She put the phone back in her pocket and finished with the strawberries.
When Marge stopped back by, she stood watching for a moment.
"You look different," she said.
Carrie smiled. "Good different?"
"You tell me."
"Good different," Carrie said. "Definitely good different."
Carrie sat in her car after the market ended, parked in the shade on a side street, and called Gayle. For twenty minutes she'd listened to numbers that rewrote the story of her marriage. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough to matter.
By the time she pulled into the driveway, the conversation was still replaying in her head.
The front door was unlocked. She stepped into the entryway and heard voices from the living room, but not the usual sounds.
These voices were tense.
Carrie stopped in the hallway, keys still in her hand.
"I don't understand why this has to be so difficult." A man's voice, smooth and practiced, already impatient. "All I'm asking for is a conversation."
"We had a conversation." That was Ethan. Lower, harder, the anger barely contained. "I said I'd think about it."
"That was two months ago."
Carrie moved toward the living room, her footsteps soft on the hardwood.
The scene arranged itself as she reached the doorway. Kevin stood near the windows, dressed in expensive casual clothes. She hadn't seen him since Lori's divorce, but he looked the same—polished, confident, filling the room with his presence whether anyone wanted him to or not.
Tom was on the couch, playing the host while watching everything. Ethan stood near the kitchen doorway, jaw tight, arms rigid, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.
"Carrie." Tom's voice broke the tension, or at least redirected it. "Good timing. Can I get you something? Iced tea?"
"I'm fine." She stayed where she was. "What's going on?"
Kevin turned to her with a smile he probably practiced in mirrors. "Just a family discussion. Nothing to worry about."
"It's not a discussion," Ethan said. "You just showed up. Without telling anyone."
"I told your mother I was coming."
"You told her you might come this weekend. It's not the weekend."
"Plans changed." Kevin's composure was impressive, Carrie had to admit. Like a politician smiling through a scandal. "I had some free time, and I thought, why wait? Why not drive down and see my son?"
"You thought wrong." Ethan didn't blink.
The room went quiet. Carrie could hear the ocean through the open windows, the distant sound of kids on the beach, the everyday summer sounds that suddenly felt very far away.
Tom stood slowly. "Maybe we should?—"
"Stay out of this." Kevin's voice hardened. "This is between me and my son.”
"I'm only your son when it's convenient." Ethan's hands curled into fists. "You can't just appear and expect everything to be fine."
"I'm not asking for that. I'm asking you to be in my wedding."
