Amanda walked into the house to the sound of gunfire and explosions. Fortunately, they were the digital kind and coming from the basement. She headed downstairs and found Cal and Zoe playing Fortnite. “How was the AP exam?”
Cal paused the game and they both looked her way. “Brutal.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “He’s being dramatic. We’re both pretty sure we got at least fours.”
She looked at Cal. He made a face. “Yeah. What she said.”
She wasn’t worried. Physics was like a second language to Cal and he spoke it more fluently than she ever did. English, on the other hand, not so much. “Good. I assume you two are blowing off steam before your last stretch of studying for tomorrow?”
“Mom, if I write one more rhetorical analysis essay, I might literally die.”
Zoe shook her head and looked at him with a mix of exasperation and pity. “Your misuse of the word literally begs to differ.”
He turned his attention, along with a withering glare, her way. “I was being hyperbolic.”
“Nice recovery. I withdraw my insult.”
It was their usual banter—sarcastic and a bit brainy—but still made her smile. Zoe had been Cal’s best friend since preschool. She’d come out as trans just as they hit puberty and Amanda had worried the combination of hormones and middle school angst might pull them apart. Cal never wavered, though, remaining so loyal she then wondered if maybe he’d developed a crush on her. But by all accounts, she was wrong on that front, too. They remained inseparable and, she was pretty sure, had similar taste in girls. It baffled her at times, but seemed to make perfect sense to them.
“Can Zoe stay for dinner?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can play video games until it’s ready.”
Cal sighed, but said, “Okay.”
Zoe, a lit nerd as much as a physics nerd, beamed. “I made Quizlets.”
Cal groaned and Amanda chuckled. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll get chicken on the grill. Sound good?”
Zoe asked, “Would you like help?”
“I’ve got it. I’ll let you two tackle dishes.”
Another groan from Cal, but there wasn’t any feeling behind it. “Thanks, Mom.”
She pointed at the television. “Go ahead and finish this round or whatever it is. Just don’t blow the next hour on it.”
They nodded and Amanda left them to finish saving the world. Or were they destroying it? She could never keep track.
She climbed the stairs to the main level, then up to her room. She peeled off her work clothes and headed for the shower, scrubbing off the powdered sugar that seemed to seep into her pores when she spent the day making frosting and rolling fondant. Thinking of powdered sugar made her think of Quinn. It was a good thing Erin hadn’t stopped by because she’d never let Amanda hear the end of it. Because despite what Amanda might say about not having a stake one way or the other, Quinn was crazy good-looking. The dusting of sugar on her nose had only intensified that fact, adding a layer of adorably approachable to what might have been an intimidating level of hotness.
Not just general hotness, either. In gray pants and a white oxford, Quinn was rocking butch business casual hardcore. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, with enough on top to enjoy running her fingers through. Not her fingers, obviously. One’s fingers. Quinn’s. Or someone she was dating.
Attempting to back out of the thought proved worse than the thought itself. Being in the shower didn’t help. Amanda shook her head and scrubbed her arms with renewed vigor. She was being ridiculous. And she didn’t do ridiculous.
After cutting the water and toweling off, she slipped on her robe and padded to her dresser. She had no business thinking about Quinn and her hotness. She was a grown woman with near-adult children and Quinn was her colleague. Or employee. Or something. Whatever the word was, it had professional in the definition, which made Quinn squarely off limits.
She got dressed and pulled her hair up in a clip. Working together or not, she wasn’t in the market, so on or off limits didn’t even matter. She could appreciate an attractive woman. That could—would—be the end of it.
* * *
After the meeting at the bakery, Quinn spent the rest of the day in her office, working on the plans for the Trumansburg Library expansion and trying her best not to think about Amanda. Or how badly she’d embarrassed herself when they met. She’d eaten enough donuts to know better. Such a rookie mistake.
Amanda had been gracious, not that she would have expected anything else. But it was more than that. She had this energy Quinn couldn’t quite put a finger on. An easiness. Or maybe more accurately, Amanda put her at ease.
Given her recent track record with women, it was saying something. She’d been on probably twenty dates in the last year, and most of them had been first dates. Her sisters, her co-workers, and even her hiking buddies had attempted to set her up. They were so damn enthusiastic about it, she didn’t have the heart to turn them down.
