“I’m not attending the committee meetings. I’ll do the PR legwork and report to you directly.”
“You’re not ready to see Katherine Thomerson or Sally Harrow?”
“It’s too soon.” The women were a stark reminder of Lark’s death. Rae didn’t trust herself to keep it together if forced to spend any amount of time with either woman. “I’ll keep you posted if I change my mind.”
“That’s fine.” Yuna followed her into the kitchen. “Thanks for reconsidering. We have a million tasks ahead of us. I’d be lost without your help.”
“Let’s get started this week.” Rae began to add something else. Instead, she frowned. “Don’t you teach a class tonight? Kameko’s more than welcome to stay. I’ll drop her off later.”
“The knitting class is canceled. There must be a bug going around. Two of the women are down with colds.” The sweet fragrance of cinnamon wafted through the air, and Yuna spied the loaf of banana bread cooling on the stove. “Since when do you bake?”
“Since never. Quinn made the bread.”
“Did he use one of . . . ?”
“Lark’s recipes? He did.” Rae smiled with reassurance. “It’s all right. With Quinn around, my daughter is no longer a taboo subject. He talks about her all the time.” She declined to add that he was also a surprising repository for Lark’s hidden longings, which highlighted Rae’s failures as a parent. She hadn’t supplied what Lark needed most—the truth about her father.
Regret slowed Rae’s movements as she poured coffee. “Quinn found Lark’s gluten-free flour in the freezer. He tossed a mashed avocado into the batter. Don’t tell my father. Connor hates avocados.”
“For Connor’s heart health?”
“Yes. Since Quinn moved in, we’re eating a more balanced diet.”
“When he has time, ask him to make Lark’s chocolate-zucchini bread. Two loaves. I’ll pay for one.” Yuna tipped her head to the side, her expression thoughtful. “Actually, the chocolate-zucchini bread is Quinn’s recipe. He gave it to Lark.”
Rae’s eyes misted. “I thought she found the recipe in one of my mother’s old cookbooks.”
“No, he gave it to her sometime last year.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. All my assumptions about Quinn were mistaken. On the surface, he’s nothing like my daughter. Bashful, unsure. Underneath, it’s a different story.”
Yuna brushed gentle fingers across the furrow deepening in Rae’s brow. “They had a lot in common,” she said. “They were good for each other.”
“How much did you know about their friendship?”
The question lowered Yuna’s eyes. Putting her on the spot wasn’t fair. Yet after the conversation with Quinn, it was clear Lark had kept too much hidden from view.
Guilt seared Rae. A child does not come naturally to deception. The art is learned through example.
Like mother, like daughter.
Running from the thought, she cut a slice of banana bread. She set the plate before Yuna, a peace offering. “After you hired Quinn last autumn,” she prodded, “did he mention Lark?”
“All the time.”
“I understand why you didn’t tell me. Quinn was trespassing on my property.”
“He was.”
“And I’d become obsessed with his behavior. As if he’d committed a crime. Making him the central focus helped me avoid thinking about the accident, and how I’d lost my precious daughter.” The familiar grief welled as she opened the silverware drawer. Placing a fork beside the plate, she briefly caught Yuna’s gaze. “I never gave you the chance to speak up. I’m not even sure why you’ve put up with my behavior.”
“Simple. Because I love you, Rae.”
“I love you too.”
“You hold yourself to a high standard. Which I admire. But you have been through a hard time.”
“That doesn’t justify making Quinn an easy target. I’m ashamed of myself.”
“Don’t be. The police report backed up your worst suspicions. The PD shouldn’t have assumed the kids were dating. They jumped to conclusions.” Seating herself at the table, Yuna poked at the banana bread with her fork. The weight of her thoughts curved her spine. “If it’s any comfort, my husband thought I’d let you down. After I hired Quinn, we argued constantly.”
“Why were you arguing with Kipp?”