Daughters Of The Bride(58)

“Military term,” Quinn told her. “You can take the man out of the marines...”

“Of course.”

He spotted Courtney on the patio. Joyce had mentioned she was filling in as a server today. He wasn’t sure who had called in sick or had a personal crisis—not that it mattered. She was always ready to help where needed.

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” his grandmother said.

Wayne and Zealand followed her gaze. Zealand raised an eyebrow. Quinn ignored him and the question.

“She should be doing more than cleaning rooms and picking up odd shifts everywhere else,” Quinn said. “She could be a real asset around here.”

“I agree, but she’s stubborn. I’ve offered her several opportunities. She says she’s waiting until she has her degree. Ridiculous, if you ask me, but she’s not asking anyone but herself. I have to respect her decision.”

He wasn’t surprised by the information. Courtney was playing the same kind of game with her family—not telling them what she was doing until she had her degree in hand. He knew it was about more than the piece of paper. It was about what it represented. He wondered what would happen when she figured out that validation couldn’t come from outside herself. That it had to be something she felt. He supposed that lesson, like many others, was a matter of having to live through the experience.

She looked up from where she was setting a table and caught his gaze. He winked. She laughed, then went back to work.

Wanting stirred. She appealed to him on every level and she’d made her interest in him clear. He planned to take her up on her invitation, just not yet. Long ago he’d learned that anticipation could be its own kind of pleasure.

“You were just as stubborn,” Joyce said.

It took Quinn a second to remember what they’d been talking about. “Me? Never.”

Joyce looked at his friends. “It’s true. Quinn wanted what he wanted. But he was never any trouble. We never had a cross word between us.”

He laughed. “You’re lying and we all know it. I was a pain in the ass teenager—just like every other kid is. I stayed out too late, I talked back.”

Her gaze was loving. “Maybe, but you were kind and so sweet to me. I appreciated having the chance to make up for my past.”

She sighed. “I’m sure Quinn hasn’t told you, but I was a terrible mother.” She held up a hand before anyone could protest. “It’s true. I was very young when my husband died and he left me this hotel. I wanted to make it a success, so I did everything I could to make that happen. That included ignoring my only child—Quinn’s mother. I paid for it later. We were never close. She left and we didn’t speak for years. She died before we could reconcile. A lesson to you all. Hold on to those you love.”

He thought about what Courtney had told him about her past. “Is that why you helped Maggie Watson and her girls?”

Joyce nodded. “I could see she was going through a lot of the same kind of thing, although Phil didn’t leave her nearly as well-off. I did what I could for them and she found her way. Now she’s getting married again to a wonderful man and she has three lovely daughters. Everything turned out perfectly.”

Quinn wasn’t so sure about that. From what he’d seen, Sienna was engaged to a man she didn’t want to marry, and Courtney hadn’t told her family she’d gotten her GED and was nearly done with a four-year degree. He didn’t know what secrets Rachel was keeping, but he suspected she had plenty. On the surface, all was well, but there was trouble brewing just below. He wondered how it was all going to come out.



“I have the power to create peace and happiness within myself,” Rachel said aloud as she walked along the sidewalk in her neighborhood. She kept her voice low but spoke clearly. Although she felt foolish, doing something was better than doing nothing.

Those horrible few minutes when she’d been trapped in the bathroom at her mother’s engagement party had been a turning point for her. She’d been angry and humiliated and hurt. Once she’d crawled into bed, she’d cried herself to sleep. But sometime before dawn, she’d awakened with the realization that she could either spend the rest of her life standing passively on the sidelines or do something to show those bitches they were wrong.

Righteous indignation had carried her through her first walk. She’d been breathing hard at the end of a single block, but she’d kept going. Then she’d joined an online weight-loss group.

Over the next few days, she’d battled sugar withdrawals, hunger and general crabbiness. Now, nearly three weeks later, she was actually starting to feel better. Last night she’d succumbed to a cookie, but for once she hadn’t let the single slip derail her. Here she was, at seven in the morning, getting her walk out of the way.