She rolled her eyes at him.
"You're right. You know who might understand what you're going through? Maybe someone who is also destined to head a monarchy one day. Hmmm. Do I know anyone like that?"
She threw her shoe at him.
"I love the Swedish people too much to inflict your brother on them. As for Great Britain, God alone can help them."
"You, of all people, should realize that there's more to the lot of us than what we show on the surface."
"You are clever. You would make an excellent politician. I, however, would make a better one. I will not be distracted by your attempted change of subject. You are mistaken not to consult Carrie about what she wants."
"It's too late for us. She's already gone back to America."
Astrid pulled her phone from her purse.
"Amazing little devices they have now. It's a machine that allows for two-way communication, even across oceans. And there are these other things, perhaps you've heard of them -- airplanes?"
"You realize that your role here isn't as an advisor, don't you?"
"Yes. You could have chosen anyone to show up here tonight on your arm, but you chose the one woman in all the world with no interest in seducing you. So I’m wondering why that is. Why choose me? If you really want to finish with Carrie, why not call up one of the many women who'd be more than eager to be paparazzi bait and give you a little sport in the bedroom afterward?"--she leaned forward and tapped him on the chest--"right there. The face you made, it was like I'd just suggested something repugnant to you. Most men don't have that reaction to the idea of sex with models or actresses. But you're only interested in one woman, and your own misguided sense of chivalry is going to ruin any chance of happiness you could have with her."
Carrie was in her parents' kitchen making chocolate chip cookies with walnuts -- just like her dad liked them. She'd slipped in some cinnamon, just a pinch, because cinnamon reminded everyone of Christmas, and Christmas brought to mind thoughts of families at their best. Whether it was true or not (and it usually wasn't) Christmas made people believe that their families were normal, functional, and happy. Carrie figured it was a collective delusion, but she hoped it would work in her favor. She hated to think of what this Christmas would be like for her family. Would they even still be a family by then?
"Carrie, what are you doing here?" her father called before he'd even rounded the corner to the kitchen.
"How did you know it was me?"
She put the last batch of cookies on a wire rack to cool and he kissed her cheek.
I smell walnuts. Your mother and sister don't like walnuts, so when they bake cookies, which is rare, they bake them without the nuts. Which is why I like yours the best. What brings you here in the middle of the afternoon? Shouldn't you be at work?"
He filched one from the plate and took a bite, dropping a chocolate blob onto his shirt front. She used a spatula to slide the cookies onto a fresh plate. She should have spent some time rehearsing what to say.
"I wanted to check on you. You know, make sure everything is okay."
He sighed as he seated himself on a stool at the breakfast bar.
"No, kitten, everything is not okay."
She pushed the plate of cookies across the bar to him.
"How bad?"
"The amount of money they spent to rent that castle alone was more than I paid for both my daughters' college educations combined. And that isn't counting what they spent on top photographers, top videographers, top florists, and the like. It seems the Rhys-Coopers only go in for the top in everything."
"But you don't have to pay them back. You never agreed to do that. It's only their own vanity that made them spend so much money."
He picked up another cookie but only stared at it.
"I don't know what happened between Amanda and Phillip. I don't think I want to know for sure, but I can guess."
Carrie had never tried so hard in her life to keep her face impassive.
"The long and short of it is that Amanda mistreated Phillip. He was, still is, a good man, and I'm sorry not to have him as a son-in-law. He's not like his mother, not that I ever saw. He didn't deserve what happened to him."
"He also didn't deserve to spend the rest of his life with a woman who couldn't love him. I'm not saying what Amanda did was right. God knows, I wish she'd had better timing, but ultimately, she did the right thing, not going through with the wedding."
He brushed cookie crumbs from his shirt front.
"I know. I know you're right. That damn wedding, and not even a happily ever after to show for all the money."
"Dad, you don't have to pay for that wedding. You never agreed to pay for it, and you can't be forced to pay for it now."
"You don't think we owe them something? After the way Amanda behaved, you really don't think I owe that family something? If Phillip had been the one to act the way Amanda did, I'd be demanding a pound of flesh, you can be damn sure about that. I don't like the woman, but I don't blame Mrs. Rhys-Cooper for wanting revenge on us. Maybe it's something you have to be a parent to understand. God, I can't help thinking this is my fault. I know I overindulged Amanda. She's spoiled and selfish. I'm her father. Don't I have to take some responsibility for making her that way?"
"You are a wonderful father, the best. Don't blame yourself for any of this."
Carrie wrapped her arms around him.
