The Second Chance

by Ann Maree Craven

  Predictably, my phone rang just as I was about to sign in for the after-school program. We never had enough volunteers for the early hours, so I usually made an effort to be here while the other volunteers were at their day jobs. That was why I liked the evening shifts at the wine bar, it left me free to be here for the kids when they arrived right after school.

  “Hey, Dad, I thought I might hear from you,” I answered with my most chipper voice.

  “Come to the office. Now.” The old man barked into my ear and then hung up without waiting for my reply. If only I could ignore the summons, but I knew from past experience it was best if I comply and act like it didn’t bother me in the slightest.

  “Gotta run,” I called to Delia. “No surprise, Dad wants to see me at the office. I’ll be back soon.”

  I headed out of the building situated near the Boulevard in an older part of town where my temporary car was parked. The drive to the office was a quick jaunt across town, and I was waiting patiently in the small room outside my father’s office suite with his ancient secretary punching out something on an actual typewriter. I didn’t even know they made those anymore.

  “Send him in, Birdy,” my father’s voice echoed over the intercom, cracking with age. Dad didn’t like to upgrade to new technology when the old stuff still worked just fine.

  “He will see you now, dearie.” Birdy kept pecking away on her machine, pausing only long enough to push her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “Good luck,” she called after me in a sing-song voice as I opened the heavy oak double doors to the old man’s office.

  “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” I flopped onto the sleek leather couch that had been there since I was a kid. It still looked brand new. My brother already sat there. Dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit, Conner looked the part of the Ashford heir.

  “Don’t give me your clueless crap, son. You know very well why I called you here.” He lifted a copy of the Weekly Wine to prove his point. “What sort of nonsense has your girlfriend cooked up?”

  I was already eager to leave. Of course my father’s first thought when reading Harper’s article was that it couldn’t possibly be true.

  “It’s not nonsense, Dad.” I shook my head. “But you’re going to believe whatever you want, so I don’t even know why I’m here.” I glanced at Conner for support I knew I would never get. Conner wasn’t the type to stand up to Dad.

  “I had her information corroborated. You’ve amassed a shocking number of volunteer hours at that center.” He leaned over his desk, peering at me under his bushy eyebrows. “What I want to know is why you can put so much effort and devotion into this drivel and not into a real job?”

  “I have a real job, Dad. I work for the family, remember? What I do outside of work shouldn’t matter.”

  “We’re done with this game, son. It’s time you step up and take your place alongside your brother.”

  “Oh, so that’s why you’re here.” I eyed Conner as if he’d betrayed me. “It’s a tag team job this time, huh?” That was fine. I was ready for it.

  “Dad, I think we should let Carter explain himself. Clearly this volunteer work is important to him. Let’s hear him out.”

  “Lena’s been a good influence on you.” I grinned at my brother, who had never once played devil’s advocate between our father and me. “But I can handle this.” I turned back to my father. “I won’t quit the center. They need me.”

  Dad gave a derisive snort at that. “They need anyone with a pulse. It’s not appropriate work for an Ashford. We will give a donation.”

  “But a donation of our time is somehow beneath us, is that right, Dad?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. You need to get this reporter under control. How dare she speak of us in that way after all we’ve done for this town?”

  I couldn’t stop my laughter, even though I knew that was the best way to make him even angrier. “I’d like to see anyone try to control Harper.” I leaned forward. “I need you to listen to me, Dad. And listen well. I’ve done a lot of thinking about my life and my future. Working with you or Conner in any kind of active role is never going to happen.”

  I stood to leave, not giving the old man a chance to yell and bluster. “Like it or not, I will continue working with the community center. I’m passionate about it, and I happen to be pretty good at what I do. Keep my trust fund tied up if you must. I can learn to live without it. I’m done letting you manipulate me with money. I like where my life is headed. I like working at the bar and spending my days at the center. I’m going to marry Harper Chapman one day, and you better get used to the idea.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I just don’t understand what you’re doing with your life, sweetheart.” My mother sniffed back delicate tears that somehow didn’t disturb her flawless makeup.

  “I don’t think you have to, Mom.” I poured hot water from Grandma’s old kettle into three china teacups. Mom would refuse to drink from a mug like the rest of us normal people.

  “We just want you to be sure, honey.” Dad dunked his teabag into his cup and leaned his elbows on the countertop, something he would never do at home. But then again, he wouldn’t be sitting at the kitchen bar at home either.

  “Well, I’m not sure about anything right now, except that I don’t want to be married to Garret or live in Boston. I should have never married him.” I sat down on the barstool between my parents. “Everything else in my life,” I waved my hand absently, “all of it will come together eventually.”

  “We want you to come home with us.” Mom sipped her tea, barely hiding her grimace at the grocery store earl grey. “At least until you figure out what comes next.”

  “I am home.” I was ready to dig my heels in on this topic of discussion. I did not belong in Mom’s elite Boston circles with her endless luncheons and charity events. It just wasn’t me, and to be honest, I didn’t want to turn into my mother in twenty years. I loved her, that would never change, but I didn’t want her life. “I know you guys don’t like it, but Superiore Bay has always felt like home to me. I have roots here.”

