Working Girl

"Hey Joel, wake up!"

"M'huh?"

"Wake UP!"

Joel came to with a start and nearly fell out of his chair. Quinn could not help giggling at his confusion.

"Wh-where am I?"

"You're still in your office. You were, like, almost drooling on your keyboard. It was kind of gross."

Joel quickly swatted at his mouth and sat up straight, trying to appear as if he'd been perfectly alert the entire time.

"How long was I out?"

"I don't know, maybe a few minutes. I kind of got busy filing my nails and didn't really notice until you started snoring."

Joel groaned and slapped his forehead. "That kid of mine..." he grumbled. "He cried for three hours straight last night. Nothing your aunt and I did would settle him down, 'til he finally conked out from exhaustion. At least Amy can sleep in... I'm like a walking zombie here."

Quinn's eyes glazed over a bit. Joel's grousing over his poor nights of sleep had become a morning ritual since she started working at his firm. She might have wondered if Joel even liked her baby cousin, were it not for the photos of him spread across the wall behind his computer, as well as this really cute desktop image of him curled up with his blankie. Joel had way more pictures of Ryan than he did of her aunt Amy, who hated being photographed because it meant being stared at by people she didn't know. Quinn couldn't imagine not wanting to be looked at, ever. Amy had allowed Joel to put up one photo, though: it was of her and the baby taken the day after his birth. Amy was sitting up in bed with the baby at her side, still in a hospital gown, her hair all frizzed in some places and flattened in others. Her face looked oily and she was wearing her glasses, but as she looked down at the baby, she had a really sweet smile. It was one of the few times Quinn could remember her looking completely happy. But still - bleh! Of all the photos you'd want made public...

"You need something to do, don't you?" Joel murmured, looking guilty.

"I finished sorting the mail ten minutes ago," Quinn confessed.

Joel yawned and rubbed his face, which was dark with stubble from a beard he'd obviously forgotten to shave. It looked sort of nice on him, though nicer if he were a few years younger. "I'll call up Tony and see what he might have for you."

Quinn's heart leapt. Tony was twenty-five and had only been an engineer with the firm for a couple of years. All of the female interns, not to mention some of the regulars, thought he was quite hot. Quinn tried to act nonchalant as Joel punched in Tony's number and listened to the other end. "Hey Ton, what's happening... Nothing much... Fuck off, it was only a couple of minutes... I'll just bet you did... Just wait 'til it's your turn, stud, then we'll talk... Oh say, Ton, do you have any projects for Quinn?... uh-huh... y'huh... hmm-hmm... 'kay, I'll let her know. Bye."

Joel made a sour face. "And eat shit, you little prick," he muttered. He then turned to Quinn with a brighter expression. "All right, hon: Tony's got a project, and I've got a meeting I need to be at in..." He checked his watch. "Five minutes ago. So I'll see you around lunchtime."

"Okay."

Quinn left Joel's office and headed over to the string of nearby cubicles. Tony's was the closest, its walls covered with guy stuff like sports posters and photos of him skiing (mmmm), and comic strips about some overweight geek named "Dilbert." He had an entire wall of nothing but "Dilbert" comics. Joel had them, too - as did everyone else, it seemed. Quinn couldn't understand what they saw in him, but it was like a cult. Tony once said it reminded them of their own situation. Right, like a talking dog would try to take over the world in real life.

Tony didn't have any pictures of girlfriends, though. And he wasn't gay - Quinn had heard through the grapevine that he'd broken up with a girl recently. Quinn also knew that one or two of the other interns were looking to make a play at him... but none of them was as cute as she was. True, she was seventeen and he was twenty-five, but that didn't mean she couldn't flirt...

"Hi, Tony!" she said cheerfully.

"Hey Quinn," he said, swiveling around in his chair to face her, a bright grin on his face. He had the greatest dark hair and crinkly eyes, and the pale blue dress shirt he wore, two top buttons undone, managed to look far better on him than on the other nerds in the office.

"You're looking good," he said, his eyes darting up and down her body.

"You're not looking too bad yourself," Quinn replied, tilting her head a little and flipping her hair gently, certain Tony was watching every move.

"So you've come for some grunt work, huh?"

"Yeah," said Quinn. "But for what it's worth, it's never made me grunt."

Tony reached over to his desk and handed Quinn a file. "It's not much: just some number-crunching," he apologized. "They're really leaving you guys hanging, aren't they?"

"What do you mean?" Quinn flipped through the file and saw rows of figures so simple, she could have crunched them in junior high.

"This is a pretty slow time of year for us; there's not much for you to do." Tony cocked his brow wearily. "We could have used you guys a couple of months ago, when we had two really huge projects going on."

"But I was in school two months ago."

"No kidding. Either they need to rework the internship program or our schedule, 'cause this just ain't gonna cut it in the long run."

"But I have to finish this internship," Quinn protested, panicking a little. "I need it for my transcript and to boost my math experience and to get a letter of recommendation. Besides, my mother said if I quit, she'll be really, really disappointed in me after everything Joel did to get me in, and since it's just gonna be me and her this year what with my sister going off to college and all, I want to-"

"Quinn, relax, relax..." Tony said, holding up his hands with benign amusement. "I was thinking long-term. They're not going to force any of you guys to go home. They'd have you down to sharpening the pencils first."

"'Course, the main reason you guys are here in the first place," Tony's neighbor, Mark, broke in, "is 'cause it's more cost-efficient than hiring temps."

"Really?" asked Quinn, frowning.

"Sure," said Mark, who was a little older than Tony and not half as cute. "I mean, you've been here for what, almost two weeks? Have you learned a thing about engineering?"

"No," Quinn confessed. "Except that it's kind of boring."

Mark and Tony looked at each other and exchanged grins. "It's just this place," said Tony. "They lure you in out of college with promises of how exciting it's going to be and how your inventions will 'change the world.' Then they impose restriction after restriction until it drains the life out of you. I'm already looking to move elsewhere."

Quinn was bothered by this description of work. She didn't want to think that life after college would be like having a chain clamped to her leg.

"But not everyone feels that way, right? I mean Joel said he's worked here for over ten years."

"Joel has to work here," Mark said knowingly, with a sly grin that Quinn didn't like. "He's gone the family route and has a kid he needs to think of."

"So you're saying he'd rather do something else?"

Tony shrugged. "He's really into computers. I think at one point he wanted to jump ship and work for a dot-com. But it would have meant a salary cut, longer hours, and relocating to a different city."

"When he found out his woman was pregnant," added Mark, clearly unaware that he was speaking of Quinn's aunt, "he had to scrap those plans in a hurry."

"Just as well," said Tony. "With the dot-com biz starting to go south, he probably would have lost his job soon anyway."

"Besides, he's practically management," said Mark, "He couldn't give you the real deal on this place even if he wanted to. Maybe things were better when he started, but right now, I guarantee you he's as bored as the rest of us."

Quinn just stared at the two men, clutching the file to her chest.

"Anyway, thanks for the help," said Tony, with a smile that suddenly seemed much less appealing. "Have fun."

That evening, Quinn took the subway back to her hostel. Joel had offered to give her a ride, but wound up working late to make up for wasted time. Quinn imagined that Amy wouldn't be too thrilled about that, but she herself was relieved. She wanted to be alone, to think.

Weird, she wasn't used to taking time out to reflect. It wasn't until the past couple of years, when she spent more time working on math equations, that she realized she had avoided being alone.

Quinn sat on one of the less icky seats of the train, watching people shuffle in and slowly crowd up the car. Men with the same dull work shirts as the ones at Joel's firm, reading the newspapers standing up and avoiding eye contact with anyone. Women in double-breasted suits and high heels like her mother's. Sometimes a really grungy person whom everyone would step away from like he had a disease... and who could blame them? Mothers with bratty kids who just couldn't respect the wall of silence that the rest of the car had been preserving.

God, why did she have to be exposed to this depressing adult stuff? What had made her think this would actually be fun? If that stupid Mr. Phelps hadn't been stealing, she might have had a letter of rec in hand and she could have spent summer with her friends, instead of a boring engineering firm by day and a dingy hostel at night.

Even Daria, when she saw where her sister would be living for the next six weeks, had scrunched up her nose and said, "When the inmates return, stand perfectly still. They can smell fear." And it wasn't as though Quinn could escape to the city nightlife. Curfews were strictly enforced - ten on weeknights, midnight on weekends - as stated in the contract she'd signed before the internship began. Break them, abuse the firm's trust, and you were out. Quinn had thought they were just trying to scare her, but no - first week there, a guy got caught sneaking in late and the next evening was packing his bags.

Quinn stood up as the train reached her stop and pressed through the crowd to reach the double door. As she exited the train, jostled and shoved by people headed in the same direction, her thoughts grew bleaker. Very few in her hostel seemed to miss the nightlife anyway. Most were big science nuts in their second or third year of college, who were more interested in renting cheesy sci-fi movies to watch in the lounge than in going to a club. The few that did seem cool had, for a brief time, embraced Quinn as one of their group. Until a bouncer at the club they went to saw Quinn's fake I.D. from a mile away and made them all leave. So now they went out without her, while Quinn burned up her cell phone minutes talking to friends and pretending that she was having a great time.

Quinn walked up the steep flight of stairs to the surface. Maybe she should go out on her own. Why not? She was mature. She would be eighteen soon. All she needed was a map and her What's What guide, and she could find something to do that didn't require an age restriction. Quinn reached the surface streets and found herself staring up at the immense, looming sky-scrapers, then at the wide boulevards crowded with angry, honking cars.

