“Those kids are fine out there. We haven’t had an avalanche in more than ten years now. Michael! Your son’s here.”
Mike Maguire held up a finger, pumping his other hand as the kicker set for the extra point. “And it’s good!” He sent Carter a grin over his shoulder, his pale Irish skin flushed with joy and framed by his neat silver beard. “Giants are up by five!”
Sherry handed Carter a glass. “Since everything’s under control in here, and in there,” she added, nodding toward the stands, “why don’t you sit down and tell us all about you and Mackensie Elliot.”
“Mackensie Elliot? The photographer? Really?” Pam said, drawing out the word.
“I think I’ll catch the end of the game.”
“Not a chance.” Sherry maneuvered him back against the counter. “I heard from someone who heard from someone who saw the two of you getting cozy at Coffee Talk.”
“We had coffee. And talked. It’s the Coffee Talk way.”
“Then I heard from someone who heard from someone that you were even cozier at the Willows last night. What gives?”
Sherry was always hearing from someone who’d heard from someone, Carter thought wearily. His sister was like a human radio receiver. “We went out a couple of times.”
“You’re dating Mackensie Elliot?” Pam asked.
“Apparently.”
“The same Mackensie Elliot you mooned over for months back in high school.”
“How do you know I . . .” Stupid, Carter thought. His mother knew everything. “We just had dinner. It’s not national news.”
“It is around here,” Pam corrected. “You could’ve invited her here tonight. You know there’s always plenty.”
“We’re not . . . it’s not . . . We’re not at the point of family gatherings. We had dinner. It’s one date.”
“Two with the coffee,” Sherry corrected. “Are you seeing her again?”
“Probably. Maybe.” He felt his shoulders hunch as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.”
“I hear good things about her, and she does very good work. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be doing Sherry’s wedding.”
“Isn’t she Linda Elliot’s daughter? Or it’s Barrington now.”
“I haven’t met her mother. It was dinner.”
The news pulled Diane away from the window. “Linda Barrington, sure. Her daughter’s close friends with the Browns, and Emmaline Grant, and that other one. They run that wedding business together.”
“I guess that’s the one then,” Carter acknowledged.
“Linda Barrington.” Diane’s jaw tightened as she compressed her lips in an expression Carter knew reflected disapproval. “That’s the woman who had an affair with Stu Gibbons, and broke up his marriage.”
“She can hardly be held responsible for her mother’s behavior.” Pam opened the oven to check her roast. “And Stu broke up his own marriage.”
“Well, I heard that she pushed Stu to leave Maureen, and when he wouldn’t she told Maureen about the affair herself. Maureen skinned Stu in the divorce—and who could blame her—and after that she wasn’t so interested anymore.”
“Are we talking about Mackensie or her mother?” Pam wondered.
Diane shrugged. “I’m just saying what I know. People say she’s always on the hunt for the next husband, especially if he’s someone else’s.”
“I’m not dating Mackensie’s mother.” Carter’s tone was quiet enough, cool enough, to light a fire in Diane’s eyes.
“Who said you were? But you know what they say about apples and trees. You might want to be careful, that’s all, so you don’t have another Corrine Melton on your hands.”
“Di, why do you have to be such a bitch?” Sherry demanded.
“I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”
“Good plan.”
Pam cast her eyes at the ceiling as her oldest daughter stalked back to the windows. “She’s been in a mood since she got here.”
“She’s been in a mood since she was born,” Sherry muttered.
“That’s enough. She’s a pretty girl, as I recall. Mackensie Elliot. And as I said, I’ve heard good things about her. Her mother’s a difficult woman, no question. As I recall, her father’s charming and absent. It takes a lot of spine and stomach to make yourself into something when no one gives you a foundation.”
Carter leaned down, kissed his mother’s cheek. “Not everyone’s as lucky as we are.”
“Damn right. Diane, call those kids in so they can get cleaned up. That’s the two-minute warning.”
When dinner conversation jumped from a rehash of the game, to his niece’s school play, veered into wedding talk and skipped over to his nephew’s desperate desire for a puppy, Carter relaxed.
His relationship with Mac—if there was one—had apparently been taken off the table.
Nick cleared, a gesture that had endeared him to Pam since his first family dinner. Mike sat back, looked down the long