“They would have made their way over here eventually. They’re grown-ups. They’re old enough to be grown-ups three times over.”
“Only legally and literally. Emotionally, I think they’re fourteen.”
He chuckles. “You fixed Mrs. Halvorsen’s mailbox last week.”
I shrug. “So? She asked.”
“You walk Mr. Wu’s dog nearly every week.”
“He needs someone?—”
“You helped Jerry file a permit for the shed he wants to build in the spring.”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“You’re an estate attorney. Quinn could have done it. Hell, he could have done it himself, he just didn’t want to.”
“Quinn has school,” I say, “and her mom.” The excuses are feeble, even to my own ears.
“You don’t have a life,” he says.
“I clearly have a life, one you just elucidated quite well, actually.”
“You have responsibilities,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I barely have time to breathe.”
“That’s exactly my point.” He straightens. “You spend all your time working and taking care of everyone else instead of yourself.”
“All this because I missed lunch?”
“Would you even eat if I didn’t plan a regular time to share a meal?” he counters.
Before I can respond, a loud thud echoes from the street.
We both look over.
Daphne is parked across the street, standing next to her open trunk, hands on her hips. She’s facing down the street where Noah is unloading a box from the back seat of his pickup and passing it over to Vivien.
It’s huge; she can barely get her arms around it.
Noah turns away, sticking his head back into his truck, oblivious.
Vivien makes her slow way down the street toward Daphne.
I can’t look away. It’s an accident waiting to happen. The box is too big for Vivien to see in front of her. She’s barely holding on, and she’s traipsing through plow-packed slick snow.
Carter sighs. “You want to go help her, don’t you?”
I lift a hand toward the spectacle occurring across the street. “Don’t you? Can’t you see this?”
“Daphne is right there if Vivien needs assistance.”
“But she’s not helping.”
He steps next to me so we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Vivien will ask. She knows how to use her words.” He shrugs. “Or she won’t, and she’ll drop the box, and then they’ll pick it up and move on. You don’t have to fix everything for everyone all the time.”
I groan. “I can’t help it. It’s part of my makeup. I see a problem, I want to fix it.”
