The Mighty Quinns: Tristan

“Then what do you want me to do about him?” Lily asked.

“Well, perhaps we should take him in,” Violet said. “We might find him useful for other reasons. And don’t they say that it’s better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

“Who said that?” Rose asked. “I do recall arguing about that very quote one night at the bar in the Savoy Hotel in London. I’d had far too many gin fizzes.”

“Wilbur Fontaine,” Daisy said.

“Who?”

“The butcher in town,” Daisy explained. “I heard him say that very thing just last month. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Or maybe it was ‘keep your musket cocked and your tinder dry.’ But I’m not really sure what that means.”

Violet sighed softly. “Back to the matter at hand... We could be like cats with a mouse with this lawyer. When we grow tired of him, we’ll send him home. We haven’t had real amusement here in such a very long time. Let’s do ask him to stay.”

“I asked Finch to take him on a tour of the colony while we talked,” Lily said. “He’s supposed to bring Quinn back here for tea when they’re finished. But we should have our plans in place before he gets here.”

“How old is he?” Rose asked.

“I suppose he’s about my age,” Lily replied.

The aunts looked at each other and smiled. “And is he handsome?” Violet asked Lily.

“No, he looks like a lawyer,” Lily said, “one of those shrewd, ruthless types who eat people like us for breakfast.”

“Oh, he can’t be that bad. Even a lawyer has to have some redeeming qualities.”

“They can get you out of jail when you’ve started a brawl at the Opera Ball and slapped a policeman’s horse,” Daisy said.

“I’m sure, given time, the three of us can noodle the truth out of him,” Violet said.

A knock sounded on the screen door and Violet stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and beneath her scarf. “Well, shall we have a look at Lily’s lawyer?”

Lily held her breath as her aunt walked to the door. A few moments later, Mr. Quinn James stepped inside. He had an easy way of moving that made all eyes in the room follow him. Lily could see immediately that even her aunts found him attractive. What was it about him?

Was it the nearly black hair that looked as though he had just gotten out of bed? His face was a perfect balance of features, so composed that a search for any flaw was impossible. Or was it his voice? Deep and warm and so sexy that it made her heart beat just a tiny bit faster with every word that he spoke.

Violet held out her hand, arching her wrist and waiting for the customary kiss rather than a polite shake. Lily was surprised that he took the cue and touched his lips to a spot just above her fingers.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Violet.”

Violet introduced her sisters and Quinn kissed their outstretched hands, as well.

“Quinn James, at your service,” he said. He sat down next to Lily, his thigh brushing against hers. Warmth seeped into her bare leg and she found her attention fixed on the spot, her pulse pounding in her head.

“Where are you from, Mr. James?” Violet asked.

“Call me Quinn,” he said. “The Twin Cities. I was born in St. Paul. I’ve lived there all my life.”

“And how long have you been writing?” Rose asked.

“Five years, on and off. I’ve only just decided that it’s something I really want to pursue.”

“Lily tells us you’d like to stay with us for a while,” Rose said.

“I’m not sure that we have an opening,” Lily interrupted. “You may have to share a cabin. And we rarely take unpublished writers. Unless, of course, we have a chance to read their work first.”

“Now, darling, I’m sure we can find him a suitable place to stay. After all, he has important work to do.” Violet fixed her gaze on him.

“There is the other side of Finch’s cabin,” Rose suggested. “And I’m sure Finch would enjoy the company.” Rose turned to smile at Quinn. “What say you, Mr. James? We’d be happy to have you stay.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” he said.

* * *

“WELL DONE,” VIOLET SAID. “Now that everything is settled, would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. James?”

Tristan was trying not to fist-pump. “Actually, I’d rather head back to the city right away,” Tristan said. “I need to pack a few things.”

“You didn’t bring your things along?” Violet asked.

