"She flew in for the tournament last weekend. Then, he drove her up to L.A. and decided to visit me," Quinn said.
"Dinner's on the table," Mr. Thomas said. His face was regaining a normal color. "I'm sorry to say that Barbara will not be joining us, but please, let's eat."
We settled around a table where takeout from a local restaurant had been artfully displayed as home cooking. For a few minutes, everyone passed the plates, and there was hope for an almost normal meal.
"So, Owen came back to UCLA, huh? That must have been hard. Was that before your parents dropped the whole house arrest bombshell?" Trent asked.
"Why would it be hard for him to come to UCLA?" Nicky asked.
I jumped in. "Did you catch up on everything, Quinn? How's the nursing program?"
Quinn gave me a thankful smile. "I'm actually caught up. I have a few big chapters to read tonight, but then I'm free."
"She's actually a really good nurse," Trent said. "When we first started dating, we went to this outdoor concert. People were just getting loaded all over. So, naturally, I was having a great time. Until I fell down this embankment and cut my arm on a signpost."
Trent launched into an animated retelling of his bloody injury. While he was monopolizing the other end of the table, I turned to check on Quinn.
"I'm sorry, I had no idea," she said.
"Why are you apologizing? Just say the word and we'll leave right now," I said.
She smiled. "I would. I really would, but I honestly think it would only make things worse."
"What? Leaving your father with your jealous ex-boyfriend and his painfully uncomfortable boy toy?" I asked.
Quinn smiled again. It felt like a knot came loose in my chest.
"I really didn't think this would be so bad. I actually am caught up with my coursework. I thought I'd read my chapters like a good collegiate tonight and meet you for pancakes in the morning," she said.
"Pancakes in the morning? What am I, your 80-year-old aunt?" I asked.
"No. You're just my buddy dating an amazing jet-setter named Anya," Quinn said.
"I only said that to take the heat off you." I reached for her hand under the table. "She is the farthest thing from my mind when I think about that tournament."
"What's the first thing that comes to mind?" Quinn asked.
"Blood spurting everywhere. Remember, Quinn?" Trent asked.
She pulled her hand away. "All it took was a little pressure to stop the bleeding. It was just a nick on your wrist. No big deal."
"I still have the scar," Trent said. He held up his wrist. "The best part was her bedside manner, or should I say trenchside manner. Only Quinn would be able to calm down a raving drunk in the middle of a crowd of raving drunks while the band goes into their loudest number."
"So, I'm not such a monster for making you stick with it," Mr. Thomas said.
"It’s not that," Quinn said. "I'm just not sure I really want to become a nurse."
The good will in her father's eyes disappeared. "Nonsense. Think about how excited Sienna was to have you at UCLA and in the nursing program. Don't you want to see it through for her?"
I felt the wine turn to acid in my mouth. "You would think Sienna would want her little sister to be happy."
"You are the last person I want to hear speculating on what my daughter would have thought," Mr. Thomas said.
Trent gave me a malignant smile. "Why don't I help clear some of these dishes?"
"Thank you, Trent," Mr. Thomas said.
Quinn jumped up to help them. When they all went through to the kitchen, I let out an angry sigh.