to Carrie’s surprise, she loved the movie, which was an animated feature. She was soon completely immersed in the plot. Philip laughed in all the places she did and whatever tension existed between them melted away with their shared enjoyment.
When the movie ended, Carrie was sorry there wasn’t more. While it was true that she’d enjoyed the story, she also found pleasure sitting with Philip. In fact, she liked him. She’d almost prefer to find something objectionable about him—a nervous habit, a personality trait she disliked, his attitude. Something. Anything that would distract from noticing how attractive he was.
He’d made it as plain as possible that he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her. With anyone, if that was any comfort. It wasn’t. She wanted him to be cold and standoffish, brusque and businesslike. The side of him she’d seen at the movie was laid-back and fun-loving. But she knew Philip hadn’t developed a sudden desire to escort his daughter to the movies. He’d offered because of Mackenzie’s disappointment over her mother’s lack of sensitivity. He loved his daughter and wanted to protect her from the pain only a selfish parent could inflict on a child.
“This was a nice thing you did,” she said as they exited the theater. The kids raced on ahead of them toward the parking lot. “It helped take Mackenzie’s mind off not hearing from her mother.”
“I’m not so sure it was a good idea,” he muttered, dumping the empty popcorn container in the garbage can on their way out the door.
“Why not?”
He turned and stared at her. “Because I find myself liking you.”
Her reaction must have shone in her eyes, because his own narrowed fractionally. “You felt it, too, didn’t you?”
She wanted to lie. But she couldn’t. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m not right for you,” he said.
“In other words, I’m wrong for you.”
He didn’t answer her for a long time. “I don’t want to hurt you, Carrie.”
“Don’t worry,” she answered brightly, “I won’t let you.”
Five
What do you think?” Mackenzie proudly held up a crochet hook with a lopsided snowflake dangling from it. “Carrie’s whole tree is decorated with snowflakes she crocheted,” she added. “Her grandma Manning taught her to crochet when she was about my age.” She wound the thread around her index finger and awkwardly manipulated the hook.
“It’s lovely, sweetheart.”
“Mom’ll be pleased, won’t she.” Mackenzie turned the question into a statement, so certain was she of his response.
“She’ll be thrilled.” Philip’s jaw tightened at the mention of Laura. His ex-wife had contacted Mackenzie and arranged a time for their daughter to visit her. Ever since she’d heard from her mother, Mackenzie had been walking five feet off the ground. Philip didn’t know what he’d do if Laura didn’t show. He wouldn’t put it past her, but he prayed she wouldn’t do anything so cruel.
“Carrie’s been great,” Mackenzie continued. “She taught me everything.” She paused long enough to look up at him. “I like her so much, Dad.”
The hint was there and it wasn’t subtle. The problem was that Philip had discovered that his feelings for Carrie were similar to those of his daughter. Although he avoided contact with Carrie, there was no escaping her. Mackenzie brought her name into every conversation, marching her virtues past him, one by one.
Carrie had become a real friend to Mackenzie. It used to be that his daughter moped about the apartment, complaining about missing her friends—although she spent plenty of time on the phone and the Internet with them—and generally making his life miserable. These days, if she wasn’t with Carrie, she was helping Maria with her cats, having tea with Madame Frederick—and having the leaves read—or lifting weights with Arnold.
“I’m going to miss the Christmas party,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s in the community room on Christmas Eve.” She glanced up to be certain he was listening. “Everyone in the building’s invited. Carrie’s going, so is Madame Frederick and just everyone. It’s going to be a blast.” She sighed with heartfelt regret. “But being with Mom is more important than a party. She’s really busy, you know,” Mackenzie said, not for the first time.
“I’m sure she is,” Philip muttered distractedly. He’d forgotten about the Christmas party. He’d received the notice a day or so earlier, and would’ve tossed it if Mackenzie hadn’t gone into ecstasies when she saw it. From her reaction, one would think it was an invitation to the Christmas ball to meet a bachelor prince. As for him, he had better things to do than spend the evening with a group of friendly oddballs—and Carrie.
Philip reached for his car keys and his gym bag. “I’ll only be gone an hour,” he promised.
“It’s okay. It’ll take me that long to finish this.” She looked up. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, putting everything aside and leaping out of the chair as if propelled upward by a loose spring. She ran into her bedroom and returned a moment later with a small white envelope. “It’s for you,” she said, watching him eagerly. “Open it now, okay?”
“Shouldn’t I wait until Christmas?”
“No.” She gestured for him to tear open the envelope.
Inside was a card in the shape of a silver bell.
“Go ahead and read it,” she urged, and would have done so herself if he hadn’t acted promptly. The card was an invitation to lunch at the corner deli. “I’m buying,” she insisted, “to thank you for being a great dad. We’ve had our differences this year and I want you to know that no matter what I say, I’ll always love you.”
“I feel the same way, and I don’t tell you that enough,” he murmured, touched by her words. “I’ll be happy to pay for lunch.”
“No way,” she said. “I’ve saved my allowance and did a few odd jobs for Madame Frederick and Arnold. I can afford it, as long as you don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“I’ll eat a big breakfast,” he said and kissed her on the cheek before he walked out the door. He pushed the button for the elevator and caught himself grinning. He’d been doing a lot more of that lately. In the beginning he thought moving into the apartment had been a mistake. No longer. The changes in Mackenzie since meeting Carrie had been dramatic.
The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, pushing the button for the lobby. It stopped on the next floor and Carrie entered, carrying a laundry basket. She hesitated when she saw he was the only other occupant.
“I don’t bite,” he assured her.
“That’s what they all say,” she teased back. She reached across him and pushed the button for the basement, then stepped back. The doors closed sluggishly. Finally the elevator started to move, its descent slow and methodical, then it lurched sharply, dropping several feet.
Carrie gasped and staggered against the wall.
Philip
