Page 110 of Born to Sin

“Great,” Quinn said. “It’s worked out great. Oh, by the way, on that subject, Judge Scott has announced that he’s retiring in September. I’m planning to put my name in. Yeah, I’d be on the younger side for a District Judge, but notthatyoung. I think I’ve got a decent shot. It depends who else applies, of course. Technically, the governor appoints you, but in reality, there’s a committee. I’ve got a pretty good reputation, though, and a pretty good rating with the lawyers. Fairness and courtesy, that’s the main thing. Even-handedness. Which translates to: if you yell at us or we think you’re arrogant, we have our ways to punish you. I haven’t done criminal law, but everybody’s got something they’ll need to get up to speed on, right?”

“If anybody can do it,” Bam said, “it’s you. I’m glad you’re going for it.”

“You and Dad didn’t raise any shrinking violets. You can’t get anywhere if you don’t try.”

“Yes,” her mom said. “That was my point. But I’ll see you on Sunday. Bring Beckett and the kids, of course.”

“They may want to have family time,” Quinn said. “Their first night in their new house and all. I won’t be entirely surprised if they bail on Christmas. Probably better not to push.”

Bam said, “If you say so. Well, I need to get back, and I’m sure you do, too. Let me know about Sunday.”

* * *

It was five o’clock.Quinn was still working in the kitchen, as tireless as always. Janey was unpacking in her room, and Troy was sitting on the couch, hugging Bacon. Beckett stopped on his way to the garage and asked, “All right there, mate?”

“It feels nice to sit on our regular furniture again,” Troy said. “But I wish—”

Beckett thought,It’s going to be about his mum.It was strange, having all the old things around them, things he and Abby had chosen, or to be honest, just Abby. Comforting, and … strange. Like he was back in Aussie again, except that he wasn’t. Like reality was distorted, one of those Magic Eye pictures where you saw a pattern, and then it disappeared and the picture changed to something else altogether.

He asked, “What do you wish?” It was another change for the kids. Another adjustment. It was his job to help them make it.

Troy said, “I wish we didn’t have to move out of Quinn’s house.”

Beckett sat down beside him and put his arm around him. “Yeah, mate. It’s always hard to move. Everything’s still in boxes, and it looks untidy, and you can’t find anything. After a while, though, you’re unpacked and it’s normal again. Quinn’s attic wasn’t too flash when we moved in, remember?”

“It was nice, though,” Troy said. “It had windows like a treehouse, and it was cozy.”

“It had plywood on the floor,” Beckett said. “And no walls.”

“But it was the kind of room Ilike.It had trees and birds outside and icicles, and you could see the houses all around, and the mountains. It felt like magic could live in it. And I like making cookies with Quinn and helping her fold the washing. Why couldn’t we stay living there?”

“Because it’s not our house,” Beckett said. “This is our house. You can make dinner with me and helpmefold the washing. And this house is insulated much better. That’s why it doesn’t have icicles, and why we don’t need to chop wood for a stove.”

“But the stove isnice,”Troy said. “Like camping.”

“Mate,” Beckett said, because at some point you had to, “we’re living here. That’s about the size of it.”

Troy didn’t answer. He just sat there, huddled up with Bacon, and started to cry. Silently, retreating into himself, the tears running down his cheeks. Janey had always been out there, stamping her personality on the world. Troy, though? Everything happened inside, which was so much harder to see. Beckett sighed, kept his arm around him, and couldn’t think of anything else to say. Eventually, Troy fell asleep sitting up, and Beckett laid him down carefully. Troy murmured something, and his arm went around Bacon’s curled-up little form as if he could see it through his closed eyelids. Beckett wanted to put a throw over him, but he hadn’t unpacked that box yet, so he left him there, a sad little shape on the couch, and went to find Quinn.

She turned at his entrance. “About done here. Kitchens always take the longest, but getting them organized makes you feel the most unpacked. Nothing feels quite as discombobulating if your kitchen’s set up. I realized that you don’t have any small appliances, or I’d have made you a cup of tea, since I know that’s the secret Aussie power juice. The plugs are probably different, huh? I started a list on my phone for you in case you didn’t have one. Toaster, blender, electric kettle, coffee maker. I can pick them up tomorrow, if you tell me which kind of coffee maker you like. Mixer, too, if you think you’ll use it, though I expect not. I put a question mark by that one, and the slow cooker, though slow cookers seem to me like they were created for single parents. I also did a grocery list. I’ll forward them to you for editing. I can do some grocery shopping for you tomorrow, too, so you can—” She broke off. “If you’d like my help, of course.”

“I’d like your help. Thanks.” He picked up the box cutter and started flattening boxes. “We can get these out of here, anyway.”

“Want to head back to the house?” she asked. “Janey’s probably pretty tired, and I saw that Troy’s asleep. I defrosted that stew overnight, and I can make some cornbread. Carbs always appeal when you’re tired.”

“They do,” he said. “But not as much as a beer.”

She said, “Then let’s go home.” Then stopped, laughed, and said, “I mean, to my house. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Let’s go.”

43

MISS HAVERSHAM REGRETS

Dinner was eaten and the dishes done, and Quinn was trying not to show she was dragging and wondering why moving was so tiring. It didn’t burn all that many calories, surely, to unpack a kitchen, and it sure wasn’t aerobic. So why?

Because you were fighting the feelings all day,her brain tried to answer, but that was stupid, and so were the tears that had pricked behind her eyelids about four times today. When Janey’d run into the house, spun around and around with her arms outstretched, and said, “Finally. A real house. A house that’sours.”When the movers had set up Beckett’s bed in the master bedroom, and Quinn had imagined him trying to go to sleep in it, those first nights without his wife, and probably being relieved all the same now to get to sleep in it again, to feel close to her in the only way he had left. When she’d seen Troy curled up on the couch asleep with Bacon, his face still mottled red from tears, and had wanted to cover him up with her coat, but had known she wasn’t his mom and this wasn’t her life, no matter how much she might have pretended it was, all the while telling herself she wasn’t.

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