Page 45 of The Temporary Fiancée
“Congratulations,” Olivia’s father says to both of us, reaching out to shake my hand again—this time, more vigorously.
“We’re so happy for you, sweetie,” says Mrs. Quinn, beaming at Olivia. “When’s the wedding?”
“Well,” Olivia says evasively, “we still have to plan everything, so we’re not entirely sure yet. There’s a lot to do.”
“You’ll have to explain everything,” says Mrs. Quinn, smiling as widely as her tired face will allow.
Olivia’s father stands, waving his hands to usher us into the next room. “Let’s head into the dining room. The food’s just about ready. Olivia, could you please set the table?”
Olivia trots off to the kitchen, and I decide I should probably help her out—it’s the “kind, loving partner” thing to do. As I leave the room, I pause and glance over my shoulder, watching out of the corner of my eye as Mr. Quinn helps his wife to her feet, gently steadying her as they move into the dining room.
As I follow behind Olivia, I look around the house at all of the pictures on the wall. There’s a lot of embroidery, some of it framed, and photos of Olivia and others who I assume must be cousins.
In the kitchen, a delicious smell permeates the air. Olivia hands me a stack of plates, gesturing into the dining room to direct me to the table.
While I set the table, the Quinns get settled. Robert helps Maura sit down, and she winces a little in pain as she does so. He takes the chair beside hers, and their fingers lace together, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.
I can’t help but contemplate Olivia’s parents and their situation. Their house is small; it’s cozy and warm, but it also clearly needs some work—work that neither of them have the time or ability to do. The paint outside was peeling, and the garden overgrown.
I know that Olivia was working overtime for her horrible former boss mostly to help her parents with their expenses. Olivia’s mother’s illness took me aback when we first arrived at the door. She seemed so small and frail. It seems like taking care of her is a full-time job for her husband.
As I set down the last plate, I realize that my hands are shaking slightly. I stow them in my pockets, wondering if I should chalk that up to nerves, or if it’s something else.
No.It’s not nerves.
I’m upset.
Upset at how little my family has done to care for Mrs. Quinn, the woman who kept their house in order for years.
When Olivia’s mother worked as a housekeeper for my father, she was meticulous, and she kept that place immaculate. If she lost her job due to her illness, and he did nothing to make sure she would be comfortable…
The thought makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Olivia re-enters the dining room, smiling at me, and for a moment, there’s something so genuine about the look on her face that only compounds my distress. I push it down, though, and take the seat beside hers.
“So, Olivia,” says Maura, her eyes sparkling, “have you begun planning yet?”
“Well… sort of,” Olivia admits. “Not entirely. We only just got engaged, so I haven’t had much time yet.” She hesitates, then adds, “A few friends took me window shopping, though. Looking at rings.”
“That’s wonderful.” Maura beams. “Oh, the time will fly by, believe me. You haven’t picked a date yet?”
I shake my head, chiming in. “No, we haven’t. We were thinking we’d try to keep our engagement short, though. Six months, maybe.”
Robert nods. “Eager to be married?”
“Definitely.” I give Olivia a smile, which she returns, though I think I can see the beginnings of worry in her eyes.
Mr. Quinn gets up from his seat to serve us dinner—a savory pot roast, cooked to perfection. For a few minutes, it’s quiet as everyone takes their first few bites.
“This is amazing,” I say, looking up from my bowl. “You made this, right, Mr. Quinn?”
“I did,” he says, looking pleased. “And call me Robert, okay?”
“No problem, Robert. It’s delicious. You’re a regular chef.”
“Well, it’s Maura’s recipe,” he tells me, indicating his wife. “I’m just more mobile, because of her MS, so I do the standing and vegetable chopping.”
“You’ll have to tell me what it is.” I swirl my fork in the sauce for a moment. “A couple friends of mine are really into cooking. I’m sure they’d be blown away by this.”
