Quinlan hid a smile, not giving Mr. George a second thought.

CHAPTER 9.

QUINLAN.

Leaving Ruby at the curb chewing her Juicy Fruit, Quinlan waved a quick goodbye and took off for Moon Sh.e.l.l Drive, nearly popping a lung racing back to the cottage. She needed time before Meghan returned.

She threw her book bag across the bed and dove into a pile of plastic bags and open boxes at the bottom of her closet. With wild-woman determination, Quinlan tore through the pile until she found an unopened 9" x 12" manila envelope with the magic words on the front, Welcome Packet.

Quinlan ripped open the envelope, dumping the contents on the floor. She pawed through the items until her hand touched smooth plastic coating. Her heart pounding, she clasped at the laminated card.

"Yes. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you." Quinlan jumped to her feet, doing her version of a victory dance. All she needed was a hula-hoop.

"What's going on?"

Quinlan jumped. "Meghan!" She slipped the CI card into the pocket of her blouse.

"Good grief." Meghan surveyed the mess around Quinlan. "What are you doing?"

"Um...cleaning my closet?"

Meghan shook her head. "And you were thanking...?"

"You?"

"For what?"

Quinlan paused. "For...giving me this room?" She ran and hugged a pillow.

"Yeah, thank me and hug a pillow. And why are your answers questions?" Meghan asked.

"Are they?"

"You're acting weird." Meghan turned and left the bedroom.

Quinlan blew out relief. That was close. She tried to calm the banging of her heart. It wasn't like she was hiding the CI card. Everybody got one. She just needed to keep this to herself...for a while.

Outside Angela's Cafe, Quinlan and Meghan sat at a small wrought iron table overshadowed by a Venetian umbrella. A loaded silver-tiered dessert tray rested in the middle of the table, teasing their taste buds.

Meghan couldn't resist and grabbed a large slice of baklava, cutting it in two. "Your half." She dropped half of the gooey Greek pastry in front of Quinlan.

Quinlan didn't respond and stared blankly into s.p.a.ce.

"h.e.l.llooo? Anybody home?" Meghan waved a hand in front of her face.

Quinlan jumped. "What? Did you say something?"

"What's wrong with you lately?" Meghan licked honey off her fingers. "You've got your head stuck in la-la land again, haven't you?" Meghan reached for the porcelain teapot and refilled her cup.

Quinlan's remained untouched, cold and lonely. "I've got a lot on my mind." She slouched forwarded, resting her head on her hand.

"Really. I hadn't noticed."

Quinlan picked up a copy of The Guardian in front of her and pretended to read. Minutes pa.s.sed. She lowered the paper half an inch, enough to see Meghan's eyes still on her. "What?"

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Meghan repeated.

Quinlan folded the paper and dropped her hands to her lap.

"I keep thinking about Gracie." There, she said it. "Something's not right, I know it." Her Earth on-line research had uncovered something she couldn't discuss until she figured out what to do.

"Yeah, probably the same thing that's happening with everyone there; it's called life."

Quinlan ignored her. "I think Gracie and Adam might be having problems."

"So? Couples do, you know." Meghan reached for a second baklava and cut it in two, fudging a bit on the halfway point.

"This is Gracie, your niece." Quinlan's voice rose. "The child who can't decide what color socks to wear."

"Oh, get over it." Meghan shook her head and took a large bite, bits of flakey pastry sticking to her chin. "She's not eight anymore."

"But nothing's changed!" Quinlan insisted.

"Yes it has. She's grown. She's married, and a mother."

"Sure, but I've always done everything for her." Quinlan tapped her chest, self-serving.

"And where's that gotten her?"

Quinlan took a sip of her cold tea and made a face. "I'm worried."

"She's fine." Meghan finished the Greek pastry and proceeded to a chocolate Amaretto pet.i.t fours.

"Afternoon, ladies," came a deep, lazy voice.

"George." Meghan responded, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Nice to see you."

Quinlan froze like an ice sculpture. The Mr. George Ruby mentioned? She turned to see the face belonging to the voice.

"It's nice to be seen." Deep lines mapped his face, framing a smile that hinted at an unknown secret. He touched the tip of his baseball cap with his walking cane and continued on his way.

Quinlan's mind thawed slightly. She leaned across the table. "Who's George?" An eerie sensation slithered up her spine.

"Hmm?" Meghan asked.

