"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."

Morgan Ann Bennett

I spent the night with my two friends: M&M. While LeRoux was great, it didn't fill me up. Or maybe it did and I was just eating out of sheer boredom.

Either way, I felt locked away in a tower. What was I to do all night while Malcolm was away. It's not like I'd jump his bones if he were home, but at least I'd have someone to talk to, look at.

Chris's words stayed with me. I had no idea what he meant by anything, but it's Chris, he's a dickhead. Of course he could just be saying that to scare me away.

It was Sunday. Malcolm was home but busy in his study.

After getting dressed for the day, I wandered around the house -- mansion.

While the exterior was captivating, the inside was decorated tacky. He liked prints and maximalist artwork. I gathered gold was one of his favorite colors, like red, and possibly black, too. It was definitely a man's space.

As I made my way around the inground pool, I got a phone call. It was from 'mother.'

"Hey, Morgan," I let her speak first.

"Hi," I returned, stuffing my other hand in the back pocket of my raw .

"How are you?" she wondered.

"What do you want, Mom?"

Her tongue clicked. "I tried calling Caleen, she didn't answer. Is she still sick?"

"Callie's fine now, thanks. I'll tell her you asked for her."

"How's Quinn," she mushed before I could press my finger to the 'end call' option on the screen.

"Quinn's fine, still the same bubbly little girl I told you about."

"I wish I could see her. Could you send more pictures?"

"Sure, if Callie let's me. I have to go now," I rushed.

"Oh, wait," she called out, making me growl with angst. "That Kyle boy stopped by the other day. He wants to know where you are, I told him you moved to Colorado, but that's all I know."

"Why would you tell him that?" I roared, flailing my one free arm.

"He asked, I answered, geez. I didn't know it was a secret," she claimed.

"Whatever, Mom, bye," I ended the call.

I texted Callie and told her the news about my ex, and how our mother had the nerve to ask about her and Quinn.
She replied telling me not to send anything about us to our mother, like I figured she would.

It was such a nice day, I didn't want to waste it indoors but I had spent enough time in Malcolm's backyard.

So I entered his study for the first time.

"I-"

"Can't knock apparently," Malcolm carped, ripping his reading glasses off.

"I-" I stammered again.

No one was there and I couldn't tell if he was on the phone so I didn't get the big problem.

His reaction only made me think his "work" isn't so legitimate. . .

"Sorry," I grumbled, walking back for the exit.

Hand on the door handle, I sighed. "You said we could do something today. I thought we could-"

Malcolm looked stressed by my presence, punching the bridge of his nose.

"Morgan, darling, I have work to do. I'm sorry. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said, discouraged.

"Darling," Malcolm called. "I'm having some colleagues over for dinner tonight, could you be back by seven? Wear something nice, but conservative. Oh, and shut the door on your way out; be sure to knock next time. Thanks."

I mumbled a "whatever" and then circled back to ask, "Can I take your car into town? Please? It'll just be for a little while, I'll be out of your way."

When he wasn't convinced, I flashed a big, toothy smile that he couldn't resist. It was equal to puppy eyes/pout, and eyelash fluttering.

