Gillian's Do-Over (18 page)

Mo had
been bolder the second time, so much so that she’d pulled away before he got the wrong idea.

“Mo’s different.
I’ve already checked him out. You can go out with him anytime.”

“
Why’d you do that? Check him out, I mean. He’s a local doctor, for heaven’s sake!”

“Exactly. And well thought of.”

“Quinn, give me a break. You’re worse than your
grandfather
. He never was all that worried about the boys I dated when I was living at home.” Maybe he should have been. At least with Owen. Look where that had gotten her.

Quinn seemed to consider
her comment for another elongated minute. “Promise me, Mom. No more dates until Bianca and I can see you. And talk.”

“Okay. I promise.”
But she hoped the wedding issues, as Bianca was now calling them, would delay Quinn’s arrival at the house until
after
her double-header weekend.

Gillian parked her car and walked in the direction of the Chihuly Glass Museum. Even from a distance, she could see clusters of red and yellow blooms shining in the light from inside the museum. A crowd had gathered near the front entrance.
There must be something special going on tonight.
She ambled past people, looking for a man in a red vest. So far, no luck. Well, she
had
told him to go on inside.

“I’d like a ticket, please.”

“Today’s viewings are all reserved. May I have your name?”

“
I didn’t know that.” She pursed her lips. Would Nifty have already paid for a ticket for her? “Would you happen to have a ticket reserved for ‘Fab’, er ‘fabulousatforty?’” She felt her cheeks heat up that she’d had to use her online name.

The ticket taker smiled. “Why, yes. It’s right here. The man who bought it said you’d be along soon. He’s already inside.” She ha
nded over the ticket.

“Thank you.” Gillian stopped just inside the exhibit hall, taking in the breathtaking beauty of the glassworks on display. Toward the far end of the room, a man was standing, looking at another cluster of glass flowers. He carried a long-stemmed white rose
and was wearing a red vest and charcoal pants.
Just like he said.
She walked in his direction. She recognized his hair from his picture, a mixture of brown with gray above his ears that caught the light.

He
turned and seemed to spot Gillian immediately. He beamed at her and waved the rose. She nodded and picked up her pace.

“You
are
fabulous,” he said, his deep voice containing a hint of an accent, something Gillian couldn’t place, but definitely foreign.

“My
real name’s Gillian,” she replied.

He
handed her the rose and waited for her to shake his hand. “I’m Finn.” He motioned toward another room. “Would you like to sit, maybe have a cup of coffee in the cafe before we explore?”

“A good idea.” She followed him into
the eating area. “The glassworks here are spectacular.”

“Yes, they are.” His voice
with that hint of an accent was charming.

He supported her elbow as she
walked toward an empty table. Finn helped her into her seat.

But s
he felt no thrum of excitement as she’d experienced with Matt. A reaction she’d struggled to ignore each time it occurred, each time she’d met with him, to be honest. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No. I wanted to
meet you before checking out the exhibit.”
Is he as nervous as I am?
He sat down, folded and refolded the napkin at his place, looking embarrassed. “I’m not used to meeting strange women,” he said. “Not that you’re strange.” He gave a little snort. “What I mean is, women I don’t really know.”

Gillian laughed, relieved that his discomfort seemed to mirror hers. “
You haven’t been online long?”

He shook his head. “
Just a few months. My friends kept on me about needing to meet other people after my wife died. I finally gave in. What about you?”

“My son
encouraged me. I tried it out of curiosity.”

“Is that him
, the young man waving at us?” Finn pointed to a disturbance at the entrance of the cafe. Gillian looked over her shoulder, dismayed to see Quinn striding toward her, looking stern. Bianca followed in his wake, grimacing as if slightly embarrassed.

Oh dear. Is he going to make a scene?
“How did you know that was him?”

“He looks a great deal like you. Handsome devil.”

She turned in her seat as her son approached. “Quinn, dear. How nice that you decided to check out the glass museum.” She rose from her chair, determined to act casual, as if her son always barged in on her dates. Something she’d never done when
he
was dating. “Would you like to join us?”

Quinn studied Finn as the man rose from his seat and extended his hand.

“Hello. I’m Finn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Quinn took it, still looking like he suspected Finn of something nefarious.

Bianca cleared her throat, offered her hand to Finn and then placed it on Quinn’s arm. “I’m Bianca, Quinn’s fiancée. We were just leaving, Gillian, not wanting to disturb you.”

Maybe
you
didn’t, but Quinn sure did.

Finn spoke up
. “You are not disturbing. Please. Have a seat. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a table with two beautiful women.” He smiled, first at Bianca and then at Gillian.

Quinn pulled out Bianca’s chair for her
. From a nearby table, he slid a fourth chair between Gillian and Finn, forcing the man to slide over. He seemed unable to speak as he stared at Finn. Was there such a thing as a testosterone-heavy atmosphere? Did men always assess each other like two stallions in the presence of mares? She watched as Quinn gulped once, twice, then grabbed her coffee cup and took a quick sip.

“Quinn—
”

Bianca waved a waitress over and quietly ordered two more coffees. “No cream or sugar.”

Gillian pointed to the white rose propped in the vase in the center of the table. “Finn brought me this rose. Wasn’t that a lovely gesture?” She directed her words at Quinn, giving him one of those looks she’d used when he was a teenager guilty of something she didn’t approve of, right before she lowered the boom.