"Who is that guy?"

"Oh, George?" Meghan responded. "He's a nice guy." Meghan eyed the remaining pastries and settled on a ladyfinger. "Big baseball fan. Detroit."

"Do you think he heard anything?" Quinlan asked.

"About what?"

"About Gracie."

"Who cares?" Meghan broke the ladyfinger in half.

Quinlan shrugged. "Just wondering," she said, feigning indifference.

"What is it?" Meghan eyed Quinlan with sisterly concern. "You've been acting like a weirdo lately."

"I don't know. Maybe I'm catching a cold." Quinlan touched her forehead. "Or the flu. Can I get a flu shot around here?"

"No need." Meghan polished off the ladyfinger.

"Why?"

Meghan motioned for Quinlan to move in closer. Their heads met in the middle of the table. Meghan took her time and enunciated each word. "Because-we-don't-get-sick-here."

"Oh...yeah." Quinlan mentally cringed. "I forgot."

"I really want to know what's going on." Meghan eyed her sister. "You're so jumpy. And all this worrying over Gracie should have been taken care of during your intake," Meghan said.

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"Maybe we should call Maggie," Meghan said. "You know, just to make sure-"

"No!" Quinlan spouted, much quicker than intended.

"...everything's okay," Meghan finished.

"I mean...no. I'm tired, that's all."

"You're at the library a lot these days," Meghan commented. "What's that about?

What is this, twenty questions? "You know...just studying for my herb cla.s.s mostly." Quick pause. "So, how long has George been here?"

"Since the universe started kindergarten is what I hear." Meghan chuckled. "He's strange looking, isn't he?"

An understatement, Quinlan thought. If George's body could be ironed out, he'd probably be over six feet tall. Either age, bad posture, or both had caused a p.r.o.nounced slouch, reducing his stature to more of a question mark.

"Does he always dress like that?" Quinlan asked, referring to the odd combination of rumpled khakis, windbreaker and Converse tennis shoes.

"Yep," Meghan said. "And he's never without that faded Detroit baseball cap or walking cane. He's on the Advisory Council, you know." Meghan wiped powdered sugar from her mouth with a napkin.

"He's not!" Quinlan spat, grateful her mouth wasn't full, otherwise she'd be picking bits of pastry out of Meghan's hair.

"Yes he is," Meghan said. "It's like his fifth term or something. Maybe sixth."

"Do you think he's a scout?" Quinlan's voice dropped to a whisper.

"You mean as in...boy?"

"No. I mean someone who snoops around, trying to dig up information." She remembered seeing George a couple of times at the library. Was he spying on her?

"I don't think it works like that." Meghan laughed at her own joke. Quinlan's seriousness made her stop. "Why? Do you have something to hide?"

"Not at all," Quinlan squirmed.

"Well, I hope not." Meghan reached for her purse. "We'd better get going. I've got my "Book of the Month" cla.s.s tonight."

The sun had already descended for the day by the time the sisters entered the front gate of the cottage. Late afternoon light bounced shards of reflected beams off the windows and down onto the front porch.

Meghan petted the side of the cottage as if it were a loyal companion. "Isn't it nice here?"

"Yes. Very." Quinlan opened the front door. Her mind drifted further and further away.

"Makes you never want to leave, doesn't it?" Meghan tossed her purse on a small entry table.

"Uh-huh," Quinlan dropped her eyes to the floor. Although perfecting the art of lying, she still felt uncomfortable when it came to her sister.

Meghan changed into a long denim skirt and white cotton sh.e.l.l top. She threw a lightweight jacket around her shoulders and grabbed her book bag. "Stay in tonight, Quin. Get some rest, okay?" Meghan, lighter and shorter, still pulled off the older sister tone of voice role without a hitch.

"Yes, Mom."

Meghan rolled her eyes and left. Quinlan walked the inside perimeter of the living room. She straightened a lampshade and fluffed a throw pillow on the small-overstuffed couch. Convinced Meghan wouldn't return for a forgotten item, Quinlan raced to her bedroom and closed the door.

The four-poster bed framed the far side of the room. She ran to the bed and pulled a hefty, leather-bound book from behind one of the flowered pillow shams. She plopped on the bed, lugged the super-sized book into her lap and traced the etched gold-leaf letters with her fingers. Rules of Return Engagement.

CHAPTER 10.

GRACE.

"Why Easter?" Josh asked.