Author: Kristan Higgins

Margaret heaved a sigh. “Rejected again. People wonder why I’m so mean. Fine. I’ll just go browse the labias.”

Dad flinched at the word and waited till she was out of hearing range.

“Yes, Dad?” I said, picking up a shoulder joint to admire. Oops. It came apart in my hands.

“Well, Pudding, I just have to ask myself if maybe you broke things off prematurely with the doctor,” Dad said, watching me fumble the joint parts. “Sure, he has to work a lot, but think of what he’s working on! Saving children’s lives! Isn’t that the kind of man you want? A carpenter…he…well, not to be snobby or anything, honey…”

“You’re sounding pretty snobby, Dad,” I said, trying to fit the humerus (or was it the ulna? I got a B-in biology) back into the socket. “Of course, you think being a teacher is akin to being a field hand, so…”

“I think nothing of the sort,” Dad said. “But still. You’d probably make more picking cotton.”

Callahan, having been released from my mother’s death grip, came over to me.

“Here y’ are!” Dad barked heartily, slapping Callahan on the back hard enough to make his wine slosh. “So, big guy, tell me about yourself!”

“What would you like to know, sir?” Cal asked, taking my hand.

“Grace says you used to be an accountant,” Dad said with an approving smile.

“Yes,” Cal answered.

“And I take it you went to college for this?”

“Yes, sir. I went to Tulane.”

I gave Dad a look that was meant to convey See? He’s really nice and also Lay off the questions, Dad. He ignored it. “So, Callahan, why’d you leave—”

Mom interrupted. “Do you have family in the area, Callahan?” she asked, smiling brightly.

“My grandfather lives at Golden Meadows,” Cal answered, turning to her.

“Who is he? Do I know him?” Mémé barked, wheeling closer and almost toppling a breast from a nearby pedestal.

“His name is Malcolm Lawrence,” Cal answered. “Hello, Mrs. Winfield. Nice to see you again.”

“Never heard of him,” Mémé snapped.

“He’s in the dementia unit,” Callahan said. I squeezed his hand. “My mother died when I was little, and my grandfather raised my brother and me.”

Mom’s eyebrows raised. “A brother? And where does he live?”

Cal hesitated. “He…he lives in Arizona. Married, no kids. So not much family to speak of.”

“You poor thing!” Mom said. “Family is such a blessing.”

“Is it?” I asked. She clucked at me fondly.

“You. Irishman.” Mémé poked Cal’s leg with a bony finger. “Are you after my granddaughter’s money?”

I sighed. Loudly. “You’re thinking of Margaret, Mémé. I don’t really have a lot, Cal.”

“Ah, well. I guess. I’ll have to date Margs, then,” he said. “And speaking of sister swapping,” he added, lowering his voice so only I could hear.

“Hi, I’m Andrew Carson.” The Pale One approached, my glowing, beautiful sister in tow. Andrew pushed up his glasses and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Callahan O’ Shea,” Cal returned, shaking Andrew’s hand firmly. Andrew winced, and I bit down on a smile.

That’s right, Andrew! He could beat you to a pulp. Not that I was a proponent of violence, of course. It was just true.

“It’s great to see you again, Callahan,” Natalie said.

“Hello, Nat,” Cal returned with a smile, the one that could charm the paint off walls. Natalie blushed, then mouthed Gorgeous! I grinned back in complete agreement.

“So you’re a…plumber, is it?” Andrew said, his eyes flicking up and down Cal’s solid frame, a silly little grin on his face, as if he were thinking, Oh, yes, I’ve heard of blue-collar workers! So you’re one of those!

“He’s a carpenter,” Natalie and I said at the same time.

“It’s so great to work with your hands,” Dad boomed. “I’ll probably do more of that once I retire. Make my own furniture. Maybe build a smokehouse.”

“A smokehouse?” I asked. Cal smothered a smile.

“Please, Dad. Don’t you remember the radial saw?” Natalie said, grinning at Callahan. “My father almost amputated his thumb the one time he tried to make anything. Andrew’s the same way.”

“That was a rogue blade,” Dad muttered.

“It’s true,” Andrew said amenably, slipping an arm around Natalie. “Grace, remember when I tried to fix that cabinet when we first moved in together? Practically killed myself. Never tried that again. Luckily, I can afford to pay someone to do it for me.”

Natalie shot him a surprised glance, but he ignored it, smiling insincerely at Cal. Who didn’t smile back. Well, well. Andrew was jealous. How pleasing. And how classy of Cal, not to rise to his bait. Still, I could feel him tensing next to me.

“Such a shame to waste your education, though, son,” Dad continued. Oh, God. He was doing his “Earn a Decent Wage” speech, one that I’d heard many times. And by decent wage, Dad didn’t mean the simple ability to pay your own bills and maybe sock a little away. He meant six figures. He was a Republican, after all.

“Education is never wasted, Dad,” I said hastily before Cal could answer.

“Are you from around here, Calvin?” Andrew asked, tilting his head in owlish fashion.

“It’s Callahan,” my guy corrected. “I’m originally from Connecticut, yes. I grew up in Windsor.”

