More Golf

Abby squared up to the golf ball, shanking it into the rough next to Carrie's ball.

"I was going to say the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to Barbie's beauty. But i think the same thing goes for her golf game," John said. Charlie and Abby, Carrie's parents, both laughed.

"Well, you're all charm, Mr. Putnam," Abby responded. "But why do you call her Barbie?"

"Well, she's always smiling, always happy, always ready to help," John said. The truth, that she had taken the nickname of John's widow, was far less palatable.

"Well, I'll tell you, John, this is a bit of a conundrum," Charlie said, matching John's smooth stroke down the fairway. "On one hand, my daughter is happier than she's ever been. I didn't meet her last boyfriend, but apparently he was a commitment-phobic trainwreck. You're successful, charming, smart, athletic ... hell, I was a big fan of you growing up. And that's the conundrum. You're twice my daughter's age. You're two years older than me, six years older than Abby. You've already got three kids, and Carrie wants to withdraw from her mba program to be with you. So is this a fly by night summer romance that leaves her heartbroken, or is this going to be something serious?"

"Charlie," John said seriously, looking him in the eye, "Your daughter is amazing. She's lifted me up from the throes of depression. If you give us your blessing, I promise you I will deliver. Barbie and I want the same things, and we both want a large family." Abby looked satisfied.

"Well, I'll tell you I've always wanted grandkids, and I love that she is finally going to church. But um, dear ... do you prefer we call you Barbie too?" Carrie flushed hard.

"Barbie is good, mom." Charlie took a swig of water.

"Then welcome to the family, John," he said simply.