“No children?” Grandma’s frown deepened, her eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. “But what about keeping the family alive, growing the herd?”
“Leave her alone,” Wilder said, carrying two mugs of tea. He set one next to Grandma and carried the other over to Quinn.
Grandma made a tsk sound. “Use a—”
“Coaster. I know. You only told me that for as long as I lived here,” Wilder muttered as he set the cup down.
Grandma Kane crossed her arms and stared at her grandson. “I told you a lot of things but never saw it do much good.”
Wilder walked over, grabbed a log, and threw it onto the fire with more force than the situation called for.
Quinn watched both their faces. Wilder was hurt, masking it with anger, whereas Grandma Kane was like a junkyard dog who’d caught a pant leg and was physically incapable of letting go.
“You want to pick on somebody, pick on me,” Wilder said. “How about a game of chess?”
“It’s getting close to my bedtime. Aren’t you supposed to make sure I’m tucked in at a sensible time?”
Wilder dug out the chessboard from under the coffee table. “Save your smarts for the game—you’re going to need them.”
The two of them engaged in serious trash talking. The dynamic was impossible to figure out. A tug of war was going on, a power play. One Quinn didn’t understand and was glad she didn’t have to get involved in.
Instead, she cozied onto the couch with Brightwater’s history. She’d never really devoted much brain space to wondering about the town’s past or the fact that her family really did tend to have a lot of kids. More than the Kanes if that was possible.
She flipped around, pausing at a strangely titled chapter. “The Curious Case of the Castle Falls Phantom.”
She read through the short entry, her stomach in knots. Déjà vu wasn’t a feeling that she had much experience with, but there’d been a Castle Falls hermit before Wilder?
Why? And what happened to him? Quinn tried to lose herself in the story, but her thoughts kept drifting to Wilder.
He was stuck in the past while she fixated on the future. Was there a way they could both figure out how to live in the present?
Chapter Fourteen
GRANDMA BEAT WILDER, best two out of three games. He played hard but she was wily, didn’t miss a trick. Never had. She always was one step ahead of him. It used to scare him how she seemed to understand what he’d do before he did.
She’d gone to bed smug in her victory before Archer and Edie returned, tired and a little rattled.
“The fire started inside the kitchen,” Edie said, taking a spot next to Quinn. “Luckily the damage was minimal. I’ll have to replace some appliances but it could have been worse. A lot worse.”
“Was it set on purpose?”
Edie bowed her head, a troubled look crossing her refined features. “The only person with a real axe to grind against me is my ex and he’s in jail now. Unless he somehow got out and . . .”
“He didn’t get out, Freckles.” Archer had walked behind the couch and began kneading her shoulders.
“My guess is that this wasn’t about you at all,” Wilder said.
“I’m exhausted on a cellular level.” Edie stretched. “So tired even getting a back rub feels like work. Thanks for helping out at the last minute. Did Grandma keep you on your toes?”
“She’s a tough old bird,” Archer said. “I’m glad you spent some time together, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”
When Wilder got Quinn out to the car, he paused. “Grandma is a tough old bird. Sorry about what she said, about you having kids.”
“It’s fine.”
“Not really. She hurt you.”
“People accidentally hurt each other all the time.”
“Still doesn’t make it right. You can bear more than most people. But that doesn’t mean it’s okay or that you should have to. When is the last time anyone took care of you?”
“I . . .”
“Do you trust me?”
“I—yeah I do, so help me.”
“I want to take you someplace special. It’s near my house.”
“Now you’ve gone and gotten me all intrigued.”
He turned on the radio and “Little Drummer Boy” was playing.
“This is my favorite Christmas song,” they both said at the same time.
“For real?” Quinn said, surprised. “Why do you love it?”
Wilder was quiet for so long she wondered if maybe he’d never answer. “Guess I like how the little boy played his best, and everyone stood there, watching, waiting. He stepped up to the challenge.”
Quinn tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat. “You know you’re the same way, right?”
“Trouble, I’ve pretended that for a long time, but now I know better. I’ve been running scared for years.”
“Your accident changed so much about your life. But look how well you are doing. Honestly, you should be proud.”
“There is so much I’m not proud of.”
“Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Did you know part of the reason why I moved here is because I got fired. I thought my boss was being friendly, inviting me inside his house in Laurel Canyon after his big premiere. He was in his late fifties—it never even occurred to me that he might think of me in that way.” She took off her glasses and polished the lenses. “He said that I’d been doing a great job, that he wanted to thank me. I was picturing a glass of wine before driving back to my apartment. I mean, he had daughters my age. Instead, he wanted to show his appreciation in a different way.”
“He fucking touched you?” Wilder gripped the wheel so hard she was afraid it would rip off.
“He wanted to, tried even. But instead, I touched him. In the nose. With my fist.”
He rumbled his approval. “Good girl.”
“His cries woke his wife up. I’m so stupidly naïve. I thought that she would jump to my defense. It wasn’t her fault she married a creep. Instead, she called me a . . . how did she put it again?” Quinn tapped the side of her chin. “Ah, yes, ‘a home-wrecking whore,’ I believe was the phrase. She was more worried that he’d have facial bruising for his big advertising shoot the next day than the fact that he tried to tune in Tokyo with my boobs. This was right after my dad started going downhill fast, and it seemed like the universe was telling me in a very non-subtle way that I needed to get to Brightwater.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you. But I’m not sorry you’re here.” He cracked his neck, the pop audible over the music. “Which is a shitty and selfish thing to say.”
“No. No, it’s not. I’m glad I’m here too. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of fun aspects to working in Hollywood, but the thing is, eventually everything feels superficial, plastic. I would have had to get away eventually. The only reason I moved there was because my mom’s sixth husband got me a job right out of college. I figured my public relations résumé would look better if I had A-list cred. But the thing I learned was that I didn’t even really like PR. I don’t enjoy spin.”
“You wouldn’t. You are one of the least bullshit people I know.”
“I’m working at A Novel Experience and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I’ll know more in two weeks. After the test results come in.”
“Will the results change your plans?”
“They must. I’m living with an axe over my head.” She mimed a chopping action.
“What if . . . what if . . .” He sounded like he was choking on the words.
“The test is positive?” She let out a long, slow breath. “I still want to be there for Dad, but I’ll need to make a bucket list. Except I guess it should be called the Loose Marbles List.”
“Don’t joke,” he snapped. “Not about this.”
“It’s like whistling in the dark.” Her smile held no humor. “If I can’t laugh while facing terrible things then I don’t have any weapons at all. If I can look at the worst and still find a way to smile, maybe I’m keeping some of the power for myself. Maybe the bad guys don’t get a chance to win everything. Except the bad guy in this scenario is still me.” She gave her forehead a rueful tap. “Or at least my asshole brain.”