Chapter Twelve

Quinn and Grandpa wentto the cafeteria for dinner. They'd been living at Chasing Time for weeks now. Decorated in purple, green, and gold, the cafeteria and sitting room looked more like an upscale hotel. The place buzzed with activity. Residents talked and laughed. Everyone appeared to love it here.

Except for her grandmother, who still refused to leave her room to join any activities. The retirement village accepted people from the age of fifty-five. They could buy houses on the premises or rent the apartments. While assisted living was available, Chasing Time wasn't a nursing home. There were no hospital beds or people confined to them.

Her phone chimed, signaling a group text from her girlfriends. The distress she'd felt for years when the group texts came through didn't grate on her so badly anymore. Maybe being away from Bloomington helped. Before she moved, she'd gotten to where she often didn't respond to the thread. Not because of all the girls. Just one, one friend who'd never apologized, never asked for forgiveness. Of course, she might not think she needed to, but Quinn still wished she would.

Although she'd shared with Amanda how excited she was about spending time with Dre, Quinn felt a tad guilty she hadn't told her other girlfriends or her family back home about him. She wasn't sure where this more he suggested would lead, so why tell them until she knew what more meant.

She and Grandpa ate at a table with Bobby Gee and his wife Thelma. Outspoken, Thelma had red hair in a short bob, clear blue eyes, and she practically vibrated with energy. Mr. and Mrs. Choate also sat at their table. The elderly couple resembled one another with gray hair and brown eyes. Mr. Choate's attention was on the big screen TV.

"Thelma, do we have ice cream in our freezer?" Bobby asked.

She shook her head. "You didn't put it on the grocery list. I saw cobbler on the dessert table. Maybe they're serving it a la mode."

"We have ice cream and are happy to share," Mrs. Choate spoke up. "Harold serves us a bowl every night. He started doing it years ago. Honey, how many scoops do you serve us?"

Mr. Choate's eyes didn't venture from the screen, and he acted like he didn't hear her.

"How can you eat ice cream every night with your diabetes?" Thelma crossed her arms.

"Oh, we switched to sugar-free years ago. Plus, Harold doesn't serve me a lot. How much do you put in my bowl at night, honey?"

Attention on the basketball game, her husband didn't respond.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll get some cobbler." Bobby rose and left the table.

"Ice cream every night might have caused your diabetes," Thelma brashly pointed out.

Mrs. Choate smiled. "It's worth it. Chocolate is my favorite, plus, like I said, he doesn't serve us much. Honey, how many scoops do you give me?"

When Mr. Choate didn't answer, Thelma evidently couldn't handle it anymore and yelled, "How many damn scoops, Harold?"

All conversation stopped and heads spun toward their table.

Mr. Choate turned toward them, a surprised look on his face. "What?"

Thelma screamed, "How many freaking scoops of ice cream do you put in Gloria's bowl?"

The old man shrugged. "One or two."

Thelma threw her napkin on the table and stormed away.

"Oh dear. I didn't realize he wasn't wearing his hearing aid." Mrs. Choate put a hand to her chest, her face turning red as she faced Quinn and her grandfather. A giggle escaped her lips. "Thelma's patience is legendary, is it not?"

She and Grandpa laughed. A few moments later, Quinn loaded a tray with their dirty dishes and brought them to the kitchen. Thelma stood inside, eating cobbler from a dessert plate when Quinn entered. "Looks like your grandmother isn't settling in here as well as your grandfather."

"I'm sure she simply needs more time," Quinn lied. She wasn't certain any amount of time would help.

"Have you heard from Dre?"

Uncertain why the woman asked, Quinn tried to look innocent. Her relationship with Dre wasn't any of Thelma's business. Many residents had seen her and Dre together, and Thelma wasn't the first person to ask about him.

"Andre is a kind man who gives back to our community in ways people have no idea about." She ate the last spoonful of cobbler and set her dish in the sink. "I served on the Katy City Council. I know his generosity, and how he doesn't tout it. But..." She wagged a finger at Quinn. "Don't expect anything long-term from him."