Or...

Maybe she could take her aunt out. Amy had a car and knew the city, and even though she seemed to be dealing well with her maternity leave, Quinn was sure a part of her wanted to get out and have some fun, just on her own. Or maybe on her own with her niece. Plus, she was cool before she had the baby, so there had to be some of that left over, right?

But then again, Quinn thought as she walked down the sidewalk under a pale, smoggy sky, becoming a mom could have really changed her. One of the first things Amy had said when they were alone, in that easy-going tone with the don't-cross-me edge, was, "I know I'm not your mother, but if I have to I will assume the role. I just want to make sure you're safe." Quinn knew that she had almost as many concerns about a seventeen year-old living alone in the city as her mother did, and that she felt responsible, having been the one who persuaded Joel to give Quinn an internship. Amy would probably never let her have any real fun.

A few blocks from the subway station, down a row of identical brown facades, Quinn finally reached the hostel. She pushed all thoughts of another wasted evening out of her mind before climbing the stairs to the front door. Inside, more tall flights of stairs greeted her, leading to everyone's room several stories up. Quinn paused to show the doorman her I.D., then started down the hall toward the lounge... where the shrill sounds of machine guns from the T.V. told her she'd be better off finding entertainment elsewhere.

So it was up in her room, again. Six-oh-five on a Friday, with nothing before her but some cell phone calls, take-out from one of the corner food stands, and SAT study aids, which Quinn had promised her mother she would use in order to boost her verbal score. She sat down in a hard-backed chair and surveyed the small room, with a sink in one corner and a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling (what was this, the Middle Ages?), trying to think of how else she could pass the time. Then there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," Quinn called out, turning around.

A heavyset girl with whom she'd spoken once or twice opened the door and poked her head through. "Call," she said.

This was a surprise. Even Amy and Joel knew to call her cell phone. "From who?"

"One of the guys from work. Tony."

Chapter 2

Quinn's heart pounded as she squeezed herself into the phone booth at the end of the hall. She looked at the sheet with Tony's number printed on it (she had missed his call by five minutes), praying that that girl had written it down correctly.

She picked up the phone, dialed the number, then waited... and waited. After the third ring, Quinn was convinced that he wasn't home, when suddenly she heard a click on the other end.

"Yeah?" answered the male voice in an easy, friendly manner.

"Tony?" Quinn asked, her cheeks reddening.

"That would be me. You're -"

"Quinn. Quinn Morgendorffer. You know, from work."

"Hi, Quinn Morgendorffer from work. How're you doing?"

"Fine." Her face was now scarlet. "Um, a floormate of mine said you called?"

"Yeah, you left behind your walkman on my desk. I didn't know if you were freaking out, wondering where it was. I know I can't go anywhere without music."

Quinn felt her stomach tighten. "Oh, that wasn't mine. I don't bring my CDs to work."

"Really? You don't listen to Britney?"

"No," Quinn said, then almost spat out, "Not every girl my age does." This wasn't going to be a social call at all, damn it.

"Hmm, then some other girl or guy is going nuts, wondering where their stuff is. Ah well, such is life."

"Yeah... life," mumbled Quinn.

"So what are you up to this evening?"

Quinn's eyes lit up. "Up to? Well, I'm not sure. There are still plans I'm in the process of trying to see if I can, um, solidify or what have you. But nothing's for sure yet. What are you doing?"

"Some buddies and I are going to Mephistopheles, this club-restaurant in the Arts District. It's Swinger's Night Friday."

"What's that?"

"They play swing music and have swing dancing. I usually pick up a girl or two while I'm there." Then, after what seemed like an eternity of a pause, Tony added, "If you and your friends are interested, maybe you could tag along."

Quinn's heart leapt straight into her throat. She could barely speak. "Is there an age restriction?"

"Only if you plan to order a drink. Otherwise, no."

Quinn felt her legs trembling a little. "Sure I-we can be there. I mean I'll have to see."

Tony gave Quinn the time - seven-thirty - and the location, and Quinn had to press down on her legs so they wouldn't shake while she wrote down the address on the piece of paper balanced on one knee. When she finally hung up the phone, she felt light-headed. For several seconds she just sat there, her hand clutching the receiver, until she snapped herself out of it. No time to sit around. She had a date!

Although she'd had less time than she was used to, Quinn felt that she had glamoured up sufficiently by the time she headed out to the subway. She wasn't president of the Fashion Club for nothing. She tugged at her short skirt and ran her hands through her hair for the umpteenth time as she made her way down into the tunnel. The crowd that greeted her was much more diverse than the after work crowd. Some were dressed to the nines for clubs, theatre, fancy restaurants, or what have you, while others wore just casual clothes for a night of spontaneous fun. Then there were those with dyed purple hair, leather and fishnet stockings and awful, heavy Goth make-up who looked like they would be at home in the Zon. Which was probably where they were headed - not the Zon, of course, but some other drug-infested club headlined by a stoner band.

Quinn's train car was packed within a couple of stops, which didn't surprise her since she lived off of the most popular line in the city. What did surprise her was how thick the crowd was in the Arts District. Most of her car emptied out at that spot, and when Quinn reached the surface, she literally could not see two feet in front of her. People traveled in tight groups of five or six, surrounding her on all sides, frustrating her attempts to read signs hanging over each door. Quinn's heart pounded harder. She wished that cute guy she'd talked to on the ride wasn't married - he was tall enough to read signs for her.

This was her first real night out on the town. Lawndale nightlife did not qualify as night "life" even in the loosest sense. And while she had gone out during her first week in the city, she had accompanied older, more experienced interns. Quinn wasn't sure her parents or aunt would approve of her wandering alone in the big city... but it was too late now.

Her head started swimming. Was she supposed to walk this far? Had she missed the sign for Mephistopheles? Was she on the right side of the street? The right street? The throng of people surrounding her felt like it was closing in, sucking up her air and threatening to swallow her.

Then... Mephistopheles. The sign was large and bright. Music from inside pumped out onto the sidewalk. Quinn exhaled with relief now that the hard part was over.

Or so she thought. The club-restaurant was not only crowded and dark, but deafening. Any number of guys there could have been Tony. Quinn walked through the tight space with as much confidence as she could muster, looking for Tony by the bar, then at the lounge tables, then at the mezzanine tables overlooking the dance floor. Finally she saw him sitting alone in a corner booth, nursing what looked like his second pint of beer. She rehearsed her excuses, then made her way over.

"Hi Tony! I made it," she said, faintly worried that he had forgotten she was coming.

Tony glanced up at her and gave her an easy smile. "Oh hey Quinn. Pull up a seat."

Quinn slid into the booth so she was facing opposite, thinking that he looked even better outside of work. His hair gleamed even in the dim light, and he smelled faintly of cologne... or was it beer? The shirt he wore was nearly sleeveless and tight, emphasizing the muscles in his arms and chest.

"Sorry I'm late," she gasped. "My friend who was supposed to come with me totally bailed, so I got stuck going alone. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," said Tony, taking another sip of beer. "Matter of fact, my friends bailed on me, too."

"So you're... all alone?"

"Well not anymore."

Quinn smiled, but inside she wasn't sure how to react. On the one hand, the thought of having Tony all to herself thrilled her to no end. On the other hand, how convenient was it for him to use her excuse? Had he planned to do this all along, thinking that he could get one or two young interns to himself? Oh so what? she asked herself. Not like a twenty-five year old and a seventeen year old couldn't sit in a restaurant together. Tony wasn't even her oldest date... there was that twenty-seven year old grad student at the college party she and Sandi had attended sophomore year. Of course he was drunk and thought she was twenty-four...

"You two ready to order?"

A waiter stood at her side, pad in hand. Tony nodded at Quinn, who glanced at his menu for ten seconds before stating that she wanted a salad - any would do - and an iced tea. Tony ordered the Ultimate Nacho Platter and another beer.

"How 'bout we share?" he said to Quinn once the waiter had left.

Greasy, fatty nachos had never been her thing, but she nodded quickly. "Sure!"

"So tell me a little more about yourself." Tony pushed his glass aside and rested both arms on the table, his dark eyes locking with hers.

"Like what, exactly?"

"Anything." Tony traced a finger along the wet spot from his glass. "Like how do you know Joel?"

"Oh," said Quinn, feeling faintly relieved. "He's my aunt's boyfriend. They've been together for a few years."

"Ah, I see..." This was followed by, what seemed to Quinn, an uncomfortable pause. "So Joel's kid is..."

"My cousin."

"Okay. Interesting." Tony's eyes looked away, thoughtful.

"What's interesting about it?" Quinn had to ask.

"Oh nothing. It's just you're a little younger than the other interns. We were wondering how Joel would know someone... so young..."

Quinn felt the blood rush inside of her. "What do you mean? Did you think he just... met me somewhere?"

"Oh no, I didn't, no." Tony quickly sat back and jerked his hands in an "Ix-nay" gesture. "But you know how some guys are. They jump to conclusions, but no one takes them seriously."

"Well tell them they're wrong," Quinn shot back. "Tell them Joel isn't cheating. He loves my aunt." Doesn't he?

"Hey Quinn, it's okay," said Tony, looking sincerely apologetic now. "It was never a big issue. We just wondered about your history, that's all."

The waiter arrived with Quinn's iced tea, which she now had no desire to drink. In fact, she was starting to hate this dark, smoky place.

"Come Monday, I'll set the record straight, okay?"

Quinn took a small sip of her tea. "Okay," she said flatly. And you're paying for my dinner, too, jerk.

"So come on, what else about you? You're interested in being an engineer?"

