An Unlikely Setup

by Margaret Watson

  She was very sure she wouldn’t. “Good to know,” she said, putting more distance between them. “But I think I’ll pass.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind.” His eyes twinkled. “I hate to see you burdened by old memories.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Quinn.” She picked up her coffee and smiled easily. “But it’s one of those memories that never go away. The things you remember from childhood that still make you squirm. You must have memories that still embarrass you.”

  He shrugged. “I pretty much did whatever I wanted when I was a kid. Didn’t feel bad about any of it, either. At least not then.”

  “I noticed,” she said drily.

  “I was a teenage boy, Maddie. A walking hormone. And I was angry at the world.”

  “How come?”

  He rolled one shoulder. “My mom took off when I was eight. My dad didn’t react well. He started to drink. It went downhill from there.”

  “Your mother left you?” Maddie’s own mom was no great shakes in the parenting department, but at least she’d made some effort. And they’d managed to reconcile before she’d passed away a few years ago.

  “She never wanted to be a mother,” he said with a shrug. “She got pregnant way too young, had to get married. I cut into her partying in a big way.”

  “Poor Quinn.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. I survived.”

  But not without scars. “Childhood should be about more than surviving.”

  “I’m not the only kid who had it rough.” He studied her. “Sounds like you did, too.”

  “I did fine.” She sipped at the coffee. “Especially now that I’ve confessed my deep, dark secret.”

  “Is that what it was? A confession?” His gaze was as intimate as a touch.

  Her skin tingled with awareness. “Yes. I’ve always felt bad about it.”

  “We’ll have to work on reframing your memories.”

  His words sent a ripple of longing and desire through her. “I don’t think that’s on the agenda for today.”

  His dimple flashed. “I’m devastated. I’ll have to work on my presentation.”

  He wouldn’t have to work very hard. The connection between them was growing stronger and stronger. More and more difficult to resist. Did he feel it, too?

  Did it scare him as much as it scared her?

  He finished his coffee and set the mug on the counter. “Want me to stick around? Try to change your mind?”

  She did, and that was the wrong answer. “I’m sure you have more important things to do today,” she said lightly.

  “I have plans. Nothing more important, though.”

  She had to get out of this morass of desire and need churning through her. Had to back off, or she’d make a huge mistake. “I’m going to talk to Laura today,” she blurted.

  He froze, then picked up his empty mug and set it in the sink. “Did you get another offer for the Harp?”

  “No. I just need to check in with her.” Maddie wanted to touch him, to reassure him, but she didn’t move. “I’d tell you if another offer came in.”

  “Would you give me a chance to make a counteroffer?”

  “Of course. I don’t want you to lose the Harp.”

  He looked around the kitchen. “What about this house? Are you selling it, too?”

  “I was planning on it. But now that I’m here, I can’t bear the thought. So, no. I’m not.”

  “If you sold it, you could take my offer for the Harp.”

  “I could. Either you get what you want, or I do.”

  “Tough choice, Maddie. Just remember, David wanted me to have the Harp.”

  “And he wanted me to have this house. Why should I give up what I want for you, Quinn? I like you.” More than she should. “But this house is important to me.”

  “The Harp is important to me.”

  Stalemate. “Thank you for staying with me last night,” she said wearily. “I was glad you were here.”

  He nodded. “I’ll see you this afternoon. We close at nine on Sunday nights, but your shift starts at four. Okay?”

  “I’ll be there.” She watched until his truck disappeared from view, battling the need to call his cell phone and ask him to come back.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  QUINN GLANCED IN THE rearview mirror as David’s house disappeared behind him.

  Maddie’s house now.

  She didn’t want to sell it. She’d made that clear.

  He couldn’t blame her. He loved that house. He wouldn’t want to sell the old Victorian, either.

  But if she didn’t, he’d lose the Harp.

  He slammed the steering wheel with his fist. He wasn’t in control of his life any longer, and he didn’t like it. He’d regained control the day he’d put the bottle of Jameson into the cupboard at the bar, and now it was all slipping away.