"You were different. You were easy. You always had such a good head on your shoulders. When Amanda came along, I guess I figured that what worked with you would work with her, but she's different. I failed with her, and now that failure has consequences."
Carrie let that statement sit on the air. It would take more than a dash of cinnamon to fix this.
"Mom is worried about the money. I don't think I've ever seen her give finances a single thought, but she's worried now."
"She was against me taking another mortgage out on the house."
"What? The house was just paid off last year. You said it was one of the proudest moments of your life. We even burned the payment book. How could you take out another mortgage?"
"How could I not? What's done is done, Carrie. Your mother will just have to get over it."
Nope, not enough cinnamon in the entire world. She knew the tone of her father's voice when he'd made up his mind and wouldn't be swayed.
"What can I do to help?"
"Nothing. There's nothing you can do. Maybe pour me a glass of milk. Milk would help."
He ate a cookie, which Carrie knew was for her benefit alone. She poured the milk, covered the plate of cookies with plastic wrap, and decided her dad could use a little alone time. She picked up her purse and stopped dead in the foyer when she saw Amanda, tears streaming down her face and silent sobs shaking her shoulders. Carrie pulled Amanda outside to the driveway.
"He can't stand the sight of me," Amanda cried.
"That's not true. Everybody is just adjusting. We thought we'd be celebrating your wedding and Skyping with you from Bora Bora now. It's just an adjustment for everybody."
"I heard it all, Carrie. Don't try and spare my feelings. I don't deserve it."
"Come on now, this isn't going to help."
"Nothing will help. Unless you can get help from Edward. He's a prince. Surely he can help. He can talk to Mrs. Rhys-Cooper. She'll listen to him. A royal could ask her to strip naked and run the length of Downing Street and she'd probably do it."
"I don't even know how to get in touch with Edward. After all the stuff the tabloids said, I'm sure he wants nothing to do with me. Besides, I've seen the papers. Edward has moved on."
"Then there's nothing we can do. I've ruined everything. I broke Phillip's heart. I embarrassed you and ruined your chances with Edward. Mom cries all the time, and Daddy can't stand the sight of me.”
"Listen. You were wrong to try and seduce Jamie. You know that already, so I'm not going to flay you for it. As for Phillip, if you didn't love him enough to marry him, then you absolutely did the right thing by calling off the wedding. A year from now, what happened in Scotland won't sting nearly as much for either of you, but if you'd gone through with the wedding out of some sense of obligation, you'd both be miserable, probably for the rest of your lives. As for mom and dad, it'll just take time."
She'd meant to make Amanda feel better, but even she didn't believe what she'd said. Her father was a stubborn man, but it was a quiet stubborn. He was never one to go on and on about how busy or stressed he was, he'd just retire to his study immediately after dinner and work until late in the night. He had an ethic, and that ethic was that you did what you said you'd do. If he told his students he'd have their papers graded the next day, then he'd make good on that promise. If he'd signed a bank loan to have the car paid off by a certain date, then it would be paid off -- even if his wife had gone to the dealership and upgraded to a newer model without consulting him. And if you said you'd marry somebody, then in his world, you married him. He wasn't cruel or uncaring toward Amanda, he just didn't speak her language. And if he said he'd pay back Mrs. Rhys-Cooper, nothing would stop him from doing it, not even the pesky fact of not having the money to do so.
"Do you want to come home with me? You're welcome to crash on my couch?"
Amanda had three weeks off from her job for her honeymoon, and her boss at the museum didn't really expect her to return to work. Mrs. Phillip Rhys-Cooper would hardly need to have her own income. To Carrie's knowledge, Amanda hadn't yet decided whether she'd return to London or not, so when Amanda turned down her offer, Carrie couldn't help but feel relieved. Because she was so relieved, she was also ashamed of herself.
when Carrie got home to the little house she rented with her best friend, Jeannie was lounging on the couch watching The Real Housewives of wherever was fashionable today. Jeannie clicked off the television.
"Jesus, you look like hell."
"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."
"Your mother or your sister, which one? Only one of them can put you in this kind of mood."
Carrie sat down on the couch beside Jeannie.
"Both actually. And Dad too, just to change up the routine and keep me guessing I suppose."
"There's a part of me, an admittedly small minded and petty part, that's a little bit glad to see your perfect family struggling with the trials that the rest of the unwashed masses experience all the time. It's not pretty, and I'm not proud of it, but there it is."
Jeannie, your mother is the mayor and your father owns a successful Toyota dealership. I hardly think you can call your family the unwashed masses."