The woman's words surprised her.

"Women frequently throw themselves at him." She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and punched it a few times, then held it up. The screen showed a picture of Dre dressed in a tux and Tanika Hughes, a gorgeous, professional tennis player, laughing while she held onto his arm. "This was taken after the New York game. Why should he settle down with one person when he is chased by women like that?"

Quinn ignored the tiny streak of jealousy spiking through her. She rarely checked social media so she wasn't sure what stories circulated about Dre. "Andre has been extremely kind to me and my grandparents. I'm grateful for his help. I don't expect anything else from him."

Thelma tilted her head. "You seem sweet, doll. I just don't want you to raise your hopes. While he might act interested, it won't last."

Bobby entered the kitchen. "What won't last?"

She wondered how much of their conversation the man overheard.

"Just a little girl talk." Thelma dismissively waved her hand as she passed her husband.

He frowned as his wife exited the kitchen. "Quinn, I apologize for Thelma. She has no right to speak to you in such a way."

"No, she doesn't." Mama B came out of the pantry.

Mr. Cason, a resident who lived in one of the houses, came out behind her carrying a package of noodles. Quinn hadn't realized the two were in there.

"Thank you, Mama B." Mr. Cason said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Dre's mother smiled at the man as he left through the kitchen door, her smile wider than normal. Was there something going on between those two?

Bobby turned to Mama B. "I love my wife."

"Of course, you do."

"Well..." He exhaled. "Lately, she's starting to get on my nerves."

After he left, Mama B addressed Quinn, humor lighting her eyes. "They've only been married sixty years. It was bound to happen."

Quinn grinned. "It's always entertaining here."

"I'm sorry about Thelma. I wasn't surprised she didn't answer Bobby's question." Mama B scowled. "She knew he'd heard everything she said. I think she's still upset because she tried to convince Andre to take her niece out on a date, but he refused. Residents are always trying to set him up with girls they know."

Seeing how the residents treated Dre like one of their family, and because of the day she invited him into her room and he said he couldn't enter because he didn't want people to talk, she believed Mama B and that residents would try to meddle in his life.

"Are you guilty of the same?" Quinn asked.

Mama B snickered. "Andre would never allow that. Plus, I wouldn't pretend to know the kind of woman he'd be most attracted to. As his mother, I just hope whoever he decides to give his heart to is worthy of it. My greatest wish is she loves him with her whole heart and soul."

"I remember my mom saying something similar. I guess all mothers wish for the same things."

"Yes. My Tracy had a hard road with her husband. He was in and out of jail for most of Jamaal's life. She faithfully stood by him. I encouraged her to divorce him and move on. Bless her heart, she remained steadfast in her belief in him. She taught me no one could ever understand anyone else's heart."

~

Quinn gazed out thekitchen window into Knox's backyard. Dre, Jamaal, Knox, and Mac were huddled around a computer at the patio table watching a replay of Jamaal's game earlier that day. Though they'd attended the game, the men were giving play-by-play commentary on each down. From what she gathered, Jamaal played great, with an interception for a pick-six.

This was the third time Dre had invited her to attend a game with him and his family, and the third time she refused. But tonight, she'd offered to meet them afterward and picked up dinner on the way. Dre never grilled her on why she didn't attend the games. A part of her wished he would. Another part of her prayed he wouldn't.

Tired from the day, Quinn cracked her neck one way, then the other. The black and white yin and yang clock read a quarter to one. She finished helping Tracy and Mama B clean the kitchen.

This was the first time she'd been to Knox's house. It was small and immaculately clean. Scant few decorations hung on the walls. The living area only had enough room for a couch, one chair, and a coffee table. The kitchen had white walls, white tile flooring, and white cabinets. Even the sink was white.

Dre explained Knox recently moved back to Katy, and he and Tracy were not officially living together, but she spent most of her time with him.

"Jamaal is so happy Mac is back." Mama B looked at Tracy.

"Leave it alone, Mom."

"I don't think keeping them apart is good for either of them. The man has paid his debt. Isn't it time to forgive him?"