It wasn’t like the women she went out with were awful. Okay, a couple of them had been awful. But most were nice, successful, attractive. A few were divorced, like her, but some were still looking. Maybe that was the problem. Women in their thirties and forties looking to get married didn’t feel like her speed at this point. She’d sort of been there, done that. Which said nothing of the ones who wanted to have kids. At fifty, any desire to go down that path was long gone.
Quinn shook her head. It was all a bit more than she could handle. Or maybe more accurately, wanted to handle. She could handle all sorts of things, but God, it was exhausting.
“Do you have a minute?” Arti’s head appeared in her doorway.
“Of course.” Hopefully, whatever it was would take her mind off women.
“How’d the meeting at the bakery go?”
Amanda immediately popped back into her mind. “Really well. Have you been there?”
Arti made her trying to remember something face. “What’s it called again?”
“Bake My Day.” Every time she said the name, it made her smile.
“I think so. Kenota, right? Near the wine trail.”
“That’s the one. The cupcakes are to die for. Well, everything is to die for in my opinion.” She grabbed the box from the console behind her desk. “I’d planned to eat all these myself, but I’ll share.”
Arti eyed the contents of the box. “I don’t think those are paleo.”
“No, but if cavemen could have eaten them, they would have.”
“What the hell.” She picked up the chocolate one with peanut butter frosting. “All in moderation, right?”
“Absolutely.” Even if her version of moderation and Arti’s were vastly different.
She thought Arti might take the cupcake back to her office for later, but she dug right in. “Oh, my God.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad this is your project and not mine. I’d probably gain twenty pounds over the course of the build.”
Quinn chuckled. “I’m kind of worried for myself.”
“Sugar coma aside, how was it?”
She gave Arti the overview of her meeting with Amanda and the scope of the project. “It’s not earth-shattering, but I think we can make it something special.”
Arti licked frosting from her fingers. “These cupcakes deserve something special.”
The cupcakes had nothing on the woman who made them. “Exactly.”
“Do you need help? I could spare Frida.”
“I think I’m good.” She didn’t add it was because she didn’t want the intern lurking around every time she met with Amanda.
“Well, you know where to find her if you change your mind.”
Quinn experienced a pang of guilt. “I mean, I can bring her in if she doesn’t have anything else.”
Arti stuffed the last bite of cupcake into her mouth and waved a hand. “No, no. I’d love to have her on the Tompkins Trust job, but I don’t want to monopolize her time if you could use the help.”
She was probably more relieved than the situation warranted. It was her tendency to say yes to things even when she wanted to say no. She really needed to get that under control. Next time. “We’re good.”
“Fantastic. I’ll catch you later.”
Arti left and Quinn forced herself to focus. She made good progress, even if Amanda hovered at the periphery of her thoughts most of the time. She called it a day just after five, locking up the office and heading to her little apartment on the west side of town.
Quinn let herself in and sighed. It was a perfectly nice apartment and more than suited her needs. Still, she couldn’t help but feel uninspired every time she walked in the door. Maybe it was time to start looking for a house in earnest.
She set down her things and wandered to the kitchen. As tempted as she might be to have cupcakes for dinner, she should have something other than sugar first. She opened the fridge, only to be greeted with a tub of hummus, a few beers, and the makings of a rather feeble salad. Talk about uninspiring.
Would it be wrong to have takeout again? Thai maybe, which she wouldn’t cook for herself even if she were attempting to cook for herself. And more nutritional value than cupcakes.
Satisfied with the rationale, she grabbed her phone. If you haven’t ordered takeout yet, come over for dinner.
She chuckled at the accuracy of the invitation. Her sister knew her too well. What are we having?
Shrimp tacos.
Hard to turn that down. I’ll be there in 20.
Fab. Bring wine.
She grabbed her keys and headed back to her car. Too bad she hadn’t thought to get enough cupcakes to bring over. Next time. She’d be spending quite a lot of time at the bakery, so that wouldn’t be a problem.
She pulled into Kiera’s driveway a few minutes later. Before she could grab the Sauvignon Blanc from the passenger seat, the door opened and Grace came running down the walk. She got out of her car just in time for Grace to launch herself into her arms. Quinn embraced her, her day suddenly ten times better. “Hello, gorgeous.”