Quinn thought a few seconds before stating her words carefully, so they couldn't be misconstrued. "I don't know. It doesn't really feel like my thing, but I'm good with math, so I thought it'd be worth trying something math-related."

"What do you really want to do?"

"I don't... know that either." Quinn shifted uncomfortably. "At first I wanted to be a model, but they don't usually have a career past thirty. Maybe something in fashion. I'm good at fashion. Even though I don't design or draw..." As she said this, she felt distress well up inside her.

"Eh well, you've got plenty of time to decide. Enjoy it while it lasts."

"How long will that be?"

"It depends. Usually until you start thinking of marriage and kids. Your thirties." Tony grimaced. "That's when people stop calling you 'cool' and 'innovative' for not having your life mapped out, and start calling you 'pathetic.' When the noose tightens."

Quinn nodded and took another sip of tea. Then another, and another. She couldn't figure out why, but his words really bothered her. Tony looked at her as though he were awaiting a response. God, he must think she was such a moody freak. She was never like this on dates. Quinn tried to find words that would explain a sudden cold, sick feeling inside.

"I don't want to be like my mother," she finally whispered.

"What?" asked Tony, leaning in closer.

"I said I don't want to be like my mother."

As Tony's smile widened into a grin, she felt her face burn. Wow. She hadn't known how strongly she'd felt until she'd said it. Quinn took a big sip of tea, trying to drown out any remorse.

"How come?" Tony asked.

"Because... I don't think she's happy," Quinn confessed. "You see she's this lawyer, and we moved from Texas a few years ago so she could be a partner at some big firm, even though she was already a partner at her old firm. But so far all her boss has done is order her around all the time." Quinn quickly rubbed tears of frustration out of her eyes. "She split up with my dad so she could have more fun, but she's still a slave to that creep. I don't want to be like her. I want to like what I do and I don't want anyone telling me how to do it."

Tony sat back and tipped the last of his beer into his mouth, not taking his eyes off of Quinn. "Baby, you're learning what it means to be an adult."

His fingers touched hers eight times, by Quinn's count. Each time they reached for the nachos at once. She forgot about what the grease would do to her skin when Tony began to feed nacho chips into her mouth directly. He was very sensitive and delicate, making sure the pieces were never too big.

Tony then reached for his third pint of beer and raised it to Quinn's lips. She leaned forward to take a polite slip, trying not to gag as the bitter liquid washed into her mouth. The beer was thick and nearly black - real beer, not the type that came from a can. Smiling weakly, Quinn wiped some dribble from her chin and made a mental note to reapply her lipstick.

"Want some more?"

"Um..." Quinn wanted to refuse, but was afraid Tony would be offended. "Okay." He pushed the beer toward her, and she lifted the glass to her lips. The second sip tasted yucky, but less so than the first one.

Around them, the music picked up, shifting from moody techno to the more rapid beat of swing. Quinn saw couples from the surrounding tables head downstairs to the dance floor. Tony slid out of the booth and stood over her, arms extended.

[More to follow.]

Chapter 3

The next morning, Quinn opened her eyes to the blur of the light bulb overhead. She yawned and stretched, feeling a swath of goose bumps across her skin from having kicked off her blanket during the night. After reaching down to pull it back over her, Quinn lay still, attuning herself to the creaks and disembodied voices of the hostel. For the first time this internship, she did not feel queasy upon awakening. She was even starting to see her dingy surroundings as something other than affronts to her sense of style. More like an old, out-of-season jacket that was still good enough to wear around the house.

Quinn now felt certain that she could see this internship through. She wasn't alone anymore. She had made a connection with another person in this city, someone not already entrusted with her welfare. A person who saw the real her, the mature Quinn. Her languid thoughts filled with Tony: their first meeting at Mephistopheles, the way he guided the nacho chips into her mouth, the feel of his hands over hers, the heat of his body against hers, the softness of his lips on hers...

Quinn's nipples hardened. She inhaled deeply and glanced downward with a little fear, as that warm tingling sensation from the night before returned. It felt so good, but when would it stop? Did she want it to stop? She tensed up and waited, until the tingling finally diminished. Quinn exhaled slowly. She had never felt this way about anyone else she had dated. What was it about Tony that made her want to be against him forever? If she could, she would rush out of her room right now and track him down through the big crowded streets just so she could run her fingers through his hair. Quinn sat up straighter, with an eagerness that had eluded her every other morning. She threw off her covers, ready to dash over to the closet, when reality overtook her. Would Tony want to see her again?

After all, he wasn't her boyfriend; she just worked with him. Their being along together was just a coincidence, wasn't it? Besides, he was older than her. Much, much older. He had adult concerns and needed a real adult who understood them. She was probably just someone to fill the gap until Tony found his next girlfriend. Quinn felt herself sinking into the mattress under the weight of these thoughts and sought to push them from her mind.

She squinted at her bedside clock. Eleven thirty-eight read the blurry digital numbers. Damn. Quinn reached over next to it, slipped on her glasses, and grabbed her cell phone to listen to messages from the night before. The first was from Amy, at seven-twelve. "Hey Quinn... I see you're not in, which probably means you're doing something far more exciting than what I'm about to propose, but what the hell. Thought if you didn't have anything planned tonight, you might want to come by and hang out here. I'll probably be reading, and Joel's already falling asleep in front of the T.V., and with a sales pitch like that, who could resist? Still, you never know. Maybe Madonna will parachute by for her latest video. Give a call if you get the chance. Bye."

Quinn felt prickles of guilt. Amy's unusually wordy message offered one of the few hints that her aunt enjoyed her company. Not just enjoyed it, but sought it out. Of course, spending the evening with a snoozing honey wasn't a great alternative, but still, she didn't have to call. Cheeks flushing with warmth, Quinn quickly dialed her aunt's number, but got the voice mail. After leaving an acknowledging message, she then returned to her own messages.

The second was from her dad. Quinn's eyes widened. Crap, I was supposed to call him! If Aunt Amy and her mother were just concerned for her safety, her dad was overbearing. He had made it clear that he wanted to hear from her at least a couple of times a week to make sure she was okay. She could just picture him suffering a sleepless night, worried about his little girl. Worse - he probably called her mother and they had another fight. "Dammit, Helen! How could you let her stay in that big, awful place?! Don't you know how many murderers and car jackers there are?!" "Jake, she's seventeen! Soon she'll be out of the house, and if we can't respect her judgment now, then when?!" "Don't tell me when I should worry!" "Don't treat me like I don't know our daughter! I spend more time with her than you do, dammit! I always have!"

Then again, maybe not. There was no sign of any more missed calls on her phone. Quinn dialed her father's number and received the voice mail there. Another message acknowledging the call. As she hung up, she got a disturbed chill. Maybe he was on the phone to her mother right now. Or to Amy. Maybe he was driving into the city, determined to carry her home over one shoulder. Quinn shot up and headed over to the sink. It was best not to think about.

She turned a knob and watched with disgust as brown rust water gushed out of the faucet. Bowing her head to splash her face with the clean water, Quinn saw Tony's smile in the gleam of her sink bowl. Recalling the feel of his arms around her, she furrowed her brow. So what if she and Tony never went on another date? They had that one, at least, and Quinn wanted to savor it. Even more, she wanted to talk about it -- to someone who wouldn't think to lecture her to be careful.

Quinn patted her face dry with a nearby towel and returned to her phone. She ran through the list of stored numbers, finally hitting Stacy's. The phone rang and rang, but to Quinn's consternation, the perky voice that finally answered was recorded. God, what is wrong with people?! Had they all conspired to ignore her? Quinn felt her mood drop even further as she ended the call without leaving a message.

There was always Daria. But Daria didn't have a cell phone, and if their mother was home, she would want to know why Quinn just wanted to talk with her sister, and Daria might not care enough to hide the reason. Plus, Daria had been so weird and moody for the past month. After everything that had happened, Quinn thought that they'd grown closer, but as the school year came to a close, Daria pulled away again. Maybe she was just afraid of going to college. In any case, Quinn thought sadly, Daria would probably make some snotty comment that would cut memories of her wonderful night to ribbons.

Quinn felt a sudden, strong urge to roll back into bed and pull up the covers over her head. She took a step toward the beckoning mattress before looking out the window. Tall and wide, it was the room's best feature, and right now, the sky that shone through was such a brilliant blue, Quinn wished she could wear it. She gazed out at the rows of houses, at the skyscrapers in the distance, and at the happy, fearless people walking down the sidewalk below. Her chin rose. The day was too beautiful to waste in a moldy old hostel.

Quinn strode down the sidewalk, squinting at the afternoon sky through her prescription sunglasses. She had rarely gone farther than the subway station on her own, but the night before had made her confident that she could find her way around.

[Quinn goes out to the market and recalls her problems with Phelps.]

The phone burst to life. Quinn nearly dropped it before looking at the caller I.D: STACY. She opened it up, feeling a surge of relief as her friend's apologies spill out of the receiver.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry! I was picking out swimsuits for Sandi's party, trying to remember whether plum or mauve hid barbeque stains best --"

"Plum."

"Oh thank God! Not that I've been eating barbeque, just in case, you know, one of the guys spills or something. And I thought I heard the phone ring, but I didn't see your call until just now when I went to put on more tanning lotion, and --"

"It's okay, Stacy, it's okay." A familiar, benignly superior smile pressed itself upon Quinn's face.

"I hope you're not mad!"

"Of course not. Now listen, I... Sandi's having a party?" At that moment, Quinn thought that she detected faint sounds of laughter on the other end.