“I suppose I wasn’t sure that you’d let me stay.” He stood and gave them a smart bow. “But now that I am, I’m anxious to move in and get started. Ladies, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Do be sure to arrive by seven tomorrow night,” Rose said. “Billy Farnsworth-Chadwick will be doing some scenes from Othello in our little theater, and he’s asked Violet to dust off her Desdemona. She hasn’t done that role since she was a stand-in opposite Olivier in London.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Quinn said.

Lily walked out the front door and held it open for him before they both went down the front steps. “I probably should’ve warned you about the aunts,” she said.

“No,” he said. “They’re wonderful. Did she actually play opposite Laurence Olivier on the stage?”

“You can never be sure with the aunts,” Lily said. “Sometimes their stories are true. And sometimes they’re just wishful memories. I usually don’t try to differentiate between the two. As long as they’re happy, so am I.”

When they reached the car, Tristan took her hand and pressed his lips against her wrist. A shiver skittered down her spine as the aftereffects of the simple kiss seeped through her bloodstream.

It had been a long time since a man had placed his lips on her body. And he hadn’t been able to hide the fact that he was attracted to her. Surely there was some way she could make that work to her advantage.

For now she’d simply keep her eye on him. She’d find out the real reason for his appearance here and if he was working for the family, she’d send him packing.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” said Lily.

“Is there anything you’d like me to bring you from the city?” Quinn asked.

“Not that I can think of,” Lily said. “Just bring me something interesting to read. Your novel would be nice.”

He chuckled softly before slipping behind the wheel and starting the car.

“Goodbye, Lily,” he said.

“Goodbye, Quinn.” Lily stepped back from the car and watched as he drove off, a small cloud of dust trailing after him.

She would have to keep a clear head if she was going to figure out his motives. He was quite a charmer, and she’d have to keep her wits about her. If he wasn’t who he claimed to be, she’d find a way to expose him.

Expose him... Lily smiled to herself. It wasn’t often that someone young and attractive wandered into camp, but Lily usually took advantage when it happened. A summer romance was always good for the creative juices. In the past, she’d done her best work while indulging in a little affair.

She shook her head. She had to remember that Quinn wasn’t all he appeared to be. For now and the near future, she would keep Quinn at a safe distance.

She shivered, then rubbed her arms against the goose bumps that prickled her skin. It was at that moment she realized she wasn’t wearing underwear beneath the loose cotton shift she wore.

Lily groaned, then turned and headed back to her cabin. She was used to running around in anything that she tossed on. With a dangerously attractive man nearby, she might actually have to put some thought into being more conservative with her wardrobe.

* * *

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, our firm has been working on this case for over three years and we have very little to show for it. The three sisters are still living happily on the property with no plans to vacate. I propose to get close to them, to live with them at the colony and find out what they really want. The big question I will answer is, what settlement would make them happy?”

Tristan scanned the conference room, searching for support for his unconventional idea. The law firm of Forster and Dunlap was not the kind of establishment that encouraged unconventional ideas. In fact, from the start, Tristan had felt like the odd man out among so many straightlaced and buttoned-up lawyers. But the firm had offered a start to a guy who was high on charisma and a little low on his law school GPA.

Getting through law school had been much tougher than Tristan had ever imagined. But then life had never been easy for him—or his two brothers. From a young age, they’d been forced to fend for themselves, first because their parents hadn’t cared, then because their parents had abandoned them and then because they’d been in the foster care system.

He and Thom and Jamie had survived, but just how, he’d never been able to explain. Maybe it was the strength they’d found in each other, or the stubborn resolve they all had to survive and succeed.

He’d worked his way through college with the help of grants and odd jobs, but law school had been a different story. The expense and the expectations had almost killed him. He’d held down both a job and a full schedule of night school classes. That usually left no more than four or five hours to sleep at night.

But Tristan had been determined. At first, he had wanted to prove to the world that the eldest of Denny Quinn’s boys was more than just a criminal’s son. And then he’d needed to prove to himself that he was safe. That there would always be food in the refrigerator and a warm place to sleep.

He cleared his throat, waiting for some reaction from the partners in front of him. Sure, his idea was a little “out there.” But they’d tried everything else and it had failed. Now was the time for creative solutions. And he’d already been invited to stay at the colony. Why not use that stroke of luck to their advantage?