"It's a good thing you're pretty," he said through a sigh. "Take the BMW."

~~~

"Good afternoon, everybody," I said with some pep at the staring elderly men.

As I walked through the café, I looked for Quinn first.

If I wasn't available and Callie had to work, she went along. We were trying to find a good daycare, though.

Mary and Sherry had offered their help but I knew they were far too busy to tend to Quinn, plus it was too much to ask. If it were up to Callie, though, Quinn would sit back at the b&b as long as she had cartoons, some snacks, and a juice box.

"What's up?" AJ addressed me with a fist bump.

I laughed at the gesture but cooperated. "Hey. Where's your friend?"

"You must mean Chris, he on his way."

I nodded and spun on the stool until Callie acknowledged me at the counter.

"What are you doing here, no special date with Malcolm?" She said his name in a mocking manner. I took it she was jealousy, or just feeling bitter because she didn't have a man for once.

"No," I squeaked. "Not until later, anyway. You should come, he's bringing colleagues."

She scratched her pen on the pad to see if it worked, hardly looking at me.

"Mhm," my sister sounded. "Do you want anything?"

"Four chocolate chip muffins, please," I beamed, tapping my knuckles on the countertop to make a beat.

Callie exhaled through her nose in a way that suggested she wasn't happy to help, but did anyway.

She put on a glove and opened the glass case to transfer the fresh baked muffins to a plastic container.

I paid her and left a five dollar tip as a gag which she flipped me off for but stuffed in her pocket, anyway.

"Hey, Morgan," Sherry came up on my back.

"Hey, Sherry, how are you?"

She smiled. Her under eyes were dark and baggy, but I noticed that in her husband and son, as well.

"I'm alright. Your sister, on the other hand," she seethed, playfully whipping Callie with a dish towel.

Once Callie walked to the back with dishes, I talked to Sherry more quietly.

"How is she doing, though?"

Sherry thought for a second. "She's alright, no customer complaints, yet. If she could just smile more, pay attention, not be on her phone so much. And the poor girl's flirting with anything with a pulse that walks in here."

I hung my head, sad Callie was already back to her old ways.

"Look, she's trying. Just bear with her, okay? I'll talk to her," I assured the owner.

I know she didn't want to, but Sherry nodded at me.

We smiled at each other and broke apart just as Callie returned.

"Hey," I said with a mouthful of chocolate chip goodness in my mouth. "where's Quinn?"

~~~

"Cheater," a shaky voice shouted when I walked into Red Sage.

I laughed softly. "Hey, Mr.Porter. Mrs.Porter, how are you?"

The elderly couple was on their way across the hall to the entertainment room, I followed.

"We're just about to play Chess, join us," Mr.Porter invited.

I helped them on the sofa and got out what all they needed.

"No, thanks," I declined politely. "I'm looking for Quinn actually. Have you seen her, Callie said she was with Mary?"

"Who?" Mr.Porter was hard of hearing.

"Little Quinn, Donald," his wife helped him out.

I smiled, thinking they were so cute.

I noticed they were matching, like last time. It was subtle, but a nice detail. They never fully matched, but say if his tie was red, she'd wear a red scarf or shirt.

It was funny that in just a couple of days, myself and my family had left a standing impression on the people of Penshaw.

"Oh, oh," Donald Porter remembered. "Try out back."

"Thanks!" I said, standing to go.

"Say, Morgan, those aren't Sherry's muffins, are they?" Wilma Porter asked me.

I looked down at the container of three muffins left in my hands.

"Uh, yeah," I answered.

"I just love her baking," Wilma went on.

Reminded me of Quinn, the way she would allude to something and never really ask for it. It was usually "I sure like cookies. Do you have cookies? Do you have a lot of cookies? Are you going to eat all of those?"

Mrs.Porter was a charm, her little self. And she was so stylish, I wanted to raid her closet.

"Here," I presented, putting a muffin right in her wrinkled hands.

"Why thank you, Ms.Morgan," she crooned, having a bite.

"Enjoy," I wished, starting for the door.

Mr.Porter said, "Let me have some, woman!"

I couldn't get enough of the fresh air. I inhaled more than necessary just because I could and it felt good.

Where is my niece?

I was starting to worry.

Callie said Quinn didn't want to get up and she looked too peaceful to disturb so when she left for work, she asked Mary to keep an eye on the three-year-old. Mary being the saint she is agreed, I just didn't think it was the most responsible thing to do.

My low white Air Forces crunched on top of the grass as I walked the backyard in search of little Quinn, everyone's new favorite girl.

"Oh, hey," I said, stumbling across Mr.Vaughn.

Gosh, Chris looked just like him, it was crazy. Carter looked aged, of course, but well.

"You got a haircut," I noticed.

Chris's maker took his hand out of the heavy duty glove and rubbed it along his buzz cut.

"Yeah, figured I'd let Chris be the only one to rock the man-ponytail. What do ya think, Mary hates it?"