"Yeah. Her parents finally finished putting the pool in, so she invited a bunch of us over. There's me, Tiffany, Sandi, of course, the guys from the football team, some people Sandi knows from that church of hers. Oh, and you'll never guess." Stacy's voice lowered conspiratorially. "Jamie hasn't left Sandi's side. I think he's liked her ever since they did that Class Land thing together. And she doesn't seem to mind him being there."

Quinn felt a pang. She had never felt anything stronger than mild affection for Jamie, and knew that he had a right to date whomever he wanted, but the thought of him showering his attention on someone else stung.

"Oh wow, great."

Stacy seemed to pick up on her friend's mood. "We really miss you, Quinn."

"I miss you guys, too."

"Why don't I pass you around so you can say hi to everyone?"

"Um, no, that's okay. You can tell them for me."

"You're probably having way more fun in the city, anyway. Going to clubs and all that shopping!" Stacy's squeal nearly took out Quinn's eardrum.

"Oh... yeah." Quinn struggled to resurrect her eagerness. "Even better: Stacy, I went out with a guy from work last night. An older guy."

"How old?"

"Twenty-five."

"Oh my God! Was he cute?"

"He was gorgeous." Quinn wrapped her arms around her hardening nipples. "We danced half the night and then kissed for, like, an hour. He has really soft lips." Her cheeks flushed.

"Wow, you let him kiss you for that long? Weren't you afraid your lips would get all puffy?"

"No... I told you, he's older. Older guys just know how to kiss."

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

"Stacy, we work together."

"I mean! Did he ask you out on another date?"

Quinn paused for a split second. "Um, yeah. We just, um, have to arrange a night."

"That's so great, Quinn! Let me know how it goes!"

Quinn's jaw tightened. She would.

Chapter 4

[Back at work, Quinn wonders how to get Tony's attention.]

Chapter

[Joel comes to work happier than usual, whistling, the day after Amy's birthday.]

Quinn recalled instances of her father whistling in the morning, as well as every similar moment in a movie or on television. Omigod... did they do it? Her lips parted in a smile. They did, didn't they? While part of her recoiled at her assumption, the other part felt strangely captivated, even envious that her aunt and Joel had been so close, far closer than Quinn had ever been with anyone.

"Amy?" Joel [on the phone with her; she's on the ground floor] "Why can't you come up here?" He pressed a button for speakerphone and laid down the receiver.

"Why can't you come down here?" Amy's voice burst through the phone, tinny and distorted, filled with weary irritation that Quinn was not used to hearing.

"Because if you come up, I can finally show our little bambino my office."

"Which will give him memories to cherish, always."

"Come on, there're three or four women here who've been bugging me forever to meet him."

"Three or four women work up there? What, did they just hire a bunch of secretaries, or something?"

"Quinn can show you around." Joel nodded his head in her direction, as if Amy could see.

"Yeah, Aunt Amy, it'll be fun," said Quinn, raising her voice to be heard from across the room.

"How'd she get... how can I... ugh! I'm on speakerphone, aren't I?!"

"Is that bad?" asked Joel, his brow creasing with genuine confusion.

"Only in the sense that I'd like to know when my private conversation is a little less private. Not that anything I said couldn't be heard by a third party and not that I'm not happy to hear from you, Quinn, honey." Another groan pierced the speaker. "Fine, you win. I'll be up in a few."

"Great," Joel managed to get out before the line went dead. He hit the speakerphone button to silence the dial tone.

"She sounded kind of stressed out," Quinn noted, probing Joel's face for signs of concern.

Joel yawned and stretched, swiveling his chair back and forth. "She's fine. It's just a pain in the butt, whenever one of us goes out with Ryan, having to drag along Babies R Us. Doesn't exactly promote a sense of fun." He stood up. "Let's go over to the elevator to meet her."

They arrived just as the doors to Amy's car were pulling open. As Joel had noted, she was burdened by a large canvas diaper bag over one shoulder, her purse and a backpack over the other. Before her was a navy cloth carriage holding little Ryan. Seeing Joel and Quinn, Amy smiled a bit sheepishly, as if embarrassed to be caught in such a domestic pose.

"Hi, Aunt Amy!" Quinn smiled at her aunt, but quickly became absorbed by the bundle that blinked at her sleepily from the carriage. "Hi, Ryan."

"Let me get that for you." Joel took the bags from Amy and gave her a smooch on the lips.

"Thank you, kind sir." Amy's smile widened until it shone in her eyes. "By the way, have you seen a man named Joel Silverman anywhere?"

Joel gave her a faux punch on the arm, then leaned over the carriage with a beaming expression. "Hey there, Daddy's boy, how're you doing?" He reached down and caressed one of Ryan's tiny hands.

"He's doing good," Amy answered. "Fed him an hour ago or so, changed him in the lobby bathroom, and he's about due for a nap. Barring Murphy's Law, he should be quiet through most of our outing."

"Nap, huh? Well, maybe he'll dream he saw my office." Quinn thought that Joel sounded disappointed as she watched him wiggle Ryan's hand and stroke his forehead. Ryan waved a leg and let out a sharp squeak that melted her heart.

"Speaking of behaving: Quinn, my dear..." Quinn looked up to find her aunt's dark eyes fixed on her. "You minding yourself, okay? Are you able to do what people ask of you?"

"She's a disgrace," said Joel in a gruff tone. His lips turned upward in a small, teasing smirk. "She can't do anything right. The second she leaves, my coworkers can't stop complaining about her."

Amy cocked an amused brow at Quinn, who knew that Joel was joking, but was suddenly caught up in memories of her time with Tony. Did the other engineers know about this? Was it all over the office?

"I haven't had any problems," she whispered.

"Saving your mischief for nighttime hours, eh?" Amy smirked, her eyes probing Quinn's face. Quinn was sure that in an instant, her aunt knew everything about Tony and would confront her once they had a moment alone. A quip comparing Amy to her mother died on her lips, and she nodded stiffly.

"Come on, let's see this amazing office you've been raving about," said Amy, steering the carriage toward the double doors that led to the main workspace area.

As they made their way down the central aisle between the cubicles, Quinn felt several stares at her back. Normally she wouldn't have given them a second thought, but now she wondered how many were filled with suspicion. Beside her, Amy lowered her eyes, her smile stiffening into a tense smirk. "Just go about your business, folks, nothing to see here," she said in a hushed tone. Joel laid a hand on her lower back. Quinn tried not to look in Tony's direction, but as they approached Joel's office, she heard a faint, distinct p-shhhh. P-shhhh. Like a whip cracking. Quinn couldn't tell who had done it, but somehow she knew it was that Mark, Tony's friend. Was he doing that to Aunt Amy??

Inside Joel's office, Amy sighed audibly with relief and steered Ryan's carriage toward Joel's desk. Then she let out a surprised "Oh!" as her eyes met the dozens of baby photos attached to his back wall. "Awww... that's great." She glanced down at Ryan, then turned to Joel with a grin.

"Check this out." Joel wound around her and the carriage and leaned over his desk to wiggle the mouse. The screensaver dissolved to show the desktop image of Ryan behind dozens of files and applications. Amy let out a laugh that turned into a pleased sigh, before leaning down to grin at her infant. "Look at that - you're pretty popular around here," she said, her cooing maternal tone a couple of notes higher than her normal tone. "They probably know you better than they know me."

"That's not true, Aunt Amy," said Quinn, crowding herself into the room next to her aunt and pointing to Joel's photo of her next to the computer. She need not have bothered, for Amy had just found it. Her smile dropped away, and in its place was a mixture of shock and horror.

Before Amy could say something, the sounds of squealing from the doorway caught her attention. Two women whom Quinn did not recognize were staring at Ryan with adoration.

"Hi cutie! Joel, is this your little boy?"

"Yep," said Joel, smiling with pride. "And you remember Amy. Ame - Maggie and Susan work in the business department. You met them at the merger party?"

"Oh, right. Nice to see you again," Amy replied with a stiff smile, her voice pleasant and detached. Quinn could tell she had no interest in either woman.

"The baby's mommy. Right!" cooed Maggie or Susan. "How are you enjoying maternity leave?"

"It was great while it lasted. I'm back at work part time, telecommuting. For the next month, anyhow."

The women made the appropriate sympathy murmurs, before turning their full attention to Ryan.

"How old is he now?"

"Almost ten weeks," said Joel. He laid down the backpack and diaper bag, and glanced at Amy for consent before lifting Ryan out of the carriage. Cradling the sleepy baby in his arms, Joel gazed at him fondly. "I'm not used to seeing him at this time of day. Usually when I get home, he's about ready for bed."

Ryan gurgled, turned his head to look at Joel, and reached for his chin. Quinn couldn't suppress an "Awww!" that was echoed by the two women guests.

"At least you don't have to worry about bonding," said Amy in warmer tone, fingering the baby's downy head. Remembering the visitors, she added, "Listen, why don't I let you show off your son while Quinn gives me the grand tour? We can meet back here in, say, fifteen minutes and head down."

Joel nodded, before turning his attention back to Ryan. Amy glanced at the photograph of her in the hospital, lifted the frame as if thinking of taking it, then finally laid it back on the desk and turned it to face the wall. She nodded toward the two women as she and Quinn left.

Quinn felt the muscles in her neck tense as she led her aunt through the main work area. The moment they were alone, Amy would ask her. She knew she would ask her. Honey, you seem kind of quiet. What's wrong? You in over your head? You're seeing someone aren't you? I know you: You can't go a week without finding a new boyfriend. Who is he? Someone from here? Aunt Amy was like Daria. She saw everything. She knew things before you knew them.

