Adam scooted out the chair and hung his coat on the back of it. When he took a seat, Carrie had to work to conceal her smile. “Hey there, Gramps!” he threw up a hand to Walter.
He smiled at Sharon, but it wasn’t his usual smile—there was something jagged and tense in their look to each other. They were both trying to hide it, but she’d caught it. What is going on between them? she wondered. Eric’s look and now Sharon’s was a kind of look she couldn’t figure out.
“How are you, Dad?” he asked.
“Can’t complain.” Bruce slid Carrie’s hand of cards along the table toward Adam. “Here, play Carrie’s cards for her while she helps your mother.”
“What am I playing?” He scanned the table. “Oh. Rummy. I should have guessed,” he grinned. “Whose go?”
“Yours.”
As Carrie went back to the stove to help Joyce, she noticed that Adam was glancing over at her from behind his hand of cards. It was subtle, his gaze not lingering for long, but she’d noticed it, and it made her feel self-conscious. At the same time, an electric sort of energy shot through her, and she had to work not to smile. She had so many emotions already for someone she barely knew: irritation, worry, nervousness, excitement. She’d never cared how she looked before or what people thought of her when she was working around the kitchen, but when he looked at her, she couldn’t help but stand a little straighter, tuck her hair behind her ear when the loose strands fell down around her face.
She helped Joyce get the dishes out of the oven and off the stove, and she dished his plate first. Eric had popped the top off a few beers and put one in front of Adam. She set his plate down just as he took a swig from the bottle, and she had to stifle the fizz of attraction that ran though her seeing him in such a casual atmosphere. Being around him was easy, nice. Seeing him like that gave her hope that things could change for him. He had the ability to relax if she could just make him see that he needed to do it more often. Carrie went back over to the food to fix the others their plates.
Sharon stood up and shooed her away from the food. “Don’t worry about us,” she said, handing Carrie a plate. “You’ve done all the hard work. I’ll get everyone’s dishes served. There’s an empty chair next to Adam,” she smiled. “Why don’t you relax and eat.” The funny thing was that she was more relaxed than she’d been in a long time. She didn’t know much about the Fletcher family, but she could tell they were her kind of people—the kind that enjoyed sitting around a table for hours doing nothing but talking, the kind that sat on their front porches in good weather, the kind that looked out for one another.
“Want a beer?” Adam asked as she sat down next to him. She nodded although she didn’t want him to move. She wanted to keep him there in that moment when he didn’t have to leave, with the snow coming down, with the candle burning showing the tiny gold flecks in his blue eyes. He got up, pulled one from the fridge, and popped off the top. “Want a glass?”
“I’m okay with the bottle,” she said, the only reason being that he’d sit down. He handed it to her just as his phone rang in the pocket of his coat. Don’t answer, she wanted to say but he already had. He put up a finger to hold everyone off for a second and then with his head down, listening to whoever was on the line, he left the room, and her heart sank. She knew he probably wouldn’t be back for a while, if at all. Sharon caught her eye across the table. She smiled, but there were thoughts behind her eyes, and Carrie wondered if her disappointment showed on her face. She sat up a little straighter and stabbed a few macaroni noodles with her fork.
Joyce sat down, and everyone ate. Carrie watched Adam’s plate of food getting cold at his empty spot. She felt terrible for Joyce and Bruce, and for his sister. They’d come all the way from North Carolina, and, as usual, he’d spent a few minutes in the moment, and then he was gone. She knew by their faces that they noticed and that it bothered them, but no one said anything. The cards were still spread out from the Rummy game, amidst wine glasses, bottles of beer, and plates of food.
“Sorry,” he said, startling her. “That was Andy, from the office.” His eyes fluttered over to Carrie and then away. She thought he could probably sense what everyone was thinking. “The number was my office number, so I worried it was something regarding work… Her car was stuck in the snow, and I thought I was going to have to go out and get her, but she got the car out.”
Carrie’s grandmother had a record player that she still played when Carrie was young. The way it used to make that dull, thudding sound at the end of the song when the needle had moved into the black strip at the center of the record—that’s the sound that was pulsing in her ears as Carrie processed his words. Her. Andy was a woman. He was contemplating running to her rescue in a snowstorm. Did he and Andy have some sort of relationship? Suddenly, Carrie’s entire perspective changed. Andy wasn’t just someone from the office. She was someone from the office who may be having a relationship with Adam. Someone who’d called from his own office phone. Someone who he’d gone for drinks with after work instead of coming straight home. The person he’d just left a few minutes before now. She felt smaller and smaller with every second that ticked by as she thought about this woman. She didn’t allow her mind to go any further than it had because it already made her time with him feel so inconsequential.