"We invited him over tonight," Tracy fired back. "Let that be enough for now."

Mac was personable and engaging. Mama B and Jamaal seemed to be the only ones comfortable around him, though. Quinn understood the others' wariness of the man's sincerity.

"You must forgive Mac, Tracy. You and Knox. You want to teach Jamaal how to be a kind, forgiving person."

"You've always told me forgiveness is earned."

The oven timer buzzed. Quinn busied herself by getting the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, grateful for the diversion from the awkwardness between the two women. The whole house smelled of chocolate.

"Quinn, has there been something you couldn't forgive someone for?" Mama B asked.

A lump clogged her throat. She set the cookies on the oven top and tugged off the oven mitt. She would be as honest as possible and hope they didn't ask too many questions. "My friend did something I never expected. I didn't think I would ever forgive him."

"But you did?" Mama B put her hands on her hips.

Quinn grabbed the spatula and scraped the first cookie from the pan and placed it onto a cooling rack. "You have to forgive someone who dies."

~

At hearing Quinn'swords, Dre stopped by the open back door. She must be speaking about Oliver. What could the guy have done to need forgiveness?

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," Mom said.

Dre couldn't see the women from where he stood.

"I'm glad you forgave your friend. We must forgive those who hurt us."

So that was the catalyst for this conversation. His mother had been trying to persuade everyone to forgive Mac. Dre continued to be wary of the man. Knox and Tracy even more so.

Jamaal was a different story. It was easy to see his nephew loved the old man. For Jamaal's sake, he hoped Mac was in earnest about starting over.

"These cookies are delicious," Quinn said. "Thank you so much for inviting me over. It's late, and I need to get back to Chasing Time."

Dre entered the house and turned toward the kitchen. Quinn hugged Tracy, grabbed her purse off the back of one of the kitchen chairs, then hugged Mom. Quinn smiled when she saw him. "I'm heading out." She exited through the door he'd come in, and he followed her outside.

"I'm so glad you had a good game, Jamaal," she called.

"Thanks for bringing dinner." He rushed over and hugged her. "See you Monday."

She waved goodbye to Knox and Mac before Dre walked with her around the house. It was a beautiful night—cool, the air crisp. Streetlights cast enough light to see well.

"Is your mother involved with Mr. Cason?" Quinn questioned. "I saw them walking around the pond holding hands the other night. They were also together in the pantry another day."

"Not that she's told me. I would ask her, but she'll probably tell me to mind my own business. That's my response when she asks me about women."

"I see," she replied. "Would you like to have breakfast in the morning before you head back to Dallas?"

"Wish I could. I'm going back tonight. We have a team meeting in the morning."

"I hate you'll be traveling alone on the road so late."

"Tate drove in with me. I'm expecting a text from him any minute saying he's ready to head back." He'd told her his teammate Tate Cummings had a brother who played football in Houston, and they sometimes traveled together for Friday night games.

"That's good." They made it to the driver's side of her car.

"If you'd like to make my game this weekend, you could come with us tonight and stay at my place. You can drive back with my family after the game Sunday." He desperately wanted to spend some time alone with her."

"A very tempting offer, but I can't."

"In case you decide to travel with my family to the game, there will be a ticket for you at will-call. I hope your grandparents are planning to come."

She shrugged. "I'm sure my grandfather will. I doubt my grandmother will even consider it. Thank you again for the tickets. It's thoughtful of you to think of us."

He took a step closer and cupped her face in his hands. "I'm always thinking of you."

"Well, it's only fair." She slid her arms around his waist. "You occupy my thoughts too."

He pressed his lips to hers. She tasted sweet, like chocolate chip cookies.

His phone chimed.

She pulled back, a smirk on her lips.

He quickly kissed her again, then nudged his nose to the sensitive spot under her ear and murmured, "One day I'll get you alone with no interruptions."

She tipped her head back to give him better access, and her words came out a bit breathless. "I can't wait."

"I suffer from short term memory loss. It runs in my family. At least I think it does.

Where are they?" ~ Andrew Stanton ~ Dory ~ "Finding Nemo"