Page 42 of The Forgotten
“Gabe is so in love with his child, Dad. He grieves the time he missed with her, but he will be the best father Emma could have wished for.”
“I’ve no doubt he will be,” Roger agreed.
“So, when can we meet our granddaughter?” Sue asked, her voice no longer laced with the bitterness of a few moments ago. Quinn smiled. At least this portion of her news didn’t cause a nuclear meltdown, at least not a full-blown one.
“As soon as you return to England. I’d like your help planning the wedding, Mum.”
“Try and stop me. You are my only daughter, and I will be a mumzilla of gigantic proportions.”
Quinn chuckled. Clearly, someone had been watching American reality programs.
“Looking forward to it. You will have to fight Phoebe for the privilege. She’s already making plans. You two can go head-to-head,” Quinn joked.
“Will Emma be a flower girl?” Sue asked. “Oh, she will look lovely walking down the aisle with her basket of petals.”
“Emma would like to be a bridesmaid,” Quinn replied. “She was quite clear. She said that being flower girls is for babies.”
“Clever girl,” Roger said. “I like her already.”
“Have you set a date?” Sue asked, moving on to practicalities.
“It’ll be this summer, but we don’t have an actual date yet. We have yet to decide where we want the wedding to be.”
“I thought it’d be in London. And we’ll have the reception at a nice hotel,” Sue said, adopting her newly acquired mumzilla voice. “Quinn, you must set a date and book something as soon as possible. All the best places get booked years in advance.”
“Gabe’s parents have a beautiful garden. I thought it might be nice to put up a tent and have a reception there after we get married at the local church.”
“Darling, this is England we are talking about,” her mother retorted. “Chances are it will rain.”
“Sue, don’t you have your book club meeting to get to?” Roger asked. Quinn could hear the amusement in his voice.
“Hmm? What? Oh, yes. Sorry. We’ll talk about this later.”
“I’ve no doubt we will,” Quinn replied as her mother hung up her extension.
“I have to go too, Dad. Nice save, by the way. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Anytime, love.”
Quinn pressed the answer button on her mobile. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk and briefly considered sending the call to voicemail, but guilt won out. “Jill, hi.”
“Hello,” Jill replied. Quinn could hear the hurt in her voice and tried to diffuse the awkwardness by jumping right in.
“I’m sorry. I know I haven’t called, but something’s come up.” Quinn inwardly cringed at her choice of words. In the past, had something come up, she would have called Jill right away to discuss the situation, but things had changed, at least for her.
“Can you come over?” Jill asked. Her voice sounded small and desperate. “I know you must be very busy, but I need someone to talk to.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better,” Jill replied. “Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble, bring a bottle of Malbec. Or two.”
“I’m on my way.”
Quinn sent a quick text to Gabe to tell him that she’d be home in a few hours, dropped the phone into her handbag, and descended into the station. Jill sounded very upset, and it was only while Quinn paced the platform as she waited for the train that she realized that it was Friday and Jill wasn’t at work. Jill loved her vintage clothing shop in SoHo and never took time off, primarily because she ran the business single-handedly. Jill had given up a lucrative career in forensic accounting to follow her dream and had been very content with her life the last time Quinn visited her back in November. She had a new boyfriend, and the shop seemed to be doing well. What could have happened since they last spoke?
Of course, much could change in the life of an unmarried thirty-something small business owner in three months. Quinn briefly reflected on her new venture with the BBC and the breakup from Luke, which happened by text, and was later followed by the revelation that her partner of eight years was already in a relationship and making plans for the future with someone else. Luckily for her, things had worked out for the best, but that wasn’t always the case. Jill was sensible and insightful when it came tothe choices of others, but she was something of a hothead when it came to dealing with her own life. She was surprisingly impulsive for a woman who used to spend her days crunching numbers, but her decision to quit her job, invest every penny she’d saved in a new business, and turn down a proposal of marriage from her long-term boyfriend had still come as a surprise to those who knew her, especially her parents, who’d spewed dire warnings about decisions made in haste. Quinn hoped that whatever happened could be easily resolved with a cozy chat and a few glasses of wine. Jill had always been supportive when Quinn needed her, and Quinn had every intention of being there for her best friend, no matter what crisis Jill was facing.
Quinn picked up two bottles of wine at the off-license shop on the corner and walked up to Jill’s flat on the third floor. The apartment was small but fashionably decorated with eclectic pieces of furniture and Eastern-inspired accents. Jill referred to her style as “shabby chic.” Jill herself looked shabby, but not particularly chic. She was wearing an oversized jersey and leggings, and her hair looked unkempt and unwashed. Her face was devoid of any makeup, a sign in itself that something was wrong, and her feet were attired in strange fuzzy socks in an alarming shade of magenta.