Bob Forster, one of the two senior partners in the firm, finally decided to comment. “Just how are you going to carry off this charade? You’re not a writer.”

“That’s a minor detail,” Tristan said. “I’m sure I’ll have to provide some type of work at some point, but I’ll do my best to delay that. My sole focus will be to spend time with the Pigglestone sisters and try to get to know them better. If I can get them to trust me, they may consider an offer from us.”

Reggie Dunlap, the other half of Forster and Dunlap, chuckled softly. “I’ll say this. It’s a damn creative approach to our problem. You’re nothing if not charming, Quinn. I’ll give you that. So, how long do you think it will take before we have an answer?”

“That depends,” Tristan said.

“On what?” Forster asked.

“On how long I can pretend to be Quinn James. And how long it takes for the sisters to trust me.”

“What about Lily Harrison?” Forster asked. “She’s the one who has the most influence on the old ladies. How are you going to deal with her?”

“I suspect she’ll be the easiest,” Tristan said. After all, he could already sense she was attracted to him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been the one to convince the sisters to offer him a spot at the colony.

“Still, she’ll be the most suspicious. And I’m not satisfied that you’ve covered yourself on the writing angle. You need a manuscript.”

Tristan’s assistant, Melanie Parker, timidly raised her hand. Legal assistants usually didn’t speak at partners’ meetings, but this wasn’t just any meeting. “Melanie?”

“I—I’d like to offer a suggestion,” she said. “I do a little writing myself and I’ve been working on a novel for about a year now. It’s a legal thriller with some romance thrown in. It’s almost done. I could give it to Tristan to use as his own writing.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Tristan said.

“Who knows,” she said. “Maybe you’ll be able to make a connection with a famous writer who’ll help me get it published. At the worst, I could get some criticism or helpful notes.”

Tristan didn’t have the heart to tell her that the colony was made up of retirees and has-beens. He doubted there was anyone there who had any connections at all to publishing. But Melanie was a good person who was helping him out. If this plan worked, he’d find a way to make those connections for her. Tristan almost hoped that the book was bad, though. It would make Lily less suspicious.

“It’s a good plan,” Reggie said. He stood up, effectively calling an end to the meeting. “You’ve got a month, Quinn. You get the job done properly, you’ll be up for junior partner.”

Tristan stood as the partners left the conference room. When they were gone, he let out a tightly held breath. “Thank you,” he said, smiling at Melanie as he flopped back down in his chair. “I think your suggestion sealed the deal.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she said. “Now everyone will wonder if I have plans to be an author, instead of the best darn paralegal at Forster and Dunlap. Maybe it would be better if you told them all that my book is really, really bad.”

Tristan gathered his papers and tossed them into his briefcase. “I doubt it’s bad,” he said. “I think you’d make a great author.” He paused and snapped his briefcase shut. “Don’t you ever wonder what you’re really supposed to be doing in this world? I mean, maybe you were meant to be a writer and not a paralegal.”

“I’d like to think so,” Melanie said. “When you read my book, will you promise to give me your honest opinion?”

Tristan met her gaze and saw a vulnerability there that he’d only seen on a few prior occasions. He’d come to depend on Melanie over the three years they’d worked together. In truth, he felt somewhat protective of her, almost as if she were his little sister. Her dark hair was always pulled back in a haphazard bun and her horn-rimmed glasses sat on her nose at a perpetually crooked angle. She also seemed to prefer frumpy business suits that could only be described as unflattering.

There were times when he’d caught her looking at him with an odd expression on her face, and he wondered if she might harbor some unrequited feelings for him. But then she’d return to business as usual and he’d realize that there was at least one woman in the world who was immune to his charm.

“So, why don’t we get a copy of your manuscript and let’s talk about it.”

“Really? I haven’t told anyone that I’ve been writing. You’ll be the first to read it.”

“What’s the title?”

“Legal Tender,” she said.

“Nice title.”

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