Maybe it would be good to tell her. Quinn glanced at her aunt, who stood taller and seemed to take longer strides now that she was unencumbered by bags or a carriage to push. She was stricken by how, at this moment, her aunt seemed like Aunt Amy again - the one who had breezed into her cousin's wedding unannounced and pretended to be Daria's mother to the Fashion Club. Free and mischievous, without a guy at home or a baby to raise. Quinn hadn't realized how much she missed that Aunt Amy.

Still, if Quinn felt swayed by a surge of familiarity, she was steadied by the ever-presence of the unfamiliar. Although Amy was dressed attractively enough in a long-sleeved mulberry shirt and dark slacks, the faint odor of baby poop on her was unmistakable. Quinn recalled her aunt complaining that it clung even to clothes that were freshly washed or dry cleaned. She also thought that she could detect two small dark stains on her aunt's chest area, and noted that the shirt was buttoned up the front to make it easier to (Quinn shuddered within) breastfeed.

Then there was her hair. "Did you get a new look?" Quinn asked, confused.

Normally Amy's hair rippled down her back in neat shining waves. But today, streams of curls flowed haphazardly about her shoulders. Amy frowned with miscomprehension, then fingered one of her locks.

"You're just used to seeing my hair after I've tamed it with a blow dryer. But with my kid to look after, I've had less patience to go through the whole arduous ritual and so for today," she smiled ruefully, "I've let it return to the wild."

"We have got to talk cream rinses."

Quinn led Amy to her workstation, such as it was. It was a foldable table in one corner of the floor, surrounded by filing cabinets and bookcases on the verge of toppling from all of the equipment and supplies stuffed onto them. "We just moved here, so it's kind of disorganized," Quinn explained. "We used to be in an empty office, but then someone got promoted."

"Sounds like my job," Amy noted with amusement. "And I run the damn department. They keep hiring new people and forcing us to move around. By the time I'm back full time, I'll be lucky to have an end table in the basement to call my own. So what are they having you do right now?"

Quinn described the copying, filing, mail sorting and delivery, supplies ordering, basic number crunching, note taking, and Internet research that filled a typical day. Amy's face took on a pained expression, and her eyes widened a little, as if she were trying hard not to roll them.

"Well... Joel did say that summer's a slow time for projects."

"They keep telling us that. I hope it's not because they think we suck, or anything."

"No, no," Amy said offhandedly. "Joel was just kidding when he said that earlier."

"So he thinks I'm good?"

"Uh-huh," Amy nodded. "He doesn't mention you all the time, but when he does it's in a positive way. I just assumed that you've blended into the atmosphere -" Amy glanced around her with a frown, "-or lack thereof, or else you were just out of his eye. Which is why I -"

Amy paused and looked at Quinn with some hesitation. Here it comes, thought Quinn. Her mind screamed, All right, all right, so I've gone out with a guy from work who's a few years older than me! All right eight years older than me, but it was just a few dates and we hardly ever talk in the office and my contract never said anything about dating outside of work so what's the big deal, it's not like we've even done anything yet! I'm just really, really stressed out about being from a broken home, don't you understand how much pressure it is on me?! I thought you of all people would know what I was going through, you're supposed to be cool!

A moment passed, and Amy said nothing. "Want me to show you where they keep the free diet soda?" asked Quinn.

"Lead the way."

Amy's sharp eyes noted every detail of the bland, utilitarian surroundings that Quinn had tried mightily to ignore. The gray carpeting that provided no cushioning from the hard floor, the blank white walls, the rows of fluorescent ceiling lights that let out a faint hum that was either soothing or annoying, depending upon your mood, windows like large plates of plastic that you could never open when you wanted fresh air. As they walked toward the break room, Amy pointed to a small fern on a nearby desk. "I see they've redecorated. A vast improvement since the last time I was here."

At least the break room walls were a brownish yellow. Quinn opened the refrigerator door while Amy sat down at one of the tables. "Hmm, you want a diet Ultra Cola or a diet Jooky?"

"Either's fine." Quinn took two cans of diet Jooky because the colors were prettier, and turned to find Amy looking at her with a serious expression.

"Quinn, I wasn't sure if I should mention this, but your mom called me last night."

Quinn felt a sigh within and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Mom? What did she want?"

She slid a can over to Amy, who cracked it open and watched the soda fizz within. "Well she seems to feel that her little darling has been kind of quiet lately, and she wasn't sure if she came out and asked, you would tell her the reason. So she asked me, and I said that I didn't know." Amy paused and took a sip of soda. "And I realized that I've been rather derelict in my duties as a guardian."

A slight, nervous giggle escaped Quinn's mouth as she positioned her Jooky can so that it wouldn't spray her. "Aunt Amy, no one said you had to be my guardian. We knew you'd be busy with your baby and stuff."

"Well, I am capable of multi-tasking, and I guess even if no one appointed me, I made myself your guardian. So..." Amy paused to take another sip, then looked at Quinn over the top of her soda can. "You'd tell me if anything were up, right?"

"Yes," said Quinn, feeling both touched and relieved by her concern. She shouldn't have underestimated her aunt's ability to think beyond her own issues. All right, All right! I did it, okay?! her mind's voice screamed. She held her tongue.

"The other interns, the people here, they're treating you well?" Amy pressed.

Quinn decided to float a trial remark to see how much her aunt knew. "Well, sometimes those guys who work under Joel, the other engineers, can give me a hard time."

"What, making offensive comments?"

"No, no, they just, um, tease me and tell stupid jokes and talk about sports, stuff that makes it kind of hard to concentrate."

Amy smirked and rolled her eyes knowingly. "Ah yes, boys just out of college. Wouldn't know where their own ass was if their mommies didn't wipe it for them every day. Don't let their bloviating and posturing frighten you: They just have a hard time functioning in the presence of people more mature than they are."

Quinn let out a little chuckle, at the same time feeling stunned to hear eight-years-older-than-her Tony referred to as a "boy." But then, Aunt Amy was several years older than him, and probably saw all younger men as boys. Even Joel, who was two years younger. Quinn found the alternative perspective comforting, yet jarring. Tony, her wonderful Tony, who made her feel for the first time like sex could be really nice, wasn't a boy. He was mature. She wouldn't have put her emotions on the line for any boy. She wouldn't have invested so much of her time and energy thinking of him, dreaming of the next time they would spend together. Would she?

"They're not so bad," she whispered.

Amy raised a brow. "Just as long as they treat you right. If they don't, tell someone, okay?" She took another sip, then smirked. "And call your mother. She misses you."

Quinn swallowed. Her throat was dry, but she had no desire to drink the soda. A sudden feeling of disorientation overtook her. What was she doing here? Why was she in this ugly office, in this hot, ugly city in the summertime? She should be at home with her mother, who was probably feeling lonely, knowing that Daria would be moving out in a month and her younger daughter would soon follow. She should be preparing for end-on-end pool parties and dates with guys who never felt like too much to handle. She should laugh at people's chlorinated hair and sneak drinks of rum-spiked punch and work on getting the perfect sun exposure the would make her neither too brown nor too freckly. School should have been a distant memory, except for those stupid SATs and her stupid low verbal score. She shouldn't be thinking about her future or questioning who she was.

"I guess I am a little homesick," Quinn murmured.

Amy smiled with understanding. "You've been here almost a month now, haven't you? I can't believe it." Suddenly her expression turned thoughtful. "You know, we've talked about doing a girls' night out, and we haven't done a damn thing to plan one. It's my fault for being so dragged out in the evenings."

"You have a baby -"

"And I'll have a baby for many more months. But you'll only be here for two more weeks. Let's do it. Let's go out Friday night." Amy looked her square in the eye, then let out a sheepish chuckle. "If you don't mind hanging out with your boring old aunt."

"You're not boring, Aunt Amy," Quinn chided her, feeling her muscles relax for the first time since they were alone. Amy didn't know about Tony. She wasn't psychic; she was just concerned. Quinn didn't have to hide from her anymore. And the thought of spending an evening with someone familiar was welcome. "That sounds like fun."

"Okay, then." Amy glanced at her watch. "I'd say we've given Joel enough time to introduce Ryan to every armchair mother on the block. Let's head out. I'm starving."

Even after they met up with Joel, it took practically another half hour to leave the parking garage. First they ran into Terrance, Joel's boss, who of course wanted to say hello to Ryan, get caught up with Amy, and remind Joel of some proposals that were due. Then they had to set Ryan up in his car seat, which seemed to take way longer than it should have, with Joel and Amy each fiddling around with the clasps and arguing that the other was doing it wrong.

Quinn rode in back of the Jeep Cherokee with the baby, who was fast asleep, his little tummy rising and falling evenly just two feet away from her. She laid a finger on his chest and watched them rise and fall together. He was so soft. She couldn't wait to hold him again.

Meanwhile she tried to say as little as possible (which wasn't easy) as she observed her aunt and Joel in the front. With memories of her parents' quarrels fresh in her mind, she strained to listen for clues about the state of their relationship. From what Quinn could hear above the road noise, they talked about what a passive-aggressive jerk Terrance was, how he hated when anyone took off even an hour and made you pay for it later. Amy mentioned some things that Terrance had done in the past and Joel shifted around in his seat, before telling her that she should be grateful her bosses were more permissive. Amy said that they weren't, but she took time off when she needed to because she wasn't their slave; Joel said that it would be pretty hard to say no to a pregnant belly. Amy then told him that he shouldn't be afraid to stand up to his boss, who needed Joel more than Joel needed him. Joel noted that the traffic was bad. They both seemed tired, speaking in a slightly drawn-out monotone, but not angry or resentful. Rather, it was as if after pumping themselves up to deal with the outside world, they could finally afford to deflate.