I smiled small. "You look nice. What, uh, what are you working on?"

"Oh, this?" He looked around the mess. "Well, not many guests bring their small kids, but I figured since little miss Quinn is here for a while, I could make her something."

I looked at the wood and the panels. There was a window, too, and I gathered he was making some type of play house?

"You don't have to do that," I said, rubbing down my arm.

He waved me off. "The least I can do. She's quickly becoming a little celebrity around here. Besides, I'm good with my hands."

"I bet you're upset your son didn't get that from you?" I poked fun.

Carter laughed. "No, he did, actually. Chris is very creative."

I jerked my neck back at the news. "Really? Could've fooled me."

Carter laughed again, drinking from his bottle of Gatorade.

"Yeah, always has been, although he rather dabble with Malcolm in that weed business. I just don't get it."

Malcolm? Weed business? I should've known. . .

I shook my head but didn't let Carter see that was news to me.

"So, have you always been good with your hands? I mean, making a whole play house isn't going to be easy."

"Especially with no blueprints or help, but I like a challenge. I used to be an alcoholic, the only thing that kept me down other than my family was building. I've built sheds, canoes, you name it."

"How long have you been sober?" I asked, kicking grass.

I looked up and caught sight of the way Carter's face fell.

"I-if you're comfortable telling me!" I quickly spit out.

He picked up the next piece of wood and did some measurements. "It's fine. Uh, some months now."

I let a good minute pass before I told him, "Well I'm proud of you."

"The funny thing is, you don't even know me, and my own son hasn't even told me that. Thank you."

That made me sad.

I tried not to bring the mood down so I kept it light.

An idea hit me and I had to share. "You should ask him to help you!"

Carter wasn't so sure. "Aheh. Yeah, like he'll go for that."

"What's the matter, you're his father?"

"Do you talk to your parents everyday?" He asked me.

I blinked away, trying to keep down some repressed feelings.

"If they were as awesome as you and Mary, I would!"

Carter cracked up. "Good one. You know, maybe I will ask him."

"Yeah," I said, walking along. "wouldn't hurt."

"Yeah. Thanks, Captain Morgan," he made up.

"Ha! I like that," I snorted, comedically slapping my knee.

"Say, is that one of Sherry's muffins?" he questioned.

"Just take it," I murmured, opening the container.

Seeing there was no Quinn in the backyard, I headed down the hill by the water.

There, I saw a bouncing little girl on the dock.

Mary had a cooler, a towel, and some floaties.

I waved from the grass and Mary waved me over.

"Morgy!" Quinn yelled for me, meeting me halfway.

I filled with so much joy, seeing my little bean in her swimsuit.

"What are you doing?" I couldn't help but talk in a baby voice.

"Mary's going to teach me how to swim!" My niece erupted.

I got kind of nervous.

"Oh, is this water safe? How deep is it, will she be okay? Do you know what you're doing?"

Mary giggled, removing her sunglasses. "I taught summer classes for youth for years at the local gym. I can show you all my certifications."

I calmed down. "I trust you. I'm just worried."

"Aren't you all from Arizona, and you never taught her how to swim?"

"So I swear she could swim when she was younger, I don't know what happened. I guess we should've taken her to the beach more," I explained, embarrassed.

Mary smiled, offering me some sunscreen.

"What happened to her father, if I may?"

I let out a sigh, staring off at the calm water.

"He left. There's no grand story, he just left. It's a shitty thing to do, but I'm glad he did. We're better off without him."

Mary nodded her head. "You're strong," she said. "all of you."

"Thanks for watching, Quinn, by the way. I know she's a lot."

"Hey!" Quinn whined.

"Sorry," I laughed.

"She's a doll. I do have to get going, though, I didn't realize the time. Mind taking over?"

"No, not at all!"

Mary stood, leaving Quinn with a high-five.

"Hey," I got her attention before she could go.

"Yeah?"

"Carter said something about Chris. I was just wondering-"

That's when her older iPhone model rang.

"Sorry. Oh, this is him now. Talk later!" She excused herself.

I waved and watched her go.

