Leaving Bluestone (2 page)

He was the youngest by about thirty years, but all around the men shook his hand. He knew most of them from their visits to the bar, but there were a couple he didn’t know, and several he didn’t know had served. He sure as hell hadn’t known old man McCarty had been a POW. But he didn’t ask, because he didn’t want them to ask him.

Another old guy came forward and Quinn leaned forward to help him aboard. The newcomer had barely gotten seated before the trailer lurched, and they were on their way on a circuit through town.

Quinn wouldn’t lie—he’d sat on the side he knew would face the landing, so Lily would see he’d done as she wanted. Why that was important—he didn’t want to know.

He had to admit, he felt a welling of pride in his chest that he hadn’t felt since he took off his uniform two years ago. People were cheering and waving flags and calling his name, patriotic music swelled. He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips as he waved back.

And Lily’s eyes widened when she saw him on the float. The old Quinn would’ve blown her a kiss, but he just offered her a flick of his wrist. She grinned anyway, a triumphant smile. Hell, like she didn’t know she was going to win.

By the time the float made its circuit and Quinn had invited the men to come by for a beer on the house, he’d also been invited to join the VFW.

“I’m not going to be around after I sell the bar,” he said.

“Then you can transfer your membership wherever you end up,” the one guy said.

“I’m not much of a joiner.”

“You joined the Army, didn’t you?” another guy said, clapping him on the shoulder.

And look where that had gotten him. He’d lost his best friend and was stuck in the Great White North with a bar they’d bought together, and he was half in love with his best friend’s girl.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. But he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to sit around hearing other people’s war stories, or telling his own. Bad enough he’d lived it. He moved away from the men and saw Lily waiting for him. He waited for her to say, “I told you so,” or something, but all she said was, “Thank you.”

Her eyes were a little misty as she moved away.

He retreated to the bar and kept busy the rest of the day doing what he knew, serving drinks. When business started dying down, he looked out the window and saw it was getting dark. Almost time for fireworks. He considered for a moment going out and finding Lily to watch them with her—it had always been a pleasure for him when he was a kid, and during his teen years, he’d managed to find a girl to cuddle with during the display. But he wasn’t really a fan of loud noises near his home, though God knew he’d gotten used to them in Iraq. He just didn’t like the reminder.

So he’d stay in the bar, serve the others who didn’t care for the display, maybe catch a flash or two through the window. Lily would be with Adam anyway. She wouldn’t miss him.

***

Lily did one more walk-through to make sure the concessions were closing down before the display, and to surreptitiously look for Quinn. Of course he was nowhere around. He couldn’t know that she had thought about watching the fireworks with him the whole time she was helping to plan it. Why would he know? She’d been with Adam for the past few weeks, because it beat the hell out of being lonely. Even when she and Quinn were getting along, she was lonely. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her and tell her he wanted to live out the rest of his days in Bluestone, working side by side with her. But as much time as they spent together, she saw no sign of that happening.

The first thump made her jump and she turned sideways to see the red sparkles burst over the lake, followed by a blue one. A hand closed around hers and she turned, smiling, to look into Adam’s face.

“I found a spot for us,” he said, and led her to the blanket spread under a tree.

She glanced toward Quinn’s, and thought she saw him in the window. But then he moved away and she sat beside Adam and let him fold her in his arms.

Chapter Two

Quinn looked up when Lily bounced into the bar. He rolled his eyes when she leaned on the bar, fairly vibrating.

“Can’t you take a day off?”

“What?”

“I know that look. That’s an ‘I have a new idea’ look. That look means a lot of work for me.”

“Not for a while, anyway.”

He heaved a sigh. “What is it?”

“Ready for it? A winter carnival.”

She said it like there was no work involved whatsoever. “Oh, for crying out loud.”

“If we start now, we have plenty of time to plan and get word out.”

“Because there aren’t any other winter carnivals.” He could name a half dozen within twenty miles.

“So we make ours different. We have a lot of people who want this place to succeed. You used to be one of them.”

