Quinn was certain his emotions sat on his sleeve for all to see. No. For Phylicia to see. And there was no doubt in his mind that the love he felt for Phylicia—more and more every time they were together—had grown beyond brotherly love, beyond agape love. His feelings toward her were passionate. Not inappropriately so—at least not yet. But he couldn’t go on pretending to her that she was just one of the sisters, just one of three gals he enjoyed being around. It already felt dishonest that he hadn’t declared his feelings for her.
And if by some miracle Phylicia ever returned his love, he wasn’t looking forward to the day when he would have to confess to her that he had selfishly abused that eros kind of love with Heather. Granted, he hadn’t been walking close to the Lord back then. And no matter how much he regretted it, no matter how certain he was that God had forgiven him for going too far in his relationship with Heather, still, his actions would carry consequences.
And those consequences would affect Phylicia if they ever had the relationship he desired with her. Worse, the consequences might be that he never even had a chance with her. He didn’t know how she felt about such things, how easily she might forgive.
The sisters finally emerged from the restroom, startling him from his introspection. The three looked no more or no less beautiful than they had when they’d gone through the bathroom door a full—he glanced at his watch—six minutes ago.
“Did you think we’d ditched you?” Britt nudged his arm playfully.
He shook his head, struggling to match her lighthearted mood. “I was just trying to figure out exactly why it is women can’t seem to go to the restroom alone. Does it always have to be a group activity?”
Joanna started to say something, but Phylicia shook a finger at her. “Huh-uh. Sorry, Quinn, but that will just have to remain one of the great mysteries of life.”
He shook his head, attempting to look more exasperated than he felt. “Along with the mysteries of why women take so long to get ready and why they have to own fifty pairs of shoes when a man can get by with five, at most?”
Phylicia gave a little growl. “Now you’re treading on dangerous territory, buddy.”
Britt giggled. “Yes, and don’t think those two mysteries aren’t connected either.”
“Right. Nice outfit, by the way, Britt.” Phylicia gave her youngest sister a teasing shove, apparently sharing some private joke. They giggled in that annoying yet somehow charming way the sisters had with each other.
As so often happened when he was with the three of them, he was on the outside looking in. Not that he really had a desire to know why any female would need fifty pairs of shoes. Unless she was a centipede. He chuckled to himself, ignoring their curious stares. Men could have their secrets too. The flippant thought sobered him instantly. The secret he’d been harboring—Phylicia’s secret—was no laughing matter.
“I’m starving,” Britt said.
“I’ll buy pizza.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket. “We can take it out to your place—if that’s okay.” Warm memories of that day three weeks ago were still fresh.
“Hey, maybe we can have a picnic!” Britt looked out at the sky, shading her eyes against the sunlight streaming through the large windows in the foyer. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“We could take a picnic up to the clearing?” He made it a question, since he hadn’t officially been invited yet.
Phylicia cringed. “Clearing may be an oxymoron. I haven’t been up there since you took us up, but if things are growing there like they are everywhere else, we may need a machete to get in.”
He cocked his head trying to decide if she was making excuses not to have lunch with him. But she didn’t seem to be holding him at arm’s length as she too often did.
“Put your wallet away, Quinn. We have sandwich stuff in the fridge.” Joanna frowned. “Well, if you don’t mind bologna and egg salad?”
“Oh, please come, Quinn.” Britt looked like an eager child.
He would have rather the invitation came from Phylicia, but she nodded along with Britt, and he didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. “I’d love to, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. And in case you wondered, Joanna didn’t mean bologna and egg salad in the same sandwich.” Phylicia gave a little laugh. “Unless you like it that way.”
“I’ll take it however you make it.” He stopped short of asking if Phylicia wanted to ride out to their place with him. He was already in danger of being the over-eager puppy dog.
Chapter 27
The air was still a bit chilly when they headed up the hill to the little amphitheater in the clearing, and Quinn wished he’d brought a heavier jacket. The sisters had changed out of their church clothes back at the house, and now they were bundled up as if it was the dead of winter.
Phylicia had seemed quiet since they got home from church. She walked ahead of the rest, carrying the picnic basket they’d packed.
Quinn hefted a cooler of drinks, wishing it was a Thermos of coffee instead. Joanna and Britt each clutched thick quilts in their arms.
The girls gasped when they reached the top of the old stairway, then exclaimed in glee. Quinn didn’t have to guess why. English ivy and woodland ferns, punctuated by clumps of wild daffodils, blanketed the ground under the canopy, but the look was anything but overgrown.
“Look!” Phylicia set down the wicker basket and bent to inspect something growing in a crevice at the base of one of the log benches. “This is sweet william! Growing wild!”
Quinn suspected someone had carefully managed the natural greenery and bulbs that bloomed under the tree branches in the clearing. He wondered what other surprises the space might hold as summer unfolded. He felt unaccountably proud of the space, though he wouldn’t pretend he’d had a clue it was here when he was trying to convince the sisters to buy the property.
Quinn picked up the wicker basket and carried it to the bench, where the sunlight was brightest, then he set the basket on the ground and took the quilt Joanna offered. “Ground or bench?”
