back to Honor, her gaze intent. "I hope so."
Phyllis smiled and reached for a carrot stick,
"By the way," Quinn asked. "What is Arly short for? I never noticed when I filled out her chart."
"It's short for Arlyn, which is actually her middle name...her full name is Murphy Arlyn Blake."
"What a great name. I'm surprised no one calls her Murph."
Caught off guard, Phyllis gave a small start. Then, her voice soft, she said, "We probably would have, but that's what most people called my daughter."
Quinn turned her attention from Honor and met Phyllis's gaze. "Honor's...spouse?"
"Yes. Terry."
That's what most people
called
my daughter.
Quinn didn't need an explanation; she saw it in Phyllis's eyes.
Oh, Honor.
"I'm so terribly sorry."
"Thank you."
Quinn didn't know what else to say. She didn't know what to feel. Tragedy was nothing new to her; in her specialty in particular, it was a common occurrence. Most of the time she kept the heartbreak of human frailty at a distance, doing what she could with the gifts she had been given, accepting that fate or circumstance were things she could not change. Sometimes, however, for reasons she could not discern, someone would reach past the barricades of her defenses and touch her heart. Their pain would become
her
pain, until she was able to put it away again and carry on. But right now, all she felt was pain. Honor's and Phyllis's and Arly's.
Watching her, Phyllis saw the flood of emotions cross her face and swirl in the depths of her incredibly blue eyes. She was comforted by the unspoken understanding, and some of her concern for Honor's well-being abated. She had no idea what life held in store for
herself,
much less for Honor and this intense young stranger—if anything at all. But she could see the extent of Quinn's compassion, and she had seen the way that Quinn had looked at Honor. If anything could draw Honor completely back into life, it would be that combination of love and desire.
Phyllis patted Quinn's arm, as if she were the one who needed solace. Then she smiled. "Robin is the best barbecue chef in the entire neighborhood. When lunch is ready, you must be sure to sit with Honor and Arly and me. Arly will love it."
Surprised, Quinn agreed before she could think to say anything else. "Yes. Thank you."
"Now I'm going to go relieve Honor of lifeguard duty for a little while."
As Phyllis rose, Quinn stood as well. "It was very nice meeting you."
"You too, my dear."
Quinn contemplated following Phyllis down to the pool as a pretense to speak to Honor again. However, a voice at her elbow stopped her.
"Hey, good-lookin'. I didn't expect to see you here."
Surprised, Quinn looked around and found Mandy standing close enough that Quinn's shoulder brushed Mandy's breasts as she turned. One quick glance down revealed another spandex top, this one stopping at her navel, and low-cut skintight shorts. Her body was as buff as Quinn remembered.
"Uh...hello."
"Mandy, remember?" The blond's tone suggested that she doubted anyone could forget.
"Of course." Perplexed, Quinn looked around, searching for a partner or child. There didn't seem to be many unattached people at the party, although she didn't really know anyone well enough to be certain.
As if reading her mind, Mandy laughed and rested her fingertips on Quinn's bare forearm. "I'm the anomaly in this gathering. A single lesbian without children."
Quinn couldn't help but laugh. "Well then, that makes two of us."
"See there? We have something in common already, besides liking to work out and..." Mandy raised an eyebrow. "Other physical pursuits, I'll bet."
"So," Quinn said casually, "I take it that you're a friend of Robin and Linda's?"
"Mmm. Believe it or not, I grew up right here in Germantown and still live just a block away. I ref in the soccer league." Her fingers glided lightly up and down Quinn's arm. "I've known Linda and Robin for ages."
"Small world, I guess." Quinn realized that Mandy had slid even closer
Phyllis smiled and reached for a carrot stick,
"By the way," Quinn asked. "What is Arly short for? I never noticed when I filled out her chart."
"It's short for Arlyn, which is actually her middle name...her full name is Murphy Arlyn Blake."
"What a great name. I'm surprised no one calls her Murph."
Caught off guard, Phyllis gave a small start. Then, her voice soft, she said, "We probably would have, but that's what most people called my daughter."
Quinn turned her attention from Honor and met Phyllis's gaze. "Honor's...spouse?"
"Yes. Terry."
That's what most people
called
my daughter.
Quinn didn't need an explanation; she saw it in Phyllis's eyes.
Oh, Honor.
"I'm so terribly sorry."
"Thank you."
Quinn didn't know what else to say. She didn't know what to feel. Tragedy was nothing new to her; in her specialty in particular, it was a common occurrence. Most of the time she kept the heartbreak of human frailty at a distance, doing what she could with the gifts she had been given, accepting that fate or circumstance were things she could not change. Sometimes, however, for reasons she could not discern, someone would reach past the barricades of her defenses and touch her heart. Their pain would become
her
pain, until she was able to put it away again and carry on. But right now, all she felt was pain. Honor's and Phyllis's and Arly's.
Watching her, Phyllis saw the flood of emotions cross her face and swirl in the depths of her incredibly blue eyes. She was comforted by the unspoken understanding, and some of her concern for Honor's well-being abated. She had no idea what life held in store for
herself,
much less for Honor and this intense young stranger—if anything at all. But she could see the extent of Quinn's compassion, and she had seen the way that Quinn had looked at Honor. If anything could draw Honor completely back into life, it would be that combination of love and desire.
Phyllis patted Quinn's arm, as if she were the one who needed solace. Then she smiled. "Robin is the best barbecue chef in the entire neighborhood. When lunch is ready, you must be sure to sit with Honor and Arly and me. Arly will love it."
Surprised, Quinn agreed before she could think to say anything else. "Yes. Thank you."
"Now I'm going to go relieve Honor of lifeguard duty for a little while."
As Phyllis rose, Quinn stood as well. "It was very nice meeting you."
"You too, my dear."
Quinn contemplated following Phyllis down to the pool as a pretense to speak to Honor again. However, a voice at her elbow stopped her.
"Hey, good-lookin'. I didn't expect to see you here."
Surprised, Quinn looked around and found Mandy standing close enough that Quinn's shoulder brushed Mandy's breasts as she turned. One quick glance down revealed another spandex top, this one stopping at her navel, and low-cut skintight shorts. Her body was as buff as Quinn remembered.
"Uh...hello."
"Mandy, remember?" The blond's tone suggested that she doubted anyone could forget.
"Of course." Perplexed, Quinn looked around, searching for a partner or child. There didn't seem to be many unattached people at the party, although she didn't really know anyone well enough to be certain.
As if reading her mind, Mandy laughed and rested her fingertips on Quinn's bare forearm. "I'm the anomaly in this gathering. A single lesbian without children."
Quinn couldn't help but laugh. "Well then, that makes two of us."
"See there? We have something in common already, besides liking to work out and..." Mandy raised an eyebrow. "Other physical pursuits, I'll bet."
"So," Quinn said casually, "I take it that you're a friend of Robin and Linda's?"
"Mmm. Believe it or not, I grew up right here in Germantown and still live just a block away. I ref in the soccer league." Her fingers glided lightly up and down Quinn's arm. "I've known Linda and Robin for ages."
"Small world, I guess." Quinn realized that Mandy had slid even closer
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