Third Time's a Charm

by Virginia Smith

  Patti winced. “I know it’s not fair. And it’s my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Joan shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  A young voice came from somewhere in the house. “Mom, who are you talking to?”

  Patti turned her head and shouted her answer. “Just some people at the door, honey.” She turned back to them. “Chelsea’s in the bathtub. She’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “Listen, we’re not here to cause problems for Chelsea. We can come back another time.” Tori started to back away, but Allie grabbed her by the arm and glared her into silence.

  “No, it’s okay,” Patti said. “After you left yesterday, we had a long talk. She knows about you now.” Her glance swept the three of them. “All of you. Do you mind if we talk outside for a minute?”

  She stepped through the door and pulled it shut behind her. They retreated down the stairs and stood on the cracked sidewalk just inside the circle of light created by the porch light. Tori noticed that Patti’s feet were bare, her toenails bright spots of pink in the grass.

  “Tom and I met fourteen years ago in Las Vegas. He was working construction, and I was dancing at a nightclub.”

  Tori and Allie exchanged a glance. Fourteen years ago was a year after he left them.

  “You must have been very young.” Joan’s voice was soft.

  A sad smile curved Patti’s lips. “I was twenty-four. He was thirty-seven.”

  Tori swallowed. Patti had been the age she was now. Younger than either Allie or Joan.

  Patti continued. “I don’t know if you knew this, but Tom had a drug problem. When we first got together he kept it fairly well hidden, but within a year he was out of control. He was in the carpenter’s union, but he was let go from one job site after another. After a while he couldn’t get a job anywhere. He couldn’t stay clean long enough to pass the drug test. We paid the bills on the money I made dancing.”

  Tori couldn’t imagine getting involved with someone like that. “Why did you stay with him?”

  “I was almost as heavily into drugs as he was.” Her face tilted upward as she looked at the house, and a faint smile curved her lips. “But then I got pregnant. I told Tom I was moving back home to Dayton to be near my family, and he could either come with me and get clean, or stay there and die.”

  Tori glanced at Joan. Mom had given him a similar ultimatum, only apparently he didn’t make the same choice the second time. “He went with you.”

  She nodded. “I put down the drugs and never looked back. For Tom, it wasn’t so easy. He finally did it when Chelsea was three years old, but it was hard for him, and he never stopped attending Narcotics Anonymous meetings. He was coming home from a meeting the night he died.” The sadness in her eyes made Tori want to cry.

  “But why didn’t he contact us after he got clean?” Allie’s question touched a painful place inside Tori. That’s what they all wanted—no, needed—to know.

  Patti didn’t answer at first. She half turned away, and her face was hidden in shadow. “That was my fault.” Her head drooped. “I was young. Selfish. Jealous. I insisted if he was serious about a life with me and Chelsea, he had to leave everything in his past behind him.” She looked up, her eyes begging them to understand. “He wouldn’t marry me because he said he’d already had a wife. I was afraid that meant he still loved her, that one day he might go back to her. So I made him choose. Her or me.” She closed her eyes. “Her daughters, or mine.”

  What a terrible thing to do. Angry accusations battled in Tori’s mind, but she still hadn’t gotten all the answers she needed. “Why didn’t you contact us last year? We had a right to know our father was dead.”

  Patti winced, then nodded. “You’re right. I should have tried to find you. But the truth is, Tom died without a will. He didn’t leave much, but he did have a little put back in annuities through the union, both here and in Nevada. And since Chelsea was the only heir they knew about . . .” She raised her head and looked directly into Tori’s face. “I don’t make enough money to support us. You three can’t touch the social security payments we receive until Chelsea turns sixteen, but you could probably contest the annuity benefits. And you might be able to get half of this house.”

  “We wouldn’t do that.” Allie shook her head with a jerk.

  “You don’t know what you’d do if you had a child you couldn’t afford to feed,” Patti shot back.

