“I only fear danger where I want to fear it.”
—Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis
Next to the smell of books, the scent Quinn couldn’t get enough of was leather. She had Rachel’s journal parked under her nose, eyes closed.
“Should I leave the two of you alone?” Bash asked.
She peeked. “Just tell me you read it before I proceed to wrap it up.”
Her mama walked in. “Well, get to it then! We’re leaving in five minutes.”
Her brother whistled. “Wow, the Caine women clean up good.”
Adele Caine giggled, doing a twirl in the family kitchen. Both clapped, as did their dad, who walked in wearing a sharp suit and tie. “There’s my girlfriend.” He kissed Adele’s cheek.
“Make a note, Quinn,” her mama said. “You want a man who still looks at you like he did on your wedding day.”
They were a stunning couple. She was wearing a tea-length, taffeta, A-line cocktail dress in a rich aubergine shade that made her pale blue-gray eyes pop; a pair of kitten heels and a matching silk purse complemented the outfit. For a finishing touch, she was wearing a porcelain brooch depicting Cupid in flight. Whimsical, sentimental, bordering on schmaltzy: perfect for an anniversary celebration.
“Man, I should’ve worn one of my enamel pins.”
Her mother pooh-poohed her. “You are perfect exactly the way you are. And I adore your dress. Is it new?”
“Actually, it belonged to Daria before she took her first vows. If only all nuns were as stylish in their former lives.”
Bash gave a warm smile. “It suits you.”
Adele made a motion toward the journal. “Now hurry up and wrap that thing already. I don’t want to be late.”
Quinn already had everything on the kitchen table. Once Bash had returned the diary (reading the whole thing without telling her how it ended), she’d called Rachel to inform her it was done. Rachel asked her to gift-wrap it and bring it to the party tonight. She made another request as well.
“By the way, tell your brother he can come too. If he wants. Otherwise, it’s weird if all the Caines are present and not him.”
Bash was so stoked, he went out and bought himself a new suit for the occasion.
Quinn perused his designer duds. “You look sharp, brother of mine.”
He grinned. “Why, thank you.”
“Ever find out why Rachel really changed her mind?”
He adjusted the knot on his tie. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Seriously?” She threw a gift-wrap bow at his head, which he caught with one hand and tossed back.
Bash shrugged. “Actually, after you told me Rachel said I could join the party, I called Stuart.”
She cut the gift wrap from the roll. “And? What did he say?”
“Well, being Rachel, of course she found out her brothers had told me to crash the party.”
“Of course. She finds out everything.”
Her brother handed her the tape. “First, she let them have it over inviting me behind her back. But then Stuart informed her how I passed on their offer in order to respect her wishes. That took her off guard.”
Quinn peeled the paper off the back of the bow and stuck it in the center of the present. “I don’t understand.”
He blew out air. “The Bash she knew would’ve crashed the party.”
“Ah.”
“Proof I’m growing up all up in here,” he said, pointing to his head.
She rolled her eyes.
Her father cleared his throat. “Okay, time to go, you two.”
“Wow, the Slingbaums really know how to throw a shindig.”
Those were her father’s words—borrowed straight out of 1955—and he was right.
They had rented one of those glorious white tents pitched high in their backyard, but this was no run-of-the-mill house party. They’d had a wooden dance floor installed. There were two bars stocked with premium liquor. They even had crystal chandeliers hanging from inside the tent. And the food smelled divine. No surprise. When Rachel wasn’t fighting for social justice as an attorney, she was a fully committed foodie who adored entertaining.
And the minute Bash spotted Rachel from across the room, Quinn got to witness two people falling in love all over again. Rachel was exquisite. Tendrils of loose, dark curls framed her pixie features, especially those huge blue eyes. Her dress hugged her curves, a shimmery gold and silver frock made for dancing, with sparkly fringes that hit the knee.
Bash made a beeline her way, and the room held a collective breath as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Everyone around fluttered, all caught up in young love and whispering to one another. Quinn even noticed Zach and Stuart giving each other a high five.
She heard her mother let out a happy sigh. “Maybe someday they’ll dance like that at their wedding.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, honey,” her dad said. “This here is just a small opening she’s given him. It’s not a victory dance.”
“Yet. But it will be. My brother, as he so eloquently said, is ‘growing up all up in here.’”
Finn Caine turned to Adele, offering his hand with a slight bow. “Let us ignore our children’s abhorrent vernacular, my lovely. May I have the honor of this dance?”
She blushed, placing her hand in his. “I thought you would never ask.”
Adorable.
As Quinn glanced around, she realized Rachel was right: there really weren’t very many young people at the party. It made sense. This was a thirty-sixth wedding anniversary celebration—as their invitation stated, a double chai. The number eighteen was considered lucky in Jewish tradition, represented by the Hebrew word chai, “to life.” Quinn thought them honoring a double chai anniversary was both charming and unique. But now, with Bash back in Rachel’s orbit, she felt rather out of place at the party.
She really wasn’t that hungry, but she decided to peruse the buffet anyway. Maybe nibble a little. Anything to stop watching other people dancing. Even Rachel’s two doofus brothers were pulling their wives close on the dance floor.
With care, Quinn placed the wrapped journal on the gift table and walked over to the buffet, trying to remember the last time she’d had a date. A real one. That’s when it hit her: the walks with Aiden and RBG were the closest thing she’d had to a date in a long time, and those weren’t even dates. They were escorted safety patrols.
I am sooo not living my best life.
Without RBG or her cousin around as a distraction, Quinn felt something she hadn’t been able to fully identify until that night: loneliness. Rachel had encouraged her to invite a plus one, and her first instinct—hand to God—had been to take her dog or to ask Daria if she were free.
Ironically, she was not. Her cousin, who had sworn off men for the rest of her life, was spending this particular Friday night at a church function.
