* * * *
When Quinn buzzed late the next morning from the lobby of my condo—I’d given him the code to get past the community’s gates—I went down to meet them.
Quinn was holding a bouquet of orange and bronze chrysanthemums mixed in with branches of red maple leaves.
Tasteful. I’d made him promise not to bring food or wine, but this…. I hadn’t even thought of something to use as a centerpiece.
“Happy Thanksgiving.” I smiled into his eyes, then took his mother’s hand in mine and held it. “How are you feeling, ma’am?”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, Mark. I’m well, thank you.”
“Are you?” I tucked her hand in my arm and walked toward the elevator.
“Mark?” Quinn would know I never took the elevator.
“The stairs are out of order.” I turned my attention back to his mother. “This cold weather w
