Jack left a few minutes later, and Quinn was in his kitchen for a long time, putting things away, and washing the dishes. And when he went upstairs finally, he saw the lights on in Maggie's kitchen, as he looked out his bedroom window. By then, he knew she was on the phone, answering the teenage hotline. Her lights were still on when he got into bed. He took out one of Jane's journals, and fell asleep holding it, but tonight for the first time, he felt more peaceful when he thought about her. However foolish and insensitive he'd been, for some reason he knew that she had truly forgiven him. Or maybe he had always known that. What he didn't know, and perhaps never would, was if he could forgive himself.





7


AT QUINN'S SUGGESTION, MAGGIE JOINED HIM AND Jack for dinner on Friday night the following week, and all three of them were in good spirits and had had a good week. They talked about the boat, and played liar's dice again. She brought a chocolate cake she had baked for them. And over the next month, their Friday night threesomes became a comfortable tradition, and an easy beginning to the weekend.

Jack's reading was going well, and he was working diligently at it. Maggie had brought Quinn some books to help him use some excellent teaching techniques that would be helpful to Jack. And Quinn showed them both the latest plans from Holland. The boat was moving ahead toward completion like lightning. It was April by then, and Jack's work was nearly finished. They had dragged it out as long as possible. Quinn had called a realtor who came to see the house. He suggested a few more things that Quinn could do to make it more appealing to a buyer, and Quinn decided to put it on the market in May or June. He didn't want to sell it too soon, he needed somewhere to live until the boat was complete in September. The realtor felt certain the house would sell quickly, and was anxious to list it.

Quinn told Maggie and Jack about it on Friday night, and had already given Jack the list of further improvements suggested by the realtor. And this time he was able to read it. The two men had exchanged a smile about it. By then, Jack was reading with ease.

The following week, there was a heat wave, and the three of them had dinner on Friday night in Maggie's garden. She set up a picnic table, and covered it with a blue tablecloth. They ate fried chicken and hamburgers, and a potato salad Quinn had made and carried over. The evening had all the earmarks of a summer picnic. Maggie was wearing a white linen dress in the warm night air, and for once her long hair was down, cascading past her shoulders. The big announcement of the evening was that Jack said he had met a very nice young woman at his church, and the other two teased him about it. Maggie said she was happy for him, and Quinn accused her of being hopelessly romantic. Jack had just turned thirty-six, and she felt it was time for him to find someone to fall in love with. Now that he could read, he had nothing to hide, and nothing to be ashamed of. She said over dessert that she hoped he would get married and have children.

“What about you?” He turned the tables on her, as they each helped themselves to watermelon and fresh cherries for dessert.

“I've already done that,” she said, giving little credence to the question. She had just turned forty-two, and was convinced her romantic life was behind her. She had been married for eighteen years before the divorce, and said she had no interest in another husband. Her son's death, and her husband's abandonment had cured her, or so she said. She claimed that she was content to live alone forever.

“You're only six years older than I am,” Jack pointed out, and Quinn laughed.

“You two should get together,” he suggested. Jack had already thought of it, but he hadn't wanted to spoil their friendship, and now fate had lured him in a different direction with the girl he'd met at church.

“I don't think so,” Maggie said, laughing at Quinn's suggestion that she and Jack pair up. They were a loving and supportive, but definitely odd, threesome. And all three of them were sad that in a few months, their Friday night evenings would be disbanded. Quinn would be off on his boat by then, and now Jack was well on his way to having a woman in his life, if not this one, then undoubtedly another. The only plans Maggie had were to go back to teaching in September. She had spoken of it several times recently. She had nothing else to do, nowhere she wanted to go, and no one she wanted to be with. Her solitude had become a safe, comfortable cocoon to hide in, just as Quinn's was. But Maggie felt that she ought to go back to work.

The following Friday, Quinn surprised them. The weather was still warm, though not as warm as it had been the week before. But the days were long and sunny, and summer seemed to be on the way.

“What are you two doing tomorrow?” he asked innocently, but he already knew. He had planned it, although the idea had come to him on the spur of the moment, when he went to watch a sailboat race on Wednesday night, from the yacht club.