  As he headed through town, he slowed down. He’d go nuts, staring at the walls of his house all day. So instead, he pulled into the parking lot at the pub. At least he could get some work done.

  Once inside the dimly lit space, he stared at the dusty whiskey bottle, but he didn’t take it down. He sat at the bar, opened his laptop and scrutinized his financial statements. He forgot about the bottle as he tried to figure out a way of pulling together more money.

  The scrape of the door opening caught his attention. “Sorry,” he called. “We’re closed.”

  Andre stood in the doorway, the morning light shining behind him. “Quinn?”

  What was Andre doing here? “Come on in,” Quinn said, closing the laptop.

  The cook wore a pair of jeans and an old tee with a beer logo on it, and running shoes that were scuffed at the toe. “What can I do for you?” Quinn asked.

  “I heard you haven’t found a cook and the kitchen’s been closed,” Andre said.

  “And…?” Keeping his face impassive, Quinn watched the other man.

  “You’re losing money.” Andre shifted his feet and relaxed a little.

  “I have someone here part-time, and she’ll be fulltime in a week or two. We’ll be fine until then.”

  “You found another cook?” Andre’s expression tightened.

  “You’re not the only one in Door County who can put together a good meal, Andre.” Quinn glanced at his watch. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “Get rid of the waitress and I’ll come back to work for you.”

  “Is that right?” Quinn straightened on the bar stool. “You’re willing to make a deal with me?”

  Andre shrugged. “Sure. No hard feelings.”

  “Yeah, there are hard feelings, Andre. You walked out on me and left customers waiting. Why would I want to take you back?”

  “You’re losing money and I can start tonight.” He smirked. “People like my food. I know the kitchen. It’s going to take a while for someone else to get up to speed.”

  Andre’s cockiness had always irritated Quinn. He should have fired the guy a long time ago, but people did like his food. “Not good enough,” he said. “You were a pain in the neck when you worked here.”

  Anger flared in the other man’s eyes, but he quickly concealed it. “I need this job, Quinn. I have a family.”

  “I know you do, and I feel sorry for them, but you should have thought of that earlier.”

  “You’re going to be sorry, man,” Andre said, his expression darkening.

  “Now you’re threatening me? Get out of here, Andre. We’re done talking.”

  The other man held his gaze for a long moment. “Watch your back, Murphy,” he finally said. “And the waitress’s, too.”

  The door slammed behind him, and Quinn strode to the door and watched Andre get into his car and drive off. When he’d disappeared, Quinn picked up the phone and dialed David’s house. The phone rang five times, then voice mail picked up.

  Why wasn’t Maddie answering her phone? And why hadn’t he bothered to get her cell phone number?

  What if Andre wa
s on his way to her house?

  Quinn shoved the computer beneath his arm and ran out of the pub to his truck. Moments later, he was heading toward Maddie’s.

  MADDIE KNOCKED at the door of Delaney’s workshop. Maybe she should have called before coming over to look at David’s desk. The hard beat of a rock song pounded inside, and over that she heard the rumble of a machine.

  Delaney wasn’t going to hear her knock. Maddie cautiously opened the door and walked into the pole barn. The air inside was cool, and dust danced in the sunbeams pouring through the windows. The barn smelled of fresh wood, varnish and coffee. Delaney’s drum set sat in one corner, and an assortment of tables, chairs, beds and chests were scattered haphazardly across the rest of the space. Polished oak, maple, cherry and walnut pieces glowed like satin.

  A doorway at the other end of the room obviously led to Delaney’s work area. The music was coming from a boom box on a table near the door. “Delaney?” she called.

  “Back here.” Her voice came over the whine of a saw.

  As she walked toward the sound, Maddie ran her hand over the surface of a china cabinet she passed. She could picture it in David’s dining room, full of David’s Fiestaware. Pictured herself taking the dishes out, setting the dining room table.

  As if David’s house was her home. The place she belonged.