  Allie opened her mouth to answer, then fell silent. Tori knew she was putting herself in Patti’s place, wondering what she’d do if she couldn’t afford to feed Joanie.

  Chelsea’s muffled voice came from inside the house. “Mom? Where are you?”

  Patti fixed a desperate glance on Tori. “Please don’t mention the drugs. When you left last night, I told her that her father had been married before he met me, and that he’d had three daughters. But she doesn’t need to know all the rest, does she?”

  The door opened, and Chelsea appeared, framed by light from inside the house. “There you are. I didn’t kn—” She stopped as her gaze fell on Tori. A wide smile broke out on the child’s face and she raced down the stairs. “You came back! I said a prayer last night and asked God to send you back.”

  In the next instant, Tori was almost bowled over when Chelsea wrapped skinny arms around her in a fierce embrace. She’d never been the answer to anyone’s prayer before. Her arms came up around the thin shoulders to return the hug. Her sister’s hug. Over Chelsea’s head, she looked at Allie and Joan through eyes blurry with tears. At a glance, she knew they were in agreement with her. This girl had already lost her father. Why put her through more pain?

  She blinked back the tears, and gave Chelsea a firm squeeze. “I have a couple of people here who really want to meet you.”

  21

  Midnight was long past before they pulled away from the house. Tori waved out the window until she could no longer see Chelsea on the front porch.

  “I love her.” Allie turned from the passenger window to deliver her announcement as they turned off the street. “She’s so much like Joan at that age.”

  “Can you believe she even wants to play the clarinet?” Joan asked from the backseat.

  “She only said that after she learned you played.” Tori smiled. “Just like she wants to be a cheerleader when I told her I was.”

  “And she was so excited to find out she’s an aunt.” Allie flipped open her cell phone and stared at the screen. “I wish we’d thought to bring a camera so I could have gotten some better pictures. I never dreamed the visit would turn out so well.”

  “I know,” Joan said. “I can’t wait to tell Ken about her.”

  Tori steered the car toward the interstate. The night really had gone better than she expected. Patti even relaxed a little and told them stories about Daddy, like when he fainted at the hospital while six-year-old Chelsea got stitches in her forehead. The night ended with a promise to see each other again next weekend.

  So how come she felt so down?

  Because Daddy was there for Chelsea. She was his baby girl, his youngest. Where does that leave me?

  And now, Chelsea was the youngest Sanderson sister. She had taken Tori’s place, not only in her father’s affections, but now in the family structure.

  Don’t be ridiculous. I am not jealous of an eleven-year-old child.

  She kept her sigh soft, but not soft enough to escape her perceptive sister. Joan leaned up to squeeze her shoulder. “What’s bothering you, Tori?”

  No sense protesting. She knew her sisters. They had a ninety-minute drive ahead of them, and they’d nag her until she spilled her guts.

  “Chelsea is great, and I’m glad we found her. But I can’t stop wondering why Daddy chose her over us.”

  “The truth?” Allie snapped her phone shut. “Because he was a weak-minded man who couldn’t stand up to his girlfriend.” She dropped the phone in her purse. “If he’d had any sort of backbone at all, after he kicked the drugs, he would hav
e married Patti so she had some security, and then told her he was going to contact us whether she liked it or not.”

  “You don’t think it’s because he loved Chelsea more than us, do you?” Tori’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Or maybe, because she loved him more than we did?”

  Allie’s head whipped toward her. “What? That’s crazy.”

  “No, I know what she’s saying.” Joan leaned forward so her face was beside Tori’s shoulder. “Allie, your attitude was always, ‘Our father left us. What’s wrong with him?’ But inside, I felt like, ‘What’s wrong with me?’”

  “Exactly.” Tori glanced at Joan. “Sometimes I worry that I didn’t pay enough attention to him. Maybe he didn’t feel like I loved him, and that’s why he didn’t think he needed to stick around.”

  Allie shook her head slowly. “That might have made sense when you were a kid, but you know it’s not true now, right?”

