A Little Light Magic

by Joy Nash

  “Tomorrow,” Nick answered. “As long as you give your okay today.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. Everything’s taken care of.”

  Leigh’s gaze flicked to the open fire door, then back to Tori. “So. What do you want me to do first?”

  Tori frowned. The energy in the room had changed, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on how or why.

  “How about the Native American display?” She led Leigh to a bare tree branch set in a bucket of sand. “You can hang the dream catchers.”

  Leigh went down on her knees and started sorting through a box of decorated hoops just as Nick and the building inspector entered the room. Mr. Weinstein paused in the open doorway, eyeing the chunk of wood Tori had wedged under the fire door.

  “You do realize this fire door must stay closed during business hours, Ms. Morgan.”

  “Of course,” Tori said, trying not to wring her hands. “Nick told me that.” What else had she forgotten? She sent him a worried glance, but he pitched back a reassuring smile.

  “You can open for business as soon as the paperwork’s complete,” Mr. Weinstein said. “Congratulations, Ms. Morgan.” He moved off to the sales counter with his clipboard.

  Nick tapped Tori’s nose with one finger. “Almost there,” he said, smiling down at her. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be—”

  He broke off abruptly as his gaze drifted past her shoulder.

  “Shit.” His curse was barely audible, but there was a wealth of emotion in it.

  That negative energy Tori had felt earlier seemed to thicken. She turned and followed Nick’s gaze directly to Leigh.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer. Tori would have pressed him, but Mr. Weinstein returned with a question about emergency lighting packs. Nick pivoted, giving her his back as he answered in terse sentences.

  Finally, her occupancy certificate was in hand. “Zoning tells me your use permit’s in order, too,” the inspector said. “You can open for business at any time.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tori walked the inspector to the door, but her attention remained focused on Nick and Leigh. Nick was staring at Leigh’s back. The girl’s shoulders were rigid. Slowly, she rose to her feet and turned.

  Tori shut the door behind Mr. Weinstein. The strike of the latch seemed to bring Nick to life.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

  Leigh glared at him. “Working.”

  “Like hell you are,” Nick muttered.

  “Like hell I am,” Leigh shot back.

  Tori gaped.

  “Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. Go out to my truck. Now.” Nick’s eyes cut to Tori, then back to Leigh. “We’ll discuss this at home.”

  “Nick. Leigh,” Tori managed. “What’s going on?”

  She might as well have been an astral projection for all the attention the two paid her. They glared at each other with identical obstinate expressions, arms crossed and shoulders hunched in exactly the same way.

  Oh, God.

  “I’m almost eighteen,” Leigh said. “I’ll work where I want.”

  “Wrong answer, Leigh. You’ll work where I say.”

  “Forget it, Dad.”

  Tori had known Nick had a daughter. And she’d known Leigh reminded her of someone. She should have put two and two together. But she’d never considered it, because Leigh…well, she was practically a grown woman. And Nick was only thirty-five. God. He must not have been much older than Leigh was now when she was born.

  And he clearly hadn’t known his daughter had come to Tori’s looking for a job. But Leigh had known her father was working here. She’d asked enough questions about Tori’s contractor. The teenager had played her. But why?

  “I am not working at Santangelo Construction this summer,” Leigh was saying.

  “Goddamn it, yes, you are. Doris needs you.”

  “She doesn’t. You just want her to keep tabs on me.”

  “Can you blame me? After you lied about Jason’s party?”

  Leigh went deathly still. “Jason doesn’t have anything to do with this. I told you I wanted to work in the casino with Stacey, and you said no.”

  “Leave Stacey out of this. Stacey didn’t let her boyfriend wreck her car. Stacey didn’t lie to me. You, on the other hand—”

  “It wasn’t Jason’s fault! The other car didn’t have its lights on!”

  “Don’t go there, Leigh,” Nick warned.

