Local Flavour: Bitter Harvest (Book 4)

Chapter 4

Lucy dropped her bags by the door and was just about knocked over by an excited Bish. "Down girl. Okay, I love you too," she laughed, dodging sloppy kisses while trying to get her boots off. Once she was fully inside the house, she knelt and gave the lab a good belly scratch and snuggle before getting her coat off. "Where's Dad, huh?" It was obvious Quinn wasn't home, he would have heard the dog and greeted her at the door. She led the excited dog to the kitchen and opened the door to let her out to pee.

As usual, the kitchen and massive living room were spotless, and the fridge was full of food. After a week in New York, she felt the familiar comfort of home embrace her like a favourite blanket and she sighed happily. It was good to get away, but it was better to come home to Quinn.

She supposed he was tied up at the gastropub; the place was a runaway success. Part of her missed the camaraderie of running the place with Quinn and their friends Marnie and Leon, but she didn't regret her decision to break away and run her own business. And business was good — great in fact. She couldn't wait to share her most recent success with Quinn when he got back.

She opened the back door and whistled for Bish, who came charging back inside. "Hungry, girl?"

Bish licked her chops and nudged her hand in agreement. She got out the expensive organic dog food Quinn bought and poured a bowl before adding some leftover shredded chicken on top. The dog food was always the backup plan, usually Quinn cooked two suppers: one for the two of them and one for the dog. To say he spoiled Bish was putting it mildly. Seeing how nurturing he was with the dog only made her love him more; and wonder what he'd be like with their kids. She knew he wanted kids more than she did; ached for them in fact but she was holding out until she built her business up a bit more. At least that was the plan.

It was strange that Quinn wasn't there to feed Bish her supper; she always ate at five like clockwork. Lucy put the bowl on the floor and a grateful Bish tucked in.

"Alexa, play John Coltrane," she announced to the air and the robotic voice echoed her request before playing his 1962 eponymous album, one she knew well. "Good choice Alexa, thanks," she said as familiar, sweet jazz filled the air. Her Dad introduced Lucy to jazz, they'd listen to it while cleaning up the family diner after everyone had left. She loved those nights with her Dad, hearing his old, funny stories about characters in town, taking in his words of wisdom. They were so close back then, back before everything fell apart. She missed her Dad ever since he passed, but she knew he was finally at peace. The demons that haunted him all his life couldn't get him now. With a lot of therapy, she was finally able to let go of her anger towards him and accept his death. She was trying hard to look back on the good times without the pain and disappointment of his recent years piercing her fond memories. 

As she told Quinn, her mental health wasn't quite a hundred per cent, but she was making progress. He always listened; always understood. He was her rock; sometimes she felt he was the only thing keeping her from being washed away by the tumult of her memories and feelings

She poured a glass of wine and stood at the window, watching the trees sway in the wind. A storm was coming, she could smell it on the salt air that rustled the kitchen curtains. The wine was a sultry blend of syrah and sangiovese and had just the right amount of plum on the finish. Quinn was always great at choosing wine. Where was he, anyway?

It was odd that he wasn't texting her when he knew she'd be arriving around this time. He offered to pick her up at the airport in Halifax, but she'd left her car and didn't mind driving herself. But she did expect him to be home. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the fatigue of travelling and working 14-hour days over the past week in New York. The couch suddenly looked very appealing.