"—Yeah. I'm with Morgan and Quinn now. Why?" Is all I caught of her phone conversation before she got too far.

Why was he asking for me, or Quinn, I thought.

"Come on, Morgy, I wanna swim!" my niece snapped me out of my head.

***

Later, I was back at Malcolm's getting ready in my bedroom.

Callie couldn't make it because Mary had things to do, that meant no sitter. It was a bummer, but for the better, anyway because Callie didn't need to be exposed to any men right now. Especially rich ones.

I didn't forget that Carter told me Malcolm was in the marijuana industry. Weed's legal and not that bad, but I wish he would've told me. It doesn't change anything, except he wasn't honest.

And Chris, I could just tell he was only sticking around to inherit the business. He seemed like the grimy type.
While he never gave me a good impression, I didn't think Chris was such a monster to not want anything to do with his sweet parents. Carter and Mary were angels, I could only imagine what went wrong raising their son.

And why was he so concerned about Quinn and I?! That was driving me crazy.

I was in a robe, brushing my hair at the vanity, when Malcolm walked in.

His energy was off, I could tell he wasn't happy about something.

He walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Morgan," he breathed out my name.

"I need you to pack your things and go."

"What?" I turned in the seat to look at him and see if he was serious.

He was, his face of stone. "You heard me. You're out of here, I told you I don't do small children."

"Okay?" I asked, standing. "There are no small children here. What, Quinn can't be in your town at all?"

"Not if you're going to have anything to do with me. And as long as you're in this town, you'll have something to do with me."

"Woah, woah, woah," I vocalized. "Can you please tell me what's this about?"

"I don't do baby mamas, Morgan," he stated.

Stuck, I just waited for him to elaborate.

He swallowed hard, unable to look me in the eyes at this point.

"That child is yours and you didn't tell me. I was hoping it wasn't true, but Chris just said-"

Chris.

I busted out laughing, unable to take this serious anymore.

"Wait, wait," I cracked. "you think Quinn is my daughter? And you're serious? No... No. Why didn't you just ask me, Malcolm?"

"She's not?"

"No," I made clear. "She's my niece. I may take care of her a lot, but she's not my daughter - she's Callie's. You know, my older sister?"

Malcolm raised on his feet and facepalmed. "Dammit I feel so stupid!"

You should, I thought in my head.

I watched him pace.

"Morgan, darling, forgive me. I— this is all just a big misunderstanding. Chris said you were with the child and his mother, and it just seemed like you were-"

"Her aunt. That's all I am. And I don't know what you have against kids, but if you want something to do with me, you'll have to accept that she's here, and in my life."

Malcolm lunged over to me and took my hands in his.

"Darling," he said looking me dead in the eyes. "I promise I can accept that she is not yours. You have no idea how relieved I am. I like you, but I couldn't deal with that, and baby father drama. You understand, right? It's just a misunderstanding."

"Hello? Malcolm!" Some man hollered from downstairs.

Malcolm dropped his head and my hands.

"Those are my guests. I'm going to go entertain them while you finish getting ready. Darling, I'm so sorry, but don't let this affect our night; I told them great things about you."

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything.

Realizing he was getting the cold shoulder, Malcolm showed himself out.

~

I let myself get dressed and join the affair. It wasn't quite a party, just some associates like Malcolm said.

He was a great host, showing them around and offering alcohol, cigars, and finger foods per a caterer.

"Hello," one man said to me as I walked through the dining room.

"Hi," another said.

I just smiled at the men in suits and made my way to Malcolm entertaining a couple in the foyer.

"Ah, here she is," he boasted. "My beautiful darling. Morgan, this is The Turners, we go way back. Bill, Mindy, this is Morgan."

Bill and Mindy were a tall, thin, and pale pair. Really I couldn't tell if they were related or husband and wife so I watched their body language.

Bill kissed the back of my hand then looked at Malcolm. Malcolm stayed cold and Bill cleared his throat, backing off.

Mindy did the boujee two kiss on both cheeks, "mwah, mwah" thing and then giggled, creating space between us.

