“By the way,” he said, “Monday is the Fourth of July. I thought I'd go to the Boston Pops concert. Care to come?”
He'd sounded so casual, it took Liz a moment to digest what he was saying. She'd wondered in the past few days whether her accident had derailed their four dates and now felt ridiculously pleased that he wasn't abandoning their original plan. Aloud she said simply, “That sounds wonderful.”
They worked in companionable silence for over an hour. It was closing in on nine o'clock when Liz caught herself staring off into space. She removed the glasses she'd put back on in order to work.
“Problems?” Quentin asked.
Liz shook her head. “No, just envisioning what the Lorimers' kitchen would look like in yellows and blues.” Her lips curved. “And how to fit in Mrs. Lorimer's request for an island, two sinks, and a built-in cupboard.”
Quentin quirked a brow. “Here's my solution—hit Mr. Lorimer up for a bigger house.”
Liz laughed. “His wife has already tried that. He doesn't even understand why she wants to do away with the avocado-green appliances.”
“A sink is a sink.” Quentin sat back on the couch. “Anyway, what's the problem? Didn't bell-bottoms come back into fashion? In a couple of years, the neighbors will be falling over themselves to copy her.”
Liz tilted her head to one side. “Ah, I see. Retrochic.”
“Exactly.”
She pursed her lips. “Kitchen appliances don't come back into fashion the way clothes do. When was the last time you saw someone trade in their washing machine for a washboard?”
“Yeah, all right, I'll give you that.” Quentin eyed the television. Bottom of the ninth and the score was tied.
“Thank you.”
“So what about giving her two kitchens. His and hers, maybe.”
“That's ridiculous.”
Quentin folded his hands behind his head. “Oh, I don't know. The guy might want to mess around on his own sometime.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don't think—”
Not taking his eyes from the television, Quentin interrupted, “Okay, then add onto the house. Does the kitchen share an outer wall?”
“I already thought about that.” She shook her head. “They've got a patio in the back and a driveway along the side of the house. I can't expand.”
Quentin took his eyes off the television. “Get rid of a closet or two. Knock down a couple of walls. Give her a pantry instead of closets. The hubby won't care, he thinks she has too many clothes anyway. And she'll be so taken with the idea of expanding the kitchen, she'll forget about the closets she's losing.”
Liz tapped the eraser-end of a pencil against her lips. “Hmm, that might work. She does have a couple of closets next to the kitchen.”
“Next year, she can get the husband to go along with the idea of expanding another part of the house to add a walk-in closet. And ta-da,” Quentin snapped his fingers, “another project for you!”
To say she was surprised at his insight was an understatement. She supposed she shouldn't be. After all, he'd risen high and fast in the business world. And he really did have a good idea. She started to tell him so when she was caught by the action on the television screen. “Quick! Raise the volume. I think the Red Sox have scored!”
Quentin scooted forward and grabbed the remote.
“A home run, folks!” the announcer exclaimed. “And that's the ball game. Red Sox 4, Orioles 2. We'll be right back after these messages!”
Quentin looked at her. “I didn't know you were paying attention.”
“I guess I was doing a better job of hiding it than you were,” she shot back.
Quentin grinned. “Sorry. I swear I was paying attention to Mrs. Lorimer's kitchen—too.”
Liz folded her arms. “And I was about to tell you that you had a great idea—about the closets, I mean.” She paused. “Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
They smiled at each other for one inane instant.
They were so comfortable together, Liz thought. Why had it taken them years to reach this point?
And yet, he hadn't confided in her. Not about Vanessa. If they were going to have a baby together, she'd want to know that much about him. He could play his cards close to his chest, but sometimes he'd need to throw one on the table.
“Quentin?”
“Hmm?” he answered, not tearing his eyes from the screen.
He must have figured that if she was onto him, there was no reason for him to hide his divided attention anymore, Liz thought ruefully. She took a deep breath, “What happened between you and Vanessa?”
His eyes shot back to hers. “Pardon?”
“Why did you break off the engagement?”
Quentin looked back at the screen and sighed. “Game over.” He flicked off the television with the remote in his hand.
Liz shifted a little in her chair. She would not regret asking him. The worst he could do was tell her it was none of her business.
She hoped he wouldn't. She didn't want the evening—and their newfound camaraderie—to end on a sour note. She didn't want to remember that it was her fault by blurting out the question that had been gnawing at her since… well, since longer than she cared to remember.
He was quiet for an instant. “I found out she didn't love me so much as my money—and the status of being Mrs. Quentin Whittaker.”
There, he'd gotten it out. He hadn't told anyone before about the end with Vanessa. Not even his brothers.
He waited for the humiliation to burn. Leave a bitter taste in his mouth. But saying the words, the emotions were a distant echo of what he'd once felt. He figured he'd finally reached the point where he could look back with disappointment and not bitterness.
She nodded. “How are you so sure about Vanessa's motivation? Surely, she didn't come right out and say she was marrying you for your money.”
“Don't be too sure,” he muttered.
“What?”
“I overheard her and a friend of hers talking. On the balcony, at one of those black-tie affairs that Vanessa loved.” He shrugged. “They didn't know I was there.”
“I see.”
“No, you don't see.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Apparently, I was the fish she managed to reel in before her trust fund money ran out.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Vanessa always had expensive tastes.”
“I'm sorry.”
He shook his head. “There were family and friends who tried to give me a heads-up. But I ignored them.” He paused and then said reflectively, “I guess I should consider myself damn lucky it all came out before the wedding.”