“Mr. Crawford,” Huck interrupted, “I can take Miss Harlowe out of here.”
He shook his head. “No, no. It’s all right. Quinn’s been through a terrible ordeal herself, losing a friend.” Crawford got to his feet, and took a few steps, as if he just needed to move. He had a lost quality about him. “I walked through the marsh to your cottage, without security. You’d think I wouldn’t risk it, given my recent history. But Yorkville’s so small-and I’ve been coming here for years. I couldn’t imagine anything bad happening here. Maybe it’s me. My fault she died, that is. I’m bad luck.”
Quinn let her shawl fall off her shoulders. “Did she think of you as a brother?”
“She’d never say. She wasn’t one to open herself up to that kind of emotion. She protected herself, hated to be vulnerable.” He stopped pacing, looked at Quinn. “You believe we were having an affair, don’t you?”
“Oh, God-Oliver!” Sharon Riccardi burst past Huck into the library, her bare arms red with mosquito bites from last night’s trip through the marsh. If she was embarrassed over her behavior, she gave no indication. “I am so sorry. Boone, why didn’t you get her out of here?”
“I asked her to stay,” Crawford said. “It’s all right, Sharon. Quinn and I have been having a nice chat.”
“It’s not all right.” Hands on hips, Sharon swung around to face Quinn. “You were invited here today because we believed you needed a break after what happened to your friend-we all needed a break and some closure. We assumed you’d act appropriately, not sneak around in private areas.”
Quinn thought Huck might say something in her defense, but he didn’t. “One thing just led to another,” she said.
Sharon Riccardi wasn’t mollified. “You need to bury your friend and leave the rest of us in peace. Oliver, you trust me to make difficult decisions, and I’m making one now. It’s time Miss Harlowe went home.”
Joe Riccardi appeared in the doorway and stood next to Huck, who still hadn’t moved or said anything. “What’s going on?”
Sharon stiffened. “Miss Harlowe is leaving.”
“I’ll see to it she gets home.” Huck calmly inserted himself between the Riccardis and Quinn and took her by the elbow. She felt the tickle of shawl fringe on her arm and remembered last night.
“I can find my own way out,” she said quickly.
Shaking her head, Sharon addressed Huck. “Take her back to her cottage in her car. That way we know she gets there safely. I’ll send Glover for you.”
Oliver Crawford rose, sweeping Quinn’s shawl up from where it had dragged on the floor. “I hope our discussion eases your mind.”
“It doesn’t, really, but thanks for your time.”
Keeping one hand on her elbow, Huck ushered Quinn past a dumbfounded, almost ashen Joe Riccardi. She wondered if he’d take the hit for her sneaking into the house, and felt a pang of regret. Just because he was married to ice-cold Sharon didn’t mean he’d escape her ire.
Huck picked up the pace as they walked back out to the kitchen. “Hey,” Quinn said, “I’m in high heels.”
“You’re keeping up just fine.”
He took her through the side door that she’d used to get in, skirting the edge of the party. But Gerard Lattimore waved from the shade of an oak. “Quinn! There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” He walked over to her, but glanced at Huck, saw his tension and frowned. “What’s going on?”
“I’m getting the boot,” Quinn said.
“Why?”
“Poking my nose where I shouldn’t.”
Huck loosened his grip on her arm. “I’m escorting Miss Harlowe back to her cottage.”
“I got caught talking to Oliver Crawford in the library,” Quinn explained, not exactly mortified over getting tossed from Breakwater. “Big sin.”
Gerard’s mouth twitched with humor. “Well, perhaps I can redeem you.”
“It’s okay. Really. I just wanted to see the place.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quinn’s leaving,” Huck said.
Gerard frowned at him. “I was hoping she and I would have a chance to talk.”
Quinn knew he would only grill her about what he hadn’t told her, and she’d lost any desire to stay. “I promised my grandfather I’d visit him on my way back to Washington,” she said. “I should get going.”
“Honestly,” Gerard said, “I can intervene and explain to Ollie that you’re like a wandering two-year-old-”
Quinn grinned at him. “Oh, that’s a big help.”
Huck straightened, everything about him on edge. “I need to get a move on.”
When they reached her car, he stood by the passenger door until she was inside, then shut it. If he’d had a dead bolt, he’d probably have used it to lock her in. He went around to the driver’s side and climbed in.
Quinn sat back in her seat. “You Breakwater guys need more to do if you’re getting all excited about me sneaking in through Crawford’s kitchen.”