With respect to their authors, the following snippet of fanfic borrows characters and situations from the last three books I read:

“84 Charing Cross Road” by Helene Hanff:

Author: Helene Hanff
Title: 84 Charing Cross Road
Published Year: 1990 (Reissue)
Publisher: Penguin Books
ISBN: 978-0140143508

“Again, Rachel” by Marian Keyes:

Author: Marian Keyes
Title: Again, Rachel
Published Year: 2022
Publisher: Penguin Random House
ISBN: 978-0-385-67574-1

“The Age of Innocence” by Edith Wharton:

Author: Edith Wharton
Title: The Age of Innocence
Published Year: 1920
Publisher: D. Appleton and Company
ISBN: Not applicable (as it was published before ISBNs were introduced)

***

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Luke asked, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

“Are you okay with it?” I threw the ball back into his court. Being okay with it was beside the point; Quin having landed in The Cloisters was a matter of fact. I was not his counselor; that would be a conflict of interest. I was asked to steer mostly clear of his group sessions since I was being asked to come into the session and shed light on how his addictions had impacted our relationship.

Luke nodded. “I’m more curious than anything. You never mentioned Quin was an addict.”

I had tried not to give it too much thought. Quin was ostensibly in for alcoholism, which I hadn’t recognized in him while we were together. What I did see was an addiction to novelty, which I thought harmless enough. I said as much.

“Then what are you going to say?” he looked at me over his tea.

“I have no idea.”

***

Murdo rushed me in. “Ready, lass? We’ll get this over with as fast as possible.”

“Ready for what?” Then, “I guess I am,” as he pushed me in the door.

In the circle were a few of my patients, clearly confused at seeing me. Quin looked at me angrily. “How kind of you to come.”

I said nothing and looked at Carey-Jane, Quin’s assigned therapist. The room had a few empty spots, but was home to exactly zero comfortable chairs. She motioned for me to take the seat closer to her than to Quin, but facing him straight on. I did as directed.

“Quin,” began Carey-Jane. “Do you know why Rachel is here?”

“Because she fell off the wagon?” Quin intoned sarcastically.

Carey-Jane ignored him. “You and Rachel dated from–” she pretended to check her notes, although she knew as well as I did, “2016 – 2018. Rachel,” she didn’t so much as look at me as tilt her head toward me, “how was Quin during that time?”

A movement caught my eye out the window. Luke was getting off his motorcycle in the small parking area. I would give anything to be outside instead of in this crowded room. Now why was he here?

I took a breath, trying to be clear and fair. “Quin did like to drink, but rarely to excess. He was more about having new and exciting experiences, as I recall.”

“What do you mean by that?” Quin spat at me at the same time Carey-Jane said “Is that true, Quin?”

What. Was. Happening? “I — ” I looked back and forth between Carey-Jane and Quin. “Just what I said. Traveling off the beaten path. Jumping into icy water. That sort of thing.”

Out the window, Luke was pointing a clearly distressed man in the direction of the front door. At the same time, a knock sounded at the door to the room and Murdo ushered in a gorgeous woman in a vintage red dress with an amber-beaded necklace. She stood a full head taller than Murdo, and he as well as every other man in the room was clearly taken with her. For her part, she seemed unaware.
“Quin! Darling!” She ran to him. “What in the world? What is this place?” Rather than disdain, she seemed to be transmitting pure curiosity.

Quin lit up. “Ellen!” He went to kiss her, but she gracefully avoided his lips and kissed both cheeks.

Suddenly, a man came crashing into the room behind this Ellen. “Ellen! I mean–” He looked around, clearly lost. “Countess. You must come with me.”

“Oh?” Ellen looked up, innocently. “And why is that, Newland?” She said just as another man came stumbling through the door.

Carey-Jane gasped. This was rapidly getting out of hand.

The new man had heard the names announced and stared, dumbfounded. “Ellen? Countess Ellen Olenska? Newland Archer?”

“Yes.” They answered in unison.

