A midsummer nights schem.., p.9
A Midsummer Night's Scheme, page 9
“It absolutely is.” Aiden made his way toward the door. “You’re also stalling.”
Busted.
“Ugh, do we really have to go out there? We can bunk in here for days. I have a minifridge with snacks.”
He didn’t answer, which of course was his answer.
“I know, I know … I just can’t believe my parents.” She checked the time on her phone. “Let’s get this over with.” Quinn sucked in some air. “Are you sure you want to stay? Now’s your time to bail on this—and all future—Caine weirdness.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I’m going to chalk that comment up to stress.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying. First, your brother’s been my best friend since we were kids, so news flash, this isn’t exactly my first Caine rodeo. Secondly, do you really think I’d leave my girlfriend alone to deal with this nonsense?”
“Yeah, but nothing like this.” Quinn sighed, scanning the mounted corkboard containing her collection of enamel pins. The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on her: Adele Caine had been the one to inspire her pin collecting, after seeing the late secretary of state Madeleine Albright’s brooch collection at the Smithsonian years ago. Now Quinn had a modern version of her own: all of them quirky, most hilarious, at least to her. She needed extra reinforcements for the battle ahead.
“Ah, this is the one.” She plucked it off the board and pinned it to her blouse with one of the rubber backings she kept in a clay pinch pot on the shelf, one she had made while at Louise Archer Elementary.
Aiden brushed her hair off her shoulder. “I want to see.”
It was a troop of mushrooms bearing the saying Let that shitake go.
“That’s perfect. If only wearing a pin was all it took to make everyone out there come to their senses.”
She turned off the desk lamp.
Aiden opened the office door for her, and sure enough, two pairs of eyes were locked on hers, their furry necks craned back.
Quinn’s hands went to her hips. “Well, hello to you too!”
It was RBG and Cindy Clawford, pressed together side by side, sitting on their haunches. Quinn was still learning to speak cat, but she interpreted her new kitty’s grumbles to mean Excuse me, but where is my dinner?
RBG responded by sniffing her kitty’s head before giving her ear a lick.
Quinn liked Cindy Clawford. She would probably fall in love with her before too long, but she recognized that ever since this adorable, tyrannical force of fur had come into their lives, RBG was a smitten kitten for this cat and focused most of her energies on her new friend.
They grew up so fast.
“Look at that, cats and dogs—supposed natural enemies—living together in peace and harmony,” Quinn said.
Six heads spun in her direction.
Quinn met their steely gazes.
Her mother was the first to speak up. “That’s a ridiculous comparison. You know we’re happy they’re getting married.”
“So then why does it look like you two are attending a wake?”
Her parents, Adele and Finn Caine, were standing together by the register, her mamma leaning against her father, who was stiff as a post bean. Her aunt was behind the counter, pale as a sheet while sipping from a small glass of wine like it was a medicinal tonic. Uncle Jerry was all red in the face, unable to keep still as he wiped down the countertop over and over in tight, concentric motions, cleaning spots that weren’t there.
Ironically, sitting near the history and religion sections were Bash and Rachel—and on her finger was an engagement ring, shining like a newborn star. Even though they were holding hands, Bash’s whole body was tense. Silent fury. It was different for Rachel. She just kept taking slow, deep breaths, holding herself together by the barest of threads.
“You know, this is a happy occasion,” Quinn blurted out. “It would be lovely if y’all could remember that.”
“Our niece speaks truth, brother.” Uncle Jerry tossed the rag he was using under the sink behind the bar. “Besides, don’t you think it’s time you realized your boy is a man—has been for a long while—and that man has never had a religious bone in his body?”
“This isn’t about tallying up how many times someone goes to church, Jer,” her dad interjected, turning his attention toward Bash and Rachel. “You know we love you both. We are happy that you’re making this commitment to each other.”
“Absolutely!” her mamma piped up. “Rachel, you’re like family. I don’t want you to misunderstand us. We just don’t understand why Bash has to convert.”
“I don’t ‘have’ to do anything,” her brother clarified. “I want to do this. Besides, I don’t recall you having any reaction when Caroline married Raman last year—and he’s a Buddhist. They don’t even believe in God.”
Caroline was their cousin through their mother’s family line. The whole Caine crew in Virginia adored them, but having part of the family living in Northern California meant they didn’t get to see each other much.
“Buddhism isn’t the same thing,” Adele countered. “It’s more of a philosophy than a religion. She still considers herself a believer.”
Cousin Caroline was a lot of things, but she was absolutely, positively not a believer. The only Trinity she came close to worshiping was the one from the Matrix franchise.
Bash shook his head. “You’re making assumptions, not just about Caroline but about me as well.”
Adele shooed his comment away. “You may not be as devoted as your father and I, but that doesn’t mean you don’t believe. Besides, what do you really know about Judaism? Reading a few books is one thing, but going through the process of conversion is quite another.”
Bash opened his mouth, but Rachel got there first.
“Mr. and Mrs. Caine, with all due respect, Bash and I have been together on and off since I was sixteen. Haven’t you noticed that my faith and culture are really important to me?”
