Quinn looked touched at the question. “Other than a killer headache, I’m really okay.”
When Quinn was finally cleared to go several hours later, Cliff gave them a ride, taking Tilly straight to school, just in time for last period—biology. Damn. She turned to Quinn. “Thanks for not dying.”
“Thanks for helping me to not die.”
Tilly grimaced with guilt. She hadn’t helped. In fact, she’d caused this mess.
“Not your fault,” Quinn said, apparently reading her mind.
But it sure felt like Tilly’s fault. And there was something else too. She really wanted to hold on to the ball of resentment regarding Quinn’s existence, but it had melted away in the face of the sheer terror of the past few hours.
“Who are you staying with?” Quinn asked. “Who’s taking care of you?”
“A friend,” Tilly said as vaguely as she could while trying to sound earnest enough that Quinn wouldn’t dig, which was the last thing she needed.
Quinn looked at her for a long moment and Tilly did her best to look innocent. And happy. Which was a huge stretch.
“Can I see you again before I leave?” Quinn asked. “If not tonight, then for breakfast before school?”
Right. A reminder that Quinn was leaving. “Maybe,” she said. “If you promise not to fall out of a tree and need 911 again.”
Quinn gave her a small smile. “I’ll do my best.”
Chapter 7
There are three stages of life:
1. Birth.
2. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?
3. Death.
—from “The Mixed-Up Files of Tilly Adams’s Journal”
Quinn watched Tilly walk into the high school and sighed. “That went well.”
Cliff was driving calmly. “It’s not as bad as you think.”
“How do you figure? Because I chased her through a park and up a tree like a stalker, and instead of becoming sisters, I made a fool of myself, got stung by a bee, fell out of the tree, and scared her half to death.”
“You got her out of her own head,” Cliff said. “You made her see that she’s not alone. She had to help you, and that, whether you realize it or not, bonded you two in a way that a scheduled sit-down in my office never could have.”
Quinn blew out a breath. “Do you know a lot about teenage girls?”
“Know? Yes. Understand? No.” He shrugged. “I’ve got sisters. Tilly’s taking your mom’s death hard, and she wasn’t ready to meet you.”
Well, that made two of them. “She said she’s staying with a friend. Why not other family? Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins . . .?” She trailed off when Cliff shook his head.
“There are no other blood relatives,” he said. “Both your parents were only children.”
So much to process. “So which friend is she with and is she okay there?”
“She’s staying with Carolyn’s next-door neighbor and ex-boyfriend Chuck. He watches after her and always has. He has guardianship.”
Quinn stared at Cliff. “Are you telling me that Carolyn left guardianship of her daughter to an ex-boyfriend? For God’s sake, she’s not a coin collection or a piece of art.”
“No, she’s not,” Cliff agreed. “Carolyn was . . . complicated. She loved Tilly very much and was painfully aware the girl didn’t have a lot of choices if something were to happen to her. When she got her diagnosis, she knew she had to make some decisions, but she thought she had time.” Cliff shook his head. “Turns out that time was the one thing she didn’t have.”
“So she didn’t have a will? I mean, even a note would be welcome. Like, ‘Hey, Quinn, long time no see but here’s the thing—I’m dying and I’m going to leave some stuff in your lap, including a sister. Love, your real mom.’”
“She was working on all of that but no one could rush her. And she did have a will, but it wasn’t updated,” Cliff said. “It leaves everything to you and Tilly. What it doesn’t do is outline care for Tilly in the case of her being a minor when Carolyn passed.”
Quinn let out a shocked, dismayed breath. “Pretty big oversight, wouldn’t you say?”
“Like I said, she was working on that; there weren’t many options. She couldn’t leave Tilly’s care to you when she had no relationship with you or any idea if you’d be a good choice. Chuck was her only option.”
Quinn made a noise that she hoped spoke of her horror, disgust, and frustration.
“It’s not as out there as you think,” Cliff said. “Chuck’s taken care of Tilly plenty of times before, such as when Carolyn had her cancer treatments. They’re well acquainted. I’ll also say that you could remedy the situation by taking over the guardianship. Chuck would be more than okay with that.”
Quinn turned her head and met his gaze. His expression told her that he wasn’t playing on her sympathy. He was being genuine and just doing his job. “Tilly doesn’t want anything to do with me,” she said.
“She’s a teenager, Quinn. By very definition, she doesn’t want anything to do with anyone who’s not also a teenager. You could change the course of her life.”
But could she? Her job was two hundred miles away. As was her condo and the only friends and family she’d ever known. So no, she couldn’t see how to remedy this.
“How’s your head?” Cliff asked.
“Messed up.”
“I meant the bee sting, but good to know where you’re at.”
Oh. Right. She laughed a little and touched the swollen spot smack dab in the center of her forehead, the one that looked like a big, fat, stress zit. It hurt.
She’d spent a lot of time lately being numb but that was wearing off like a Novocain shot. None of it felt real right now. She felt like she was watching a movie of her own life. Too bad she couldn’t just get up and walk out. “I need to think.”
“Of course.” Cliff pulled into the Wild West B & B parking lot and turned to her. “You should know that the property mentioned in the will is to be divided equally between you and Tilly. There’s a small café and a house. Both need some work.” He showed her a pic on his phone and she stared at Caro’s Café, realizing it was the one she’d driven by that morning. “It’s closed.”
“Ever since Carolyn’s death,” Cliff said. “It should be reopened, both for the money it generates and for the townspeople who miss the food. Maybe you’d consider relocating here . . .”
Quinn shook her head. Not going to happen. In spite of her anger, and the feeling of betrayal and the unhappy surprise of her adoption, her life really was in L.A. “I’m going home, Cliff.”
“Today?”
“I’d planned on it.”
Cliff didn’t say anything to this, clearly disappointed. And hey, he wasn’t the only one. She was plenty disappointed in herself too. “But I asked Tilly if I could see her again tomorrow.” Something she hadn’t yet shared with Brock, her parents, or her boss . . . None of whom were going to appreciate that decision. Her real world, her life, was waiting for her three hours south of here.
Or not waiting, as the case might be. She had no idea how Wade was going to react to her needing another day off, though she was pretty sure how Brock and her parents were going to react.