Wow. The nun has a better social life than I do.
Quinn grabbed one of the patterned china plates and began to pick and choose items from the buffet. Southern fried chicken legs. Truffle mac and cheese. Latkes with sour cream and caviar. Dressed-up comfort food.
Even though there was plenty of seating—Rachel had opted for plush sofas and chairs instead of the typical ten-rounds with folding chairs—Quinn chose to eat standing near the bar. If she didn’t have anyone to talk to, at least she could listen to the conversations of others with fully actualized lives.
Two women about her parents’ age approached the bar. “I’ll have a Dubonnet with a twist.” One woman turned to the other. “Did you see the framed family photos by the sign-in book?”
“I did!” She smiled and said to the bartender, “I’ll have the signature cocktail.”
I need to get one of those: vodka and champagne with ginger and mint. Hello yummy.
Baby-boomer lady number one wasn’t done with the appreciative sharing. “And did you taste the latkes? The ones with the sour cream topped with caviar? They are divine!”
“I heard Rachel made those from her late uncle’s recipe, the one who died several months ago. It’s her way of honoring his memory. The rest of the food is catered.”
Quinn took a bite and OMG, where had these fried potato pillows of heaven been all her life? These ladies knew what they were talking about—they were divine.
The other woman gasped, her hand to her cheek. “That is the loveliest tribute! He would have loved everything about this party.”
“He really would have. He adored this family, especially his sister. Can you imagine, a surgeon of his caliber moving here and starting over?”
“Well, his wife cleaned him out in the divorce.”
“I never did like that woman. So cold!”
“And a schnorrer to boot. Not once did she host Break Fast or Passover.”
“Awful. Just awful,” the other woman said, shaking her head before both she and her companion accepted their drinks and walked away. The people waiting behind them gave one another knowing looks.
The wife requested a Jack and Coke, then turned to her husband. “Those two ladies must be talking about Doctor Chaim Levine.”
The husband told the bartender he’d have the same.
“Oh, I know they were. Because two weeks after Dr. Levine died, Milly was bragging how her husband’s referrals went up by fifteen percent.”
Quinn pretended to be occupied with the food on her plate so they wouldn’t notice her eavesdropping. All the while, she was quietly freaking out. Both Tricia and Dr. Levine had died of mysterious causes with similar symptomology. Was it possible Milly Hauser had knocked off Dr. Levine because he was competition for her husband?
A melodic voice came from behind. “Having fun?”
Quinn nearly jumped out of her skin before whirling around. It was Rachel.
“Hi!” Quinn gave Rachel a one-armed hug, holding her plate with the other hand. “Wow, you look amazing!”
She beamed. “Oh please, you do. I love, love, love your dress. Emerald-green is definitely one of your colors.”
“Thanks, Rach. It’s a great party, by the way.”
She gave a pained smile. “I’ve been a lousy friend tonight. I take one look at your brother, and I totally bail on us hanging out. You came here to keep me company, and I repay you by—”
Quinn cut her off. “Stop it. We’re fine. You know I’m thrilled you’re giving him another chance.”
“We’ll see,” Rachel said with a sigh. “Tonight doesn’t mean we’re back together. It just means I’m thinking about it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind.”
“You set the pace, okay? My brother will do whatever you want.”
She nodded. “It’s really good to see you. I’ve missed you over the years. A lot.”
“Me too,” Quinn told her. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Of course! Anything.”
“I know you said it was okay if I read Granny Nora’s journal, but I didn’t get a chance to read the whole thing. What happened between Nora and David? I’m dying to know!”
Rachel opened her mouth to respond.
“Don’t you dare answer her.” It was her brother, wreaking havoc as usual. “For the first time since Quinnie was born, I’ve got something over her. Besides fighting fires. And I plan on milking the suspense for as long as possible.”
Quinn pretended to glare at him. “Rach, remind me to taunt and torture this one later.”
He gave his most naughty cackle. “Less talking. More dancing.” He winked at Quinn, then took Rachel’s hand, staring the whole time. “C’mon, one more dance. Then I’m going to wolf down the rest of those latkes. I’ve been craving them for years.”
“Do you mind?” Rachel asked Quinn, her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes wide.
She shooed them away. “Go forth. Prosper. Have fun. I’m going to cut out early.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Have fun. We’ll catch up.”
They took off, and Quinn stayed just long enough to sign the guest book and say goodbye to her parents, who said they’d get a ride from someone and gave her the car keys.
Good thing, because Rachel’s parents’ house was on the other side of town, and there was no way Quinn would have been able to walk the whole way home. She took off her heels, holding them by the straps in one hand while retrieving her phone with the other. It was a longer walk to the car than she had expected, because her dad had dropped her and her mom off at the front. The Slingbaums had their fair share of friends, and they had invited family from all over as well—which made for quite a schlep to where her dad had parked the car. Looking at the street names, she realized she was fairly close to the Hausers’ home. The thought made her shiver.
Scrolling through her contacts, she found the number she was looking for.
“Hi, Aiden, it’s Quinn.”
“I know who it is. Are you okay?”
She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m fine. Listen, sorry to call you so late, but I overheard something at the party tonight—and the other day while walking my girl. I promise I haven’t been investigating, but you said if I heard something …”
She then proceeded to share with Aiden everything else she’d heard regarding Tricia and Trina—from Milly Hauser herself, at the Patron residence. She recapped the conversation about Dr. Hauser’s uptick in referrals. She even offered her theories on the case. By the time she got to the car, she had told Detective Aiden Harrington everything. She felt good too. Clean. Like she could sleep in peace for the first time in a long while.
What she didn’t realize was, the whole time she was talking, someone else was listening, taking an evening stroll and keeping just close enough to hear everything she said.