"To say what? I'm sorry? I already said that. I was wrong? I was, I know I was wrong, but it doesn't change what I feel."
"Which is?"
"Confused, afraid, stupid. Double all of that because I miss seeing him," she admitted. "I miss talking to him. So I think it's better if I don't see him or talk to him."
"Your logic doesn't resemble the logic of humans."
"He probably doesn't want to see or talk to me anyway."
"Coward."
"Maybe. I'm a coward without a car." She waited in silence while Laurel rolled out her paste. "You could lend me yours."
"I could. But that would be enabling, which is what you continue to do with Linda. I love you too much to do that."
"It's not enabling. It's business. I could cram my equipment into her ridiculous little toy, but funny, she left the car and not the keys. It's not the client's fault I caved or she's so self-centered she hasn't brought it back."
"No, it's not." With care, Laurel used a template and began cutting out the first flowers.
"I'm so pissed off. I admit the pissed off portion helps balance out the sheer misery of the Carter situation, but at this point I'd rather be miserable about him and have my wheels. Why does she do this? And don't say because I let her. I swear, and I'll swear it in blood, I had no intention of lending her the damn car. I never would've put myself in this position again if it hadn't been for those exact circumstances."
"I'd like to believe that, but here you are, Mac, paying the price as usual. While as usual she pays nothing. No consequences for Linda. She'll bring your car back when she's damn good and ready. You'll confront her, bitch, complain. She'll pull out all her usual crap. Then she'll forget the whole thing because she'll have gotten and done what she wanted, and topped it off by being the center of your world while you bitch and complain."
"What am I supposed to do? Beat her to death with my tripod?"
"I'll help you hide the body."
"You would." Mac sighed. "You're a true friend. I'm not a coward or a pushover about most things."
"No, you're not. Anything but. I guess that's why it irritates me down to the marrow when you are. When she causes you to be both. Make her pay for once, Mackensie. I bet once you do, the next time will come easier."
"How? Believe me when I say I want to. I can't actually call the cops. I gave her the damn keys. And maybe I think-know," she corrected, "it was passive-aggressive bullshit that she didn't leave me hers, it still . . ."
"I like that look. That is not the look of cowardly pushover. What?"
"She left her car."
"Oh, oh, we're going to smash the toy. I'll get my coat and Del's old baseball bat."
"No. God, you're a violent soul."
"I like smashing. It's therapeutic."
"We're not going to beat up the car. It's an innocent bystander in this. But I am going to have it towed."
"That's not bad, but having it towed to her house just means she doesn't have to bother to come get it."
"Not to her house." Mac's eyes narrowed as she thought it through. "Remember a few months ago, that guy rear-ended Del's new car. It had to be towed. The guy, the mechanic guy who took care of all that. He's got the tow truck, the garage, the lot. Damn it, what's the name? Where is Parker with her magic business cards?"
"Call Del. He'll remember. And let me just say this is why we're friends. When you get your teeth into it, Mac, you're beautiful."
"So lend me your car."
"Make the calls, and it's yours."
SHE FELT RIGHTEOUS. SHE FELT STRONG. BY THE TIME SHE'D completed her shoot, run her errands, stopped off to buy more twenty-gauge wire for Laurel, she decided she deserved new shoes. Maybe, considering the trauma and triumph of the last few weeks, she deserved new earrings, too.
Earrings for Linda, she decided. Shoes for Carter. Celebration and commiseration.
Maybe she'd go by his place on the way home. While she was feeling strong and righteous. They were two smart people who cared about each other. Surely they could find a compromise, some middle ground, some solution.
She didn't want to lose him, she thought. She didn't want to go through her life Carter-less.
She wandered through the mall until she hit the Holy Grail. The shoe department at Nordstrom.
Maybe she needed new boots, too. You could never really have too many boots. New shoes and new boots would give her that firm sense of self-reliance she needed to go to Carter's. She could pick up a bottle of wine, like a peace offering. And they'd talk, and he'd look at her that way he looked at her. And . . . that would be pulling a Linda, she decided, as she had Laurel's car.