  The girl stomped her foot. “I told you the truth, but do you believe me? No. I tell you I want to choose my own summer job, and what do you say? No. You want to bury me in a closet at your office. Well, forget it. You don’t want me to work at the casino? Fine. I’m working here with Tori.”

  Nick scowled. “Absolutely not.”

  Tori cleared her throat. “Um, Nick…?”

  He swung his head around. “You stay out of this.”

  She gave a little gasp of disbelief. “Excuse me? Stay out of it? I don’t think so. This is my shop, you know.”

  “And this is my daughter. Just when were you planning to tell me you’d hired her?”

  “Tell you?” Tori’s voice lurched up an octave. “How could I have told you? I didn’t know Leigh was your daughter!”

  He eyed her disbelievingly. “You must have seen her last name when she filled out the paperwork.”

  Tori snatched up Leigh’s manila folder. Sure enough, on the top form, next to Name, she’d printed, Leigh Marie Santangelo.

  Tori relaxed a little. At least Leigh hadn’t been planning to totally scam her.

  “Leigh downloaded the IRS forms. This is the first I’ve seen them. I knew you had a daughter, but you never told me how old she was. I thought she’d be younger.” Tori met Nick’s gaze. “Why don’t you want Leigh to work here?”

  Nick took a step back. “I…” He glanced at Leigh and fell silent.

  His cell rang.

  “Goddamn it,” he said, tearing the phone from his belt. He flipped it open so hard it was a wonder the hinge didn’t snap. “Santangelo here.”

  Leigh rolled her eyes and turned away.

  Nick’s expression, already dark, turned downright thunderous as he listened to the caller. “No. Don’t do anything. Just stall them. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Problem?” Tori asked.

  “The usual bullshit.” He leveled a steady glance at Leigh. “Get in the truck. I’ll drop you at home on my way.”

  A couple beats of silence ensued.

  “No, thanks,” Leigh said finally. “I’ve got work to do here.”

  For a second or two, it looked as if Nick would argue. Then he made a sound of disgust and strode out the door without saying a word. His truck engine sprang to life, then faded away.

  Tori let out a long breath into the dead silence that followed. She thought Leigh did the same. She eyed the girl, wondering what crisis had prompted her to call her father in the middle of the night two weeks earlier. But she didn’t dare ask. If she did, Leigh might wonder what Tori and Nick had been doing when she’d called.

  Tori crossed her arms. “So. You want to tell me what that scene was about?”

  “Not really. But I guess I should.”

  “Let me start. You knew your father was doing my renovation. You didn’t tell him I’d hired you. You came early because you wanted him to find you here. You knew he’d get mad. Am I right so far?”

  Leigh nodded, then sighed. “You’re mad at me, too, right?”

  “No,” Tori said. And it was the truth. How could she be angry when Leigh’s eyes held the same blend of vulnerability and defiance Tori remembered so well from her own teenage years?

  “I do want some answers, though.” She paused. “How about a drink first?”

  “Sure,” Leigh said warily. “You got any Coke?”

  Tori laughed. Nick had just stashed a case in the pantry the day before. “You know, I should’ve guessed yo
u two were related. You’re a lot alike.”

  “That’s whateveryone says,” Leigh groused, trailing Tori into the kitchen. “I don’t see it, myself. I mean, I don’t look anything like him.”

  That was true enough. “You must look like your mother.”

  “Yeah. I don’t remember her, though. She left town before I turned two.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Dad got rid of most of her pictures, but Mimi saved a couple, so I know what she looked like.”

  “Mimi?”

  “My grandmother. She was only thirty-eight when I was born. She didn’t want to be called Grandma, so she made up Mimi.”

  Tori grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and handed it to Leigh. “Your father was young when you were born.”

  “Eighteen. He got my mom pregnant while they were in high school.”

  “But you’re not in touch with her now?”

  Leigh took a swig of her soda. “She sends birthday cards. Most years, anyway.”

  It wasn’t hard to hear the hurt in her voice. “It must’ve been hard growing up without a mother.”