  “But—” Mom started to complain, but Dad cut her off.

  “If anyone understands that, I do.” Dad gave my mother a look he didn’t often give her. It was the one that said, ‘you really need to give this up, Olivia.’

  “Then, I think you guys need to go home.” I lifted my chin. “I’m happy here with Grandma and her cronies.”

  “You need more than a group of old biddies in your life.” Mom stirred her cooling tea. She still wanted me to come home, she always would, but I no longer felt like I had to do things her way to remain close to her.

  “I know, and I have so much more here than I ever had in Boston. I have real friends.”

  “That boy.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “That boy is nearly thirty.” I laughed. “And he’s one of my best friends in the world. Along with Selena Contreras. I have a life here. A newspaper I’m really proud of, and before you say it’s not good enough, it’s fulfilling in a way all those crap articles I’ve written for the Globe have never been.”

  “We’re proud of the work you’ve done here, Harper.” Dad pushed his nearly empty teacup across the counter. “It’s excellent experience, even if it is a small-town paper. It could be a great steppingstone for something bigger when you’re ready for it.”

  “Really?” I turned to my mother, expecting her to contradict my father. She would never be satisfied with a daughter who ran a small-town gossip paper.

  “Of course we are proud of everything you’ve accomplished, dear.” My mother’s eyes widened, like she couldn’t believe I would ever doubt that. “You continually astound me.” She glanced back down at her tea. “And you are far braver than I have ever been.”

  She reached for my hand. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “That’s what I’m working toward, Mom.” I squeezed her hand. “I want me to be happy too.” I gave her a hesitant smile, and s
he laughed.

  “Well, Stephen, I think our daughter is right, it’s time for us to go home.” She scooted the barstool back. “I just have one more question. Do you love him?”

  “Who?” I asked, though I knew who she meant.

  “Carter.”

  “I always have.” I couldn’t stop the smile that lit my face as my mother reached to cup my cheek.

  “At least he has good breeding.” She patted my face. “Stephen, let’s pack our things. Our daughter needs her space.”

  I shook my head, watching her go. My mother continually astounded me. Maybe one of these days, we would come to terms with each other’s quirks.

  “Grandma, let me help you with that.” I rinsed the last teacup, set it on the dish drainer, and went to help her with the Walmart bags. “Did you buy out the store?”

  “Very funny.” She set the last two bags on the floor and hobbled into the kitchen, rubbing her lower back. “I got you some new things for your room. If you’re staying, it’s time we put away teenage Harper, don’t you think?”

  “You bought me a new comforter set?” I pulled the puffy plastic container out of the huge bag.

  “It’s a cheapie one for right now.”

  “Your stalling trip worked out.” I ran a hand over the pretty pattern she picked for me.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She hefted her grocery bags onto the kitchen counter, not looking at me.

  “You hate Walmart with a fiery passion, but you also don’t like goodbyes. They left about twenty minutes ago.”

  “I know. I was waiting at the corner till they drove by.” Grandma gave me a sheepish grin.

  “You’re so bad!” I nudged her playfully.

  “What? I waved as they drove past. I see they’ve decided it’s okay for their grown daughter to make her own decisions?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. I’m here to stay. You okay with that, Grandma?”

  “You can stay forever as far as I’m concerned. I love my son to pieces, but we don’t do well cohabitating in the same town.”

  I moved around the kitchen, helping her put away the groceries and the few other things she’d bought for the house and my room. Just as we were discussing dinner, my phone rang, and I didn’t recognize the number. It wasn’t local.

  “Hello?” I answered hesitantly, hoping this wasn’t the call from the divorce lawyer I was expecting any day now.

  “Hi there, I’m looking for Harper Chapman. This is Red Rayburn from the Portland Press Herald.”

  I sucked in a breath. He was the editor in chief there in Portland, Maine. “This is Harper, how can I help you?”

  “I like to keep an eye out for local talent, and I’ve been watching your work with the Weekly Wine.”

  “I see.” I turned to my grandmother, perplexed. How was I on Red Rayburn’s radar?

  “I’m impressed. I’ve never seen anyone turn a failing newspaper around so quickly.”

  “Um … Thank you.”

  “I’ll cut to the chase. I want to steal you away from Superiore Bay. You’ve got great experience with the Boston Globe, and I don’t know what you’re doing there in such a small town, but I’d love to talk to you about some opportunities I have coming up in this region.”

  “Wow. I’m flattered.”

  “Don’t say no yet. Meet with me and we’ll talk. At the very least, it never hurts to keep your options open.”

  I found myself nodding along. “I suppose you’re right, but I should warn you, I have no intentions of leaving Superiore Bay. I don’t want to waste your time.”

  “Duly noted, but I still think we could find a way to work together.”

  “All right. I’ll meet with you.” I was hesitant. I’d just gotten out of a big job with the Boston Globe, and I was finally getting my feet under me again. I didn’t want to rock the boat.

  “I’ll come to you. Next week at the Rusty Spoon work for you?”

  “Sure. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” I hung up the phone and shared a look with my grandma. “That was weird.”

  “You aren’t looking for a job are you?” Grandma asked.

