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through life. She got a very nice settlement from Mac’s father, and blew through the bulk of it.”
She smiled. “Children hear things, even when they’re not supposed to know what they mean.”
“There had to be child support.”
“Yes. Mac was housed and fed and clothed very well. So, of course, was her mother. They both remarried before Mac was seven. Linda divorced again within two years.”
She paused as their tea was served. “After that, there were a lot of men, a lot of love affairs, and a lot of drama. Linda feeds on drama. Geoffrey divorced again, and married again. He has a son with his third wife, and they spend most of their time in Europe. Linda has a daughter by her second husband.”
“Yes, Mac told me she had two half siblings.”
“They rarely see each other. Eloisa spent, and spends, a lot of time with her father, who obviously loves her very much.”
“That must’ve been hard. To see her sister have that, while she didn’t.”
“Yeah. And because it was, for the most part, only Mac at home, Linda expected, demanded, used. It’s her way. She married again. Every time she married, they moved to another house, another neighborhood. Another school for Mac. Linda pulled Mac out of the academy when she divorced her third husband. Then put her back in, briefly, a couple of years later because, it turned out, she was involved with a man—a married one—on the board of directors.”
“No stability, ever. Nothing she could count on,” Carter murmured.
Parker sighed. “All of her life, Mac’s had her mother weeping on her shoulder over some slight, some broken heart, some trouble. Linda was raised to believe herself the center of the universe, and she did her best to raise Mac to believe it, too. She’s a strong woman, our Mac. Smart, self-reliant, brilliant at what she does. But this vulnerable spot is like an aching wound. Linda continually yanks the scab off. She grew up with callousness, and fears being callous.”
“She doesn’t trust us, because nothing in her life has ever given her the foundation to trust.”
“You do listen. That was one of the first things she told me about you. I’m going to give you an advantage, Carter, another thing she wouldn’t thank me for. I’m giving it to you because I love her.”
“I could use one.”
Parker reached out to lay her hand over his on the table. “I’ve never seen her the way she is with you, not with anyone else. I’ve never seen her care, so much. Because of that, what she has with you, what she’s finding with you, scares her.”
“I’ve figured some of that, at least the scared part. As someone who loves her, what would you advise me to do?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” Parker said with a smile. “Give her a little space, a little time—but not too much. And don’t give up on her. The only constants in her life have been me and my family, Emma and Laurel. She needs you.”
“I can’t give up on her,” Carter said simply. “I’ve been waiting for her most of my life.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NEITHER THE CAR NOR HER MOTHER SHOWED ON MONDAY. ON Tuesday, when her patience ran thin, Mac’s calls to her mother’s house and cell went directly to voice mail.
By Wednesday, she actively entertained the thought of reporting her car stolen. But then she’d just have to bail her mother out of jail.
So she went over to the main house to mooch breakfast.
“Parker’s on an emergency house call. Saturday’s bride woke up with a zit or something. Emma’s waiting on an early delivery, so it’s just you and me.”
“Does that mean there won’t be pancakes?”
“I don’t have time for pancakes—and God, I wish Mrs. G would shake off the island sand and get home. I’ve got to make foliage and flowers. Have a muffin.”
“Did Parker have any idea when she’d get back?”
Laurel glanced up, stopped rolling out her flower paste. “Your car’s not back?”
“Both it and Linda are MIA. I’ve left a dozen messages. Her ears are going to bleed and fall off when she gets them. I threatened to report it stolen.”
“Do it. There’s the phone.”
“I’ll probably be arrested for sheer stupidity for giving her the keys. I’m going to go by her place. I have another shoot, and I need to pick up some custom paper that wasn’t ready Monday. And I think I want some shoes.”
“Haven’t heard from Carter?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re going to buy shoes, which is comfort food for you. Have you called him?”
“To say what? I’m sorry? I already said that. I was wrong? I was, I know I was wrong, but it doesn’t change what I feel.”
“Which is?”
“Confused, afraid, stupid. Double all of that because I miss seeing him,” she admitted. “I miss talking to him. So I think it’s better if I don’t see him or talk to him.”
“Your logic doesn’t resemble the logic of humans.”
“He probably doesn’t want to see or talk to me anyway.”
“Coward.”
