“I’m hungry.”
“Let’s get you a snack, then. What would you like? How about an apple?”
Mia looked up, her feathery eyebrows knitting in displeasure. “Biscuit. No, three biscuits,” she quickly amended. For someone who was just beginning to speak in complete sentences, she was very good at negotiating.
“Two biscuits and two apple slices,” Quinn said, her voice firm.
“Okay,” Mia muttered. Quinn was sure Mia would eat the biscuits first and then just nibble on the apple. She wasn’t a big fan of fruit and veg.
Having had her snack, Mia ran off to the lounge in search of her favorite toy, a pink Barbie computer that Seth had sent her last month. Quinn was partly amused and partly annoyed by the number of parcels that showed up on her front step. The grandparents made up for not being able to see the children regularly by sending toys, outfits, and books, despite Quinn’s pleas to not spoil them so. Quinn did like the educational toys, though. The Barbie computer was for a child of at least three years old, but Mia had figured out how to work the toy in a matter of minutes.
Quinn settled on the sofa and watched her daughter at play. She really was amazed by Mia’s progress these last few months. Alex hadn’t begun to construct proper sentences until he was closer to three and hadn’t been interested in pretend play unless it was rolling cars on the carpet and making vroom-vroom noises, but some people said girls developed faster at this age. That was certainly evident in Jill’s daughter Olivia, who seemed to have come out of the womb as a tween.
As if reading her mind, Mia looked up. “I want to play with Olivia,” she said imperiously. She was a right little madam sometimes, Quinn thought, a smile tugging at her lips as she looked at her daughter’s impatient little face. “Today,” Mia stated.
“Sorry, darling, but you’ll have to wait until Saturday. Olivia’s mum works, so Olivia can only have playdates on weekends.”
“What day is today?” Mia demanded.
“Monday.”
Mia shrugged and went back to the computer, Olivia momentarily forgotten. Quinn reached for the plastic bag containing the ring and examined it more closely. She had cleaned it very carefully, using mild soap and bits of cotton to clean away the grime. The band was wide, made of solid silver and etched with a pattern that resembled a woven braid. The ring would have been too big for Alice’s delicate fingers. Had she ever worn it? Quinn wondered as she turned the bag over in her hand.
Based on her brief foray into the past, Quinn thought Gabe had been right when he’d said the skeleton was about two hundred years old, give or take a few decades. Judging by the fashions and implements Quinn had seen in the Wilder household, it had to be sometime in the eighteenth century, possibly around the time of the Revolutionary War. She hadn’t had much interest in American history before meeting her biological father, but having witnessed the events that had led to the death of Madeline Besson just before the American Civil War, Quinn had decided to make more of an effort to learn about her father’s country’s history. She found that she enjoyed it, all the more so after she’d visited the newly formed colony of Virginia through the eyes of Mary Wilby, who’d been one of the first Englishwomen to set foot in the New World.
Might Alice have been British? The American accent had evolved over the centuries, but in the 1700s, the two accents would have still been virtually indistinguishable from each other. If Alice had, in fact, come from England, that might explain how the ring came to be in Hertfordshire. It stood to reason that the skeleton now occupying one of Colin’s slabs was Ben Wilder, but Quinn wasn’t about to take anything for granted. She was just at the beginning of this story, and she knew from experience that she should avoid drawing hasty conclusions.
Chapter 9
“Did you see Colin today?” Gabe asked once the children were in bed and he and Quinn had settled in for their nightly chat.
Quinn leaned against the armrest of the sofa, her legs outstretched, her calves resting on Gabe’s thighs. “Yes. He’s getting married soon. He seems happy.”
“Good for him,” Gabe said. He took a sip of his beer, looking thoughtful. “Did he ask about Logan?”
Quinn nodded. “I think he still misses him.”
“Do you think Logan ever regrets the way things