“Beauty is a social construct.”
She didn’t disagree, but hearing the assertion from a six-year-old had her biting back a smile. “You’re right. How are you, Grace?”
“I’m good. I couldn’t tie my shoelaces, but now I can because I persisted.”
“Persistence is a very good trait to have.” She carried her niece up the walk and into the house. “You can accomplish all sorts of things with persistence.”
Kiera emerged from the kitchen. “Are we talking about shoelaces again?”
Quinn laughed. “How did you guess?”
Before they could catch up in earnest, Kiera’s wife, Xinxin, arrived home from work. Grace abandoned her to relay the big news of her day and Quinn turned her attention to her sister. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope. I was waiting to throw these on the grill.”
Xinxin dropped her bag and shed her jacket. “Please tell me we’re having tacos.”
Kiera picked up a platter of shrimp lined up on skewers and sent her wife an air kiss. “Be right back.”
She headed out to the grill and Quinn pulled out the corkscrew to open the wine. In a matter of minutes, the four of them sat around the table on the back deck. Quinn polished off her first taco and licked a drop of sour cream from her thumb. “Thank you for saving me from takeout.”
Kiera shook her head. “You realize you could make these yourself, right? It’s literally five ingredients.”
Quinn grinned. “Maybe I’ll attempt them one day, but today wasn’t going to be that day. And since I didn’t have takeout tonight, I can have it tomorrow and not feel bad.”
Kiera rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“It’s a lifestyle choice,” Xinxin said.
Quinn could always count on her to be magnanimous. “Exactly. Besides, I prefer hopeless.”
“Speaking of hopeless, I have someone for you to meet.”
Quinn groaned and Xinxin laughed. Quinn glared at her. “You’re not helping.”
That only made her laugh more, which got Grace giggling, even though she had no idea what they were laughing about.
“Her name is Lisa and I met her at yoga.”
“Regular yoga or goat yoga?” It didn’t really matter, but it sort of did.
Kiera scowled. “Goat. Is that a problem?”
The real problem was her sister’s obsessive need to set her up. Hell, everyone’s apparent need to set her up. Not only did it usually go badly, the whole concept was beginning to make her feel incompetent and borderline pathetic. “Deal breaker.”
“She’s a director of HR, not some hippie.”
“I don’t have anything against hippies. Or HR directors.”
“So you’ll meet her?”
The thing was, saying yes would let her off the hook for at least a month. And it wasn’t like she was opposed to meeting up with a woman for coffee. And if she was a director of anything, chances were good she was at least forty. Which, in her book, was a bonus. “Maybe.”
“She moved to Ithaca a few months ago. She could probably use new friends as much as dates.”
Quinn wasn’t clamoring for new friends, but she could appreciate trying to navigate a new place. “Are you sure she’s a lesbian?”
Kiera huffed out a breath. “That only happened one time.”
“But I’m still scarred,” Quinn said. Kiera swore up and down she had no idea how the wires got so crossed, but the woman in question had not been any degree of queer. Nor had she been gracious about it.
Xinxin, who refrained from getting involved for the most part, angled her head. “Do you want to be dating?”
Such a loaded question. One the people trying to fix her up rarely bothered to ask. She didn’t not want to date, which was maybe a hair shy of actually wanting to date. The bigger issue was she didn’t seem to click with any of the women she went out with. Whether it was her, or bad luck, or maybe not being ready to wade into those waters, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t know.”
Kiera visibly deflated. “I’m sorry.”
Her own discomfort evaporated and the desire to smooth feathers kicked in. “Don’t apologize. I know your heart is in the right place.”
“It is.” Kiera cringed. “I may have already told Lisa I’d set something up.”
Quinn scrubbed a hand over her face. “Okay. I’ll go out with her. But maybe you could lay off for a while.”
She perked up. “Deal.”
Xinxin shook her head, but looked at Kiera with affection, then at Quinn. “And I’ll do my best to hold her to it.”
“Thanks.”
“Can we talk about me now?” Grace asked with her mouth full.
Quinn turned her attention to her niece. “I think that sounds like a fantastic idea.”