[After Quinn has had a bad, nerve-rattling experience. She had gone to Tony's apartment for her first sexual experience, then had second thoughts when she realized how out of her depths she was with Tony. Tony got angry, saying that she was a tease and the only thing he wanted from her was to see if he could get some teenage snatch, and that he would tell everyone that she'd led him at work on if she didn't have sex with him. Quinn is frightened of getting in trouble, but still leaves immediately. Maybe this could happen on the Friday night when Quinn and Amy were supposed to go out, and Quinn wound up canceling because Tony hinted that "tonight's the night," but told Amy that some friends had invited her out. In fact, she could have forgotten about Amy altogether until seeing a voice mail message around eight o' clock. She would have then called Amy back and made up the lie; Amy would have sounded a little upset, but said that they could reschedule.]

"Okay, it's seven-thirty and I'm wandering the halls of your hostel. So where are you? In case you've forgotten, we were supposed to meet up for a night out on the town. So..."

The rest of Amy's message was drowned out by the roar of blood to Quinn's temples. Omigod! How could she have forgotten?! Quinn checked the time on her cell phone. Eight-thirty-two. She had left at half-past six: When had her aunt arrived and how long had she waited for her at the hostel? Quinn noticed two other messages yet unchecked. Her fingers trembling slightly, she dialed her aunt's cell phone number.

The phone rang and rang. Ohmigod, could she still be at the hostel?! I can't believe I forgot! I'm such an idiot! Finally the phone picked up. Quinn heard loud sounds of laughter and clanging and wondered whether it had gotten switched on by mistake.

"Hello?" she shouted.

After a pause, she heard her aunt's voice. "Quinn?"

"Where are you?" Quinn shouted, straining to hear her aunt above the din.

"At a bar. You don't have to shout. Where are you?"

"At a... at -" Quinn knew that she couldn't tell her aunt the truth. "At a club. With some girls from the hostel. It's this new club, I'm so sorry I didn't call you, I totally forgot. It was all really last minute."

"And you thought you'd have more fun with the girls from your hostel."

"Aunt Amy -"

"No, no, I understand. I'd have probably felt the same way. But it would have been nice if you'd given me some notice. Then I wouldn't have had to wait around for forty-five minutes, worrying that something bad had happened. I finally tracked down one of your floor mates who said that you'd gone out."

Quinn felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach, wanting to tell her aunt that she really had wanted to spend an evening with her, that if a group of girls had actually invited her to a club, she would have asked Amy to join them. But Amy couldn't know about Tony. She wouldn't understand.

"I'm really, really sorry," she said lamely. "Maybe we could make it up a different night."

"Yeah, sure. We'll schedule something."

A long pause followed, filled with the disconcerting bar sounds on Amy's end. Quinn did not know how to finish the phone call and Amy was making no effort herself.

"So, um... did you decide to go out with Joel?"

"Joel's at home with Ryan. He's not old enough yet for a sitter."

"Oh. Um... okay..."

"I could have just gone home, but hell, I'd planned for a free night out and I'm going to have a night out. I'm all glammed up. Why waste it?"

"Oh... sure." Every minute of this call felt like torture. "I... hope you have fun."

"We'll see."

"Um, anyway... 'bye."

Her words were met with a click, ending their phone call. Quinn stood motionless with disbelief as their conversation replayed itself in her head. Wow. Aunt Amy sounded mad. Really mad. No, worse... she sounded hurt. Had Quinn hurt her feelings? She didn't think that was possible. Sure, she'd felt bad about making her aunt wait, but hadn't expected her to take it so personally. Amy never seemed to care what anyone thought, and this girl's night out thing felt like something she had planned as a favor to her mother. Whenever she'd mentioned it, she sounded so detached, like it was no more important than a trip to the grocery store. Was it any wonder Quinn had forgotten?

She knew that Amy didn't hate her or anything, but the idea that her aunt could miss her and feel hurt by her absence refused to sink in. Amy already had a place for herself in this huge city. She had Joel and Ryan and annoying bosses and departments to run and Joel's father who was like a real father and merger party people to avoid and birthdays that other people remembered. She didn't need Quinn. What was Quinn to her? Just her bossy older sister's daughter - the screwed-up, desperate niece who had begged her to ask Joel for an internship because she'd stolen money without realizing it and didn't know that her favorite teacher was a crook. Why would she want to spend time with Quinn?

Probably because she was the next best thing to Daria, the niece Amy really liked. Quinn fought back tears with this thought.

Quinn knocked on the door. Her hand was trembling so hard that on the final knock, it struck the frame awkwardly, causing pain to radiate from her knuckles. She gasped and sucked on the back of her hand while waiting for the door to open. When no sounds followed of locks sliding or latches clicking, Quinn pounded harder with her other hand. She kept pounding and pounding and pounding, as if her life depended on getting through the door, until at last it gave way... and she found herself looking up into her aunt's cool, expectant eyes.

"Well. Hello."

Amy was dressed in a faded oversized T-shirt and boxer shorts. With her glasses on and her face stripped of make up, she seemed sterner than usual, and underneath the dullness of her tone lurked some of the anger that Quinn had heard earlier. Blood pounded in Quinn's ears. She hoped Amy wasn't too angry to let her in. At least it wasn't Joel who had answered the door - she didn't think she could face him.

"Um, hi, Aunt Amy. My outing finished kind of early and-and, um, I wanted to know if you still wanted to go out."

"Not really. It's ten-thirty."

"It is?" Quinn's legs shook slightly. "Oh, I must have lost track of time."

"Did you come all this way by yourself?"

"Oh no! I took a cab," Quinn lied. "I wouldn't wander the streets by myself at this hour, are you kidding?!"

Amy responded with a stiff shrug. "The night's just beginning for people your age. I suppose you need me to pay the cab fare."

"No, no, I had some spare money - um, I just wanted to see what you were up to."

"Nothing much. Joel and the baby are in bed, and I was just about to turn in myself."

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry about what I did to you earlier -"

"Look, it's fine. I told you, we can reschedule. Assuming you don't go on another impromptu outing without telling me." Amy's tone took on a sharp edge that made Quinn wince inside. "You know, it's not just being stood up that bothers me, Quinn, but that you were too selfish to think of how it could ruin my evening. Maybe if you had given me notice, I could have planned something I really enjoyed, like going to a book reading. Or I could have stayed with Ryan and let Joel go out - you don't think he'd like a free evening? It's not like we can just change our plans at the drop of a hat. When you have an infant, you have to schedule everything."

Quinn's temples boiled. Here she had thought that Amy was upset about not spending time with her when in fact, she only cared that Quinn had inconvenienced her.

"It would've been nice if you'd told me you were coming over now, because I'm not so sure I want to drive you back --"

"I said I was sorry!" The trauma of her night filled Quinn's voice with more emotion than intended. "How many times do I have to tell you?!"

Quinn thought that she saw a tremor in her aunt's lips before they pressed together tightly. "I know you and Daria think that I'm some over-the-hill hag now that I've got a kid of my own," said Amy finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, "but I'm still the same person I've always been. I still have feelings."

"I didn't mean to ruin your perfect life!" Quinn's stomach muscles squeezed so hard that she bent over a little to massage them. "I just wanted -- I just, I just, I j-- Aunt Amy, I lied. There never was a group of girls. I was out with someone else, I promise I'll tell you everything, just not now."

Amy stared at her, the redness fading from her cheeks. For the first time, she took note of Quinn's pallid face, her disordered clothing, and the faint trembling of her arms and legs.

"Quinn? I don't --"

"Please just let me spend the night here, please."

Amy looked as though she wanted to say something else, then sighed. "Normally I'd say 'no problem' given that the once-and-former guest room still has a bed in it. But you'd be rudely awakened in the middle of the night. Would you really want that?"

"I don't care. I mean it's your house and your baby," Quinn stammered. "I don't have to sleep in a bed. I could sleep on the couch or in the bathroom, somewhere I won't be disturbed or disturbing."

"Quinn, what happened?"

"Aunt Amy, please."

Amy folded her arms. "I'm not letting you - "

"Please! I said I'd tell you everything, okay?! Just not now!" Tears spilled down Quinn's cheeks. "I just wanted to, I just, I don't want to go back to the hostel and be by myself."

Amy moved toward her, concern overcoming anger, as Quinn inhaled sharply again and again, trying to get a hold of herself. Suddenly, she felt her aunt's hand on the back of her head, then her arm around her shoulders. The warm gesture was as welcome as it was unexpected. Amy led Quinn into the living room and over to the couch, nudging Joel's loafers toward the chair with her slippered foot so that they would both have room to sit down. Quinn leaned forward, her breaths still coming in jagged gasps as her aunt sat beside her, stroking her back. When Quinn was finally calm enough, she sank back against the couch cushion, drained.

"Tell you what," said Amy, her face softening, "How about I put Ryan in with Joel and me, and you can have his room all to yourself. Just for tonight. Sound good?" Quinn nodded.

Soon after, she helped her aunt wheel her cousin's heavy wooden crib into the master bedroom ("I thought about doing the family bed thing," said Amy, "but somehow preferred knowing that in the morning, I wouldn't find him flattened beneath me."), where in the darkness, she could see Joel sprawled out beneath the sheets of a queen-sized bed, his hairy chest partially exposed, rising with each deep breath he took. Quinn shrank back a little, both out of a sense that she had betrayed him and that she was intruding upon something intimate. As she and Amy finished moving the crib into the bedroom, one of Joel's snores stuck in his throat and he awoke with a start. He lifted his head and gazed in their direction with wide, confused eyes.

