Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay, Babette Jongh [book club books txt] 📗

don’t fix the problem you caused, so maybe you ought not put the cart before the horse. Especially since the horse ain’t even broke yet and is just as liable to kick you as to look at you.”

Quinn finished his drink and set the glass on the inner rim of the bar. “Point taken. So given that all I’ve got to bargain with is the estate, how can I use that capital to bait my hook?”

“The town’s been needing an animal shelter since forever. If you donated your estate—”

“Donate!” The word burst out of Quinn’s mouth before he knew it, and several people near them turned to look. “Donate,” he said more quietly. “It’s all I have. If I donate it, I’ll be throwing away all the equity I put into buying the place. I won’t even have a place to live.”

“Well now, hold on.” Mack’s wide brow furrowed in thought. “What if you donate the land to the city for the shelter, and offer to renovate the house and property to that end? You could stipulate that the city would have to pay you for the renovations—they’d have to pay anyone else they hired—and you could further stipulate that you want to live in the pool house while you do the renovations. That’d give you a steady income and plenty of time to find another place to live.”

“Shit, Mack.” Crazy. Reckless. Stupid. Those words flew through Quinn’s head as he took care of the bill. Why would he give away every ounce of financial security he’d managed to hang onto after the divorce and the collapse of his career? If he did that, he’d have nothing, no safety net.

But maybe if he threw everything he had down the well, he’d get to keep his relationship with Abby—or at least a chance to try again. “It might work.”

Mack stood. “I came in on my boat; it’s tied up to the dock. I’m gonna hang out on the water a while. You’re welcome to join me if you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll go back home and think about your idea.” Quinn stood, too, and slipped his wallet into his back pocket. They walked out of the restaurant into brilliant afternoon sunlight. Quinn slipped his aviators on.

Squinting, Mack clapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Thanks for lunch. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Quinn waited till Mack’s battered old fishing boat puttered away from the dock, then put on his helmet and headed home. As the wind blew through his hair—metaphorically; he was wearing a helmet—and his mind, Quinn let Mack’s idea spin around in the mental whirlwind. All the pros and cons fluttered like bits of paper set loose in a hot Louisiana breeze. By the time he’d made it back to the estate’s driveway, all but two of those bits of paper had fallen to the ground.

Con: Lose everything—not just lose it, but give it away.

Pro: Have another shot at making a life with Abby.

By the time he stepped on the kickstand and took off his helmet, he’d made his decision.

The Pro won.

* * *

After talking with Mack—and then with Quinn—Abby decided that Reva deserved to know that Quinn’s complaint to his real estate agent was what started this entire mess. This flaming snowball of shit was getting bigger by the minute, and it had gathered enough momentum that nothing could stop it from rolling straight to hell. Somebody had to do something, and Abby was at a loss. She and Edna—and Quinn, too, she had to admit—had done everything they could. Quinn had no influence over JP, and if he could have stopped the impending disaster, he would have done it already. They needed everyone brainstorming together to figure out what to do before it was too late.

Abby sent a text telling Reva that she’d call the dormitory phone that evening at seven, and Reva responded with a thumbs-up icon. At the appointed time, Reva answered on the first ring, her voice breezy, happy, and just a little bit out of breath. “Hello, love. How is everything at the farm?”

Terrible? Horrible? Dealing with impending doom? Abby cast about for an appropriate answer. “The animals are all fine.”

“Oh.” Reva’s joyful-sounding voice crashed to earth. “What’s going on?”

Abby sat at the kitchen table and poured out the whole sad story. When she finished, the connection went silent for a couple of ticks. “Reva? Are you still there?”

“Yes, honey. I’m still here. Just thinking. Give me a sec.” After hearing this kind of news, most people would be screeching loud enough to burst Abby’s eardrums. But Abby could visualize Reva at this moment, because she’d seen it so many times before. When other people would be pacing the floor with steam coming out of their ears and blood pulsing behind their eyes, Reva would sit quietly with her hands clasped and her eyes closed, listening to someone or something beyond the veil between this world and the next. “Where’s Wolf? Have you communicated with him lately?”

A swift change of subject. “No. But when Quinn left, Wolf went with him.”

“Two outcasts who’ve been betrayed by those they loved.”

“But I didn’t betray Quinn; he betrayed me. And you. He betrayed us.”

“No, he hasn’t betrayed you, because the farm isn’t yours. And he didn’t betray me, because he doesn’t know me at all, let alone well enough to betray me. The important point to remember going forward is that you haven’t betrayed him yet. But you might be next in line, because you also haven’t given him the benefit of your understanding and compassion, have you?”

Understanding and compassion. When had either of those virtues done anything other than break her heart? “But Reva,” Abby sputtered, “you should be angry at him. He started something that might… I mean…” Abby could feel Reva’s patience on the other end of the connection, and she pulled her thoughts together. “Everything you’ve worked for all these years, everything you’re working for