CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Moira~
The cards in the Rack-O box were greasy and scuffed. The rule sheet had been taped in several places and more than once, but everything seemed to be intact.
“You’ve played this a lot?” she remarked.
“Oh, yeah. But you’ll soon catch on.” Quinn adjusted his posture so he could flip through the pack of cards. He discarded some and told her the rules as he shuffled the rest of the deck.
As far as she could tell, he wasn’t deviating from the printed sheet, but suspicion rose in her. “What are we playing for?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just points. You can keep score.” He handed her a notepad that was less shabby than the rest of the equipment. And a pencil that looked to have been chewed by mice.
He saw her looking at the pencil. “My Cousin Ed’s boy got hold of that one Christmas,” he explained. “Nathan was teething.”
The explanation made her smile. “You make babies play too?”
“Ed played. He gave Nathan the pencil to keep him quiet.”
“How old is he now?”
Quinn thought. His eyes narrowed. “Seven.”
In six years they hadn’t replaced that chipped and chewed pencil? “I guess this is now an heirloom?” She waggled the pencil.
He nodded sheepishly as he dealt the cards. They each had a plastic holder that they placed their cards into as they were dealt. The object was to wind up with a holder of cards in numerical order.
“You know, this would be easier if we could just arrange the cards we have been dealt?” she observed.
“Nope, we have to play by the rules. This is a game of skill and strategy as well as luck.”
She gazed at her rack despairingly. “I think you must have cheated when you dealt the cards.”
He turned the top card in the remaining deck over. “You can take that card, or you can take a fresh card. Either way, you have to discard. You can discard the new card or one from your set.” His golden eyes gleamed in the firelight. He was enjoying this.
She picked up the upturned card and replaced one of hers. A horrid thought occurred to her. “Did your fiancée enjoy this too?”
He froze with her discard in his hand. “Cynthia?” She might have asked if rain fell up instead of down. “I have no idea. She’s never been to Shoreside. And we’ve never played any game except tennis.”
“Oh.”
“They watch television at their place in the Cascades.” He sounded slightly disapproving. “And they like to go jet skiing at night.” He frowned. “You know, I’ve really dodged a bullet. Imagine trying to explain that there are no jet skis allowed on West Haven? That motor boats have to stay under five knots, and there is absolutely no water skiing?”
“What did you two have in common?” she asked lightly.
“Blessed if I know.” He shook his head. “We know some of the same people. Enjoy going to galleries. At least, I met her at an opening. Took her to the museum and a whole bunch more shows. Maybe she was bored the entire time.”
Moira devoutly hoped so. Then she recalled the internet articles and photos. “You both like sailing.”
“I do. Cynthia likes sailing – if there is a crew to do the work.”
“But there’s no challenge in that.”
“I know,” he agreed.
She scanned her cards. Picked up his last discard. “Rack-O,” she crowed.
Quinn looked over her cards and helped her to calculate her win. She wrote down the scores and shuffled the cards. “Why didn’t you bring her here? It’s obvious you love West Haven.”
He looked uncomfortable. He focused on getting his cards into their slots. She thought he was going to ignore her question, but after a moment or two he spoke. “I guess after I went up to the Cascades to the Fitzhugh’s place and spent a couple of weekends wearing earplugs and wishing I had stayed home where I could paint, I figured peace and quiet weren’t her thing.”
They played without talking for a couple of rounds. It was a comfortable silence. Quinn’s shoulders relaxed and he scrutinized his cards. He clearly wanted to win. To distract him, she asked, “Have you decided on your entries for the Art Fair?”
“Not really.” He looked up, hesitated over her discard, took a chance on the deck and threw that card onto the pile.
She scooped it up. “Rack-O. And a run of five.”
He turned her tray. “Forty,” he said.
“I make it 225,” she retorted.
“I meant mine.” He handed her the deck.
“So which paintings are you considering? Soul Emergent for sure.” She dealt the cards.
“You really think it’s that good?”
“Yup. You need to decide. The judges arrive on June third. They look at the entries, deliberate, make their initial judgments, go away and return on the weekend before the Fourth.”
“I thought I had until mid-June.”
“You sort of do. But it will make you look flaky if you exchange an undamaged picture.”
“They can get damaged?” He was horrified.
“Relax.” She held up a hand.” It’s a contingency plan. Aunt Robin makes every artist sign an indemnity waiver. But since she is not compensating anyone if something goes missing or is damaged, it’s in the contract that in the event that work is stolen, lost or damaged, the artist may replace it with a new entry.”
“Has it ever happened?”
“No. The entries are kept at the community center in a locked room with a security guard.”
He sighed. “Walter Babcock, the fearless bunny shifter.” He named Robin’s security guard. Wally was a long-time employee of the inn, a member of the Council, and a year-round resident. “Jesus. Do you think Robin would accept some real security? I know some people.”
“Wally is very conscientious. And one of the West Haven deputy sheriffs.” She hid her smile. “And we’ve never had a lick of trouble.”
“He’s a rabbit.”
Quinn was such a hunter. As if prey species weren’t fierce and cunning too. “And a man.”
“He’s five nothing in his shoes. Weighs sixty pounds soaking wet. Does he even own a gun?”
“Probably not. But we don’t have much crime in Mystic Bay. For sure, Aunt Robin wouldn’t want a non-sensitive doing security.”
“The guys I know are all shifters. Dragons, bears, big cats. Former soldiers. They know how to secure a building.”
“I think it will be okay. Chill. We’re talking Mystic Bay. Even Seattle isn’t that dangerous.” She looked up and grinned at him. “Rack-O.”
His jaw dropped. Her dragon wasn’t used to losing. She was pretty sure that gave her bonus points in whatever side game they were playing.
“You did that on purpose,” he accused. He looked at her with new respect.
She sat up straighter and preened a little. “Uh huh.”
“I had no idea that fairies were so devious.”
“I’m good at reading people,” she bragged. Usually. She had taken a major gamble on Quinn’s reaction to her questioning.
He tipped his big head backward and began to laugh. “I’m not sure I should play with you any longer. My mother warned me about females like you.”
She placed her arms behind her and leaned on her palms, aware that this thrust her chest forward. “Did she?”
Those green gold predator’s eyes regarded her unblinkingly. “Armed and dangerous,” he drawled. He began to pack the game away. “I think I better find you a bedroom. Although you can share mine if you want.”
“Not yet.”
He rose to his feet. The game box looked even smaller in his big hand. He held out the other one to her. “How well can you see in the dark?”
The rain continued to lash the windows of the family room. There was no sign of the moon. “I need light,” she said. She didn’t mention she could make her own. She saw no reason to share her secrets. Yet.
“Okay. We’ll get out the lanterns, for when I turn off the fire.”