Gillian's Do-Over by Kate Vale Page A

feet tall. She estimated him to weigh close to three hundred pounds. Big enough to sink a raft .
    “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow—for the rafting. What did you say your name was?” he asked.
    “Gillian,” she replied, in the vain hope he would leave, though he seemed immune to her hints.
    “Got a last name?”
    “Griffiths.” Maybe he would be in a different raft, so he couldn’t sink theirs.
    He reached out and grabbed her hand. “ Gillian Griffiths! Lovely name for a lovely lady. I’m Herb, Herb Hanson. All my pals call me HH. Except for my last ex-wife. She called me Herb from Hell.” He laughed, as if enjoying the joke. “You can call me HH, too, if you like.”
    Gillian was relieved to see Quinn and Bianca strolling in her direction.
    “I see your folks are here to collect y ou.” Herb glanced at them. “See you tomorrow, Gillian Griffiths. GG, like Gigi in that French film.” His loud hoots rang against the building and seemed to pummel her as Gillian watched him lumber off.
    “Didn’t take you long to find a friend,” Quinn said, beaming. “A man friend. Mom, you’re collecting men like bears to honey. Lauren told me about that doctor. Mo, is it? And now this guy?”
    “Oh, Quinn. Don’t be silly.” But she blushed in spite of herself. “That man is not a friend,” she said. “I was minding my own business, taking a nap—which he interrupted—and then he wouldn’t stop talking.”
    “Loudly, too,” Bianca added, a grin playing about her expressive mouth. “Honey, I don’t think your mom needs that internet site anymore.”
    “Please, Bianca,” Gillian huffed. “Can we talk about something else?”
    “Sure. How about the wedding? I finally got Quinn to agree to a date.”
    “Yes. The wedding. Good.” Gillian nodded at the news. She would use this trip to show Quinn how much she wanted to get to know Bianca. But she had to play it cool. Let the young couple lead the wedding discussion. “Are you two ready for dinner? We can talk about the wedding while we eat.” She brushed a piece of grass off one shoulder, noting that her skin still felt warm from the sun. Perhaps she would need more sunblock tomorrow.
     
    Throughout dinner Gillian tried to relax, but images of that huge man with his hairy arms and legs—definitely not the best look for a man in short pants—tipping over the raft and taking her with him as he slid under the surface of the water, kept intruding on her thoughts.
    Quinn finally patted her hand. “You haven’t been paying attention to a thing we’ve said.”
    “I’m sorry, honey. I guess I’m just nervous. About tomorrow. The raft. The water.” She forced a smile. That man. Houdini or Harry, whatever. HH.
    “You’ll be fine. I know you will,” Bianca added. “Want to sit with me? Quinn promised I could sit in the middle seat.”
    Gillian grasped her future daughter-in-law’s hands. “Yes, definitely. A great idea.” She paused and took a deep breath. “But where was Quinn going to sit?”
    “He wants to be in the front—the better to catch the spray.” Bianca chuckled .
    “And you don’t want to sit with him?”
    “Sure. But if you prefer, I’m happy to sit with you. Maybe after lunch, I’ll join him in the front. I’m not quite as adventurous as he is. You and I can hang on to each other when we go over the Class Four rapids.”
    “Are those the really bad ones?” Gillian eyed Quinn, who seemed to be stifling laughter.
    “ Wrong attitude, Mom. Think exciting, not dangerous.”
    “Maybe not for you. I’ll sit with Bianca, on the second seat.” Not with a man. Old HH would need a raft all by himself.
     
    The next morning Quinn and Bianca walked down to the rafting area with Gillian. She glanced around and saw that the man from the previous afternoon did not seem to be around. Feeling better about the challenge of the river, she donned her life vest and tightened the straps as ordered by their guide, a young woman