"Aaayyhhh?"

"Shhhh... go back to sleep," said Amy in a loud whisper, glancing down at Ryan to make sure he hadn't stirred.

"Buhh... I... the dog needs drying." Joel looked right at Quinn, sending a chill through her.

"Yes, that's Quinn. She's staying the night," Amy told him patiently. "But you can't understand what I'm saying anyway, so go back to sleep."

"Mmph." Joel's head dropped back against the pillow and he was dormant once more.

Quinn told Amy she didn't need new sheets, but accepted a pair of her aunt's pajamas, then settled into the spare bed. She lay still for a while, listening to the muffled bumps and murmurs and rustlings from the master bedroom, before succumbing to sleep.

She opened her eyes. It was still dark... probably the middle of the night or just before dawn. There was a little light streaming in through the window, though, allowing her to see the objects in the room if she squinted hard enough. A mobile of stars, stuffed toys, a rocking chair positioned next to the gap where the crib would be. A bag of disposable diapers on the changing table in one corner. And nearby... the door, which was now open a crack. Just outside, a shadow hovered. Quinn blinked hard and sat up a little.

"Hello?" she rasped.

For a moment it was silent. Then the shadow opened the door further, revealing itself to be Aunt Amy. She padded over to the bed, the light in the room shining on eyes that were tired and little unfocused behind glasses.

"Told you he'd wake you up," she murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Sorry about that."

"It's all right," said Quinn, sitting up and hugging her knees. "I didn't wake up because of him."

"Liar," said Amy, smiling a little, patting Quinn's leg. "I'm sorry, then, if it was because of me. I'm so used to walking in here to put him back in his crib after I'm done nursing. Tonight I just had to step three feet out of bed. It was too simple; I couldn't have that."

Quinn smiled and chuckled a little. "It wasn't you. I was already sort of awake."

"Good. Or maybe not." Amy's chuckle joined Quinn's. "Either way, I just thought I would check on you. See how you were doing."

"What are you, my mother?" Quinn asked, a little teasingly.

"No," said Amy in her hard sardonic tone. Then, softer, "But you are."

"Huh?" This woke Quinn up a little more. "What do you mean?"

Amy sighed, realizing that her fatigue had made her say something that would be difficult to explain her way out of. "You remind me a lot of her sometimes. You're both very intense and passionate. You get distressed so easily."

"When have you...?" Quinn started to ask. Then she knew. "Was she like this when she came to stay with you? The weekend she and my dad split up?"

Amy paused before nodding slowly. "She was scared," she said in a near-whisper. "So much so, I almost didn't know what to do for her. I still think I didn't do as good a job as I could have. And I thought of you, and I wanted to see how you were..." [Here, Quinn blurts out what happened with Tony, descending into sobs. She says she knew it was wrong to go to his apartment, but she thought she loved him, but she got so scared, etc., etc. Amy is stunned, but comforts Quinn until she falls back to sleep.]

The next thing Quinn knew, sunlight trickled through the shades, spilling over the bed, and her aunt was gone. Bracing herself with her elbows, she sat up slowly and gazed out at the door. Even with her limited vision, she could see that it was almost wide open, the hallway beyond it quiet and dark. Quinn blinked hard and swallowed, feeling a little lightheaded. Everything about her surroundings felt unreal, including her. Did last night even happen? The lingering soreness in her abdomen and the weakness in her arms and legs answered yes. Quinn's throat was still thick with mucus from her crying jag, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth that needed to be expelled. She finally pushed back the covers and stood up, before walking softly out of the room into the hall.

Her contact lenses awaited in the main bathroom, along with a bottle of mouthwash beneath the sink. Once Quinn located and made good use of both, she began to feel normal again. But God, she looked terrible. Her skin was blotchy and sticky with dried tears and snot. The whites of her eyes were stained red and her eyelids were pink and puffy. Quinn turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her cheeks. She hit the nozzle of a face and hand wash dispenser and got a palm full of lather, which she rubbed over every inch of her face. As it washed away, she felt relieved to see an improvement. Quinn recalled a comb in her purse that she could apply to her tangled hair.

Before long, she stepped back out into the hallway, her borrowed clothes the only hint of her traumatic night. The smell of coffee wafted over to greet her, signaling that someone had been up and about earlier, even though the apartment was still right now. Quinn's stomach responded with a faint rumbling. Breakfast would be nice, but she was hesitant to raid her aunt's kitchen. Besides, what if she ran into Joel? Currents of anxiety ran through her as she wondered what to say to him. He was the one who had sponsored her for the internship; he had a right to know what had happened with one of his coworkers, didn't he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the front door swinging open with a loud crack. The navy baby carriage squeaked into view, followed by Joel, who looked as though he had rolled out of bed and tossed on the first battered pair of jeans, college T-shirt, and baseball cap he could find. The dark shadow of a beard spread across his cheeks. Quinn scarcely let his fashion violations sink in before shrinking back into the baby's room so that he would not see her. She watched as Joel steered the carriage into the kitchen, whistling with nonchalance, while Ryan cooed happily from his rolling bed. The kitchen door swung open, then shut them out of view.

Quinn crept out of her hiding place, gazed at the closed door, then glanced toward the master bedroom. She couldn't have breakfast now. Not if it meant being alone with Joel. What would she do if he asked why she was there? It would be better to wait until Aunt Amy was awake. Or maybe she should just climb back into her too-tight dress and go back to the hostel. Quinn weighed her options, before her shoulders sank with knowledge that she couldn't put off the inevitable. She pushed the kitchen door open and walked inside.

Joel was lifting little Ryan out of the carriage to put into his rocking seat in the corner. Ryan's coos were turning into fussing sounds.

"Come on now... you like your rocking seat. At least you did yesterday," Joel told him in low, but firm, voice as he fastened him in. He then glanced over his shoulder. "Hey there, Quinn."

"Hi."

Joel hadn't sounded surprised to see her. Quinn remembered that the carriage was kept in the baby's room; he must have seen her sleeping when he went to go get it.

"Do me a favor: Move the newspaper and that white box over to the table?" Joel nodded in their direction on the counter.

Quinn rushed to fulfill the task, while Joel set the rocking seat in motion and tried to stem his son's crying. He finally threw up his hands in mock resignation. "Is this how you're going to be when Mommy and I buy you a car? 'Waaaah, I've played with it already! I want a new sports car!'"

Unrolling the newspaper, Quinn couldn't help but giggle at Joel's imitation. She then tentatively wound her way over to the rocking seat just as Joel stood up and reached for a remote control on the counter. He turned on a small nearby television to CNN.

Quinn took one of her cousin's little feet and wiggled it gently. "Ryan? Ryyy-an? Hi, Ryan." She leaned in close and smiled. "Look at you in your cute little jammies. You could win first prize in a Cutest Baby contest, couldn't you? Couldn't you, huh? Yes, you could. Yes, you could. You're the best itty bitty baby in the world, aren't you?"

She gave Ryan's tummy a gentle poke, but his red, teary-eyed expression told her that it wasn't enough. He waved his little arms, demanding to be held and comforted. Quinn's face grew solemn with empathy as she squeezed his hand and brushed his tiny fingers with her thumb.

"Better leave him alone, Quinn, until he's calmed himself down," Joel told her. She glanced over her shoulder to find him gazing at her with dry amusement. She realized that she must have looked pretty stupid. "He's been fed and changed, and he's obviously not choking to death. He has to learn how to soothe himself -- I can't just put him in with Amy every time he cries."

"When do you think she'll be up?"

"That depends... she's been known to sleep until noon on the weekends." Joel raised a brow with benign exasperation as he poured coffee into a mug. "But lately she's been getting up closer to nine or ten. She does the night feedings now, and I cover the early morning."

Quinn tore herself away from the rocking seat, which was starting to have the desired effect on Ryan, and hovered next to the table. Without the routine of work or Amy as her guide, she did not know how to act around Joel. She didn't even know if he really liked her. Maybe all this time he was just tolerating his girlfriend's stupid niece and now hated the fact that she had invaded his home.

"You drink coffee?" Joel asked, pouring some cream into his mug.

"Oh... um, no."

"That's right -- you're always drinking tea at the office."

Quinn smiled, surprised and a little touched that Joel was paying that close attention. Joel opened a cabinet to retrieve some plates. "Amy keeps a lot of herbal junk that you might like."

He laid the plates on the table -- three of them -- then shuffled through the drawers for silverware, which he then laid neatly beside them. After placing a napkin holder in the middle of the table, he opened the white box. Quinn saw several rolled-up pastries inside.

"What are those?"

"Cheese blintzes. You've never had one before?"

"No. What does it taste like?"

"You can find out."

"Um... okay."

Quinn started to reach in and take one, but Joel waved her off and scooped one out with a spatula onto the plate nearest her, then two onto his own. In spite of her uneasiness, Quinn felt tiny prickles of annoyance. Why did everything have to be done Joel's way -- even picking up a stupid pastry? Still, once Quinn sat down with her mug of tea and poked at her serving, she understood his logic. The blintz was spongy, like a crepe, and could have fallen apart at the touch. She put a small forkful in her mouth and chewed cautiously.

"Good?" asked Joel, who had already slashed his blintzes in half with a fork and was now sorting through sections of the newspaper.

"Yeah. Where did you get them?"