When Bill grabbed Mindy's teeny waist I thought, ah, see, husband and wife.

"We've heard a lot about you," Mindy said to me.

Bill added to that. "We've been expecting you."

That's not creepy at all. . .

"If you'll excuse me, I'm the only one without a drink," I tried to get away.

"Have mine," Malcolm insisted, pushing his glass to my red-painted lips.

"Now, where were we?" Asked Malcolm.

"You were just about to tell us about this little number," Mindy giggled, referring to me.

***

I finally managed to slip away from Malcolm and his friends who had a case of the grab-hands.

In need of air, I walked outside and sat by the pool, hoping no one would come bother me. At least not for a while. Unless they had more wine.

"You're still here?" A raspy voice questioned me.

If this if Chris, I'm going to lose it, I mentally fumed.

He stood behind my back, towering over me in the night.

Andddd it's Chris.

Okay, I didn't lose it, but I was angry!

"Yeah, you thought your little plan would work?" I shot back at him.

"What plan?" He acted like he didn't know.

Offended he undermined my intelligence, I had to stand up to chew him out good.

"Quinn isn't my daughter, you ass!"

"I know-"

"No, you don't know. What the hell does it matter to you anyway? Mind your business, and get a life. Is Malcolm paying you to be a dick to me, or are you just that far up his ass?"

Chris clenched his jaw but waited for me to finish.

"Are you done?" He asked in a growl.

"No. Where do you get off even telling him that? Is me leaving benefiting you in some way? Oh I get it, you just don't want him to be happy. What, you have a miserable life so everyone else has to? Yeah. I talked to your father, he's a joy. Your mother, too. You, on the other hand? Ha."

He nodded slowly like he was digesting everything I said and I'm glad he did.

That felt great to get off my chest.

The ripples in the water reflected from the full moon and illuminated across Chris's face.

He removed the one hand from the pockets of his slacks and scratched the stubble on his chin. The other hand covering the crystal tumbler full of dark liquor. Probably Jack, he looked like a Jack Daniels man, if not beer or Tequila.

"For a second there, I thought I was going to apologize to you. I was wrong," Chris put out, looking past me.

Then, his eyes went dark and he gazed at me. He stepped close enough for me to feel his breath trickle across my face.

His voice deepened as he was serious, looking down on me like I was a kid who needed to be taught a lesson.

"But you bring up my father?" He glowered.

I shuddered, his voice chilling through me. And, God, I hated that I found that attractive.

I found the courage to look up at him and study his face.

Chris kept his eyes on me a second longer. He pulled his lips into his mouth and then turned on his heels, and walked back inside.

Note to self: Carter— his father— is off limits.

While Chris was nothing less than a panty-dropper in that tense encounter, he certainly set me straight. I almost said "yes, sir" to him. I'd never been talked to like that, not even by my father.

What is this I'm feeling?

Shaking off my confusing feelings, I trailed inside, too.

Is it pathetic that I looked for Chris everywhere? Maybe it's the wine. Yeah, let's go with that.

But he wasn't anywhere in sight.

I was only mad, I wanted to tell him off again because who did he think he was?
I felt owed an apology or at least a listening ear.

More so, a part of me wanted to apologize. I should've known the Carter-thing was sensitive for him. It was never my intention to overstep, even if we were in an argument.

We already weren't on good terms to begin with, I could only imagine he'd definitely hate me now.

Feeling a range of emotions, I sat down at the island in the kitchen and helped myself to a muffin from earlier.

Mindy swayed over in this chiffon dress.

"Wine?" She offered.

I slid my glass to her and she filled it.

"Say," she talked, eyeing my food. "is that one of Sherry's muffins?"

I didn't say anything, just kept chewing.

No, I know I was drunk because I was so fed up that I did a fourth wall break as if there were cameras.

Her long red stiletto nails tapped against the imported rustic grain material.

She drawled out a pitchy sigh. "Sure looks good. They're pretty big, you gonna eat both of those?"

"Fuck it," I groaned. I jumped out of the stool and shoved the container at her flat chest.