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“I don’t live that far, so I walked.”
“Right. You like to walk. Since we are,” she said as they walked by cafes, restaurants, “I’ll mention something that got bypassed due to the path our conversation took. Dr. Maguire? You got your PhD?”
“Last year, finally.”
“Finally?”
“Since it was the major focus of my life for about ten years, ‘finally’ works for me. I started thinking thesis when I was an undergraduate.” Which probably made him Mayor Nerd of Nerdville, he supposed. “Are you going to see me again? I know that was a non sequitur but it’s buzzing around in my brain. So if the answer’s no, I’d rather find out.”
She said nothing until they’d reached the car, then studied him as she pulled out her keys. “I bet you have a pen and something to write on. I bet it’s pretty handy.”
He reached under his coat to the inside of his tweed jacket for a small notebook and pen.
With a nod, Mac took them, flipped to a blank page in the book. “This is my personal line, rather than my business line. Why don’t you call me?”
“I can do that. An hour from now’s probably too soon, isn’t it?”
She laughed, put the notebook and pen back in his hand. “You certainly boost my ego, Carter.”
She turned to open her door, but he beat her to it. Touched and amused, she got in, let him close the door behind her. She lowered her window. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Get out of the cold, Carter.”
When she pulled away from the curb, he watched her car until the taillights disappeared. Then he doubled back toward the coffee shop and walked the frigid three blocks beyond it, to home.
THE BRIEF JANUARY BUSINESS LULL GAVE MAC TOO MUCH TIME on her hands. She knew she could use it to organize her files, to update her various web pages. To clean out the embarrassing mess that was her closet, or to catch up on neglected correspondence. She could use it to read a good book, or fat-ass in front of the TV and gorge on DVDs and popcorn.
But she couldn’t settle, and so ended up plopping down on the loveseat in Parker’s office.
“Working,” Parker said without looking up.
“Contact the media! Parker’s working.”
Parker continued to tap her keyboard. “After this quick break, we’re booked solid for months. Months, Mac. This is going to be our best year. Still, we’ve got two weeks wide open in August. I’m thinking about a summer’s-end package, something that appeals to the smaller wedding. The put-it-together quickly style. We could really push that when we have our open house in March if it doesn’t book before.”
“Let’s all go out.”
“Hmm?”
“Let’s go out. All four of us. Emma probably has a date, but we’ll make her break it and destroy some poor guy none of us know. It’ll be fun.”
Parker stopped typing, swiveled her chair a few inches. “Go out where?”
“I don’t care. The movies, a club. Drinking, dancing, whoring. Hell, let’s rent a limo and go to New York and do it right.”
“You want to rent a limo, go to New York for drinking, dancing, and whoring.”
“Okay, we’ll skip the whoring. Let’s just get out of here, Park. Spend a night doing fun stuff.”
“We have two full consults tomorrow, plus our individual sessions.”
“So what?” Mac threw up her hands. “We’re young, we’re resilient. Let’s go to New York and break the hearts and balls of men we’ve never met before and will never see again.”
“I find that idea oddly intriguing. But why? What’s up with you?”
Mac pushed off the love seat, stalked around the room. It was such a pretty office. So Perfectly Parker, she thought. Soft, subtle color. Elegance and class polished over almost brutal efficiency.
“I’m thinking about a guy who’s thinking about me. And thinking about him thinking about me has me all worked up. I don’t actually know if I’m thinking about him because he’s thinking about me, or if I’m thinking about him because he’s cute and funny and sweet and sexy. He wears tweed, Parker.”
She stopped, threw her hands up again. “Grandfathers wear tweed. Old guys in old British movies wear tweed. Why do I find it sexy that he wears tweed? This is a question that haunts me.”
“Carter Maguire.”
“Yes, yes, Carter Maguire.
Doctor Carter Maguire—that’s the PhD type. He drinks tea and talks about Rosalind.”
“Rosalind who?”
“That’s what I said!” Vindicated, Mac spun around. “Shakespeare’s Rosalind.”
“Oh,
As You Like It.”