"They're from the Jewish deli in the neighborhood where I grew up, a couple of miles from here. My dad always bought our blintzes there, and when I moved back to town after college, I decided to keep up the tradition. It's nice... once a week, I take Ryan out for a little stroll, let the owners see the next generation..."

Joel cut off his musings with a large swallow of coffee. He stacked the front page, sports, and business sections next to his plate, laid the opinions section next to the empty plate, and offered Quinn the entertainment section. She took it and pretended to read the articles, while Joel became absorbed in the sports section. Several minutes passed, filled with the droning of the television, Ryan's baby sounds, the clicking of forks against plates, the rustling of newspaper, and the loud slurping noises Joel made when he drank coffee. All the while, Quinn wondered when to break the news that she had spent last night with one of his coworkers. You're probably wondering why I'm here. It's not a big deal -- I just went out with one of the guys from work, you know, for that networking stuff they tell us is so important? Our dinner ran a little late and I didn't feel safe going all the way home, so --

"I take it you and Amy set the town on fire last night?" Joel murmured, in the dispassionate tone of one trying not to ignore a guest.

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked, her heart pounding. I didn't feel safe going all the way home, so I came here... no big deal...

Joel shrugged. "You stayed out late enough that you couldn't go back to the hostel. When did you two get in?"

"Oh... um..." He didn't know! He must have been sleeping when Aunt Amy came in. Actually Joel she and I never met up since... "Um... pretty late. I don't remember."

"What did you do?"

It's not that big a deal... it's not a big deal... it's not... "Nothing much. Girl stuff."

"Girl stuff, huh?" Joel let out a huff. "The type that's too mysterious and sacred to reveal to a guy?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then, I won't intrude. Just promise me you'll have the sailors out before noon."

"But we never went near a ship... oh." Quinn blushed. "Oh no, we would never --"

"I know, Quinn. I was kidding." Joel looked slightly puzzled as he stood up to pour himself another cup of coffee. "I'd be happy to call the hostel and vouch for you."

Quinn's eyes widened. She had forgotten about the rule requiring curfew breaches to be cleared by employees at the firm. If Joel hadn't remembered, she would have been kicked out of the internship program before word even got out about Tony. Quinn stared at her plate. She couldn't tell Joel the truth now. She was in enough trouble already. Besides, it didn't seem fair -- all Joel wanted to do was read his paper and eat blintzes. She had no right to mess up his morning.

"Thanks."

Joel nodded and sat back down with his second cup just as the kitchen door swung open. Aunt Amy entered, looking alert and well groomed, though still in her bedclothes. Her gaze drifted toward Quinn, then Joel, then Ryan, then back toward Joel. Quinn stiffened, wondering what she would say. Well Joel, I guess you've already heard that my idiot niece decided to have sex with one of your coworkers, a man eight years older than her. And would have if she hadn't chickened out. I don't know what made me think she was mature enough to handle an internship at your firm.

"Morning, all."

"Morning, good lookin'," Joel responded, his eyes lighting up with a full smile as a teasing smirk played across his lips.

"Which part? The no make up or the figure-flattering T-shirt?"

Quinn fixed pleading eyes on her aunt, but Amy's gaze remained on Joel. You think you're disappointed? I can't even stand the sight of her right now.

Joel glanced at his watch and whistled softly. "This must be a record. It's not even nine o'clock yet."

"I just wanted to see the shock on your face," Amy said, stifling a yawn. The way Quinn shocked you with her phony story. Didn't you know she and I never got together? The little bitch stood me up.

Quinn felt a chill as Amy made her way over to Ryan in his rocking seat and set it to Pause so that she could tickle him. Ryan gurgled and cooed and squawked when he saw his mother. "How's my good boy this morning, huh? Did you go with Daddy to Speigel's? Did Myrna say you were the cutest baby she'd ever seen, huh?"

"Naturally," said Joel.

"Does she still think I'm dead?" asked Amy wryly.

"I don't know where she got that idea," Joel replied indignantly. "I mention you all the time. It's not my fault she won't accept that I'm taken."

"Don't worry, my love: I'm sure all she really wants is to adopt our kid." Amy cocked a brow at him, then drew her hand away from Ryan, causing him to fuss. "Oh baby, Mom still loves you... she just wants to make her tea." As she reached up to the cabinet, she turned to Joel. "Has he seemed crankier to you lately?"

"Don't know... maybe a little."

"I hope he's not coming down with something." Amy poured water from the tap into a kettle, her brow furrowing. "He doesn't feel warm, but when I changed him last night, his poop looked a little runny."

"It looked fine today," Joel said. "Normal color, right consistency. He had plenty of appetite when I fed him."

Quinn's ears were flaming. Did Amy even realize she was there, or was she just trying to torture her?

"That's good." Amy's gaze finally trailed toward Quinn, and she let out a little amused smirk. "Though not for a breakfast topic. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is as immersed in the subject as we are."

"No one can analyze a loaded diaper like your aunt," Joel told Quinn, winking. "I think it was one of her minors in college."

"Ha-ha." Amy pulled the baseball cap off of his head and kissed him on the scalp.

"Mmm, you've still got that scent in your hair," said Joel. "Like..."

"If you dare say 'crap'..." Amy raised Joel's cap above his head as if intending to swat him with it.

Joel shielded his face with his arms. "It's more perfumey than that. It's..."

"Lilacs. You like?"

"You kidding? Between that and the outfit you wore last night, you were smoking."

Laying the cap beside Joel's plate, Amy gave him a more passionate kiss on the temple. "Too bad you fell asleep so early."

Joel suddenly growled like a dog and threw an arm around Amy's waist, pulling her so close she was practically in his lap. He then opened his mouth wide, as if to take a big bite out of her neck, before kissing her near the collarbone. He kissed his way up to her cheek, while Amy laughed, until his lips found hers. They kissed several times, for several seconds, until Amy finally drew back and touched her fingers to his lips.

"You didn't brush, did you?" she murmured, lips pursed in a teasing smirk.

Joel raised his brows. "You object to coffee breath?"

"That wasn't coffee I was smelling."

"I gargled. Jesus..." He half-mockingly pushed her away. "Way to kill the mood."

He exhaled sharply in her direction, while Amy stepped back, giggling, cupping her nose. She then glanced mirthfully at Quinn, only to be met with a tense, tight expression. What happens now? Amy's eyes showed a hint of confusion, before the smile faded from her face. Wait for the right time.

Behind her, the kettle whistled sharply, which set Ryan wailing with fright. Amy hastened over to the stove to turn off the burner. She took a tea bag from the cabinet and let it seep in the hot water, all the while telling her infant in a patient, sing-song voice, "It's okay, baby, the nasty old kettle won't hurt you..."

She went back over to the rocking seat and crouched down beside it, making silly faces and kissing Ryan's cheeks until his cries softened.

"How's he ever going to learn to be independent if you run to him every time he whimpers?" asked Joel, his tone amused, but barely able to conceal an annoyed edge.

"He has all of his teen years to avoid us," Amy replied in the same tone. "We should soak up the love while we can."

"You pay for his therapy, then," Joel murmured, refocusing on his paper.

"I'll even pay for your therapy." Amy arched a brow at him. "And on a different note, those blintzes look fabulous, but if I eat one, I'll never be able to get up from the couch. Anyone else want something healthy?"

"Meh. I have the rest of the week to be healthy," said Joel.

"Quinn?"

"Oh... sure."

Amy poured two mugs of tea, one for her and one for Quinn. When Quinn took a sip of hers, she realized that her aunt had made Earl Grey, which she used to drink with Mr. Phelps. A coldness coming over her, she forced herself to keep swallowing the bitter tea so as not to be impolite. Amy went to the refrigerator and removed a cantaloupe and a carton of eggs. As she cut, scrambled, and cooked in a pan, she said little, mostly responding to Ryan or mocking the political coverage on television. Quinn wondered when the "right" time would come. Would Amy tell Joel the truth during breakfast or after? Her stomach twisted itself in knots.

It wasn't until Amy had served Quinn and then Joel (who changed his mind once he smelled the eggs) that she said, "Hey Joeley, what say I return the favor and let you have a free afternoon? You can go visit your dad, and Quinn and I would have some more time for girl talk."

Quinn watched Joel's expression for signs of suspicion. Instead he shrugged and said, "Pop did say that he wanted my 'expert' advice when he went shopping for the new widescreen. Are you sure?"

"We'll be fine. Now go play the field."

"Whoo-hooo... freedom, baby!" Joel stretched out his arms in triumph, before getting lost in a yawn.

Quinn felt both relieved and wary. The wariness increased when she met her aunt's eyes, which were suddenly quite serious and devoid of their earlier empathy.

Chapter

"I don't know."

Quinn gazed at the linoleum. There were few grimmer answers to "What happens now?" than that.

Before her, the dryer let out a long metallic groan, as though dying from the clothes inside. The sound reverberated across the bare concrete walls of the laundry room, emphasizing the fact that Amy, Quinn, and the baby were alone. They had just missed the morning rush and fortunately did not have to wait for a machine, but Quinn found herself wishing that other people would come, to give her something else to focus on than her own situation. Meanwhile, in spite of the disturbing sound, little Ryan sat contentedly on top of the dryer in his car seat, playing with his fingers.

"Should I tell Joel?" Quinn asked nervously.

Amy grimaced and rubbed her knee. "Yes, eventually... but I might want to talk to him first."

Quinn wondered what sort of things Amy would talk about.

She looked at Quinn with an expression that

"I know you want to think I'm the bad guy, but...