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I went into the kitchen and poured a second cup of coffee. I leaned against the counter and took a sip, closing my eyes to enjoy a moment of silence.
The doorbell echoed through the entire house, and I laughed at the measly second I was allotted. I made my way to the door and opened it.
My shoulders eased, the tension dissipating almost instantly. Gio was right. Quinn was beautiful. Her red hair was straight today, half over her right shoulder and the other half behind her left. Her skin glowed, and her lips glistened in the early morning sunlight.
“Morning,” I said.
“Good morning.” Her voice was sunshine full of brightness and warmth.
I stepped aside to let her in, then checked my watch. “You’re early.”
“Guilty. It’s kind of my thing. If I’m not ten minutes early, I’m late.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind. Also, I gave you a key. You can let yourself in.”
“Oh no. I couldn’t. Not when you’re home. This is your space. You don’t need me barging in.”
“I don’t mind really, and I wouldn’t consider you ‘barging in.’” I didn’t always hear the bell, depending on where I was in the house, and I’d hate for her to be standing outside waiting for me.
“We’ll see. Where’s Gio?”
“He’s finishing a call with my parents. I’m sure he’ll be down soon. Even they can only hold his attention for so long.”
“He told me they were in Italy.”
“They’ve been gone for a few months now, traveling all over Europe. Today they’re in Italy, tomorrow they can be in France or Germany. They have no real agenda.”
“That sounds amazing but gives me anxiety at the same time.”
“You and me both. I don’t know how they don’t have some sort of plan or timeline.”
“Are you a planner?” she asked.
“I wasn’t always, but after Gio was born, I had no choice. Now I have a backup plan for my backup plans.”
“With children, every day is a surprise.”
“Exactly.” I took a sip of my coffee as we moved into the kitchen. “If you’re such a planner, I’m surprised you moved here without a job lined up.”
The happy curve of her lips she’d been sporting since I opened the door turned downward. “I needed a change, and what better way to start a new then do something completely out of my comfort zone?” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, eyes darting toward her unsettled fingers. Maybe Mom was right. I knew nothing about this woman I was leaving my child with.
I mentally shook my head. Mom was being her usual overprotective self. I had great intuition, and no alarms went off when speaking with Quinn. But maybe I should dig a little more. I was a little quick to hire her. A background check was a little much, but I could ask Rose to look and see if she had any social media.
Quinn’s phone rang, and she dug in her purse to pull it out. “I’m so sorry. I have to take this.”
“Go ahead.”
“Hello?” she answered. “What’s wrong, Birdie?” Her lips pressed together, and sadness tugged at the corner of her eyes. “I miss you, too. But Mom doesn’t want you to miss the bus, so why don’t you wear the pink shirt I got you?” Quinn bit her lip as she listened intently. “Well, Becky Jenson is a big ol’ meanie that is just jealous because secretly she loves that shirt and wishes she had it, too.”
I leaned against the counter and took another sip of coffee while thoroughly impressed with Quinn’s insights.
“Yes, wear the shirt. It’s a great shirt, and you love it. Okay, I miss you, too. Now get dressed and don’t miss that bus.” She smiled. “Love you, too, little one. Bye.” She ended the call and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. My ten-year-old sister was having a meltdown over her wardrobe this morning. She took my mom’s phone to call me.”
“You said you had four siblings, right?”
“Yup. Birdie is the youngest. CeeCee is seventeen. Then there’s JJ, who is fifteen, and Phineas, who is twelve. They’re a handful, always have been, but I love them so much, and I miss them.”
“It sounds like your sister misses you, too.”
