ever heard from her before.
“She’s, uh…I—”
“Where is she?” She pushed past him. “Lacey!” She strode into the living room, looking around wildly. “Lacey Campbell! Where are you?”
“She’s in the kitchen. Cripes, Carin, relax. She’s—”
“I’m here, Mom.” Lacey appeared in the doorway, clutching her backpack, looking worried.
“See,” Nathan said. “She’s fine.”
But Carin didn’t even look at him. She was glaring at their daughter. “I told you he was coming by tomorrow, didn’t I?”
“Yes. But I wanted to see him tonight.”
“And the world runs according to what you want?”
“I left you a note.”
“Not good enough.”
“I’m almost thirteen years old!”
“Then start acting like it.”
“He was glad I came. Weren’t you?” Lacey turned to him.
Shoved straight into the middle, Nathan swallowed. “Of course. But—”
“See!” Lacey said triumphantly to her mother.
Carin shot him a fulminating glare. “It doesn’t matter whether he was glad or not. I’m your mother and I didn’t give you permission.”
“Well, he’s my father and he—”
“Doesn’t want you to start a fight with your mother,” Nathan said firmly, getting a grip at last. If there was one thing he did know about parenting it was that the two of them needed to present a united front. “I was glad to see you,” he said to Lacey. “Very glad. But glad as I was, if your mother said tomorrow, she meant tomorrow. You shouldn’t have come without asking.”
“But—”
Nathan steeled himself against the accusation of betrayal in her look. “It might be tough being a one-parent child,” he told her firmly, “but you’ll find out it’s not always a picnic having two, either. Especially when they stick together.”
Lacey scowled. She looked from him to Carin and back again. Her shoulders slumped.
Nathan hardened his heart against it. “Go on with your mother now,” he said, feeling every inch the father Carin had never given him a chance to become. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“But—” She turned beseeching eyes on him.
“Tomorrow, Lace. Unless you don’t want me to show you that fishing spot.”
Lacey’s eyes narrowed, as if she weren’t sure she believed him. She waited hopefully for him to cave in. When he didn’t, she shook her head sadly. “You’re as bad as Mom,” she muttered. Then, shouldering her backpack, she loped past him out the door.
Watching her go, Nathan felt guilty and parental at the same time. He supposed it was a fairly common feeling. Once Lacey had gone, he looked at Carin.
Her arms were crossed like a shield over her breasts. “Thank you,” she muttered, her tone grudging.
“Don’t fall all over yourself with gratitude.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Her intransigence annoyed him. “Oh, come on, Carin. No harm done. She’s fine. And you can hardly blame her for wanting to meet me.”
Carin’s eyes flashed. “I blame her for not following the rules!”
“I remember when we didn’t always follow the rules, Carin.”
Their gazes met. Locked. Dueled. Minds—and hearts—remembered.
“Carin—” He tried once more, said her name softly this time.
But she tore her gaze away. “Good night, Nathan.”
And she hurried down the steps and almost ran up the drive after their daughter.
CHAPTER THREE
“HE’S SO COOL, Mom,” Lacey said over and over as they walked home.
As soon as she was sure that her mother wasn’t furious anymore, Lacey hadn’t stopped singing Nathan’s praises. All the way over the hill and along the narrow road through the trees and into Pelican Town she chattered on.
“He told me about Zeno. The wolf Zeno,” Lacey qualified, because the mongrel dog she had taken to feeding a few months back and who now slept on the porch was, amazingly enough, called Zeno, too.
“Did he?” Carin responded absently.
“And he liked my photos! He said they were good. Did you know he has to throw out a lot of his, too?” Lacey hopped around a pothole and grinned over her shoulder at her mother. “He says he throws out way more than he keeps.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
She wasn’t really listening to her daughter. She was busy cringing at how frantic she’d sounded and feeling furious that he had sided with her so willingly—even though, she acknowleged, she’d have been even more furious if he hadn’t.
“He even said I could help him pick photos for his next book.” Lacey opened the gate to their tiny front garden. “D’you want to see which ones of mine he really liked?”
“Tomorrow,” Carin said.
“But—”
“Tomorrow, Lacey,” Carin said in her she-who-must-be-obeyed voice. “Go get ready for bed. It’s nearly eleven o’clock.”
She could see that Lacey was humming with energy and the desire to talk till dawn. But Carin needed peace and quiet and