“And just who the hell are you?” asked Quin, clearly entertained by this novelty.

“I am Frank Doel.”

Quin’s face went from amusement to terror. “Oooooh. . . “

“That’s right. I’m Nora’s husband,” he pointed out just as a woman who must be Nora appeared timidly behind Frank.

“Look, man. Nothing happened, I swear.”

“See, Frankie?” Nora squeaked behind him. “It’s just, you were writing letters with that American broad, and it was nice to talk to someone I had something in common with, see?”

“So that’s really all it was?”

“Yeah! I’m with Ellen!” Quin sounded like an overly enthusiastic boy.

Ellen’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, ‘with?’”

Newland growled.

“Yeah. . .” Quin sounded less sure. “In fact, I’ve been with Ellen since early 2018.”

At this, Newland stood up and started rocking back and forth, his fists moving in a circular motion. Quin gave him a “what’s with this guy” look.

“Quinny. You really must explain what you mean with that word. True, we met when you were in the states that spring. But you can’t mean–“

“We didn’t break up til later that year, Quin,” I piped up, then–“ooooh.”

“Yeah, Rachel, like you’ve room to talk. You were already with Luke by then, probably.”

I looked intensely at the blue berber carpet. He wasn’t right, but he wasn’t wrong either. Carey-Jane cleared her throat from a chair in front of the white built-in bookcase.

“Anyway, Ellen and I have been meeting up at that bookstore on Charing Cross. That’s where Nora and I met, too.” Quin nodded and Frank. “But that was different. We just talked about Ireland.”

But —

Ellen was clearly bored. “Newland, why are you in Ireland?”

Newland looked sheepish. “Ellen, dear. I was making sure you were okay.”

Ellen’s forehead wrinkled as she looked back and forth between Newland and Quin.

Carey-Jane struggled to regain control of the circle. “Ellen, let me get this straight. You. . . haven’t been Quin’s girlfriend for the last five years?”

Ellen shook her head no as she continued to look between Quin and Newland.

Another voice entered the conversation, this from a demure woman behind Nora, who jumped in surprise that anyone was there. “Newland?”

“May!” Ellen ran to her petite cousin and kissed her happily. “I’m so glad you’re here. This is just such a mess. Why are you here? Do you know Quin?”

May adjusted her baby pink dress back into place. “Ellen, cousin, I came to look after my husband, who seems to have come to look after you.” If this declaration hit home, Ellen didn’t show it. Newland looked like he might be sick.

“May, I’d like to introduce you to my friend Quin,” Ellen ushered May to the center of the room.

Quin smiled boyishly and took May’s hand between his own. “Lass, you’ve a grace about you that rivals the Irish countryside on a fine summer’s day.”

I looked at Carey-Jane. She had to get control of her group, but it appeared she had already given up on that. “Quin!” I yelled, just as Luke entered the room. “Luke! Why are you –“

“I just. . . I’m sorry. It was eating at me. None of this adds up. Quin doesn’t seem like an addict.”

Ellen was eyeing Luke from across the room, and clearly liking what she saw. I made my way to his side. “This is an absolute circus. I would say you are just worried for nothing, but honestly I wish you had come in earlier.”

Ellen approached us boldly. “Have you ever been to Paris?” she launched right into it.

“Who hasn’t?” I asked, meaning to rescue Luke, but was then distracted when May brushed my arm. She and Quin were headed toward the exit together.

“So, you say you’re into archery?” Quin asked excitedly.

“Yeah, you too?” May’s eyes widened.

“I think I will be soon!” They were out the door before I even thought to stop them. I turned to Carey-Jane, bewildered. She shook her head, aghast.

Luke was squeezing my hand urgently, our secret sign that it is time to go, but Ellen was explaining an opera to him.

“Um, Carey-Jane?” squeaked one of her long-forgotten patients.

“Bart, you may go. Everyone may go.” Carey-Jane collapsed in the chair and put her head in her hands.

*** AND SCENE ***