“Well, of course we have. But you’ve always joined us for Christmas and Easter. You’ve even come to church with us. We thought in time …”
“That I’d leave my faith behind and join yours?”
The comment hung in the air like a low-lying thundercloud, the weight of it heavy and dark.
Bash’s eyes scanned the others before landing on Quinn, questioning whether she’d known their parents felt this way, all without saying a word. She shook her head, because of course she hadn’t known.
Aunt Johanna put down her wine. “Adele, Finn, it’s not as if he’s converting and moving to some kibbutz in the middle of the Negev desert. They’ll be right here, and when they have their babies, they can come over to your home—or ours—and celebrate how we celebrate.”
“Absolutely!” Rachel chimed in. “I’m not asking anybody to give up Christmas or Easter. We still want to be part of those celebrations—”
“As long as they’re in our homes, not yours,” Finn Caine mumbled before clearing his throat.
The store was officially closed, but a knock on the back door cut through the air.
It was Daria, waving.
“I’ll get it,” Aiden offered, walking across the store to unlock the door and let her in.
“Hey, everybody!” She was all smiles, and Quinn knew—right then and there—her cousin had no idea what she was walking into.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Rachel caught sight of Sister Daria in her habit, her big gold cross catching the light. “Seriously?”
Daria’s hand went to her necklace. “What?”
Quinn’s brother scoffed. “Which one of you arranged for this little show?”
The room fell silent.
Daria rocked back on her heels, as if her body could rewind time itself. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ll be happy to. Your spiritual calling is being used as a prop to make a point.” Bash stood up, his hand still holding Rachel’s. “Next time, maybe you want to ask a couple of questions before taking out the heavy artillery.” He turned to his fiancée. “Can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this. I had hoped this would be an impromptu engagement party.”
Aiden stepped forward. “Man, don’t leave. Nothing’s going to get solved that way.”
“This is true.” Quinn had to think fast. “Listen, let Aid and I grab some takeout. No one can think straight on an empty stomach.”
Cindy Clawford let out a couple of curt “meows,” as if to remind them about the more important task of making sure she was fed. RBG let out a low bark, which must have meant Cool it, because two seconds later, her cat was kneading the dog’s side, “making biscuits.”
Bash and Rachel shared a glance, deciding. But Quinn knew her brother: the minute he took in his fiancée’s tear-rimmed eyes, that was it. He was done.
Still, she had to try something.
“Uncle Jer, I think there’s a couple of bottles of champagne in the back of the fridge. It’s the good kind, by the way.” Bash would be unreachable, but Quinn still had a chance with Rachel. “What do you say, Rach? I’ve been waiting for the two of you to get engaged since the first day Bash brought you home to meet us.”
Rachel stood up, letting out a heavy sigh. “Me too, Quinn. But I think it’s best we leave. Give everyone time to calm down.”
As they walked toward the doors, Daria bolted in their direction, her hand reaching out to touch Bash’s sleeve. “Hey, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh, I know you didn’t.” His expression gentled before his gaze hardened at his parents. “Never, in a million years, would I have thought you’d react this way.”
Their dad’s voice shook. “C’mon, son, don’t do this.”
Bash opened the front door, suddenly looking worn down. “That’s the thing, Dad. We didn’t—you did.”
And with that, they left. Quinn watched them walking down the street, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened—and not being able to miss Rachel’s head and shoulders bobbing up and down. She was crying in the curve of Bash’s arm.
“He’s wrong, you know,” her father muttered, pretending to be absorbed in opening the register. “We all love Rachel. We don’t have an issue with her being Jewish.”
“We have always been welcoming,” her mamma added.
“Yeah, Mom, just as long as Bash doesn’t become one of them, right?”
“That’s uncalled for, Quinn—and frankly, unfair. We’re a family of strong faith. It’s always been important to us, and so it’s understandable we don’t want to see your brother throw that away.”
To her surprise, Aiden chimed in. “Finn, Bash only goes to church because it’s his way of showing respect for you and Mrs. Caine—not because he has his own connection to it.”
A vein popped out on Finn’s forehead. “Are you telling me I don’t know my own son?”
“What I’m telling you is that kids—even grown ones—do what they can to make their families happy, and going to church was the way Bash did that for you.”
“It’s true, Uncle Finn,” Daria added, still fiddling with her cross. “Honestly, there was a time he wasn’t even sure if he believed in God, so the fact that he’s found a connection through Judaism is all good in my book.”
Adele’s hand went to her chest. “How can you say that? You’re a woman of the cloth now! You know, he hasn’t been back home very long. Who knows, in time maybe he would’ve felt that connection to God through our house.”
“Aunt Adele, did you ever consider that becoming Jewish is part of God’s plan for Bash? Out of all the women he’s dated—and you know there were many—not one of them came close to his heart like Rachel has.”
Adele’s shoulders dropped. “We just wish …”
“We know what you wish,” Quinn interrupted. “And I know you had no intention of insulting her, but you did. Big-time. And by hurting Rachel, you’ve hurt Bash—on what should’ve been the happiest day of their lives.”
Daria adjusted her wimple. “I can’t believe you had me wear … what were you thinking? Of course Rachel’s going to think you have issues with her being Jewish.”
