Cruel World(8)

“Yeah, sure does.” A bout of vertigo overcame him, the same as when he glanced down sometimes while climbing. He was at the edge. “Dad, I’ve got to talk to you.”

James stopped in the dining room entry to look at him.

“Go ahead.”

“I…I’m…” His voice shook and he cleared his throat.

“It’s ready you two,” Mallory said from across the room. Teresa came down the hall toward them, pausing when she saw how they were standing, the expectant look on James’s face.

“I’ll tell you after dinner,” Quinn finished.

His father studied him for a moment and then nodded.

“Okay.”

Everyone dined together. Normally Mallory, Graham, and Foster, all took their dinners at their respective guesthouses, but James had insisted that they all stay. He opened two bottles of wine and poured everyone a glass, even Quinn, shushing Teresa as she objected.

“He’ll be twenty-one in less than a year, plus we’re celebrating,” James said, pouring Quinn’s glass full.

Quinn avoided Teresa’s gaze as he sipped the drink, letting the alcohol drown out some of the anxiety that churned within him.

“To the future, may it bring good things to us all,” James said, raising his glass. They all followed suit, and Quinn swallowed the sharp barb in his throat as his father’s kind eyes locked onto his own. The older man’s gaze swam with a sheen of tears before he blinked them away and drank several swallows of wine.

Midway through dinner the telephone rang and Mallory swept out of the room to answer it. She came back holding the cordless in one hand.

“It’s an Alex Gregory for you, sir.”

James frowned and hesitated before rising from his seat. He coughed again into the back of his hand and motioned toward the hallway.

“I’ll take it in my office,” he said, and left the room. Mallory set the phone down on the counter before returning to her chair.

“May be about the meeting today,” Graham said, smoothing back his blond curls. “If it went as well as he let on, perhaps we’ll all get raises.” His Nordic face lit up in a smile and he winked at Quinn, the little golden earing he wore in his left lobe glinting in the light.

“You get paid plenty, Graham,” Mallory chided. “We all know since you’re always spouting numbers off.”

“Yeah, try cutting grass and working in the garden sometime,” Foster growled from the end of the table. “Then you’ll appreciate your cool and clean little kitchen.” His old, grizzled face resembled a badly assembled saddlebag. He wore a permanent scowl that Quinn had only seen fully lift once when the groundskeeper had drank too much whisky last New Year’s Eve.

“Oh stop it, both of you,” Teresa said. “James has always been generous and you know it.”

“I was only having some fun,” Graham said. Then turning to Foster he smiled. “You should try it sometime, old man. It would be such a change from your constant miserable state.”

Mallory hid a laugh behind her hand, and Teresa’s lips curled as she tried to fight them straight. Graham grinned into the groundskeeper’s face until the older man finally let out a chuckle and tossed a bright-red lobster claw at the cook.

Quinn took a snapshot of this moment, around the table with the only family he’d ever known. Tomorrow it would be gone, only a memory, and he would be alone. Quinn smiled as Graham jeered with Foster again, but he was elsewhere, lost in what would be, already departed.

“Do you want any more?”

Quinn looked up at Mallory’s plump face. She held out the platter of lobster in his direction. Foster and Graham were already leaving the table, taking their wineglasses with them into the kitchen. Quinn glanced at his plate, which still held the partially eaten food.

“No, thanks Mallory.”

“Sure, let me get that for you,” she said, clearing his plate.

The housekeeper left the room and then it was only he and Teresa.

“You didn’t tell him.” It was a statement.

“No. I couldn’t, he was too...”

“Quinn, what do you want?”

“Want?”

“Yes, what do you really want, above all else?”

He was silent for a long time.

“To be happy.”

“And do you think leaving this place will make you happy?”

“I don’t know.”