“Bench.” Phylicia shivered. “Too cold for the ground.”
“Yes, but it won’t be long before we’ll be sunbathing up here.” Britt tipped her face to catch the sun’s rays.
Quinn shook his head. “Don’t wait too long. This will be shady and sunless in another month. But you’ll be glad for a cool place to relax in the evenings.”
Phylicia spread the second quilt on the bench and frowned. “I don’t think there’s going to be any relaxing going on around here for the foreseeable future.”
“Don’t say that,” Quinn chided. “You can’t work all the time, or you’ll burn out.” He dragged the other log bench over to face the one where the sisters were setting out a spread that looked like a lot more than egg salad and bologna.
But Phylicia made a face. “There’s still a lot to do before we can get this place earning some money with the rentals.”
Joanna poured lemonade into red Solo cups. “Don’t forget how much money it’s already saved us in apartment rent though.”
“Good point,” Phylicia conceded. “It was really nice not to have to write that rent check when March first came around.”
“That’s for sure.” Britt made googly eyes at her sisters.
“Ha!” Joanna gave Britt a good-natured punch in the arm. “You wouldn’t know a rent check if it bit you on the backside.”
Phylicia laughed at Britt’s fake cries of ouch! “Maybe we should start charging you rent, little sister. Just to educate you about real life.”
It was good to see Phylicia loosen up a little. Quinn had gotten used to the sisters’ antics and found it one of his favorite things about spending time with the Chandlers—even if he didn’t always get their girly jokes. It was something he remembered from spending time with Turner’s family in the early days of his employment with Langhorne Construction. But even now, as adults, the sisters remained playful with one another. Maybe it w
as the fact that they were so close in age. The seven years between him and his brother had created an emotional distance in addition to the physical distance created when Markus left home for college.
But if there’d ever been this kind of merriment in his own home growing up, Quinn couldn’t remember it. Heather had introduced that element into his life. It was one of the things that had attracted him to her when they worked together in the cafeteria their freshman year of college.
Heather had also drawn Markus in to the fun the first time they met. Quinn hadn’t given it a thought. In fact, he’d been glad they got along so well. But it wasn’t long before Quinn started feeling like a fifth wheel whenever his brother joined Heather and him. And after that, nothing was ever fun again.
Until now.
The sun had grown warmer, so after they finished lunch, Phee shed her coat and scarf. Her sisters and Quinn followed suit. It had been a perfect Sunday afternoon, and she wished it wasn’t almost over.
The four of them had talked about everything from this morning’s sermon, to the recent flood, to the work slated to begin tomorrow morning on the two cabins’ roofs.
They packed up the picnic basket and carried the quilts to the edge of the clearing, then spread them on the ground overlooking the cottages and the river.
“Pretty amazing …” Quinn stood at the far edge of the clearing, his gaze trailing past the cottages to the river. “You almost lost the cabins to the flood, and instead, you ended up with a waterfront property. I don’t know if I’ve ever met three luckier women.”
Phee shook her head. “Not lucky. Blessed.”
“That’s for sure.” Quinn looked apologetic. “And you know, I don’t really believe in luck. Well, except maybe when you three are playing double solitaire. Now that was pure luck.”
The sisters laughed, remembering the night the three of them had ganged up to shut Quinn out of a single win during an impromptu card game after a long day of painting.
Still smiling, Phylicia looked up at him from her perch on the quilt. “Speaking of luck, once we get listed as an Airbnb—if things go really well—don’t you think there’d be room to build another small cabin at that far end of the lane?” Phee pointed to a spot down the rocky hill.
Quinn followed her line of sight. “I don’t see why not. If you keep it a simple one- or two-bedroom floor plan, all on one level, you could do it pretty cheaply too.”
“There wouldn’t be any zoning restrictions out here, would there, Quinn?” Joanna asked.
He scratched his chin. “You’d have to check on that, but I doubt it.”
Phee loved the way Quinn let them dream without reminding them of worst-case scenarios or forcing their feet back to solid ground. The way Dad had always been with them. She pushed a strand of sadness away as if it were a sticky spiderweb and forced herself back to the conversation. “Maybe we could add a room onto the cottage too—a master suite, so we’d have more room when all the cabins are rented out.”
“You just don’t want to share a bathroom with anyone,” Britt accused.
“I never said the suite would be for me.”
“But you wouldn’t turn it down, right?” Joanna singsonged, teasing.
“Fine, if you insist, I’ll take the new suite.” Phee folded her arms, looking smug.
Quinn laughed. “You haven’t even drawn up the plans, and you’re already bickering over it. You ladies are something else.”
Joanna unfolded her lanky frame and rose. “Speaking of something else …” She yanked on the quilt she and Britt had been sitting on.
“Hey, cut it out.” Britt tumbled off the edge of the quilt but laughed as she scrambled to her feet.
“Sorry, sis, but I’ve got some stuff I have to do before work tomorrow.”
“I need to go too.” Britt helped Jo fold the blanket. “Here … I’ll help you carry stuff down.”