  Her hand stilled on the smooth wood. No place had ever felt like that.

  When she walked through the wide doorway, Delaney was stacking several pieces of wood on a worktable. The sharp tang of freshly cut lumber hung in the air. She lifted her safety glasses and turned off the music.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I play it loud so I can hear it while I’m working.” Her gaze lingered on Maddie’s cheek, where the bruise was still visible beneath her makeup. “Want some coffee?”

  “I’d love some.” She’d been too nervous with Quinn this morning to drink more than a few sips.

  After she’d taken a gulp, she glanced at the large machines in the room. “Quite the collection.”

  “Just the usual,” Delaney said with a shrug. “Lathe, joiner, table saw, jigsaw, planer, drill press, milling machine. Nothing like a good power tool to set a girl’s heart to beating.”

  “A woman who considers power tools this big ‘just the usual’?” Maddie raised her eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”

  “They’re like any other tool. Drums, for instance. Once you learn how to use them, they’re not intimidating anymore.”

  “Drums, maybe. That thing?” Maddie nodded at the table saw. “No way.”

  Delaney laughed. “We have to face our fears, Maddie. Want me to teach you?”

  “No, thanks.” She shuddered. “Although you must know what you’re doing. Your furniture is beautiful. Works of art.”

  “Thanks.” Her expression softened as she set down her coffee. “Let me show you David’s desk.”

  Maddie followed her through the maze of finished furniture to a desk in the corner. Cherry. Her favorite wood.

  A hutch sat on the desk, with a series of slots along the top. Beneath the slots were shelves, and the desk itself had drawers down both sides.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Maddie exclaimed. “Exactly what I would have picked out for myself.”

  “David was really specific,” Delaney said, brushing away an imaginary speck of dust. “He knew what he wanted.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her baggy jeans. “I was surprised he asked me to make it,” she admitted. “He was already sick, and anxious for me to finish it.”

  David had had it built for her, Maddie realized. As she gazed at the beautiful piece, her eyes filled with tears. Every writer needed a workspace, he’d said, after she’d told him she wrote at the kitchen table on her laptop. They’d discussed what would make the perfect desk.

  Then he’d had Delaney build it.

  “You okay, Maddie?”

  She sniffled. “It reminds me of David. Did he ever get to see it?”

  “Before I stained and varnished it,” Delaney answered. “He seemed pleased.”

  “Of course he was.” A thought struck her. “Did you make the kitchen cabinets in his house, too?”

  “I did.” Delaney smiled again. “First ones I made. It took a while.”

  David had refinished the kitchen the way he thought Maddie would want it.

  “I love them,” she said in a low voice. He’d been preparing the house for her. Getting it ready for her to live there. How could she sell it now?

  She couldn’t. Not even to save Quinn’s pub.

  “I was kind of surprised when he renovated it,” Delaney said. “There was nothing wrong with the old one. But it turned out great.” She laughed. “Almost wonderful enough to make me want to take up cooking, but I lay down until the urge passed.”

  “I like to cook,” Maddie said. She hadn’t had much of a chance yet, but she would put David’s kitchen to good use.

  “All this talk about cooking is making me itchy. Let’s take a look at my calendar and figure out when I can deliver the desk for you.”

  As they headed back toward the workshop, a car door slammed. Moments later, Jen walked in, followed by two boys. The older one had shaggy blond hair, green eyes and glasses. He didn’t look much like Jen, except for the blond hair. The younger boy had dark hair and dark eyes—and was the image of Tony Summers, Maddie remembered.

  “Hi, Delaney,” Jen said.

  The younger boy rushed over, the older one trailing behind with studied adolescent boredom. “Hey, Delaney. We found instructions for making slingshots on the Web,” the younger one said. “Can we use your wood scraps?”

  “Of course,” Delaney said. “You know which tools you can use.”

  The two boys headed into the other room, and Jen spotted Maddie.

  “Hey, Maddie, what are you doing here?”

  “David had this desk built before he…” She swallowed. “I came out to see it and arrange to have it delivered.”