“Don’t give me that look,” he ordered when she turned those pretty lips into a pout. “It’s not going to work on me this time. I may not even be here in the winter, if I can get the bar sold.”

She lowered her chin, the light in her eyes dimming. “Oh.”

He felt bad, then, for pissing on her parade, so to speak. Her best friend was out of town. How he got to be second in line, he had no idea. Well, there was another time he’d been second, after Gerry. And he wished to hell sometimes he’d be first. He loved how nothing discouraged her—except him saying that he was leaving Bluestone.

He blew out a breath and braced his hands on the bar. “Tell me your ideas. Then I’m keeping you on land. You always get your worst ideas out on the water.”

She lifted her gaze to his warily. “You sure?”

He slid a Coke in front of her. “Tell me.”

She kept her head down, then slid her hands across the polished counter, closed them around the glass, then lifted her gaze to his. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. I thought we could have an illuminated parade, either to start or end. Maybe sledding races, or skiing races. And we could have a dance, maybe a themed dance of some kind. If we do it before Christmas, we can combine it with an arts and crafts show, and maybe a light festival, too. We could try another chili cook-off, maybe, too.”

“How long are you intending this thing to be?”

“Just a weekend, maybe the weekend after Thanksgiving.”

“You’d have to hope we have some good weather for that kind of thing. The luck we’ve been having here, we won’t have snow until February.”

But as usual, she wasn’t listening, her mind spinning. “A hockey game, maybe. And horse-drawn carriages. Oh, I’d love to have it before Christmas, but maybe if we have it in January or February, it’ll break up the winter blahs. I think maybe that would be better. We could maybe do it around Valentine’s Day. Do you have a calendar?”

“For next year? Are you kidding?”

She flashed him that smile that he felt in the pit of his stomach. Then she tucked her hair behind her ear as she shifted on the chair, only momentarily derailed. “Paper then. I need to write this down. No napkins this time.”

He paused mid-reach, then walked back into his office, grabbed a stack of paper from the printer and carried it out to her. She’d already grabbed a pen from a cup behind the counter and uncapped it with her teeth. She grabbed the paper from him, scribbling notes practically before she set it on the bar.

He watched her for a moment, wondering what it was that drove her, that never let her brain rest. Hell, she’d almost single-handedly planned the Fourth of July celebration yesterday, and today she was throwing herself into another project. Was it only her love for the town? Or did something else motivate her? Why did she always need to keep busy? He didn’t remember her being like this before Gerry died, but she was in love with Gerry then, and he occupied a lot of her time.

Maybe her need to be busy was so she wouldn’t mourn him.

“Have you discussed this with Adam?” He hoped she didn’t recognize the tension in his voice. Adam was all right, but the idea of another man putting his hands on her made him antsy. The idea of another man in her bed made him want to smash in Adam’s face, just like he’d done to Adam’s old man.

She wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t seen him today. And he won’t care anyway because he’ll be leaving soon.” She glanced at him, aware he was going to say he’d be leaving, too. “Besides, he’s not as good of a listener as you are.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

“At least, you always listen to me.”

“Not like I have a choice,” he muttered. “You want another?” He gestured to her empty glass.

She looked at it in surprise. “I don’t even remember drinking it. No, I’d better not. You don’t want me too energized.” She gathered up her papers and winked at him. “Thanks, Quinn.”

He grunted, and watched her sashay out.

“If I were you, I’d find something to do with all that energy of hers,” one of the old guys at the bar said.

“I’m not man enough to take that on,” Quinn chuckled, but wondered when he could get her into his arms again.

***

Beth and Linda returned to town a few days later, Beth now engaged—very publicly—to country singer Maddox Bradley, who was buying a cabin in town. Linda couldn’t work for a few weeks with her broken collar bone, but she spent more time with her son, which was good. Trinity and Leo returned from their honeymoon the following Sunday and they all gathered at Quinn’s after church to hear about the trip to Washington, D.C. Quinn had to move between the bar and the table where they sat, because he had to run his business, and he didn’t really want them to know how curious he was about their trip. He had gotten out of the habit of letting people know he cared.