"Yeah, but I got pregnant out of wedlock and disgraced my family's good name."
"You gave them a beautiful grandson they adore. Truly disgraceful, you hussy. To hear you talk, you'd think nearly naked photos of you were published and seen all over the world."
Jeannie threw a throw pillow at her.
"I get your point. But that doesn't change the fact that you look like shit. What happened?"
Carrie gave Jeannie the boiled down, minus the tears and histrionics, version of events. Jeannie had known Carrie and Carrie's family long enough to realize that where Amanda and Carrie's mother were involved, tears and histrionics were a given.
"And now you're going to fix things, white knight fashion?"
Carrie fell back against the couch.
"Yep."
"How?"
"I don't have many options. I only have one thing that will get that kind of money."
"Carrie, you can't. It would kill you."
"It might not be so bad. Maybe Marybeth would let me still work there as a knitting instructor."
She had to do it. She knew that. But she couldn't talk about it. Before she became the third MacCallum of the day to end up a blubbering mess, she hugged Jeannie and locked herself in her bedroom. Okay, so she was going to be a blubbering mess anyway, but she preferred to do it without an audience.
When she got herself marginally under control, she pulled her phone from her pocket and began searching for a commercial realtor in Spring Valley.
***
Carrie had pulled it together. Mostly. She'd had another mini-breakdown over breakfast, so Jeannie had volunteered to open the store for her. Carrie had taken the luxury of a late morning to drown her sorrows in a bowl of Lucky Charms. Okay, two bowls. What did a waistline matter anyway? It wasn't like she'd be getting naked for anybody anytime soon. Still, she parked a block away from her store to give herself some exercise. Of course, she knew full well that one couldn't just exercise away an extra thousand calories, but—well, if you ate Lucky Charms for breakfast you walked to work. That's just how it was.
She regretted her choice of breakfast even more when she got to her store and saw Tonya Harlow, the realtor she'd called last night, putting a for sale sign in the window. She'd made the decision, but now, with the reality staring back at her from her own window display, she felt sick to her stomach.
"Hey there, Carrie," Tonya said and extended her hand.
"Wow, you work fast."
"Early bird gets the worm," Tonya said, her salesperson smile on full blast, "This is a prime location, so I don't expect it'll be on the market for long. I left the contract inside with Jeannie. Just look the papers over, sign, and drop them off at my office whenever you get a chance."
"Thanks. I will."
And she would. She had to. She started one business. She could always start another.
She went inside thinking about how Lucky Charms did not, in fact, bring one good luck. Not that she'd expected a breakfast cereal to change her life, but one could hope, right? Jeannie was at the counter cursing the credit card machine -- a regular occurrence -- and today's knitting club was clustered around the work tables, an island of snow white hair against a backdrop of brightly colored yarn. Today's club was the intarsia knitters. Intarsia was a knitting technique that used the yarn to create an actual picture. Intarsia was knitting at its most challenging. Most new knitters didn't have the patience, let alone the skill or time for it, so the intarsia club was made up of her most experienced knitters, those who liked to tell her that they were knitting sweaters when Carrie's mama was in diapers. They were a loud, opinionated lot who talked nonstop, all at once, the entire time they were knitting.
Usually. Today they were quiet, speaking in whispers even, strange indeed given that half of them wore hearing aids.
"What's going on?" Carrie whispered over the counter to Jeannie.
Jeannie pointed toward a display of needles. A man was there, admiring a set of Serenity rosewood straights. He wore a hat and sunglasses, but even so, Carrie could tell that he was absolutely gorgeous. And familiar. As a matter of fact, he was one of the two most gorgeous men Carrie had ever seen up close.
Under the guise of rearranging the merchandise, she stood next to him.
"Can I help you?" she said for the benefit of the women straining to hear.
"Actually, I'm here to help you."
He lowered his shades to blast her with his "none can resist me so don't even try" grin.
"Jamie, what are you doing here?" she whispered.
"I'm taking responsibility for my actions. Quite possibly for the first time in my life."
"And you're doing it in my store?"
"I could, but I'm afraid it might be more than they could stand.”
He inclined his head toward the now completely silent intarsia table, “Is there somewhere else we can go?"
With a vague wave to Jeannie, Carrie led Jamie out of the store.
"We can go to my apartment. I've parked a block over."
His brow creased as he looked from her to the row of empty parking spaces right in front of her shop, but he didn't ask. "Wait, let's go in here," he said when they passed Josephine's Diner."