  “How’s your face?” She craned her neck to look at Maddie’s cheek.

  “It’s fine.” She touched the area, relieved that the pain was only a dull ache.

  “What happened?” Delaney asked.

  “J.D. punched her last night at the Harp,” Jen related.

  Delaney’s mouth dropped open. “He what?”

  “Not on purpose,” Maddie said hastily. “He was trying to hit Quinn.”

  “My God.” Delaney hoisted herself onto a table. “Spill. I want details.”

  Maddie explained what had happened, and Delaney whistled. “Glad our band wasn’t on. Paul probably would have started playing the Rocky song. Just to get people riled up.”

  Maddie suppressed a laugh. She could see Paul doing just that. “Everyone was wonderful,” she said. “Very solicitous. Augie Weigand offered to teach me to box.”

  “So what did Quinn do?” Delaney asked. “Close the bar so he could take you home?”

  “Of course not,” Maddie said, but her face got warm. “Sue Schmidt drove me home.”

  Jen crossed her arms and leaned against a table. “I bet he came over later to check on you,” she said shrewdly.

  “Of course he did. He felt responsible.”

  “And…?” Delaney asked.

  “And what?” Maddie tried to look bewildered, but judging from Jen’s grin, didn’t succeed.

  “He stayed, didn’t he?” she pressed.

  Maddie started to deny it, then sighed. “I couldn’t get him out of the house.” She held up her hands when Jen and Delaney exchanged knowing looks. “He slept in David’s bedroom. Nothing happened.”

  “You wouldn’t hold out on us, would you?” Jen asked. “We haven’t had dates in so long we’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a guy stay over. We need you to refresh our memories.”

  “Sorry, I need my memory refreshed, too.”

  “From what I could see the other night, Quinn looks like he’s volunteering for the job,” Delaney said.

  And Maddie h
ad been ready to take him up on the offer. “That would be really stupid, since he wants to buy the Harp from me.”

  “You’re going to sell it to him, aren’t you?” Delaney asked.

  “I’d like to, but it’s not that simple.”

  “Hey, Mom, we made slingshots.” Jen’s oldest son slouched out of the workshop, holding a vaguely Y-shaped toy made from varying sizes of wood scraps. “I know it’s lame, but Tommy wants to go outside and try them.”

  “Come here, Nick.” When the two ambled over, she introduced them to Maddie. “Go ahead, but stay on Delaney’s property.”

  “Duh, Mom.” Nick was already halfway out the door.

  “Nice kids,” Maddie said.

  “Most of the time,” Jen agreed. “Although Nick is into that teenaged ‘everything about you is an embarrassment’ stage. My parents are great and look after them a lot, but I need to spend more time with them.”

  She turned to Delaney. “I’m quitting the Cherry Tree. Finally.” She nudged Maddie. “Thanks to her, for insisting Quinn let me cook at the Harp.”

  Jen was quitting her job? What if the Harp had to close? “So you’re definitely going to cook for Quinn?”

  “I start full time in two weeks,” Jen said happily. “Martha said she’d need time to find another waitress. The first step in my master plan.”

  “What’s your master plan?” Maddie asked.

  “I want to open my own restaurant.”

  So if she sold the Harp to YourMarket, Maddie would be destroying Jen’s dream, too. Should she tell her that Quinn might not buy the Harp? That it might not be there in a few months? “Um, what if Quinn doesn’t buy the place? Would you be able to go back to the Cherry Tree?”

  Jen’s smile faded. “Are you really going to sell it to YourMarket?”

  “They haven’t even made an offer yet,” Maddie said. “Who knows if they will? I’m just asking.”

  “YourMarket?” Delaney looked from Jen to Maddie. “You’re going to sell the Harp to that company?”

  “One of their reps called me. That’s all.”

  “Do you have any idea how much traffic that store would bring into town?” Delaney demanded. “How many people would come through here?”

  “More people might be good for the town,” Maddie said. “It might help other businesses.”