“Only if you come swimming first,” Kim said.
“And you have to bring more wine,” Christy added, although she thought about it and frowned. “Only, I’d better stop. Drinking, I mean.”
“Why?” Carter asked.
“I can’t make dinner if I’m tipsy. I probably could, but no one would want to eat it.”
“I can do it,” Carter said. “As a way to say thanks for letting us intrude.”
“He’s a really good cook,” Kim said to Christy.
“You don’t have to do that,” I told him.
“Ah, but I want to,” he said. “The girls’re having fun. Why make ’em stop? You and I can handle dinner, can’t we?”
“Sure.”
“Besides,” he added, “it’ll give us a chance to talk.”
About what? I wondered, although I didn’t let it show on my face. “Sounds good,” I said aloud.
He flashed perfect white teeth. “Awesome! Come on, let’s see what we want to cook.”
“Unh,” Kim whined convincingly. “You said you’d come swimming.”
“And bring more wine,” Christy added.
Carter and I exchanged a grin.
I glanced at my watch and said, “It’s a little early for dinner anyway.”
“Right. I’ll get the wine,” he said. “You have a preference? Red or white?”
“Not really.”
“Probably red,” he said. “It should pair well with whatever we decide for dinner.”
“Oh, I should warn you, Christy doesn’t eat beef or pork.”
He adjusted quickly. “Ah, right. Vegetarian? That’s a challenge, but I think I can manage it.”
“Not vegetarian, but close enough. She eats chicken and fish. It’s a Buddhist thing.”
“But… you said she’s Catholic.”
“It’s complicated. She’s complicated.”
“Clearly. But worth it.”
“Yeah, she is. In more ways than one.”
“I’ll grab the wine,” he said with a confident grin. “You join the girls.”
* * *
We spent the next hour relaxing and getting to know each other.
“Both my grandfathers were lawyers,” Christy told Carter. “Well, sort of. One was a judge and the other was a politician, but they started as lawyers.”
“So you grew up around the law.”
“Not really. They both died before I was born.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “What about your father? He didn’t study law?”
“Oh my gosh, no. He’s in the Navy.”
Carter’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. He obviously thought she meant a sailor.
“He’s an admiral,” I said.
“Right! Of course! I should’ve known. And your brothers? Paul never said how many, but it sounded like several.”
“Five,” she said.
“Wow, seriously? Cool. What do they do?”
“They’re in the military too.”
“Mostly the Navy,” I chimed in, “but one’s a Marine.”
“Two,” Christy said immediately.
Carter noticed my surprise but didn’t pry. “What about you?” he asked instead. “Why aren’t you in the Navy? It seems like the family business, on both sides.”
“I thought about it, but… I— we want something different.”
Christy smiled and laid her hand atop mine, supportive and possessive at the same time.
“What about you?” I asked Carter. “Any brothers or sisters?”
“One…”
His younger brother was an even brighter star, and Carter was understandably proud of him. He’d gone to Columbia instead of Duke and had just finished his MBA at Wharton. He was planning to go into finance, probably back in New York City.
“Very cool,” I said. “And it’s another thing we have in common. One of our friends is going to Columbia. In the fall.”
“I think he’ll like it,” Carter said.
“She,” I corrected, and Christy nodded.
“My apologies. I just assumed…” He glanced at Kim and winced theatrically. “You’re always telling me, aren’t you?”
“You didn’t know,” she said.
I let him off the hook by changing the subject. “What about you?” I asked Kim. “Any brothers or sisters?”
She was an only child, and she’d grown up in a suburb of Charlotte. Her father was old money, very traditional, she said. He was the general manager of a country club that his grandfather had founded.
She and Carter had met while she was still in college. They’d been set up on a blind date by mutual friends, and the rest was history. She’d worked at the country club for a while but had recently taken a job in a bank, as a lending agent for a Savings and Loan.
“What do you do for fun?” Carter asked. “I mean, I know you’re in school, but you obviously work out.”
“Yeah. I used to do judo, but I don’t have time since we started ballroom dancing.”
“Wow! That’s cool. We should do that. What d’you think, hon?”
“I’d love it!” Kim said in surprise.
“What about you?” I asked him.
“I still play tennis when I can. I need to join a gym or something. I just don’t have time. Not with work.”
“Do you play too?” I said to Kim. “You must do something to look like you do.”
“She does aerobics every day before work,” Carter answered.
“I’d go on the weekends too,” she added, “but Carter likes me home.”
“When else do I get to enjoy your body?” he said. “Besides, I don’t want you to look like an East German swimmer.”
“Oh my gosh, no,” Christy agreed. “Some of those women are scary.”
“Some of those women are men,” he joked. Then he glanced at me and tossed his chin toward the clubhouse. “Ready to start dinner?”
“Sure.”
We opened another bottle of wine for the girls and one for ourselves in the kitchen. Carter looked through the fridge, checked the cupboard, and then went looking for spices. In a matter of forty-five minutes, he whipped up an amazing dinner of chicken and mushrooms in a white wine and cream sauce. He served it on a bed of linguine with a tasty spinach salad. I helped make the salad, but he did all the rest.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t fancier,” he said afterward. “I’ll do better next time.”
“It was delicious!” Christy said. “Is there any more?”
“Have I mentioned her metabolism?” I chuckled.
“Now I’m jealous,” Kim said. “You ate more than the guys, but you’re so tiny.”
“I suppose,” Christy said. “But I have to eat six or seven times a day.”
“She ate a decent lunch, but she usually has an afternoon snack,” I added. “That’s why she’s eating everything in sight now.”
“I am not ‘eating everything in sight,’” she grumped. “Besides, Mr. Meanie, it’s really good. Is there any more?” she repeated hopefully.
“Absolutely,” Carter chuckled. He extended his hand for her plate, disappeared into the clubhouse, and returned with the last of the linguine and chicken.
“Yum,” Christy said as he set it in front of her.
“I can throw together something else if you’re still hungry,” he said.
“Can we keep him?” Christy asked me. “Please, please? He can live in my studio. I swear I’ll take care of him.”
Carter laughed and accepted the compliment. “That’s very flattering. Bon appétit.”
“Mmm, merci beaucoup.” She dug in.
“You speak French too?” he said in surprise.
She shrugged. “Only a little,” she added after she finished chewing. “I spoke it for a few months with one of my friends.”
“When?” I asked in surprise.
“When we lived in Georgetown. I thought I told you.”
I shook my head.
“Oh. Well, my father worked with the French Naval Attaché. I went to school with his daughter, and we used to play together. So I learned French.”
“Hold on, you just learned French?” All of a sudden I recalled when she’d lived in Georgetown. “Wait, how old were you? That must’ve been first grade, right?”