Acts of Violet(61)

“Sorry, I happen to like your crazy Russian superstitions.”

There’s a wounded note in his voice and I’m flooded with guilt. Gabriel is sensitive about his adoptive parents shunning his native culture, despite the mother who raised him being half-Filipina herself. “No, I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing for me to say.”

“How about we officially declare this dinner the worst and just get the check?” Quinn asks. “I’m meeting someone for coffee at eight and gotta get going.”

I tilt my head. “Someone?”

“A friend from college who happens to be local. Don’t make it weird.”

“Nobody is making it weird. Go have fun with your friend.” The cringe Sally gives me confirms it came out sounding even lamer than it did in my head.

Pushing her plate to the center of the table, Quinn scoots out of the booth. Hesitation crosses her face as she’s about to leave. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” The somber note in her voice tells me it’s going to be about Violet.

“Are you sure you don’t know who that woman is? The one who interrupted the vigil? Antoinette?” Her gaze begs honesty.

Thankfully, that’s something I can give her. “I really don’t know her, hon. I’ve never seen that woman before, and she seemed kind of … troubled to me. If we ever crossed paths before, I don’t remember.” It feels good to be able to speak freely with Quinn. “For all I know, she might be one of those so-called psychics who tried to reach out to me.” After the first three were duds, I started ignoring the rest. “If I knew who she was, I would tell you.” All right, let’s not ruin it with a potential lie.

Her “hmph” is reluctantly convinced. How sad to be overcome with relief that my daughter believes me when I’m speaking the truth. When did the trust between us become so tenuous?

She’s not done testing it, though. “And that thing she said about the twos? Do you have any idea what that means?”

Damn it. I can’t get into it, not here, not now. All I can do is I scrunch up my face, mimic her bafflement, and say, “No clue.”

Her nod is accompanied by an uncertain squint. I don’t know what’s worse, that she might not believe me or that she has every right not to.

“Anyway, I’ll probably be an hour or two,” she says. “In case you want to—do whatever naked stuff it is you do when I’m not around.”

Cackles erupt out of Sally, and Gabriel says, “Quinn, this happens to be the woman I love. Don’t make it weird.”

Quinn breaks into a full grin, showing off the crooked front tooth she typically tries to hide. “Nice callback.” With a playful salute, she heads out.

Once she’s gone, Sally looks at us with admiration. “That is one resilient kid you have. If I bombed like that in front of a crap-ton of people, I’d still be curled up in a ball somewhere.”

“I’m more surprised she wanted to leave early,” Gabriel says.

“After all that, could you blame her?”

“She didn’t leave early out of embarrassment,” I interject. Their heads swivel in my direction. “The thing about Quinn and these vigils … I think part of her hopes she’ll see Violet again at one of them. And with all the extra hoopla this year, and speculation whether it might lead up to Violet’s grand return … I wouldn’t be surprised if Quinn had even higher hopes this year…” It’s tough not to project my own feelings here.

“All the more reason I would’ve thought Quinn would stay for all of it,” says Gabriel.

“There was no point.” Understanding softens Sally’s furrowed brow. “If Violet was there, she would’ve never let Quinn go through that.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

Sally’s phone trills. “Damn, I thought this was next week. I have a date with a tattoo artist. I can reschedule.”

“No need,” I reassure her. “If Quinn’s fine, I’m fine. You don’t know anything about who she’s seeing tonight, do you?”

“I do not,” she says, her mouth quirked in reproach as she puts on her trench. “But I bet you could find out by—oh, I don’t know, asking her? Dinner’s on me, by the way.”

Ignoring our protests, she blows us a kiss and leaves.

“Why do I feel like I just survived a hurricane after every time I see her?” Gabriel asks.

“Because Sally is a force of nature, duh.” I rake my fork over my salad like it’s fall foliage, sweeping it into two neat piles. “I was so tempted to tell her tonight. Not Sally, Quinn.”

“Yeah, I could see that. Which part?” Gabriel asks.

“All of it.”

“That would be … a lot.”

I wipe my mouth and toss the napkin onto my plate, and we both pretend I’m not trying to cover up my uneaten food. “We’re not the absolute worst parents, right?” I ask. “I mean, we don’t beat her or starve her or neglect her, so empirically speaking, there have to be parents out there way worse than we are.”

“Oh, way worse. I would say we’re probably not even in the top ten. If we’re talking top hundred, maybe we should worry—or would that be bottom hundred?” Gabriel nudges me with his shoulder. “Which makes it a total mystery how we ended up with the absolute best kid.”