Muriel clasped her hands. “Splendid idea.” She walked over to Elizabeth, balanced on crutches, and began to lead her to a kitchen chair. “Why don't I fix us some cool iced tea, hmm? Then we can set you up with a phone and fax and anything else you need in Quentin's study.”
Seven
“I have Mother Teresa at the house, her bridge partner at the office, and the Whittaker Women's Patrol every place else,” Quentin said morosely.
Matt snickered.
“At least Fred's not spying on you through the bushes,” Noah offered.
They were at Earl's having a couple of beers at the bar, as they sometimes did on those rare days when all three brothers had no plans and weren't busy at work.
It was welcome relief for Quentin. Elizabeth had been camped out at his house for over a week. During that time, his mother, his sister Celine and Muriel had conspired to make sure he wasn't able to have a free moment alone in Elizabeth's company.
“Frankly, I'm surprised,” Matt said quietly. He nursed his beer, arms resting on the bar, gray eyes surveying the bottles lined up in front of the mirror on the back counter. “Is it just the weather that's got you all hot and bothered, Quent, or something else?”
Quentin nudged Noah on his other side. “You think he speaks in tongues?”
Noah gave a lopsided grin. “Naw. We probably knocked loose a few too many marbles when we used to kick his butt.”
“Selective memory, little brother,” Matt retorted. He took a good gulp of his beer. “Let me spell it out for you two clowns. Muriel, Celine, Allison and Mom all existed in your life last week, Quent. And the week before that, and the week before that. Why are you so worked up about it now? What's different about this week?”
“Matt,” Quentin said slowly, as if talking to a child, “Muriel is camped out at my house.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Matt cracked open a peanut. “So I hear.”
“She's up in the morning making fluffy pancakes when I get down to the kitchen, and downstairs watching Murder, She Wrote reruns when I go to bed at night. The woman never sleeps!”
“She naps in the afternoon when you're at the office,” Noah offered helpfully.
“Damn straight.” Quentin signaled for another beer. “Allison calls every night.” Just when he thought he'd have a few moments alone with Elizabeth, his sister would call. He'd be treated to peals of laughter and snatches of a one-sided conversation that would go on and on.
“Oh, man,” Noah commiserated.
Quentin thought he'd had them last Saturday, Muriel's bridge night, but then Allison had shown up with pizza.
He'd practically wrung his hands with glee on Monday when Muriel had reluctantly announced she and Fred needed to attend a church meeting. But then his mother had called and asked him to stop by on the way home from work to pick up some books that she wanted to give Elizabeth. Of course, the whole thing had turned into a two-hour detour and by the time he'd gotten home, Elizabeth had been asleep.
He didn't kid himself that he understood women, but after nearly thirty years with Allison, he'd started to understand some of the devious paths her mind ran down. She and his mother—along with Muriel—were running interference for Elizabeth. Their suspicions had been awakened about his current relationship with Elizabeth, and although they couldn't know about the “deal” that had been struck, they suspected enough about his motives to believe that Elizabeth needed some protecting. And he wouldn't put it past Allison to have decided that having Elizabeth so close yet so unattainable was exactly the sort of lure he needed.
“Keeping Liz under lock and key, huh?” Noah asked, pulling him back from his thoughts.
“It's unbelievable,” Quentin said, then caught himself and shrugged. “It's all the same to me.” Except it wasn't.
“Your bad mood wouldn't have anything to do with Lizzie, would it, bro?” Matt arched a brow.
Quentin hadn't told his brothers about his “arrangement” with Elizabeth. They knew something was going on, they'd just uncharacteristically avoided probing. Anyway, how did he explain that he might father Elizabeth's baby after the negative reaction he'd had to the possibility they'd do the same?
Quentin shook his head. “She hasn't bothered me.”
Like hell. Sure she hadn't intruded on him, but her mere presence in his house was driving him crazy. Knowing she was down the hall—maybe in that lacy negligee he'd retrieved from her house for her—was enough to make it hard to get to sleep.
“Great.” Noah exchanged a look with Matt. “Then you won't mind her puttering around the house all weekend under the same roof.”
“Shut up.” Quentin sighed. He wasn't fooling anybody.
“Monday is the Fourth of July,” Matt said matter-of-factly.
Quentin took another swig of beer. “Think she'd like to sit on the grass, listen to the Boston Pops and watch the fireworks?” he asked morosely.
“Women love that kind of stuff,” Matt said.
“Can't go wrong,” Noah seconded. “Pack a picnic basket. And don't forget the Chardonnay.”
“Great.” Quentin felt some of the tension ease from his neck and rolled his shoulders. He thought his instincts were right, but it was good to know that Matt and Noah agreed.
Noah tossed some bills on the counter. “Gotta run.”
“Noah,” Quentin stopped his brother.
“Yeah?”
“If you or Allison 'coincidentally' shows up at the concert on Monday, I'd have to kill you.”
Noah grinned. “I'll pass that warning along.”
Saturday night. Unbelievably Muriel had left around eight, saying Fred needed her help installing some shelves.
Right, thought Quentin. As if he'd fall for that ruse. He wondered what the “plan” was now. Had the dogs been called off? Had Noah relayed his message of the night before to Allison, and had his sister finally seen fit to give him some breathing space?
Well, he wasn't falling for it.
Think they could make him dance like a puppet on a string, did they? So, he was alone in the house with Elizabeth. That didn't mean he'd start pawing her at the first opportunity.
She was holed up in his study, doing work. Fine. He'd cede his work space to her for the evening.
He'd just make himself comfortable on the couch, get a cold beer and watch the Boston Red Sox play while he looked at the latest status reports from various departments at work.
It was the bottom of the fourth and still no runs when the phone rang. Dropping the report he was reading, he reached for the cordless on the end table. “Hello?”