Maybe when he sold this place he’d travel a little, go out to see the country. He hadn’t let himself plan that far ahead. His family was in Kansas, but he didn’t want to go there. California, maybe, except the cost of living was pretty high. Florida. Someplace he could find a spot to fish every now and again.

He’d go see Gerry’s family, maybe. He’d enjoyed his visits there in Colorado when he and Gerry would be on leave and Quinn hadn’t wanted to go home. Gerry’s mom and dad had been welcoming, and his little sister had had a crush on Quinn, which he’d found pretty flattering when he was a scrawny twenty-year-old. He’d fallen out of contact with them this past year. It hurt too much to talk to them.

But yeah, Colorado. Maybe there.

“Hey, another round,” Leo called, earning a scowl, which he answered with a grin. He turned to plant a long kiss on his wife’s mouth and Quinn felt a pang. He wanted someone in his life. Just not here.

Just not her.

He returned to the table with five beers and a club soda—Trinity’s belly had a small bump now, noticeable beneath her blouse, maybe because Leo kept rubbing it. The man was on top of the world.

And he was the best friend Quinn had since Gerry died. Other than Lily.

“So when are you two getting married?” Trinity asked Beth.

Maddox slid his hand up and down Beth’s back. “We haven’t gotten that far.”

“What is it about married people that make them want to pair everyone else up?” Quinn muttered, though another wedding would mean getting Lily in his arms again.

Trinity’s blue eyes glinted when she turned to him. “Be careful or I’ll turn my match-making mojo on you.”

Quinn waved a hand in Maddox’s direction. “Feel free to harass those two. No offense, man.”

Maddox grinned and bent to kiss Beth on the mouth until she squirmed out of his arms.

“Quinn says you have a new idea,” Leo said to Lily when the conversation about his honeymoon waned.

“Quinn says?” Lily gave him a sideways look.

He shrugged and sipped from his bottle. “It’s a big idea. I figure you get help, you won’t have as much work to do. Spread it out.”

“That’s...very thoughtful.”

He grunted.

“He just doesn’t want to be stuck with all that last-minute work,” Leo said. “That’s what he told me.”

“Ah.” Lily shifted her gaze away as Trinity punched her husband’s arm, and Quinn felt about three inches tall. He didn’t know how to remedy it.

“So what’s this big idea?” Beth asked, and Quinn sent her a grateful glance.

Lily launched into her pitch, refined since last week, and with a few new ideas, like an ice slide for the kids and snowmobile races. He almost expected her to pull out a notebook with a schedule and details, but she merely folded her hands around her beer, her eyes bright as she discussed the new plan.

“We have to look at when other towns are having their winter carnivals so we don’t end up competing,” Trinity said. “I learned that the hard way with the school harvest carnival. Show me what you have later.”

Leo made a sound of protest and drew Trinity’s chair closer.

Trinity rolled her eyes. “In a few days, then.”

Lily laughed. “Okay. I’ll have it more cemented in my head by then, anyway.”

Quinn rose to go serve another round to the next table, wishing he’d been the one to make her laugh.

***

Blissful matrimony. At least, the institution seemed to agree with Trinity when Lily dropped by the house a few days later. Trinity fairly glowed, and it wasn’t just because she was pregnant. She was light-footed and easy to smile, and Lily felt a tug of longing low in her belly.

Adam was leaving this weekend, now that his sisters were settled and his father was sent on his way by Maddox. Nothing to keep him here. Which was fine with her. He was a nice diversion, but her heart was set on someone else.

Someone stubborn. Someone who kept saying he was leaving but never did.

She had brought her binder, in which she had a preliminary map, a few pages printed out from the Web from other winter festivals and their events, a calendar with possible dates highlighted, and numbers for rental places and other carnival coordinators.

“So, Adam’s leaving,” Trinity said, setting a tray of two glasses of iced tea on the coffee table and sitting on the sectional across from Lily. “Going to miss him?”

“Sure. The dinners, the walks by the lake, the kissing. He’s a very good kisser.”