“But she left the box?”
“To ensure I’d go through the contents. I didn’t have her phone number.”
“You didn’t feel right calling Rae.”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Rae, your daughter was in my office. She wants to know if I’m her father.’” He sank to the couch, his emotions in flux. Now he wondered if he should’ve called Rae and tackled the issue head-on. Insisted she talk to him. Unsure, he added, “I didn’t open the damn thing until the week after Lark’s funeral.”
“You have to return this to Rae. You mentioned Lark took it from the attic. Which means Rae has no idea it’s missing.”
“I figured you’d do the honors. Drive over to the farm, play intermediary.”
“No!” The contents were quickly put back, the lid snapping shut. “Griffin, I’ve never been close to Rae. Our daughters were friends, and sometimes we volunteered for the same committees. That’s all. Since the slumber party, she’s been missing from the social scene. I’m sure she won’t have anything to do with me. I’m sorry—this is one problem I can’t solve.”
Frustrated, he rubbed his palms across his face. “So I need to contact Rae?”
“That’s not a good idea either. She’s had enough upsets. She doesn’t need you reappearing in her life.” Sally tapped a polished nail against her wineglass. “Talk to Yuna. She lives next door—get her advice on what to do. Yuna knows Rae better than anyone. If you’re lucky, she’ll offer to return the keepsake.”
A course of action he’d already mulled over and discarded. “I was hoping not to drag Yuna into this.” He preferred to avoid another retelling of his brief acquaintance with Lark.
Sally regarded him with disbelief. “Get your head out of the clouds, little brother. Dragging Yuna in is the only option.”
On Thursday Rae strode into the craft emporium’s stockroom. “One order of pad thai, no bean sprouts or shrimp, with extra chicken.” She held up the bag. “Normally you love bean sprouts and shrimp, but who am I to complain if you need a change of pace?”
Yuna cleared a space on her cluttered desk. “You’re a lifesaver. I have a class in thirty minutes. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“It wasn’t an inconvenience. I promised Dad and Quinn I’d bring dinner home—a guilt move on my part. Quinn has been cooking nearly every night. Am I taking advantage of my talented houseguest?”
“Oh please. Quinn likes to cook. Doing his bit helps him fit into your household.”
“True, and he’s never had Thai. He’s in for a treat.”
“Never? That’s just sad.”
“From what he’s told us, his parents rarely took him out. Burger joints or pancakes. Nothing fancier.”
Quinn’s parents were deadbeats. Better to relegate them to the past—she’d help Quinn move toward a better future. He was fitting into their homelife well, and quickly becoming her father’s sidekick.
In a lighter tone, she veered to another topic. “Want to guess who I ran into this morning? It was great.”
The bag rustled open. “Not Katherine Thomerson or Sally Harrow, I presume. Since you’re still avoiding them, you must mean someone else.”
“Don’t push, Yuna. Just because we’re besties doesn’t mean we have to like the same people. I can’t interact with any of the women whose daughters were at the slumber party. I just can’t. Every time I see one of them, I’m reminded of how I lost Lark. I just want to move on.”
“You are moving on. Look how you’ve opened your heart to Quinn. Change is hard, Rae. Even when it’s uncomfortable, you have to keep putting one foot in front of the next.”
“I am doing that—with Quinn.” In more ways than you understand. “It’s enough.”
Sheltering him gave Rae an unexpected means of making peace with the girl she’d once been. A girl that Yuna—although she’d been in the same grade, back in school—hadn’t known well. Yuna had been much more popular.
“Can’t you bend a little?” Yuna looked exasperated. “Sally’s not bad. She never has a mean word to say about anyone. You should give her a chance.”
“The truth? She’d irritate me less if she weren’t so tight with Katherine—and Katherine I can do without.”
“Are you sure you’re not misplacing your animosity?”