A Dream of His Own. Gail Gaymer Martin
She grasped her handbag and dug out a small ring of keys. “Here you are.”
When she dropped them into his hand, Randy turned to him. “I might as well take yours, too.”
Quinn pulled the keys from his pocket, and Randy vanished through the garage doorway with the sets of keys as Quinn sank back into the chair wishing he had a magazine or anything that would stop him from offering to do plumbing and feeling his pulse skip each time Ava looked at him. He stretched his legs in front of him, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. Maybe if he concentrated he could get a grip on his wayward emotions. Sean and the accident surged in his mind and was only distracted by the image of the attractive woman beside him, saddled with too many problems.
He remained silent, trying to ignore the waves of Ava’s presence. When she shifted in the chair, her arm brushed his and the hairs on his arms rose. His eyes jerked open. “Sorry about the long wait.”
“It’s not your fault.” She shrugged. “I wish I’d brought in the magazine I picked up at the hardware store. It’s on home decor.”
Quinn pictured the outside of his once lovely home that needed trim work, and the inside rooms as drab and colorless just as his life had been.
“I love decorating. That would have been a great career for me.” The comment sounded as if she was speaking to herself.
His mind ticked with ideas while his heart stretched beyond his belief. He was drawn to this woman in a strange and unexpected way—somewhere between esteem and curiosity. She was different and admirable.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she’d sunk into thought again, and if he allowed it, he’d never learn more about her. “Why didn’t you pursue a career in home decorating?”
She turned her head and looked out the window with a shrug. “I married young. My husband had a good job and preferred my staying home.”
“So that ended your dream.”
Her head swivelled toward him. “I put my energy into my home. I made it my own little showplace.”
Pride rose on her face, and he realized she hadn’t appreciated his comment. “That’s a good use of talent.”
Her expression changed. “Thank you, but then you haven’t seen my home.” Her tone softened. “It’s a little worse for wear without the income…the time to keep it up, but I do my best. Most things fall on my shoulders at home. I’m a widow. My husband died a few years ago—five years actually—when Brandon was ten.” She drifted away for a moment. “Coronary thrombosis right before my eyes. I asked him if he’d like a cup of coffee, and he said yes. Before I turned my back, he was gone.”
Quinn’s lungs emptied. “That must have been awful.” He had forced the words from his throat. Sean’s and Lydia’s death had been as swift, but he hadn’t witnessed it. Two police officers had come to his door with the horrible news.
“It was a shock.” Her voice infiltrated his thoughts. “Tom was young. Only thirty-four. He never knew about Brandon’s illness. He’d been gone two years before Bran was diagnosed.”
Quinn shook his head. He was forty-five. He couldn’t imagine his life ending eleven years early. Sean slipped into his thoughts again. At fifteen his life had ended.
They both sank into silence, and he pondered what to do to make life better for Ava.
Randy reappeared and stepped to the counter. “Damage could have been worse.” He bent over the counter and wrote notes on the quote form he’d filled in earlier with their information.
Ava rose first and grasped the form he handed her before Quinn could get a look at the quote. She gazed at it, her eyes losing their color. She pulled out her wallet and slid him her insurance information. “I’ll need to use my insurance.”
Quinn shifted beside her. “I thought we were going to talk about it.”
“No need to talk.” She folded the form and slipped it in her purse. “How long will it take to repair?”
Randy glanced at the calendar and then through the garage door as if sizing up the jobs they had. “Maybe three days. Two if we’re lucky. If you want, you can bring it in Monday. But you’ll need to call your insurance company because they may want you to get another estimate.”
Her head jerked toward Quinn and then back to Randy. “Why?”
“It’s policy. And if you need a loaner car, I’ll call you when one’s available. I only have three.”
Her downcast look constricted Quinn’s chest. “Give us a minute.” He linked his arm in Ava’s and pulled her across the room. “I accepted the blame for this, and I want to pay for the damage. Let me see the estimate.”
“It’s too much.” She didn’t budge.
“Please, let me decide.”
She inched her hand into her purse and pulled out the yellow paper. He opened it and shook his head. The amount meant nothing to him and so much to her and it would affect her insurance rates. “I’ll cover this. And forget the insurance company. You don’t need the hassle.”
Confusion churned in her face. “But why? It’s too much money. Why would you do this for me?”
He held the estimate firmly in his grip and searched her face. “Because I can.”
Her cheek quivered as tears brimmed her eyes. “I don’t accept charity. I told you that, but for some reason, I think this is as important to you as it is to me. So thank you.”
Quinn stepped backward, stunned by her awareness. She had read his heart, and it frightened him. Where was he being led and by whom?
Chapter Two
Lexie came through the doorway into the meeting room of Parents of Special Kids at the Royal Oak Senior Center and strode to where Ava was sitting. “You’re here. Where’s your car?”
Ava shifted her eyes to see if others heard. “I have a loaner.”
Lexie sank into the seat beside her. “What happened to your car?”
“I had a little accident.”
Lexie eyes widened. “Were you hurt?”
Today Lexie asked probing questions, and it made Ava understand how irritating that could be. She didn’t want to talk about her dumb accident. “No. I’m fine.” She thought of Lexie’s son and grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “How’s Cooper?”
“He’s doing well. We’re so grateful.” Lexie gestured toward the parking lot. “So give me details.”
Ava gave up. “It was stupid. I was leaving the hardware store, and as I was backing up, we hit each other.”
“You backed into a car?” A grin washed away her concern.
Her voice reverberated through the room, and Ava was grateful only a few people overheard. She glanced toward the small group of women. “It was nothing.” She waved her right hand and chuckled.
They studied her a moment and then continued their conversation. Keeping her voice soft, Ava told Lexie what happened. Why let everyone else know she’d been careless?
“Was it a guy?”
His image appeared in her mind as a stream of air huffed through her nose. “Quinn O’Neill.”
Lexie drew back. “I know him.”
“He told me, and to set the record straight, he backed into me.”
She eased forward. “Really.”
Ava provided her with all the details except that he paid for her repairs. That upset her even more as she thought about