and although he glanced in her direction, Carrie had the impression that he wasn’t really seeing her. She had the distinct notion that if she’d been standing there nude he wouldn’t have noticed or, for that matter, cared.
The doors started to shut when Mackenzie yelled, “Can I come over and talk to you sometime?”
“Sure.” The elevator closed, but not before Carrie heard the girl’s father voice his disapproval. She didn’t know if the two of them were continuing their disagreement, or if this had to do with Mackenzie inviting herself over to visit.
Holding her bags, Carrie had some difficulty unlocking and opening her apartment door without dropping everything. She slammed it closed with one foot and dumped the Christmas ornaments on the sofa, then hauled everything else into her small kitchen.
“You’d been wanting to meet him,” she said aloud. “Now you have.” She hated to admit it, but Philip Lark had been a disappointment. He showed about as much interest in her as he would a loaf of bread in the bakery window. Well, what did she expect? The fact that she expected anything was because she’d listened to Madame Frederick one too many times. The older woman claimed to see Carrie’s future and predicted that, before the end of the year, she’d meet the man of her dreams when he moved into this very building. Yeah, right. She refused to put any credence into that prophecy. Madame Frederick was a sweet, rather strange old lady with a romantic heart.
Carrie pulled out the mail, scanned the envelopes and, except for two Christmas cards and a bill, threw the rest in the garbage. She’d just started to unpack her groceries when there was a knock at the door.
“Hello again,” Mackenzie Lark said cheerfully when Carrie opened the door. The quickness of her return took Carrie by surprise.
“You said I could come see you,” the teenager reminded her.
“Sure, come on in.” Mackenzie walked into the apartment, glanced around admiringly and then collapsed onto the sofa.
“Are you still fighting with your dad?” Carrie asked. She’d had some real go-rounds with her mother before Charlotte married Jason Manning ten years earlier. At the time, Carrie and her mother had been constantly at odds. Carrie knew she was to blame, in part, but she was also aware that her mother had been lonely and unhappy.
Hindsight told her that the root of their problem had been her parents’ divorce. Carrie didn’t remember a lot about her father—her parents had separated when she was four or five. As she grew older, she came to resent that she didn’t have a father, and for reasons that were never clear, she’d blamed her mother.
“Dad doesn’t understand.” Mackenzie lowered her eyes, her mouth turned down.
“About what?” Carrie asked gently.
The girl stood and walked over to the kitchen and watched Carrie put away groceries. She folded her arms on the counter and then rested her chin there. “Everything. We can’t talk without fighting. It’s tough being a teenager.”
“You might find this difficult to believe, but it’s just as difficult raising one,” Carrie said.
Mackenzie sighed. “It didn’t used to be like this with Dad and me. We got along really well. It wasn’t easy when Mom left, but we managed.”
“So your parents are divorced?” Although she didn’t mean to pry, she was definitely curious.
Mackenzie wrinkled her nose. “It was awful when they split.”
“It always is. My parents divorced when I was just a kid. I barely remember my dad.”
“Did you see him very much afterward?”
Carrie shook her head. It had bothered her when she was younger, but she’d made her peace with it as an adult. She’d felt hurt that her father didn’t want to be part of her life, but ultimately she’d decided that was his choice—and his loss.
“I’m spending Christmas with my mom and her new husband.” Mackenzie’s eyes brightened. “I haven’t seen her in almost a year. She’s been busy,” she said. “Mom works for one of the big banks in downtown Seattle and she’s got this really important position and has to travel and it’s hard for her to have me over. Dad’s a systems analyst.”
Carrie heard the pain in Mackenzie’s voice. “You’re fifteen?” she asked, deliberately adding a couple of years to her estimate, remembering how important it was to look older when one was that age.
Mackenzie straightened. “Thirteen, actually.”
Carrie opened a bag of fat-free, cheese-flavored rice cakes and dumped them onto a plate. Mackenzie helped herself to one and Carrie did, as well. They sat across from each other on opposite sides of the kitchen counter.
“You know what I think?” Mackenzie said, her dark eyes intense. “My dad needs a woman.”
The rice cake stuck midway down Carrie’s throat. “A … woman?”
“Yeah, a wife. All he does is work, work, work. It’s like he can forget about my mother if he stays at the office long enough.” She grabbed another rice cake. “Madame Frederick said so, too. And she says he’s going to meet someone, but she couldn’t be any more specific than that.”
“Madame Frederick?”
“She looked into her crystal ball for me and said she saw lots of changes in my future. I wasn’t too happy—except for the part about my dad. There’ve been too many changes already with the move and all. I miss my friends and it’s taking way longer to build the new house than it was supposed to. Originally we were going to be in for Christmas, but now I doubt it’ll be ready before next Thanksgiving. Dad doesn’t seem to mind, but it bugs me. I’m the one who’s going to a strange school and everything.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I want my life back.”
“That’s understandable.”
Mackenzie seemed caught up in a fantasy world of her own. “You know, I think Madame Frederick might’ve stumbled on something here.” Her voice rose with enthusiasm.
“Stumbled on something?” Carrie repeated cautiously.
“You know, about a relationship for my dad. I wonder how I could arrange that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Finding a new wife for my dad.”
“Mackenzie,” Carrie said and laughed nervously. “A daughter can’t arrange that sort of thing.”
“Why not?” She seemed taken aback.
“Well, because marriage is serious. It’s love and commitment between two people. It’s … it’s …”
“The perfect solution,” Mackenzie finished for her. “Dad and I’ve always liked the same things. We’ve always agreed on everything … well, until recently. It makes sense that I should be the one to find him a wife.”
“Mackenzie …”
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, without a pause. “That my dad won’t appreciate my