  Tori didn’t answer. Did she? No, not really. Part of her was still that nine-year-old girl, wondering what she’d done wrong. “I just wish I’d looked for him sooner. Then I could have asked, and I’d know for sure.”

  “At least you still have a heavenly Father.” Joan’s voice rang with confidence. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to be good enough for Him to love you?”

  Here it came; the God-talk again. Tori almost scowled over her shoulder, but then the impact of Joan’s words struck her. She didn’t have to be good enough for God to love her. He loved her even when she didn’t love Him. Even when she was too busy to think about Him.

  Which was pretty much all the time.

  And yet, He loved her anyway. Somehow, she knew that with a certainty she’d never felt before this moment. The air in the car seemed to snap, and the hair along Tori’s arms prickled while, inside, the heavy feeling of depression lifted. She felt light. It really was true. Her Father loved her.

  She met Joan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I never thought of it like that.”

  Joan smiled and settled back.

  Allie patted her leg. “And He’ll never desert us, no matter what.” She faced forward and pointed ahead. “Now, before you get on the interstate, can we go through that drive-through up there? I’m starving.”

  22

  Ryan pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. “Mrs. Hancock, that was delicious. Those were the best rolls I’ve ever tasted.”

  Tori’s grandmother blushed, obviously pleased with the compliment. “Thank you. They’re a specialty of mine.”

  “She hasn’t made them for us in a couple of months, Ryan.” Tori’s mom smiled at him. “I hope you’ll come back so we can get them again.”

  Seated between Tori and her mother at the Sandersons’ dining room table, Ryan felt like he’d passed some sort of hurdle. When Tori invited him to dinner after Sunday school, he’d been so nervous he could hardly concentrate on the minister’s sermon. But since he walked through the front door, he felt like he’d been welcomed into the family. Allie and Joan had been unable to wipe the grins off their faces, and Eric had even clapped him on the back in some sort of unspoken congratulations. Apparently he’d received the stamp of approval.

  Mrs. Hancock gestured toward the half-empty bowl of mashed potatoes. “We have a lot left over, I’m afraid. I hope it won’t go to waste. I threw out last week’s leftovers this morning.”

  “Don’t worry, Gram.” Tori laid her fork across her empty plate. “I’ll take all the leftovers I can get. I have a feeling I’m going to need them.”

  Ken paused as he lifted his iced tea glass toward his lips. “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m probably going to lose my job tomorrow.” Her lips twisted into a crooked line.

  Across the table, Joan leaned forward, her expression concerned. “Are you going to mention whatever-it-was your boss told you not to?”

  “I’m going to try to avoid it, but I spent hours last night looking at the data we collected, and I really think they’re making a mistake with that new location. I won’t come right out and say it, but if they ask me . . .” She shrugged. “I’m not going to lie.”

  “But what will you do?” Allie asked. “You said last week you didn’t know of any other jobs like yours in this area.”

  “I’ll probably have to take one that pays less. No more designer jeans.” She gave Ryan a sideways grin. “I’ll have to learn to live frugally.”

  Her smile made his insides do funny things.

  “I can help with that,” he told her.

  Beneath the cover of the table, she slipped a hand into his and squeezed. “I’m counting on it.”

  “So I think you should give serious consideration to a scaled-down menu.” Tori put as much confidence as she could muster into her voice and made sure she looked the Maguires in the eye. “Something that will appeal to the demographics of the area surrounding your new location.”

  A different menu was the only idea she could come up with for that new location to make sense. What she really wanted to do was tell them to ditch that building and keep looking until they found someplace on a main city thoroughfare. But she didn’t dare say that outright, not with Kate sitting at the same table.

  Mrs. Maguire was nodding, but Mr. Maguire didn’t look convinced. He studied the document outlining her plan, his brow furrowed. Kate’s expression remained completely blank, which worried Tori a little. During Mitch’s presentation, Kate had smiled and nodded pleasantly.

