Quinn observed the sweeping mountains, the snow hugging boulders, the bare trees dripping crystal droplets. How could anyone think new build houses fit in well withthislandscape?
‘What got you out of it?’
‘Because it’s the national park,’ Jerry said. ‘I proved we were in the park, and development would be a lot more complicated than throwing money at me to leave. So, the developers backed off. Your building is listed, is it not? You can go back to them with that?’
‘Unfortunately, no.’ Quinn sighed. ‘I don’t own it. Harold does. I rent it from him. Unfortunately, he’s given me all the notice he needs for me to vacate. I’m in the wrong for staying as long as I have. I’m lucky he’s not trying to take me to court.’
Jerry grimaced. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s not over yet.’
‘Good attitude,’ Jerry said. ‘Shame we can’t say the same about my nephew.’
It was as if someone had broken off the icicles from Jerry’s roof and plunged them into Quinn’s heart. He tried to brush it off with a pained smile, hoping no more would be said.
There was only so much two men could say about Christmas trees, especially when it was being bought for someone that wasn’t here. Quinn’s gaze kept wandering towards the house, praying that Ivy would appear and take him away. Jerry whistled a tuneless melody, occasionally meeting Quinn’s eye and offering a brief smile.
It was then that Quinn remembered what Ivy had said.
‘Ivy’s told you about me?’
Jerry’s whistling stopped, and he avoided Quinn’s eye. ‘That’s right.’
‘What exactly has she said?’
A funny twisting of his stomach made him wish he was a white hare that could blend in with his surroundings and disappear quietly.
Jerry cleared his throat. ‘Well, you know, it’s none of my business…’
‘I know Ivy and I know when she’s up to something,’ Quinn said. ‘This is about Noah and me, isn’t it?’
Jerry finally looked at Quinn again, and if he squinted, it could almost be like looking at Noah, but only if he really focussed on the eyes.
‘She told me you might need some advice.’
‘And that advice should come from his uncle?’
Jerry laughed, giving Quinn a mutual look of understanding. ‘It’s probably not my place to say…’
‘Go ahead.’
‘I don’t want to interfere.’
‘Interfere.’
Jerry considered this. ‘Ivy cares for you, and she told me that Noah had been … with you, and then…’
‘He left.’
A whisper of wind went by, a tune similar to the one Jerry whistled.
‘Look, I could play it cool, but what’s the point in doing that?’ Quinn questioned. ‘Your nephew is a mystery to me. A grumpy sod who has snatched my heart, and I can try all I want to act like I don’t care, or that him leaving is for the best, but it would be futile. Ivy can see it clearly, and I’m sure you can, too. He’s on my mind all day every day and if there’s anything, anything at all that you can help me with so that I can make sense of him, of why he’s acted the way he has…’
He ran out of steam. There were no other words that could convey the agonising feelings inside him of marred confusion and doubts.
‘He came here, you know, before he left.’
Quinn tried to imagine Noah here. How the white landscape, with a rugged winter charm, so wild and beautiful, would contrast with his own wild hair, his city boy high-end fashion, and his charming smile. Quinn was like a fan standing on the same spot a celebrity once visited, trying to imagine the person in front of them, feeling like he was a part of something. This was his Strawberry Fields.
