Sweet Caroline(85)

From: Hazel Palmer

Subject: I’m stunned, but so very excited

Caroline,

Finally, you said yes. I can’t believe it. To be honest, I was convinced something at home would come up to keep you from coming. But you proved me wrong. I actually did a jig in my office when Carlos told me. After he left, of course, and I closed the door.

I can’t wait to see you. We are going to have a blast. Listen, we charge all travel and moving expenses to our corp AmEx, so e-mail me when you know your travel/moving day. Then I’ll book the com-pany villa on the Mediterranean for a few days.

Carlos is amazing, but he’ll work you hard Monday through Friday. You are so very lucky.

Also, I looked at some apartments for you (see attached) thinking you’d rather live on your own. I keep very weird hours. And I’m a slob at home. Anal neat freak at work, but no time for it at home. Thank heaven for maid services.

Can’t wait to see you.

“You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

Love, Hazel

CFO, SRG International, Barcelona

Monday morning. 8:02. The breakfast-club boys slide into their booth as I set down their coffee cups. Pastor Winnie waves his hands in front of his eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, what is going on here? I’m blinded. Caroline, your finger . . . Heaven and all the angels, girl, you done got yourself engaged?”

“She sure enough did, Winnie.” Mercy Bea says as she hurries past.

I’m exhausted from being up all night talking to Mitch, Daddy, and Posey, then collapsing into a not-so-deep sleep in my old room out-fitted with Posey’s new guest-bedroom furniture. Was it excitement, nerves, too much caffeine? I couldn’t sleep. I watched each wee morning hour tick away.

Dupree picks up my left hand and examines Mitch’s ring at close range. “Flawless?”

I take my hand away. “You think I asked?”

He dumps a creamer in his coffee. “At least three karats too.”

Pastor Winnie spreads butter on his biscuit. “A man like Mitch ought to be able to afford a nice piece of a ‘girl’s best friend.’”

The tip of my thumb touches the shank of the ring. “Mitch is my best friend.”

“Well, he’s given you another.” Pastor Winnie chuckles and shakes his head with a tsk, tsk.

“What happened to the job? Madrid, was it?” Dupree asks.

I don’t know . . . “Barcelona.” I hurry off for their breakfast.

But just beyond the kitchen door, Luke catches me by the elbow and railroads me toward my office.

“What happened?” Luke eases the door closed. “You were smiling wider than the Broad River when you told us about accepting the Barcelona job.”

I’ve seen Luke on a near-daily basis for over two years, but never with the expression he’s giving me now.

“I love Mitch, Luke. Always have, and I want to marry him.”

“Suddenly this love between you has a time limit? Seems to me he could wait until after Barcelona.

“Marriage is forever. Why eat up Carlos Longoria’s time, and take an opportunity away from someone else, when at the end of my year there I’ll come home to marry Mitch?”

He grunts. “Waste of God’s good potential.”

A cold sensation runs through my insides. “What does that mean? Marriage is what makes the world go ’round, Luke.”

“You never even tried, Caroline.” He props his hands on the desk’s edge, the skin around his eyes crinkled with wisdom lines. “If Mitch really loved you, he’d back off, encourage you to move to Barcelona. Carlos Longoria is a businessman. He’ll understand investing time in you for only a season. Believe me, he’ll get his money’s worth out of you.”

Unable to look Luke in the eye, I focus on the basket of paid bills. For the first time in months, the paid pile is higher than the unpaid. “If I go, I’m afraid it’ll be the end of Mitch and me, forever.”

“Well,” Luke exhales, his voice soft, “marrying a man out of desperation is the best reason, I suppose.”

My gaze shifts to his face. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Then what are you saying?”

Walking toward me, Elle smiles. Her gallery is lit with spotlights over her latest paintings. The one of me reclining in Bluecloud is a dreamy framed watercolor.

“Five hundred dollars.” I blink to see if my blurry vision added a zero.

“Shh, keep your voice down. This isn’t the flea market.” Elle pinches my arm with a nod at browsing art enthusiasts.

“You’re going to sell my face for five hundred dollars?” I whisper this time, but skirt the edge of loud.

“Sold one of my niece, Rio, last month for twice the amount.”

“Then why am I only five hundred?” Astonishment to insult in under ten seconds.

“Stop already.” Elle picks up my engagement hand. “I still can’t believe it. Engaged. To Mitch. Oh, girl. We are going to have some fun planning this one. I’ll be your photographer, of course, as well as maid of honor, right?” Her eyes twinkle.

“Of course.” At this rate, all I’ll have to do is show up.

“Have you picked a date yet?”

“No, still enjoying being engaged.” I glance over at Mitch. He’s on the other side of the gallery, head bent as he listens to a rich-looking tanned man wearing shorts and a Polo—collar flipped up. As if sensing me, Mitch looks up, catches my eye, and winks.