“Working for you,” Jack said comfortably. He had a date planned for that night. He had already told the woman he was seeing that he was not available on Friday evenings. He called it a poker night, so he didn't have to explain Quinn or Maggie, or his reading lessons. She knew nothing about that, and he still would have been embarrassed to tell her. Maggie had told him weeks before that he didn't need to say anything. It was no one's business, although she saw his learning to read as a great accomplishment on his part, and told him he should be proud of himself.

“I thought I'd see if I can clean up my garden tomorrow,” Maggie said easily. They were dining in Quinn's kitchen, as they did most of the time. He was the best cook of the group, and had the most equipment. Maggie hardly ever cooked, and lived on fruit and salads. She admitted once to both of them that she hadn't cooked since her son died, and didn't want to. The thought of cooking for anyone brought back too many memories of all she'd lost, and what her life had been. They all preferred Quinn's cooking, and he said he enjoyed it anyway.

“I have a better idea,” Quinn said with a mysterious look. “I want you both here and dressed at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Wear sneakers,” he said cryptically, and Maggie laughed at him, and raised an eyebrow. She was a lovely-looking woman, although Quinn seemed not to notice. She had become like a little sister to him, and an older one to Jack. The three of them had become family to each other. It was what they needed, more than anything else.

“If I didn't know better, Mr. Thompson, I'd think you were taking us sailing.” She tried to guess what they were doing, and he laughed at her.

“My boat is in Holland. That's a long way to go for a sail. Just bring sneakers and don't ask too many questions.”

“Are you sure you don't want me to do the finish work on the upstairs railings?” Jack asked, looking worried.

“It can wait,” Quinn assured him. He looked immensely pleased with himself, and Maggie looked concerned.

“I hope we're not going hiking. I'm too lazy and too out of shape, and I threw my hiking boots away last winter. I swore I'd never do that again.”

“Just trust me,” Quinn said gently. She beat him at liar's dice that night, and went home victoriously with three dollars, to work on the hotline until three in the morning.

The next morning she rang his doorbell promptly at nine o'clock, wearing jeans, an old sweater, and a parka. The morning was cool and breezy, but brilliantly sunny. There wasn't a hint of fog on the bay, and he and Jack were already drinking coffee. She noticed when he answered the door that Quinn was wearing jeans, a heavy sweater, a thin shell, and deck shoes.

“You said sneakers,” she said accusingly, as she pointed. She had worn bright red canvas sneakers, as he had said to, and a red sweater to match them, and her eyes were dancing with anticipation. “I want to know where we're going.”

“All in good time, my dear. Don't be so nosy,” Quinn admonished. They had come to treat each other as sister and brother.

“I feel like I'm being kidnapped,” she said as she joined the two men in the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of coffee.

Their Friday nights together had made them supremely comfortable in each other's company. Maggie never bothered to dress up or wear makeup when she was with them. Her long dark hair was clean and shone in the braid she had worn. Quinn liked it when she wore it loose, but he had never said that to her. And now as he looked at her, he found himself wondering what she would look like with lipstick. She never bothered to wear that either. She wasn't trying to lure either of them. Seduction was not even remotely on her agenda.

They piled into Quinn's station wagon shortly afterward, and Maggie commented that it was the first time they had ever gone anywhere together. The physical boundaries of their relationship in the past several months had been limited to Quinn's kitchen. And she thought it was fun going out together, particularly under the mysterious circumstances Quinn had created. He was in a good mood, and seemed happy and playful, as he headed down Vallejo, and turned left on Divisadero. They were driving toward the water, and took a left along the shoreline on Marina Boulevard. Maggie wondered if they were going to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and go somewhere in Sausalito. But instead he took a right onto the grounds of the St. Francis Yacht Club. She wondered if they were going to have lunch on the deck at the club, and watch a regatta, which was the next best thing to sailing.

“This is fun,” she said happily, and Jack grinned at her. She was in the front seat next to Quinn, and Jack was just behind her.