“Bitch, I should’ve known you’d know that. You should go out with him.”
“Why would I go out with Carter? Besides the fact he’s shown no interest in me.”
“Because you went to Yale. And I know damn well that doesn’t apply, but the fact that I’d say it speaks volumes. I want to go out and get crazy. I
refuse to sit around waiting for him to call. Do you know the last time I lowered myself to waiting for some guy to call me?”
“Let me see, that would be about never.”
“Exactly. I’m not doing this.”
“How long have you waited in this case?”
Mac glanced at her watch. “About eighteen hours. He had a crush on me in high school. What kind of man tells you that? Puts the power in your hands that way? Now I have the power and it’s scaring me. Let’s go to New York.”
Parker swiveled back and forth in her chair. “Going to New York to drink and break the hearts of strange men will solve your current dilemma?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s go to New York.” Parker plucked up the phone. “Go get Laurel and Emma on board. I’ll handle the details.”
“Woot!” Mac did a quick dance, rushed over to grab Parker long enough to plant a loud kiss, then raced out of the room.
“Yeah, yeah,” Parker muttered as she speed-dialed the limo company. “We’ll see if you and your hangover dance and sing in the morning.”
IN THE BACK OF THE LONG BLACK LIMO, MAC STRETCHED OUT her legs, highlighted by the short black skirt. She’d kicked off her heels at the start of the two-hour drive to Manhattan. She sipped from her second glass of the champagne Parker had stocked.
“This is so great. I have the best friends ever.”
“Yeah, this is a hardship.” Laurel lifted her own glass. “Riding in a limo, drinking the bubbly, heading to one of the hottest clubs in New York—thanks to Parker’s connections. The sacrifices we make for you, Mackensie.”
“Em broke a date.”
“I didn’t have a date,” Emma corrected. “I had a Maybe We’ll Do Something Tonight.”
“You broke that.”
“I did. You so owe me.”
“And to Parker, for making it all happen. As always.” Mac toasted her friend who sat at the far side of the limo, talking to a client on her cell.
Parker sent her friends a wave of acknowledgment as she continued to pour oil on troubled waters.
“I think we’re almost there. Come on, Park, hang it
up,” Mac said in a stage whisper. “We’re almost there.”
“Breath, makeup, hair,” Emma announced as she flipped out a pocket mirror.
Mini Altoids were passed, lipstick freshened. Four pairs of shoes were slipped onto four pairs of feet.
And Parker finally hung up the phone. “God! Naomi Right’s maid of honor just found out that her boyfriend—the brother and best man of the groom—has been having an affair with his business partner. MOH is on a rampage, as one might expect, and is refusing to serve unless the cheating bastard is banned from the wedding. Bride is frantic and sides with MOH. Groom is pissed, wants to strangle cheating bastard brother, but feels unable to bar his own brother from his wedding, or replace him as best man. Bride and groom are barely speaking.”
“The Right wedding.” Laurel narrowed her eyes. “That’s soon, isn’t it?”
“A week from Saturday. Final guest count is one-ninety-eight. This one’s going to be a headache. I’ve calmed the bride down. Yes, she’s right to be upset, yes, she’s right to support her friend. But to remember the wedding’s about her and her fiance, and what a terrible spot the man she loves is in, through no fault of his own. I’m meeting with them both tomorrow to try to smooth it out.”
“Cheating bastard and cheated-on MOH both attend—much less remain in the wedding party—it’s going to get ugly.”
“Yes.” Parker acknowledged Mac’s observation with a sigh. “But we’ll handle it. It’s just a little bit worse, as the business partner’s on the invite list—and the cheating bastard’s insisting if she’s removed,
he won’t attend.”
“Well, he’s an asshole.” Laurel shrugged. “The groom needs to have a serious come-to-Jesus talk with his brother.”
“Which is also on my list of suggestions for tomorrow’s meeting. But in more diplomatic terms.”
“That’s tomorrow’s business. No business calls during therapeutic drinking, dancing, and heartbreaking.”
Parker didn’t give her word on Mac’s decree, but she did tuck her phone back
