Page 33 of Keepsakes and Kismet

The only thing Dad keeps track of is his beloved stamp collection, so it’s pointless to ask him. Plus, the last time he golfed was probably for a work meeting twenty years ago.

I rummage through the Forbidden Closet No One Dares to Open in the hallway, getting pummeled with the odds and ends that fall out of it. A dusty old candle—probably the first one Yankee made himself—almost bonks me in the head. I should’ve bought new clubs. Cursing my poor planning, I hope I don’t embarrass Peyton at the club today.

A throat clears, and I turn around, bristling when I see several sets of eyes staring at me. Dad, Cait, Clover, and Clementine stand next to Ma and blink in tandem.

Clover squints. “Why do you need golf clubs?”

“Yeah. Are you going somewhere?” Clementine chimes in.

Cait steps closer. “Girls. Give him some space. But, yeah—why do you need golf clubs and where are you going?”

I sigh. “Jesus Christ. It’s not like I’m asking for a weapon of mass destruction.”

Ma’s ears perk up with that comment. “Weapon? Are you using the golf club as a weapon? Is this your cry for help?”

Clementine and Clover both cross their arms at the same time like twins from a horror movie.

Clover snickers. “Yeah, Callum. Why are you bashing people with golf clubs like some sort of local vigilante?”

“I’m not bashing anyone! For the love of God. I’m just going to a golf club. That’s all. Now, if someone will tell me where⁠—”

Cait raises an eyebrow. “You don’t golf.”

I lift my chin. “I’m athletic.”

“But you haven’t golfed in years.”

I glare at Cait. “Where are your kids? Don’t you have smaller people to boss around?”

“Don’t worry about them. They’re fine. Probably.” She pauses. “It is kind of quiet. I’ll check on them in a minute… Actually, hold on.”

I smirk as Cait power walks down the hallway. With Lila and Logan, the absence of noise is never a good thing.

Scanning the curious faces of the remaining Galvins, I give up on trying to keep the outing close to my chest. It’s a lost cause, and I don’t have time to keep fighting them. “I’m meeting a friend at the golf club in Eaglewood. It’s for her job. Not a big deal.”

A flurry of words fly through the air at the same time.

“It’s happening⁠—”

“Someone text the others. Carter and Christopher will want to know.”

“Her? Oh my God⁠—”

“Clementine, get the man some chapstick.”

I drag a hand down my face. “Calm down! Everyone needs to calm down. Did you listen to what I said? I’m helping a friend with something for work.”

“It’s probably Peyton,” Clementine says casually.

I stare up at the ceiling and hold my breath for a moment, trying to temper my growing frustration with the nosiest family alive.

“Who’s Peyton?” Ma asks.

Dad claps me on the back. “A date. Proud of you, son.”

You’d think a date was the Nobel Prize with the way they’re acting. Actually, they’d probably be less excited if I won an actual Nobel Prize.

“Once again. Not a date. We’re friends.”