AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Pansy looked at her curiously, searchingly, as if expecting a particular answer that Carrie wasn’t ready to give her.
Except for Jess and now Ethan, no one knew about the work she used to do. Well, Jess, Ethan and the women who’d hired her. And she doubted any of them were talking.
Aunt Pansy watched her for another moment, then changed the subject.
“So, did you have fun last night?”
Fun? Carrie tried to remember. There’d been laughter and music. Her cousin had definitely had fun.
Good old Jess, with her lousy childhood, mud-spattered past, and at best, a lukewarm welcome back to the town she’d vowed she was done with, had kicked up her heels as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She’d danced with every guy in the place and even forced Carrie to get up with a few.
But mostly, she’d watched in quiet awe and a bit of envy. She wouldn’t mind slow dancing, but that was the sort of thing you did with someone you cared about. Not any old guy with his elbow up on the bar.
Ethan moved like he’d be a good dancer.
“It was good to get out,” she told Pansy.
“So, dish. Who went home with whom?” Pansy leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. “I need to get started on my knitting now, if there are any babies coming next winter.”
Carrie laughed, despite herself. “Sorry to tell you, but Jess and I came home together, at the same time and we each went to bed alone. You’ll have to look elsewhere for your babies. And since when do you knit?”
Pansy shrugged. “I’m full of surprises. And there’s always a baby starting to cook, somewhere. How’s your mama these days? I see her in you, you know.” She patted Carrie’s hand again, as if in sympathy. “But don’t worry, you’re still young.”
Carrie lifted her eyebrows and spoke around a mouthful of butter and cinnamon crumbles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Although she knew full well what Aunt Pansy meant. Cathy Logan, daughter of Nathan Jackson – Grandpa Nate – headed up numerous church committees, sat on boards and councils and raised funds for whatever needed money. She ironed her husband’s clothing to bright sharp points every morning, never forgot lipstick, and was, generally, a shining star of goodness and light.
Carrie spent a lot of time wearing sweat pants, in a dark room, muttering to her cat, but she shared the same tendency to tight shoulders and cautious joy as her mother. Whether it was nature or nurture, she couldn’t say.
“I knew her as a girl, you know.” Pansy reached for another muffin.
“You knew everyone as a girl. Good thing you walk everywhere. Hasn’t your doctor told you carbs aren’t good for you?”
Pansy wrinkled her nose, making lines appear between her eyebrows. On anyone else, it would look gnomish. But Pan, with her lanky limbs, wild hair and easy smile, looked like an aging supermodel. Talk about good genes.
“How can something that makes me so happy not be good for me? This is what I’m talking about, sweet-pea.” She poked her treat in Carrie’s direction. “That Cathy work-work-works and smile-smile-smiles but she’s too brittle. One day, she’s gonna break. That woman needs something. Rolling around with a dozen muffins would be a start.”
Carrie laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Her mom’s diet revolved around kale, quinoa, nutritional yeast and bio-identical hormones.
Pansy quirked an eyebrow. “Makes me wonder what else she’s missing in her life. Everything okay between her and your dad?”
“Auntie, please.” Carrie winced. Her parents’ love life was right up there at the top of her Don’t-Think-About-This-Ever list. As far as she was concerned, she, Mark and Natalie had been dropped into a cabbage patch by fairies. As five-year-olds.
“Oh, play spinster with me. I can tell you know what I’m talking about.” Her eyes narrowed. A roguish expression came over her face. “Sometimes there’s nothing a woman needs more than a good-”
“Aunt Pan!”
“Oh, well.” She shrugged a shoulder dismissively. “Maybe I thought of you because I ran into that fetching young man that lives to hell and gone up Mission Range Road. You know the one I mean. He bought the old Lewis place. If I wasn’t older than dirt, I tell you-”
