The Adoption

When parents clash.

Penny squealed and planted her hands and her nose squarely on the window. Her glasses smushed up against her face.

"Pen, you're going to smudge the glass, baby," said Quinn with a frown. She turned to Trevor for support, but he slipped his hand out of Quinn's and joined their daughter at the window. Quinn blew out a frustrated breath. She could see where this was headed. For once, she wished it would head to the place where their parenting opinions aligned.

"No such place has ever existed," she muttered.

"Which one do you like, Pen-Pen?" asked Trevor, looking down at her with a wide, toothy grin. He had a gap in his front teeth that he hated, but Quinn found it endearing, and the smile almost melted her resolve. She steeled herself.

"No," she said in her most stern mama-voice. "No dogs."

"But Mama, look at that one! He's wagging his tail!" Penny's breath condensed on the glass.

"She," said the associate who had teleported or beamed himself into the conversation. He joined Trevor and Penny at the window. A literal growl escaped Quinn's throat, and she plopped herself on a bench in the play area.

"Pardon me?" asked Trevor, behind her.

"The Yorkie is a 'she'. We call her Bella. Would you like to meet her?"

"Yes!" cried Penny.

Quinn frowned, but she didn't interfere. Even after the puppy squatted and peed in the play area. Even after it happened exactly four more times. She would wait and have the conversation later, with Trevor privately. Along with the conversation about having a unified front in front of the child.

She prepared her arguments mentally while Penny and Trevor played with the little pup in the playpen. Then she thought of all the counterarguments her lawyer husband would have, and she devised counterarguments for his counterarguments.

Trevor turned a concerned look onto the associate, and for a brief moment, Quinn thought a sense of order returned to earth. She thought he might complain about the excess urinating, maybe ask if the dog had a medical condition.

She thought wrong.

Instead, Trevor asked, "What if we don't like the name?"

Quinn bit her tongue. Hard.

The associate smiled. "Bella is just the placeholder name we gave her. You can rename her anything you want."

"Bella. What do you think, babygirl?" Trevor asked, tapping Penny on the shoulder.

"She's so cute!" replied Penny without taking her eyes off the puppy. "I like Bella. But can we call her Zoey? Like the dog in The Lonely Tree!"

She had a truly astounding ability to disarm her mama, and Quinn smiled a little before she could stop herself. It was the book Penny was currently reading. Quinn was proud of the fact that her seven-year-old devoured books like all the libraries were going out of business in a week.

But that was when she noticed how uncomfortable Trevor seemed. He tugged at the neck of his shirt like it was choking him. He loosened the tie and unbuttoned the top button.

"You okay, babe?" Quinn asked. Penny, engrossed in the puppy, was oblivious.

"I think I have a little indigestion," he replied, and she noted that he did look a bit green. He tugged at the front of his shirt. "Is it hot in here?" But it wasn't until he gripped his chest with an expression of pain contorting his face almost beyond recognition that real concern squeezed Quinn's lungs. Trevor tried to speak, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath, and concern morphed into terror.

"Oh, God, are you having a heart attack? I think you're having a heart attack." She shouted very loudly, "Somebody call an ambulance!"

THREE WEEKS LATER

"She's so cute, Mama," Penny said softly. "I love her."

The little Yorkie wagged her tail and licked Penny on the nose. Penny shrieked and jumped back, then pulled off her glasses. "She licked my glasses!"

Quinn forced a sob down with a hard swallow and reached for the glasses, which Penny surrendered. She took them to the kitchen sink and washed the smudge off while her daughter played with the dog. When she returned to the living room, Penny gave her a grown-up look of concern with prolonged eye contact, which startled Quinn.

"Are you okay, Mama?"

Quinn nodded and donned a ghost of a smile she didn't even have to force. She marveled at how much Penny looked like her father, down to the gap in her teeth Penny hated. Quinn's heart swelled.

"I'll be okay, baby. What do you say we take Zoey for her first walk?"

"O-kay!" she shouted with much more enthusiasm than Quinn could muster even if she weren't mourning the loss of her husband at the young age of thirty-nine. Quinn had thought she would have to be the strong one and help Penny heal, but it was looking more and more like it was going to be the other way around.

"What do you say, Zoey?" asked Penny. " Are you ready? Do you wanna?"

The dog barked.

Zoey was ready.

Penny was ready.

Quinn suspected she would never get over Trevor's loss. But to start the first steps of the healing process? Or at least, to try, for the sake of her daughter?

Quinn was ready.

END

Word Count: 886