Page 99 of Plays Well With Others

“Yes!” She grabs it and slots it into place.

They high-five but don’t waste much time patting themselves on the back. “Now, we need to work on this big raccoon. He’s kind of plump,” Mac says.

“Yup, and he’s digging through the candy wrappers,” Carter agrees. His phone beeps with an alert, and he pauses to quickly check it, then sets the device back down. The pair searches in quiet cooperation while I fold the chocolate into the egg mixture, along with the flour.

“Oh! Here’s the rest of his tail,” Mac calls out.

“You’re a champ,” says Carter. “And look. I found most of the pieces for his belly.”

As I spoon the batter into floured and buttered ramekins, I listen to the soundtrack of their chatter like it’s the best kind of song.

“There. Done. Should we work on the trash can?” Carter asks.

“I bet we can do it super fast,” she says.

“No doubt. I bet we finish this whole thing in an hour.”

“Whoa!” Mac gawks in amazement. “You can do a puzzle in an hour?”

“Usually I can do a five-hundred-piece in under two. I figured with you, we’ll ace this in less than sixty minutes.”

“My daddy has never finished a puzzle,” she says, sounding awestruck.

Carter chuckles. “Your daddy has other skills.”

“He’s very good at reading books to me and braiding my hair,” she declares as she hunts for more pieces, presumably the trash can.

Carter swings his gaze to me, tossing me a sly look. “Me too. Hair braiding, that is.”

That warmth from earlier? It’s hotter now. And tinglier too. It’s stirring up thoughts and emotions that I’ve tried to tamp down for months. Feelings that arose when my marriage ended. Ones I don’t want to think about today.

I shove those risky thoughts into a corner of my mind.

Mac tilts her head Carter’s way. “Do you have a daughter?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “I have a little sister. Shelby’s in the Galápagos Islands working on her biology fellowship.”

“Sounds fancy. Does she braid her own hair?”

“Probably. But when we were kids, she made me learn how to do hers. And I have no regrets.”

“I taught my daddy how to braid my hair. He can do French braids and reverse French braids,” Mac says, then grabs another piece. “Why are you so fast at puzzles?”

“Because I have a good attention span for things I really like,” he says easily, and I smile to myself. I know the full scope of his issues but appreciate the simplicity of his answer.

“Cool,” she says, seeming satisfied too.

As they work on the puzzle, I fill the final ramekin, then wipe a hand on my mustache apron. After I set the ramekins in the oven, Carter’s phone beeps again on the table. He flips it over and then offers a quick explanation to Mac. “It’s a reminder of my schedule. Dinner with my agent tomorrow.”

“What was your other one for?”

“I set a reminder to send Shelby an email later. I haven’t emailed her in a while,” he says.

“You set a lot of alerts,” Mac says matter-of-factly as I clean up the counter.

“I do. Otherwise, I forget.”

“My friend Charles is like that too. He has a watch that reminds him of things. It’s kind of cool. The watch.” And I bet I know why Charles has a smartwatch. I bet, too, that this curious kid will keep asking Carter questions.

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