  “No. I mean … at some point, I really need to find a new source of income. The Weekly Wine doesn’t have much of a payroll budget these days. We’re turning a profit now at least.” I hadn’t really thought about my next steps in terms of a real job.

  “It won’t hurt to hear what he says. Just out of curiosity, what would it take to get the paper making enough to pay you a decent editor’s salary?”

  I snorted a laugh at that. “A miracle.”

  “What kind of a miracle?” Grandma rolled her eyes at me.

  “We’d need a serious investor. And a good year or two of growth in our readership. I need more locals to advertise and a wider variety of freelance columnists to bring more depth to the paper. It’s doable, but that’s a long-term game. I honesty don’t know if I’ve got it in me to take it that far.”

  “Of course you do.” Grandma grabbed her basket by the back door. “I’m heading out to the garden, call if you need me.”

  That was Grandma code for ‘I’m going to gossip with the neighbor over the fence while I pretend to garden.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Put it down.” Vic pointed to the cabinet behind her desk, where the wait staff stored their things.

  “What?” I paused tying the apron around my waist.

  “The other servers have asked me not to put you on the floor. You’re driving the tips down.”

  “Oh.” I clapped a hand over my chest. “I’m wounded.”

  “They want to give you a trophy.” She cracked a smile. “Make it official and everything.”

  “Worst waiter on the planet?” I wasn’t surprised because it was true.

  “It’s no contest.”

  “Want me on barback?” I pointed toward the bar.

  “Depends. How are you feeling these days?”

  “Good as new.”

  “Then, barback it is.”

  “On it.” I tossed the apron in the cabinet and returned to the job I actually liked. Not that I hadn’t tried to be a decent waiter, but it was not the right role for me. Barback was easy. I got to talk to the other staff, some of the customers, and I got my workout in. I got paid to do it, and I got to work my schedule around my volunteer work. And it made my father crazy. It was kind of the perfect job for me.

  “Thank the lord she put you back on the heavy lifting.” Stephanie zoomed past me with a tray of drinks she had balanced on one hand. “We love you, babe, but we’ve been taking bets on how long it would take Vic to pop a vein.”

  “I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did.” I hefted a crate of champagne bottles and followed her toward the bar. I stocked the fridge with bottles for the upcoming shifts. We went through an insane amount of champagne on the weekends. Smoothing a hand over the labels that had my family name on it, I slid them into the cooler, whistling a happy tune to myself.

  Thoughts of Harper always made me happy. Even when I still wasn’t certain where we stood. All I knew was we were meant to be. We’d get there together. Someday.

  “Carter.” I turned at the weary voice behind me.

  “Harrison, you look like death.” I leaned on the counter as my cousin moved to sit at the bar. “When’s the last time you slept?”

  Harrison sat back on the barstool, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not since your girlfriend ran that article.”

  “What’s wrong? You getting crap about my involvement?” Lots of people didn’t like the Ashfords, but it wasn’t like I was anything like my father or my brother. I was more like our easy going grandfather.

  “No, the phones are ringing off the hook. At the center. At my office. Even at home. I can’t get away from it.”

  “Sorry.” I didn’t have a good answer for him. “It’ll probably die down soon.”

  “Probably, but now I’ve got all this donation money lying around. Get me a beer, will you? I’m exhausted h
ere.”

  “Sure thing.” I grabbed a frosted mug from the cooler and pulled a draft for him. “Now, what’s that about bunches of money you don’t know what to do with?”

  “Donations. They’re flooding in from all over town. All for the community center. Specifically for the after-school programs and summer day camps for the kids.”

  “That’s good news, Harrison.” I leaned over the bar. This was exciting. I could think of a dozen things we could use that money for. New sports equipment. Another computer, or three if there was enough. Paid tutors for the after-school program. The list was endless.

  “Yeah, it’s great.” He took a long sip of his beer. “Really. I’m thrilled, but I just don’t have time to manage it all. Between being mayor, volunteering at the fire department, and working at the hardware store, I am tapped out on what I can reasonably manage on my own.”

  “I bet. I don’t know how … or why you do it all.”

  “So, you’re hired, obviously.” Harrison sat back with a groan. “When can you start? Because I’m ready to forward all the phone calls to you as soon as possible.”

  “Wait, what?” I grabbed a tray of clean mugs and loaded them into the freezer to frost.

  “I’m dead serious, cousin. Full-time director of the community center. It’s all yours. You take the whole thing and run with it. You can work with Delia and the other volunteers. You’ll have to be in charge of fundraising too, though. With the donations that have come in, we can pay you a full-time salary for a few years, though not very large, but you’ll need to plan for long-term budgeting.”

  “Budgeting and fundraising? Whoa, Harrison, slow down. Have you lost your mind? I’m so not the guy for this job. I mean, I’d be thrilled with a paid position organizing events for the kids, but running the center? I don’t know if I have the skills for that.”

  “Of course you do. You’ve been doing it for years already. Now, we can actually pay you for it. Honestly, there’s no one else I’d trust with this job.”

  “Are you for real?” The first spike of excitement hit me, but I couldn’t do this. Could I?