“Maybe. I’m a coward without a car.” She waited in silence while Laurel rolled out her paste. “You could lend me yours.”
“I could. But that would be enabling, which is what you continue to do with Linda. I love you too much to do that.”
“It’s not enabling. It’s business. I could cram my equipment into her ridiculous little toy, but funny, she left the car and not the keys. It’s not the client’s fault I caved or she’s so self-centered she hasn’t brought it back.”
“No, it’s not.” With care, Laurel used a template and began cutting out the first flowers.
“I’m so pissed off. I admit the pissed off portion helps balance out the sheer misery of the Carter situation, but at this point I’d rather be miserable about him and have my wheels. Why does she
do this? And don’t say because I let her. I swear, and I’ll swear it in blood, I had no intention of lending her the damn car. I never would’ve put myself in this position again if it hadn’t been for those exact circumstances.”
“I’d like to believe that, but here you are, Mac, paying the price as usual. While as usual she pays nothing. No consequences for Linda. She’ll bring your car back when she’s damn good and ready. You’ll confront her, bitch, complain. She’ll pull out all her usual crap. Then she’ll forget the whole thing because she’ll have gotten and done what she wanted, and topped it off by being the center of your world while you bitch and complain.”
“What am I supposed to do? Beat her to death with my tripod?”
“I’ll help you hide the body.”
“You would.” Mac sighed. “You’re a true friend. I’m not a coward or a pushover about most things.”
“No, you’re not. Anything but. I guess that’s why it irritates me down to the marrow when you are. When she causes you to be both. Make her pay for once, Mackensie. I bet once you do, the next time will come easier.”
“How? Believe me when I say I want to. I can’t actually call the cops. I gave her the damn keys. And maybe I think—know,” she corrected, “it was passive-aggressive bullshit that she didn’t leave me hers, it still . . .”
“I like that look. That is not the look of cowardly pushover. What?”
“She left her car.”
“Oh, oh, we’re going to smash the toy. I’ll get my coat and Del’s old baseball bat.”
“No. God, you’re a violent soul.”
“I like smashing. It’s therapeutic.”
“We’re not going to beat up the car. It’s an innocent bystander in this. But I am going to have it towed.”
“That’s not bad, but having it towed to her house just means she doesn’t have to bother to come get it.”
“Not to her house.” Mac’s eyes narrowed as she thought it through. “Remember a few months ago, that guy rear-ended Del’s new car. It had to be towed. The guy, the mechanic guy who took care of all that. He’s got the tow truck, th
e garage, the lot. Damn it, what’s the name? Where is Parker with her magic business cards?”
“Call Del. He’ll remember. And let me just say this is why we’re friends. When you get your teeth into it, Mac, you’re beautiful.”
“So lend me your car.”
“Make the calls, and it’s yours.”
SHE FELT RIGHTEOUS. SHE FELT STRONG. BY THE TIME SHE’D completed her shoot, run her errands, stopped off to buy more twenty-gauge wire for Laurel, she decided she deserved new shoes. Maybe, considering the trauma and triumph of the last few weeks, she deserved new earrings, too.
Earrings for Linda, she decided. Shoes for Carter. Celebration and commiseration.
Maybe she’d go by his place on the way home. While she was feeling strong and righteous. They were two smart people who cared about each other. Surely they could find a compromise, some middle ground, some solution.
She didn’t want to lose him, she thought. She didn’t want to go through her life Carter-less.
She wandered through the mall until she hit the Holy Grail. The shoe department at Nordstrom.
Maybe she needed new boots, too. You could never really have too many boots. New shoes
and new boots would give her that firm sense of self-reliance she needed to go to Carter’s. She could pick up a bottle of wine, like a peace offering. And they’d talk, and he’d look at her that way he looked at her. And . . . that would be pulling a Linda, she decided, as she had Laurel’s car.
But she could still go by, still take the wine. She could ask him to dinner at her place. It could be a kind of joke, an icebreaker. Hey, I brought you this wine. Why don’t you come over for dinner later tonight and bring this with you? Of course then she’d have to stop off and buy something to fix. Or she could just raid Mrs. G’s supply.
No, no, she thought as she picked up a pair of electric blue ankle boots that sang her name. She had to
cook. Had to show him he mattered enough for her to make the effort. He mattered. It all mattered.
