grabbed the microphone and asked Phil Mickelson to come to the stage and say a few words about winning the Inaugural Palmetto Pointe Open.
Charlotte, Daddy, Brian, and Deirdre sat at a table in the far left corner. I wandered toward them, leaned down and hugged each one.
Charlotte stood. “Wow, darlin’, you have so outdone yourself. This is absolutely amazing.”
“Thanks.”
Brian came next. “The band is unbelievable. You downplayed how good they are.”
“They sound great in here, don’t they?”
They all nodded. Deirdre lifted her hand, pointed to the stage with her wineglass. “You were right, I woulda recognized Jimmy.” She shook her head. “Crazy memories.”
“Yes, crazy.” I pulled a stray leaf from the palm frond off their table, when Caroline walked up next to me, tapped my elbow.
“Kara, we have an issue with a steak that’s too raw. Would you like me to talk to the patron or do you want to?”
I turned toward my family and Charlotte and rolled my eyes. “Y’all have so much fun that it counts for me too.” I walked off with Caroline. “I’ll send the caterer out. You can continue to walk the tables and check on people, make sure there’s no other major crisis.”
Caroline touched the shoulder of a young woman next to her. “Kara, I’d like you to meet my friend, Mia.”
I nodded. “Hi, Mia. Nice to meet you, hope you enjoy the party.”
“Thank you.” She nodded her head of round, bulbous curls surrounding a cherub-dimpled face. “What an amazing party. The band is fab.”
“Thanks.” A slow tingle of recognition spread down my arms and chest, then reached my mind. Mia?
Peyton.
Caroline and Mia wound through the crowd. I caught up to them, touched Caroline’s elbow. “Excuse us, Mia. I need to talk to Caroline.”
“No problem. I need to get back to my table.” She nodded, glanced over her shoulder with a slight grimace.
“Caroline, who was that?”
“An old friend I talked into buying one of these tickets for charity.” She shifted her weight back and forth on her stiletto heels.
“You knew she used to be engaged to Peyton, didn’t you?”
“Yes. She’s my best friend—I tried to tell you a couple times that my dearest friend used to date him, but it always seemed like the wrong time, and I didn’t want to get fired . . . and—”
“Date him? She was engaged to him, Caroline.”
“I know, but it wasn’t for long, and . . . I’m sorry, I guess I shoulda said something.”
“Yeah, that probably would’ve been a good idea. Anything you’d like to tell me now?”
“No.” She shook her head.
I swiveled on my heels to walk away when a thought, like the poke of a sharp pin against my chest, came to me. I stopped, looked back to Caroline. “Does Peyton know you’re friends with Mia?”
She grimaced. “Yes, my boyfriend and I went out with them a few times a couple years ago.”
“Thank you, Caroline. Please check on table six. It looks as though they’re trying to get our attention.”
I glanced around the room for Peyton, and found him leaning against a pillar at the back of the room. I wound my way toward him. He pulled me close. “I love you, Kara. You know that.”
I didn’t answer, but I did allow his arm to rest over my shoulder.
We stood together and listened to Phil thank the crowd, then ask Peyton to come onstage and say a few words to his hometown fans. He grabbed my hand, led me toward the stage to thunderous applause.
When the tables had been cleared and the band had packed up and gone, I stood at the back of the room with the satisfaction of a job well done. We’d raised well over our monetary goal for the Tuberous Sclerosis Society. I sighed, picked up my satchel and headed for the back door. Peyton had left hours earlier with his golf buddies; I’d see him in the morning. I had a few questions to ask him, but now was definitely not the time.
The parking lot was empty save for the catering trucks, employee cars, and the Unknown Souls bus. I clicked the button on my key to unlock the car door, then turned to the sound of popping gravel. Jack stood against the band bus, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted. His chinos were wrinkled, his cotton button-down open at the top. A gas lamp flickered from the back door of the clubhouse, sending shadows across his face, his hair.
We stood like this for a long moment,