectly straight. A quick check of his chin, by rubbing his hand down his skin, to make sure he'd shaved closely enough, and he was ready.
As ready as he'd ever be when his future was on the line.
* * *
Christy's heart did a little flip when Quinn arrived to pick her up. She was attracted to him when he dressed in casual, everyday clothes and might or might not have shaved that morning, but tonight he'd clearly gone to some trouble for her. The suit he was wearing shaped to his body, the shirt perfectly pressed, and the tie an elegant understatement of good taste. He'd shaved and it looked like he'd had his hair cut that day. He'd done it all for her and the knowledge set butterflies free in her stomach and made her feel suddenly shy. She opened the door wider and said, "Hi. I'm almost ready. Come on in."
He smiled as he entered her small foyer. His gaze drifted over her, slow, sensual and yes, approving. "Take your time," he said, but the look in his eyes said she didn't need to do any more primping on his account.
She stood there for a moment, lost in that gaze, then she shook herself free and said, rather breathlessly, "I won't be long," and ran upstairs to put the finishing touches on her outfit.
She was wearing a dress that she'd bought a couple of years before, so it was hardly in the first stare of fashion, but she knew it looked good on her and she liked how the neckline dipped down in a vee toward her breasts and the way the teal-colored fabric hugged her body. Upstairs she checked her makeup, added some simple costume jewelry at her throat and on her ears and grabbed a pair of black pumps with spike heels that she knew made her legs look long and slender. She carried the shoes when she hurried back down the stairs; she didn't want to start the evening by twisting her ankle.
In the foyer she found Quinn sitting on the stairs talking to Noelle, who was going over to the Armstrong house for the evening. She was looking forward to her night out as much as Christy was. It was like, she'd confided earlier, having a Vancouver grandparent. Her eyes lit up when she saw her mother. "You look beautiful, Mom!"
Christy blushed, because her words had Quinn smiling that sexy smile again. "Thank you, sweetheart."
They walked over to Quinn's house. Noelle held her hand, chatting all the way and skipping every second step. Frank had made himself scarce, for which she was relieved. Tomorrow he'd probably say that Stormy wanted to roam the greenbelt looking for mice, but they both knew that seeing her prepping for a date and going on it with Quinn—another man—was hard for Frank to accept, even if his body was now that of a cat.
When Noelle was settled, Quinn took Christy's hand and led her out to the car. Noelle stood in the doorway with Roy behind her and waved energetically as they drove off. When they were out of sight, Quinn found a spot to park the car, then he'd leaned over, dug his fingers into her hair and kissed her thoroughly. When he eased away, he said, "I think you look beautiful, too," his voice low and sexily rough.
Christy looked into his eyes and saw the truth of what he'd just said in his gaze. Her heart did that little flutter again and she'd turned her face into his hand. "Thank you. I'm lucky to be going out for an evening with such a handsome man."
He grinned at that and whatever constraints might have existed were gone.
He took her to a restaurant she'd heard about, but never been to. It was a small space, very high end in ambiance and clientele, with secluded corners and muted lighting for privacy. The tables were covered with linen cloths, the cutlery was silver, and heavy in the hand, and the glassware was crystal. Despite the almost European look and feel to the place, the food was First Nations, with menu items that included West Coast salmon, plains bison, and eastern venison.
Quinn had reserved a table in a small alcove that gave them privacy to talk and enjoy the evening, but let Christy observe the action in the rest of the dining room. It also allowed other patrons to see her with Quinn, she thought with some amusement as they were seated. She cocked her head at him once they were settled. "This is an amazing place. Have you eaten here before?"
"No, but the restaurant critic at the paper claims it's a 'must visit' and he says that the food is some of the best in the city."
Since Vancouver had a reputation for top-notch, innovative cuisine, that was high praise indeed. Christy was about to say that, when she was distracted by the couple who just walked into the dining room.
She knew the woman through Vancouver Royal Academy, Noelle's former school. Her daughter had been in Noelle's class and she and Christy had been parent helpers on many of the children's field trips. The woman looked around the room with a casual glance. Christy knew
when she'd been noticed. There was a quick hitch, almost a stutter, in the woman's glance, then she deliberately looked away.
Some things didn't change. Particularly when Ellen, formerly the most respectable of the Jamiesons, had been arrested for the murder of her lover.
Holding the drinks menu in one hand, Quinn frowned at her. "What just happened?"
She frowned back. "What do you mean?"
"Your expression blanked for a minute and you tilted you head up and your chin out. You only do that when you're being a Jamieson. What happened?"
Christy stared at him, the embarrassment of a moment ago dissipated by astonishment. He had her pat. She did push out her chin when she had to pretend to be one of the rich and unflappable Jamiesons. She also looked down her nose at the same time. Just the way Ellen did when she'd wanted to make Christy feel small.
She said, "You've been watching me." Her voice was low, almost throaty, and it sounded seductive, even to her ears.
What must Quinn be thinking?
"Always," he said. Something smoldered in his eyes, making them gleam.
In that moment, Christy had a very good idea of what he was thinking.
She blushed.
He smiled, slowly, and with a considerable amount of satisfaction.
The awkward moment passed. Quinn ordered a bottle of wine and they discussed appetizers and mains. Christy chose West Coast salmon, smoked Native-style and candied with fruit preserves for her appetizer, and wild duck roasted with salmonberries for her entrée. Quinn began with game soup and followed it with a ragout made from bison short ribs, flavored with wild berries, and served with wild rice. By the time they reached the dessert and coffee stage, Christy was much more relaxed.
"That was delicious," she said, putting down her fork and leaning back in her chair. Quinn had already finished his short rib stew and was drinking the last of his wine.
Their waitress appeared to clear the table. She smiled at them, in a friendly way. "Can I interest you in dessert and an after-dinner drink?" She was a pretty woman, with thick black hair that she wore in a single long braid, and wide dark eyes. She clearly had Native heritage in her ancestry.