Her Best Friend by Sarah Mayberry

into the oven,” she said.
    Quinn handed her the cheese, a smile playing around his mouth. “I didn’t notice.”
    Her mother patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry, Quinn, I know how much you like my apple crumble. I made plenty, just to be safe.”
    Her father wiped his mouth with his napkin. “So, Quinn. How are things going with work? Your father told me you made partner last year. That’s a pretty big deal, isn’t it?”
    “It was nice to have it settled,” Quinn said.
    Amy nudged him under the table. “Listen to Mr. Modesty. He’s the youngest partner ever at his law firm. And they’ve been in business for over a hundred and fifty years.”
    Quinn frowned at her. “How do you know that?”
    “Your mother. Who else?”
    Quinn shook his head ruefully. “I should have known.”
    Her mother clucked her tongue and waved her fork at him. “Don’t deny your mother the right to brag, Quinn. It’s one of the few perks of childbirth.”
    Amy took a sip of her wine, watching Quinn over the rim of her glass. It was strange seeing him in her parents’ kitchen again after all these years. The setting hadn’t changed—her mother’s prized blue-and-white decor had remained the same for decades—but he had. There was a new reserve to him. He was more cautious, a little slower to laugh than he used to be.
    “Louise tells me you also bought a new house?” her mother asked. “She said they stayed with you last year and that it looks like something out of House and Garden magazine.”
    Amy listened as Quinn described his new house to her parents. He and Lisa had moved not long after her last visit so she hadn’t seen the new place. It sounded big and expensive. Very Lisa.
    When they’d exhausted the topic of the house they moved on to her parents’ business, then Amy’s plans for the Grand.
    Her mother ushered them into the living room after that while she served up dessert and coffee. Her father went off to dig up a bottle of scotch and Amy set a match to the wood stacked in the fireplace.
    She could feel Quinn watching her as she fed more kindling to the flames.
    “Thanks,” he said after a short silence.
    “For giving you a hard time over the apple crumble?”
    “For warning your folks about the divorce.”
    “Oh. That.” She glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Mad at me for blabbing?”
    “No. I think it’s cute you were trying to protect me.”
    She screwed up her face in disgust. “I wasn’t trying to protect you. I was saving you from killing the conversation with your sad sack story.”
    Quinn smiled enigmatically. “So transparent, Parker.”
    She pointed the fire poker at him. “And don’t call me cute, okay? You know I hate that.”
    Her father returned with a bottle of scotch as her mom ferried in bowls of crumble. Amy rolled her eyes when she saw how big Quinn’s portion was.
    “If there’s any justice in the world, you’ll be as sick as a dog after that.”
    Quinn leaned across and kissed her mother’s cheek.
    “You’re a goddess, Mrs. P.”
    “Brown nose,” Amy muttered under her breath.
    Quinn smiled beatifically as he dug into his dessert.
    Afterward, Amy cleared the plates and helped her mother stack the dishwasher.
    “Such a shame,” her mother said out of nowhere as Amy was shaking detergent into the washer.
    Amy shot her mother a quizzical look.
    “The divorce,” her mother said in a stage whisper, her eyes sliding to the living room door.
    “He knows you know, Mom. It’s not a state secret. You can talk about it if you like.”
    “It’s none of my business,” her mother said quickly. “I just think it’s a shame. He’s a lovely, lovely man. I’m sure he was a wonderful husband.”
    Amy stared out the kitchen window into the dark garden, thinking about what she’d seen of Lisa and Quinn’s life together.
    “He was.”
    “Well, I’m sure he’ll do better second time around.”
    The dishwasher door slipped out of Amy’s hands and slammed