Not ready for the day to end, but trying to keep the disappointment from her voice, Phee stood and folded her quilt. “I’ll get the basket.” She started toward the bench where the remainders of their picnic sat.
Joanna held up a hand. “We’ve got it. You guys stay a while.”
“Don’t worry …” Britt winked. “The dishes will still be waiting when you get back.”
“Dishes?” Quinn feigned confusion. “I’ve heard of thrifty, but you guys wash your paper plates?”
“Just kidding, Quinn.” Joanna turned to Phee, and the look she gave her seemed to say, We’ve got this covered. You stay.
Phee shrugged. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be down soon.”
Jo and Britt hurriedly gathered things up and disappeared down the wooden stairs cut into the side of the hill.
Quinn watched them go as if he were eager for them to disappear from sight. Phee was beginning to wonder if he’d conspired with her sisters to get some time alone with her.
A frisson of anticipation went up her spine. But why did that little thrill always have to be followed by uncertainty? She pushed the nerves away, determined to just enjoy being with Quinn. “This was a really fun day.” She sat on one end of the bench, arms beside her, gripping the edge.
“It was,” Quinn agreed. He took a seat at the other end, his body angled toward her. Looking toward the stairs Jo and Britt had descended, he gave a low chuckle. “I just love your sisters.” He turned to her and added quickly, “The agape kind of love, I mean.”
She laughed. “I just love my sisters too. But hey, what am I, chopped liver?”
“Chopped liver?” He made a face. “What even is that?”
“You’ve never heard that expression?”
His eyebrows went up. “Sounds like something an old lady would say.”
She gave his arm a slug. “Watch it. But don’t you just agape me too?” She was flirting, forcing things. And she suddenly didn’t care.
But Quinn’s expression turned serious. “I … agape you too, Phylicia. But surely you know by now that it’s more than that. So much more.”
She swallowed hard. “You’re … making me nervous.”
He laughed, but the music of his laughter quickly faltered. “I’m making me nervous too. But I have something I need to say. I can’t do this anymore if I don’t know where you stand.”
“You can’t do what anymore?”
He studied her, not speaking.
“And … where I stand on what?” Why was she playing dumb? She knew the answers to both of those questions. Knew them very well. But the timing seemed all wrong for this discussion. There were so many things she was struggling with right now, so many things she was confused about. She didn’t want grief and the conflict with her father and the chaos of renovating the property to keep her from having a clear mind where Quinn was concerned.
And yet, in so many ways, she felt as if she’d waited her whole life to have exactly this discussion.
Chapter 28
The silence between them went on for what seemed an eternity. Quinn rose from the bench where they sat, feeling like a man about to propose to a woman who might not say yes. But he’d been on the fence too long, waiting for her to respond to his cues.
He had to declare his feelings for her before he drove away from here today. Because if she was not interested in him the way he was in her, he needed to figure out a way to extricate himself from the Chandler sisters’ project. It was already torture being around her and not having a clue how she felt toward him.
But was she so blind she couldn’t see how he felt toward her? Why was she making him work so hard for this?
Surely, she wasn’t so oblivious that she couldn’t see how his eyes lit up the minute he spotted her, or sense how his heart sped up at the sound of her voice. But if she was aware of those things, she was evidently not taking any chances that she might be wrong. Either she was waiting for him to make the first move or she had zero interest in pursuing anything beyond casual friendship with him.
He was not interested in casual friendship with her. He�
��d tried that, and it was pure torture. So, what did he have to lose? If she felt nothing for him, better to know it now than to fall one more day in love with her.
He turned to face her, strangely moved by the innocence in her face as she looked up at him. “Phylicia, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m going to lay things on the line. Yes, I really like your sisters. But you aren’t part of a package with Jo and Britt. They’re sweet, and you guys are immensely entertaining together.” He let a smile come. “But what I feel for you—you alone, Phylicia—is so much more than the agape kind of love Pastor Franklin talked about this morning. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to get off my duff and say something to you. I guess—”
“Quinn—”
“No. Let me finish. Please.” He held up a hand, resisting the desire to take her in his arms. But he knew better. He had to take it slow with her. She looked like a frightened bird, wanting to take the seed from his hand, but ready to dart away at any false move too. “Phylicia, I thought I was giving pretty big hints. But I don’t want there to be any doubt. I really like you. I’m falling for you. I want to see where our friendship might go, and I have high hopes for us. You and me.” He pointed between them as if she might still be confused about his intentions.
“Quinn …” Her eyes never left his face. “Oh, Quinn. I’m sorry, but … you’re … I’m only in my twenties. Don’t you realize that? It’s a big gap. In age and—”
“Seriously?” He shook his head. “You make it sound like I’m ancient! How old do you think I am anyway?”
She tilted her head. “How old are you?”
“Barely in my forties.”
A tiny smile came. “Let me rephrase that. Exactly how old are you?”
“Just turned forty-two.” His hopes notched up a little with his own declaration. Maybe all along she’d thought he was much older.
“Forty-two?”
“And I hate to tell you, but if I have my math right, your days of being in your twenties are numbered.”
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