  And Mitch had come up with a couple of good ideas, Tori had to admit. He’d focused on designing a logo and a consistent advertising look that communicated the style and elegance people already associated with Maguire’s Restaurant. And his sketches had been good.

  But so were hers. If the Maguires were insistent on going ahead with a restaurant near campus, they would simply have to make some changes.

  “I’m not sure I understand.” Mr. Maguire picked up the paper and held it in front of him. “Our menu is our restaurant. You’re basically saying we’d have to create a whole new concept that appeals to two different types of customers.”

  “Not entirely,” Tori said. “You’d still have some of the same signature menu items, but each restaurant would have its specialties. And I’d recommend that you give the new restaurant a name that people associate with the existing one while still communicating its unique qualities. Maguire’s Tavern, for instance, gives the impression of a more relaxed atmosphere.”

  Mrs. Maguire tilted her head, considering the suggestion. “I like that.”

  Mr. Maguire did not seem convinced. He leaned forward. “Why can’t we just open a second Maguire’s Restaurant? Was it the research you did that made you go in this direction?”

  Tori clasped her hands beneath the table. “I didn’t have much data to analyze, but what I did collect was fairly conclusive. Your customers are really loyal. You have a lot of upper management business people coming from nearby offices, but you also have a fair number of customers who drive from all over the city specifically to dine at Maguire’s. And they tend to come back often.”

  He and his wife exchanged a smile, and he nodded. “We know that. It’s one of the things we’re proud of.”

  “You should be. But if you open a second restaurant that is exactly the same, you run the risk of diluting your existing location’s customer base. Your loyal customers will stay loyal to you, but if the new location is closer to their homes, they’ll go there instead.”

  He started to say something, and Tori held up a hand to forestall the interruption. “Yes, advertising will bring in some new customers, but I think you’re missing an opportunity with that new location. It’s not on a main thoroughfare, and you know what they say: out of sight, out of mind. The only new drop-in traffic you’re likely to get is from the university. And you’ll be competing with a ton of lower-price restaurants for them, all with higher visibility on the main road.”

  Mrs. Maguire spoke. “So what you’re saying is, that building is so out
of the way, nobody will know it’s there except the college kids, who can’t afford our prices?”

  There it was, the question Tori had feared. She felt the weight of Kate’s suddenly sharp stare. She didn’t look in that direction, but kept her gaze fixed on Mrs. Maguire. “I don’t have enough data to support that statement, but before you sign a lease, I do think you should look seriously at the reason three previous restaurants failed in that location.”

  Mrs. Maguire turned a triumphant grin on her husband. “I told you so! The one on Nicholasville Road is better, even if it is more expensive.”

  “Yeah, rub it in.” He heaved a giant sigh and sat back in his chair before fixing a gaze on Kate. “Both these ideas are great, but we’re going to have to take another look at our direction before we continue with an advertising campaign. So let’s hold up for now, and we’ll get back with you when we know more about what we’re doing.”

  Tori’s stomach sank. She could see it now. Their delay was going to push the account past this quarter’s billing cycle.

  Judging by the frozen smile on Kate’s face, she knew it too. “I understand,” she told Mr. Maguire. “We’ll wait for you to get in touch with us when you decide on a course of action.”

  Tori joined Kate and Mitch by the door and shook the Maguires’ hands in farewell.

  “Good job,” Mr. Maguire told Mitch. “I like your ideas.”

  Mitch’s chest swelled. “Thank you, sir.”

  He shook Tori’s next, but all he said was a brief, “You too.”

  Then Mrs. Maguire took her hand and squeezed. “Thank you. He needed to hear that from someone other than me.”

  Tori managed a smile, but she was acutely aware of Kate’s hovering presence.

  “I’ll show you out,” Kate told the Maguires, then hung back for a second as they left the room. The gaze she turned on Tori was icy. She spoke quietly. “Congratulations. You just lost the firm some much-needed revenue in this quarter.”

  She left, and Tori stared after her, her heart pounding in her ears.