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“Okay.” Quinn turned when the door banged shut behind her, her eyes widening when she saw Emily standing there, a black slouchy beanie covering her dark brown hair.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Emily said, coming over to join them. Her steps faltered for just a second, and Quinn had to guess that Emily was just as surprised to see her here as she was. “Guess, I missed the cooking part,” Emily said with a ghost of a smile.
Quinn’s heart was beating a little too fast. This was what small-town life was like. Why did it surprise her that she kept seeing Emily?
And why did it still feel… Awkward wasn’t the word. Strange? Like Quinn was still in a position of authority even though she definitely wasn’t. But it was hard to shake their previous student-teacher relationship.
Rebecca’s eyes were on Emily. “You’re on deliveries.” She handed the clipboard to Quinn next. “And Quinn will be driving. Emily, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is Emily. My sister.”
Someone called Rebecca over from the back of the kitchen, and Quinn was left staring at Emily, her mind playing catchup. Emily was Rebecca’s sister? How did she not know this?
“Hi,” Emily said with a smile, and whether she’d intended for it to be or not, it was a charming one, one that made Quinn’s heart flutter.
9
Emily looked out the passenger window as they drove by her grandfather’s cabin, forgetting for a moment that Quinn was beside her. They’d delivered four meals so far, and their conversation had been light between stops, talking about the weather or a particular part of town and what it had been like when Emily was younger.
Now though, Emily couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that her grandfather wasn’t there to receive a meal. He’d been on the list for years. Even though he’d been independent and living alone in his eighties, he liked the company and the conversation he could have with a volunteer who came to his door with a hot meal each weekend.
Even though Emily had been back home for a week, and she’d been in and out of the cabin every day since she’d received the keys on Tuesday, the feeling of loss overwhelmed her now, and she found herself swallowing down the lump in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said softly, the car slowing slightly as they went by the cabin.
Emily turned as they rounded the corner, putting the cabin out of sight again. “Hm?”
“I’m sorry about your grandfather.”
Emily just stared at Quinn, almost as if she’d spoken in a different language. How did she know?
Quinn glanced over at her before she turned back onto the main road. “You couldn’t have forgotten how small-town life goes in the years you’ve been away.”
Emily looked straight ahead, putting two and two together now. “Apparently, I have.”
“I know your sister. I’d call her a friend even. I know your parents too. And I had intended on going to your grandfather’s funeral, but I was out of town.”
“I had no idea,” Emily said. “And thanks. For saying that.” Her stomach did a little flip-flop at the idea of Quinn knowing her family. It was a completely unexpected revelation, and while it might have left her feeling almost giddy for a second, that feeling was quickly replaced with the familiar one of regret. How much sooner could she have met Quinn again if she’d visited regularly?
Quinn shook her head as they came to a crossroads, and the light turned red. “I had no idea about the connection though. To you, I mean. That Rebecca had a sister that I’d taught. Or that Marie and Richard had another daughter that I knew.”
Emily had not been prepared for any of this today. She thought she might recognize a few of the volunteers, and she had, but seeing Quinn standing beside Rebecca when she’d walked into the kitchen? Emily had tried to cover up her reaction, but it’d been impossible not to stare. She’d been shocked, but it was more than that. Quinn was so incredibly beautiful. It was hard to do anything but stare.
“I’m surprised we hadn’t bumped into each other years ago,” Quinn said as they pulled up to an old-fashioned, New England-style farmhouse with snowdrifts piled up against the white picket fence.
Emily released her seatbelt. “I rarely get back here. That’s probably why.” She held Quinn’s gaze for a second, unable to decipher it, before getting out and carrying a meal up the porch steps, taking her time on the slippy surface.
Quinn joined her just as the door opened and a woman in her eighties was wrapped up in a cardigan, a smile on her face as she waved them inside.
This was only Emily’s fifth house she’d visited, and she could see why Quinn had been doing this for years. It was rewarding, and Emily could see the relationship that Quinn had built with these people. She didn’t always do the deliveries, Quinn had said. The volunteers take turns, and some weeks she would be away, but these people had become friends. Emily could see it in the warmth of their interactions and the friendliness of their conversations.
This woman’s name was Nora, and she was actually ninety years old, which Emily couldn’t believe. Not only did she not look it, but she was very mobile. There was no walking stick in sight.
When Nora joined them at the kitchen table with a pot of coffee and some homemade cookies, she asked Emily about herself, saying how she didn’t recognize her.
Emily just had to mention her parents names, and Nora knew exactly who she was. But she told her about her job and life in New York.
“Did you play the piano some days at church?” Nora asked, and Emily sucked in a breath, the memories coming back to her after years of being tucked away.
“Uh, yeah. Yes,” Emily said, once again feeling that tightness in her throat. “That was me.” She could feel Quinn’s eyes on her too.