Quinn’s mom didn’t seem so confident anymore. “I didn’t mean it like that … I just didn’t want him forgetting where he comes from.”
Daria gave an Oh, please eye roll. “He was baptized and confirmed, Aunt Adele. He knows where he comes from.”
Quinn snatched RBG’s leash and the pet carrier from her office. Without a word, Aiden scooped up their new kitty and secured her inside before she had a chance to balk by using her death talons. Quinn clipped on RBG’s leash and closed her office door.
Uncle Jerry smoothed the stray hairs on his head. “Where do you think you two are going?”
“Out. These two need sustenance.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m coming with,” Daria added. “I need a ride back to the abbey anyway.”
Adele’s eyes rounded. “But what about dinner? I’ve got a lamb roast in the oven back home.”
Since the first day Prose & Scones opened, the store had felt like an extension of home. In some ways, it was even better because the shop always smelled of books and coffee, two of Quinn’s favorite vices. Any room devoted to books took on a sacred aura. Books had been both her escape and her salvation since she was old enough to read.
But having just borne witness to that family scene sullied the space for Quinn. She needed to get out. “I think it’s safe to say we aren’t joining you.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve got to eat.” Her dad gave her a pleading look that communicated, Don’t do this to your mother.
“I’m not that hungry,” Quinn lied. Her cat growled.
Aiden lifted the carrier up. “Don’t worry, she wasn’t talking for you. We know you’re always up for eating.”
They’d had Chad’s kitten only a week, but already she was getting sturdier, stronger, all while she kept her diminutive stature. If the vet ever complained, Quinn was prepared to blame Aiden. He couldn’t resist giving her treats.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little overdramatic?”
“No, Mom. I think y’all are being awful. I know that’s not your intention, but it doesn’t matter,” Quinn voice shook as her gaze locked with hers, knowing this was the moment she no longer placed her parents on a pedestal, as a child often does. They were people. Just people: layered, fallible, and deeply flawed. Aiden laid his hand on the back of her neck, a light squeeze to show his support. Quinn took in a shoring breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, because I’ve always been so proud to be your daughter … but after witnessing this whole thing, I’m … I’m …”
Finn Caine’s voice rose, a tinge of a dare in his tone. “You’re what?”
For a split second, she was about to falter, acquiesce the way a kid does in order to avoid punishment. A muscle memory reflex. But then, Quinn recalled the devastation in Rachel and Bash’s expressions-and so, she lifted her chin. “I am sick to my stomach over what I observed here tonight. I’m wondering if I know you two at all, because the parents I knew wouldn’t have been capable of such blatant, anti-Semitic crap. You owe Rachel and Bash a big apology, and until you do that, I’m not coming around either.”
Chapter Eight
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
—Shakespeare’s Hamlet
The only place Sister Daria was self-conscious wearing her habit was at the Vienna Inn. Not because anyone there would give her hassle; she had grown up in that tavern. They made the best chili dogs in Northern Virginia, which—as far as Daria was concerned—were the only acceptable post-game eats allowed. Besides, the owner was a kind and generous man, sponsoring so many local sports teams he’d lost count, although the wood-paneled walls never forgot a one; their T-shirts and jerseys on the walls cozied up next to crayon drawings on paper place mats. If someone blindfolded her, Daria would still be able to find her way around, that’s how well she knew her hometown inn because of how little it had changed through the years.
But she sure wasn’t the same, and she hadn’t been back since she had first taken the veil. Not because she’d lost her taste for chili dogs, but because her habit had become a different kind of veil. A chasm between her and the people she’d known all her life. Even the usually cantankerous day shift waitresses, once quick with a sarcastic jab, had been at a loss when they’d first caught sight of her in her penguin outfit. One of them had thought she was dressed for Halloween.
After her cousin and Aiden dropped off Quinn’s pets, making sure they were both fed, the three of them had decided to grab drinks at the inn. Now they were parked by the side of the building, waiting on Daria.
“Give me a second.” She maneuvered out of the heavy woolen tunic. She made sure to fold each piece of clothing—and there were several pieces—into neat squares and rectangles on the leather back seat so they wouldn’t wrinkle.
Quinn watched from the sun visor mirror. “Do you always wear regular clothes under your habit?”
Great, another barb about her garb. Now she understood why Scottish men were so over being asked what they were—or weren’t—wearing under their kilts.
“Actually, we’re supposed to be naked underneath. Easier to feel the Holy Spirit breeze that way.”
Quinn’s jaw fell open. “Really?”
“Sweet Jesus, you’re gullible.”
Aiden unbuckled his seat belt and twisted her way. “Listen, as much as I enjoy the Quinn and Daria show, I’m starving, and there’s a chili dog with my name on it.”
With her Anglican rosary in one jeans pocket and her pocketknife in the other, Daria followed the two of them inside. She realized the latter was a ridiculous—and unnecessary—accoutrement to be carrying in there. The inn might be a no-frills joint with a host of characters permanently affixed to their barstools, but the most dangerous thing that would ever be unleashed in there was a tongue-lashing. Still, she never went anywhere without both safeguards on her person. Just in case.
