Carly looked at Max sidelong. Their relationship was so new that she hadn’t yet explained her mother to him.
Her boyfriend—Max’s father, God save him—put down his oven mitt, wiped his hands on his apron, and walked around the bar to greet her. His smile was as warm and charming as his son’s, and she instantly liked him. He was shorter than Max. He had a kind face, a thick head of gray hair, and curiously, a missing forefinger on his left hand. “Hello, Carly. Welcome.”
“Hi. Thank you. Very nice to meet you.”
“Toby Sheffington,” he said, shaking her hand. “And this is my son—”
“Yeah, funny thing,” Max said, interrupting his dad before he made the introduction. “Carly and I have actually met.”
“What?” her mother trilled. “Well isn’t this wonderful! It’s already a family affair! I want to hear how you two met, but first, Carly, would you like some wine?”
Carly held out the wine she’d brought. “Yes, please. A bucket of it if you have it.”
Everyone in the room looked at her with surprise.
“Just kidding,” she muttered. But so not kidding. She was going to need a new kind of fortitude to get through this evening.
“So,” Max said, and put his hand to the small of Carly’s back, giving her a nudge toward the barstools. Mr. Sheffington took her offering around the kitchen bar, poured her a glass from an open bottle, and slid it across the top to her. Carly picked it up and took a slug, and as she did, she caught her mother’s disapproving look. She carefully put the glass down.
“So, umm . . . where did you two meet?” Carly asked with as much enthusiasm as she could possibly muster. Which was none.
“At the Austin Canine Coalition,” Mr. Sheffington said. “We’re volunteers there.”
Carly laughed at a pitch that was way too high for her. “My mom went to the ACC and came back with a dog and a boyfriend and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.”
Mr. Sheffington laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
Her mother did not laugh. One of Max’s brows arched in the silent question of what exactly she was doing. How was she supposed to know? She couldn’t think right now.
Carly’s mother looked at Max and asked, “And how did the two of you meet?”
Oh no. Her mother was going to have to deal with her. “Well,” Carly said, before Max could answer. She picked up her wineglass again. “You remember the dog you came back with that I had to take? He got mixed up with Max’s dog.”
“Oh! Max, does that mean your delightful pup is the same pup someone left at Carly’s house?”
“That’s her,” Max said.
“And did you get Carly’s sad dog?”
“For a time,” Max said.
“This is so much fun!” her mother declared. “Who would think we’d all four meet! This only happens in those Nora Ephron movies, but here we are, and really, doesn’t it make everything so much easier that we’re all acquainted?”
This was no Nora Ephron movie. This was not easier in any shape or form. This was horrible.
“Carly, I understand you’re in fashion,” Mr. Sheffington said.
“Not exactly,” she said. “I’m a publicist for a fashion designer who will be showing in the New Designer Showcase in New York.”
“Max is a brain scientist,” her mother said. “That’s a job that requires a very high intelligence.” Her mother waggled her brows at Carly, which, knowing her mother, was an indication that she thought Carly ought to be impressed with this fact.
“Yes, he, ah . . . he mentioned it.” She glanced at Max for help. He looked terribly ill at ease.
“I hope you like chicken Parmesan and popovers,” Mr. Sheffington said to Carly, and held out a pan so that she could admire the dish.
“That looks delicious,” Carly said. “Thank you for, um, agreeing to meet me, Mr. Sheffington.”
“Call me Toby,” he said genially. “And of course! I am very happy to finally meet you. I know you’re just looking out for your mamma.”
She was not looking out for her mother. She was looking out for the rest of her family, because none of them could trust Mom to not do something head-scratching and crazy. She could have been running off to Vegas with a circus clown for all Carly knew.
“Carly is very attached to her father,” her mother said, apropos of nothing.
“What?” Carly’s laugh was strangled. “That’s not true, Mom.”