“Where’d you live before you moved back?” Andrew asked.

Callahan glanced at me. “The South,” he said, his voice a little tight. I tried to convey my gratitude by squeezing his hand. He didn’t squeeze back.

“I love the South!” my mother exclaimed. “So sultry, so passionate, so Cat on a Hot Tin Roof!”

“Control yourself, Nancy,” Mémé announced, rattling her ice cubes.

“Don’t tell me what do to, old woman,” Mom muttered back, knowing full well that Mémé was too deaf to hear.

“So why’d ya leave accounting?” Dad asked. Cripes, he was like a dog with a bone.

“Maybe we can stop interrogating Cal for now, hmm?” I suggested sharply. Cal had grown very still next to me.

Dad shot me a wounded look. “Pudding, I’m just trying to figure out why someone would trade in a nice secure job so he could do manual labor all day.”

“It’s an honest question,” Andrew seconded.

Ah. Honest. The key word. I closed my eyes. Here it comes, I thought. I was right.

Callahan let go of my hand. “I was convicted for embezzling over a million dollars,” he stated evenly. “I lost my accounting license and served nineteen months at a federal prison in Virginia. I got out two months ago.” He looked at my father, then my mother, then Andrew. “Any other questions?”

“You’re a convict?” Mémé said, craning her bony neck to look at Cal. “I knew it.”

BY THE TIME THE GALLERY SHOW was over, I had managed to tell my family about Cal’s situation. Granted, I did a piss-poor job, given that I was completely unprepared. I’d been planning to figure out something a bit more convincing than It’s not as bad as it sounds…Plus, Margs had abandoned me, saying there was an emergency at work and she wouldn’t be home till midnight at the earliest.

“Happy?” I asked Callahan, getting into the car and buckling myself in with considerable vigor.

“Grace, it’s best to be honest right up front,” he said, his face a bit stony.

“Well, you got your way.”

“Listen,” he said, not starting the car. “I’m sorry if it was uncomfortable for you. But your family should know.”

“And I was going to tell them! Just not tonight.”

He looked at me for a long minute. “It felt like lying.”

“It wasn’t lying! It was introducing the idea bit by bit. Going slow. Considering the feelings of others, that’s all.”

We sat in the idle car, staring ahead. My throat was tight, my hands felt hot. One thing was clear. I was going to be spending a lot of time on the phone for the next day or so.

“Grace,” Callahan said quietly, “are you sure you want to be with me?”

I sputtered. “Cal, I shot myself in the foot for you this week. I told the headmaster of my school that I was dating you! I’m taking you to my sister’s wedding! I just don’t think you need to walk around with a scarlet letter tattooed on your forehead, that’s all!”

“Did you want me to lie to your dad?” he asked.

“No! I just…I wanted to finesse this, that’s all. I know my family, Cal. I just wanted to ease them into the idea of your past. Instead, you went in with guns blazing.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

“Why? Do you have a brain tumor? Are there bloodhounds tracking you at this very moment? Is an alien spaceship coming to abduct you?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” he answered drily.

“So. I’m a little…mad. That’s all. I just…Listen, let’s go home. I have to make some calls. And I should stay at my place tonight,” I said.

“Grace,” he began.

“Cal, I probably have twenty messages on my machine already. I have to correct the final essays for my sophomores and post all my classes’ grades by next Friday. I still haven’t heard about the chairmanship thing.

I’m stressing. I just need a little alone time. Okay?”

“Okay.” He started the car, and we drove home in silence. When we pulled in my driveway, I jumped out of the car.

“Good night,” he said, getting out.

“Good night,” I answered, starting up the walk. Then I turned around, went back and kissed him. Once. Another time. A third. “I’m just a little tense,” I reminded him in a gentler voice, finally pulling back.

“Okay. Very cute, too,” he said.

“Save it, bub,” I answered, squeezing his hand.

“I just couldn’t out and out lie, honey,” he added, looking at the ground.

Hard to be mad at a guy for that. “I understand,” I said. Angus yarped from inside. “But I really do have to work now.”

“Right.” He kissed my cheek and walked over to his place. With a sigh, I went inside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A FEW HOURS LATER WHEN my parents had been called (if not soothed) and my schoolwork was done, I found myself once again staring over at Cal’s house from my darkened living room.

When I told Dr. Stanton about Callahan this week, I’d done it with the idea that Callahan would be part of my future. It was funny. A couple of months ago, when I pictured the man I’d end up with, I was still picturing Andrew.

Oh, not his face…it wasn’t that obvious. But so many of his qualities. His soft voice, gentle sense of humor, his intelligence, even his flaws, like how inept he was at changing tires or unclogging a sink. Now, though…I smiled.

Callahan O’ Shea could change a tire. He could probably hot-wire an entire car.

I stroked Angus’s head, earning a little doggy moan in response and a love bite to my thumb. When I was alone with Callahan, I was crazy about him. When his past came into my narrow little world of teaching and family …things were a little harder. But as Cal had pointed out, at least it was done now. Everyone knew. No more parceling out of information. There was something to be said for that.