He
finally got the message. “Very nice.” He lowered his eyes, seeming unwilling to look at Finn or Gillian before glancing at Bianca. “We shouldn’t have interrupted. My apologies.” When the waitress brought two more cups and placed them on the table, he pushed his new cup toward Gillian. “Since I finished yours, you take mine.”

One
corner of Bianca’s mouth curved upward before she gave Quinn a quick grin, an eyebrow raised for emphasis. “We were just leaving, didn’t you say?” She smiled. “It was very nice to meet you, Finn. Perhaps we’ll see you again.” She leaned over and gave an air kiss to Gillian’s nearest cheek. “I’ll call you later.”

“You do that,” she replied, and surrounded her coffee cup with both hands.

Quinn tossed some bills on the table before he turned and followed Bianca out of the cafe.

“
Your son was checking up on you. Or was it me he was checking?” Finn asked with a quiet chuckle after Quinn and Bianca departed.

“
He was pretty obvious, wasn’t he?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a son being concerned
for his mother’s well-being. Let me guess. You didn’t tell him much about me. He was worried.”

Gillian couldn’t help laughing. “He hit the ceiling when I
told him I didn’t know your real name.”

“So he decided to make sure you weren’t in any danger.”

“As if I would be in this crowd.” She looked around at the cafe, now bustling with people.

“
Are you done with your coffee? We’ll walk around and admire the exhibits. You have a cell phone?”

“Of course.”

“Then why don’t you text your son every now and then—to assure him you’re all right?”

“At every exhibit.” She chuckled at the thought.
Wait till I get home!
Would Quinn show up at the locks tomorrow and make a scene there, too? She should never have told him about her back-to-back dates.

After
finishing his coffee, Finn stood up. “Shall we wander?” He took her hand, and they ambled in the direction of the exhibit hall.

Two hours later, Gillian drove home, mentally berating Quinn for barging in on her date. As if she were a child. He had all the makings of an overprotective father. When her cell phone lit up and Quinn’s ID appeared, she harrumphed to herself and pressed the mute button. No way was she going to talk to him right now, when she was still upset at his behavior. She’d wait a few days. Maybe he’d get the message if she didn’t respond to his calls or his emails. She punched the garage door opener and braked to avoid hitting the back wall of the garage when she accelerated too quickly. She slammed the car door before entering the house and heading upstairs.

Finn was a nice man, well-mannered, nicely dressed. But he was a ho-hum date. Polite, but not exciting. Gillian suspected she hadn’t excited him, either. Not enough to ask her out again. What was it her mother had said? You have to kiss a lot of frogs before finding the prince? Finn fit into the frog category. Unlike Matt,
who was clearly a prince. An unavailable prince.

Tomorrow was another date, this time with Homebody, aka Wade.
Would he be another frog? The people watching the boats as they moved through the locks often waved at the sailors and their passengers.
Not me, Quinn.
If you’re at the locks, I’m
not
going to make eye contact with you. No waves, either, unless I want off Wade’s boat.
She scanned the clothes she’d laid out for tomorrow’s boat ride.

That night, she
went to bed hoping she’d pop right off, like usual. Three hours later, she was still tossing and turning.

The next morning, Gillian rolled over and groaned. Her left shoulder was stiff, and she wished she had another two hours to sleep, but she’d promised Lauren they would drive to church together. She hauled herself out of bed and into the shower, spending more time than usual washing her hair and allowing the hot spray to loosen her shoulder muscles. She dressed, ate a quick breakfast and drove with Lauren to church.

“Before we go in, spill i
t,” Lauren demanded. “How was your date with the mystery man?”

“He was fine. Could be a friend.
But that’s it.”

“No
sparks?”

“
Just nice, nicer than he should have been.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Quinn barged in. It was totally embarrassing.”

Lauren giggled. “
Kind of overprotective, don’t you think?”

“Bingo.
I’m going to have to talk to him about that. Bianca saw him in action. I can imagine what she must have been thinking. He called last night, but I didn’t bother to pick up. I’m just hoping he doesn’t pull another stunt like that this afternoon.”

“Oh. That’s right. The boat
ride.”

Gillian nodded. “
We’re in luck. There’s a parking space.” She wheeled in before someone else could snag the spot, and walked into the sanctuary with Lauren, glad to be able to set aside more talking. Perhaps during the service she could relax and think calming thoughts. She’d imagine only positive outcomes for the day, that Quinn wouldn’t bother her, and that the man she barely knew wouldn’t drive his boat into a sunken log or accidentally drive too close to a pod of breaching orcas, their splashes swamping the boat and drowning them both.

Just before she stood to sing the first hymn, she leaned over to Lauren and whispered, “When was the last time anyone spotted a great white in Puget Sound?”

Lauren’s
too-loud snort of laughter alerted people around them that something other than a prayerful attitude was emanating from their row.

Gillian blushed and stood up straight, hoping people on either side of them would forget what they’d heard.

An hour after the service ended, she donned a pair of
comfortably broken-in white jeans, a short-sleeved blouse, and her soft-sided shoes. She placed a sweater and a rain hat—just in case—next to her purse and looked at the clock. She didn’t want to arrive at the marina too early. On the other hand, she didn’t want to be late, either. After pacing for another few minutes, she climbed into the car and headed out, hopeful the traffic to the Mariners game wouldn’t make her late.

Five minutes before the time when Wade had said he was going to leave, Gillian walked down the dock to Berth ten. The white hull of the small sailboat shone in the early afternoon light. A man in denim shorts
, a T-shirt that clung to his heavily-muscled chest, and sockless soft-sided shoes was doing something with one of the lines.