Laurel's arm, pulling her toward the stranger. His touch should have sent her pulse racing, but she felt as if her heart had ground to a stop.
'Hi,' Laurel said, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
The woman stepped forward and held out her hand. 'Hi. I'm Amy Quinn. I'm Sean's sister-in-law. You must be Laurel.'
The tiny stab of jealousy she'd felt a moment ago slowly faded as she shook Amy's hand. 'Hello.' She glanced over at Sean. 'Have you come to visit Sean?'
'She's come to see you,' he said. 'I asked Amy to stop by.'
His response caught her off guard. Why would Sean ask a member of his family to visit her? Though she'd met Seamus, Sean hadn't seemed anxious to introduce her to any other Quinns.
'I came to talk to you about your plan,' Amy explained.
Stunned, Laurel sent Sean an accusing glare. 'You told her about our plan? Did you tell her about Eddie? About how he-'
'Who's Eddie?' Amy asked.
'That's another plan.' Sean turned back to Laurel. 'I didn't tell her about that plan. I told her about your plan. For the children's center. I thought she might want to hear about it. Amy runs a charitable foundation. She gives people money for good causes.'
'I don't give money away-the foundation board does,' Amy corrected.
Laurel glanced back and forth between them. 'But I don't-'
'Just tell her what you want to do,' Sean insisted. He stepped over to the counter and poured a cup of coffee, then handed it to Laurel. 'I put some doughnuts on the table outside. Why don't you go out there and talk?'
Given that she really had no choice in the matter, Laurel nodded. Amy Quinn seemed like a nice enough person. And if Sean thought his sister-in-law had something to offer, then the least Laurel could do was listen.
'So, I understand you and Sean got married last weekend,' Amy said as they strolled out to the terrace.
Laurel stumbled slightly. 'He told you about that?'
'No. I got that through the Quinn family grapevine. It's becoming a very effective way to get news.'
'We aren't really married,' Laurel said. 'It was just for show. It's a long story.'
'That's too bad. About the marriage, I mean. He seems to care about you very much. I've never seen him so… smitten.'
They sat and Laurel set her coffee in front of her. 'He's a very special man.'
Amy picked up a doughnut and laughed. 'Good grief, if they aren't eating a heaping plate of cholesterol for breakfast, the Quinn boys are scarfing down pounds of refined sugar.' She set the doughnut back on the plate and smiled at Laurel. 'He is a very special man. And he deserves a special woman.'
Her meaning couldn't have been any clearer. How wonderful it must be for Sean to have a family that looked out for him. She'd never really known that feeling, being an only child and losing her parents so early in her life. She envied Amy's place among the Quinns.
'Sean told me he has five brothers, but I don't know much about them. He doesn't say much.'
'Tall, dark, handsome and very silent,' Amy teased. 'I have to say, our conversation before you joined us amounted to the most I'd ever heard him say. I don't know what you've done to him, but it's had a good effect.'
'So his family is close?'
'Very close. All the brothers and Keely live in Boston. They're all married or engaged to be married. I'm married to Brendan, the third brother. Sean is the…' She frowned. 'I can never remember if he's fourth or fifth. I think Brian popped out first.'
'Popped out?'
She took a sip of her coffee, then reached inside her purse to retrieve a small pad of paper. 'Sean has a twin brother, Brian. He's a reporter for the
Laurel swallowed a gasp. Sean had never told her he had a twin. Wasn't that the kind of news a guy shared with the woman he- She stopped short. He didn't love her. She was just the woman he'd slept with and there were no rules when it came to casual sex. In fact, the less information exchanged, the better.
'So, let's get down to business,' Amy suggested. 'I run the Aldrich-Sloane Family Foundation.'
Laurel gasped, the name causing a sudden burst of memory. 'You're Amy Aldrich Sloane! You were two years ahead of me at Sandborne Country Day. You probably don't remember me, but I remember you. You used to wear all that black leather with your school uniform. And you had that pink streak in your hair. I used to think you were so wild.'
'I remember you,' Amy said, her expression brightening. 'Laurie Rand. My goodness, I didn't make the connection.'
Laurel hadn't had many friends at school. After her mother had died, she'd withdrawn, unable to feel comfortable with friends who had whole and complete families. Amy probably remembered a lot more that went unsaid-Laurel Rand was the girl who sat alone at lunch, the girl who preferred the solitude of the library to the chatter of the quad, the girl who seemed to be lost among the crowd. Though she and Amy shared the same background, both of them from wealthy families, the Aldrich-Sloane fortune had been far more vast than the Rand fortune, a fact that put Amy way above Laurel in the pecking order at Sandborne Country Day.
Laurel had enough money to do one good thing, but Amy's family could do so much more. 'I have a trust fund,' Laurel began. 'I was supposed to get it when I was twenty-six.'
'Me, too,' Amy said, nodding. 'I never understood why twenty-six was such a magic number. Although I'm glad I had to wait. If I had gotten that money any earlier, I would have blown it all.'
'I'm also required to be married. If I'm not, then I have to wait until I'm thirty-one, which will be too late.'
'Too late?'
'I have a… a project. I want to start an after-school community center in Dorchester, near where I used to teach school.' As she spoke about her project to a complete stranger, the dream of it began to become more of a reality. In her mind she could see the place as it might look two or three years from now, filled with children looking for that one thing that made them feel special, that one talent that they possessed that set them apart.
There had been so many times after her mother died, when she'd felt lost and alone, when just simple encouragement might have brightened an otherwise gloomy day. She wanted to give that to others. She wanted to give them wings.
'The center would specialize in the arts, offering free dance and music lessons, and drama and painting classes. And we'd have a space so that groups could come in and perform for the children, and a gallery where we could display some of the kids' work. I already have a building in Dorchester in mind, an old storefront, and I think it would be perfect. It's right on the bus line and-'
'How much do you have?' Amy asked.
'I don't have anything right now. But I should have five million soon.'
'If that becomes the basis for your endowment, you can expect to bring in about three-hundred thousand a year in interest and that's if you invest wisely and the economy is good. That's almost enough to pay the bills and provide a salary for yourself and a staff. Five million sounds like a lot, but it really isn't.'
Laurel's heart fell and tears pressed at the corners of her eyes. If Amy Quinn didn't think the project was possible, then maybe Laurel's dreams would never become reality. 'You don't think I can make this work. But I know I can. I've been in the schools and there's so little time devoted to the arts. I want to give these kids more. And I-'
'I think it's a wonderful idea,' Amy interrupted. 'I'm just saying that I think you should try to get funding beyond what you have in your own trust fund. If you don't use your own money, it's going to be tougher, but it could still be done. Then your trust fund could be used for emergencies or as an endowment.' She paused. 'You still need to have money to renovate. We may be able to fund that. You'd need to put together a plan, a budget and an outline of your curriculum. But I think there's a good chance we can give you enough to get the place up and running. Of course, we'll need to see how you plan to keep the place running and where the money will come from. I can suggest some people who could help you apply for grants. There are a lot of other foundations that would probably give to such a great cause.'