  Leigh shrugged. “My grandmother lives with us. And my great-grandmother practically lives with us, she’s over so much. And I had Alex, Zach, and Johnny looking after me, too.”

  Tori gave her a blank look.

  “My dad’s younger brothers. Didn’t he tell you about them?”

  “I guess not.”

  She filled Tori in. “Dad’s the oldest. Uncle Alex is next. He’s a police detective in Atlantic City. He’s divorced and has a little girl named Sophie. Then there’s Uncle Zach. He’s in the navy.”

  Leigh took a breath and a sip of Coke. “Then there’s Johnny. He’s only twenty-four, so I don’t call him ‘uncle.’ He works for Dad, but he wants to be an actor.”

  Tori’s brain was spinning. All that family, and Nick had never mentioned any of them, even in passing. “Do you all see one another often?”

  “Oh, all the time. Well, except for Uncle Zach, of course. Nonna’s real mad Dad’s been working late so much. He hasn’t been home for dinner in weeks.”

  “So he told you all about working on my shop?”

  “Are you kidding? He didn’t say a word. We thought he was at the office. He even told me flat out that he was on another job.”

  Tori shut her eyes briefly. Chelsea would have a field day with that little bit of information.

  Leigh caught her expression. “Don’t take it personally. Dad never tells us about his dates. But then I saw—” She cut herself off abruptly.

  “What?”

  Leigh flushed, then said in a rush, “Jason and I saw him kissing you on your porch last week.” She took a sudden interest in the nutritional information on the side of her soda can.

  “Oh.” Tori couldn’t honestly think of anything else to say.

  “So I, you know, had to come over and check you out.”

  “And? What did you decide?”

  Leigh looked up. “Truthfully? I can’t believe he’s with you. You’re great, and your shop is seriously cool. And Dad—well, let’s just say he’s not into anything too unconventional.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’m still a little wigged out about it all. No offense, but you’re just not his usual type.”

  “And what type is that?” Tori couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  “From what Johnny’s told me? Tall, blonde, and anorexic.”

  “Wonderful,” Tori muttered. She paced to the window. “Why didn’t you just tell me who you were when you first showed up?”

  “I was going to tell you today. I swear. You saw the paperwork.”

  Tori sighed. “I think you should go now. I’ve got to get back to setting up the shop.”

  “But what about my job?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No! I really want to work here.”

  “But your dad wants you to work in his office.”

  “I’m not going to.” Leigh got up, found the recycling bucket under the sink, and pitched her empty can into it.

  Just like her father, Tori thought.

  “Look,” Leigh said, “don’t worry about Dad. He’s got a wicked bad temper, but it blows itself out pretty fast. He’ll let me work here. Besides,” she added, “you need me. What if you have to go out in the middle of the day? You can’t just close up shop and lose business.”

  You need me. Tori wasn’t so sure she needed to get in the middle of Nick’s disagreement with his daughter, but one look at Leigh’s raised chin told Tori Leigh wouldn’t give in to her father’s demands so easily. The girl was stubborn.

  Another trait she shared with Nick.

  “Can I keep the job? Please?”

  Tori couldn’t find it in her heart to turn her away. “All right. You can work here—if you can convince your father to agree to it.”

  “Done,” said Leigh. “And, Tori?”

  “What?”

  “You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Meddling and matchmaking are time-honored family traditions.

  It was clear to Nick, even from halfway across the Bayview condominium’s lobby, that his superintendent was right: Thomas Southerland’s head was firmly stuck in his ass.

  The Ivy League architect slapped at the spackle dust marring his black trousers, then frowned and slapped again. And again. Each time, the cloud of white powder around him expanded. Finally, after one particularly futile smack, Southerland assumed the long-suffering expression of a tortured saint.

  Which was entirely appropriate, given that Fred Dalton, Nick’s electrical subcontractor, was glowering at the architect as if the architect were a demon straight out of hell.

  Jesus. Nick needed this aggravation like he needed a hole in a condom. Especially coming fresh from the run-in with Leigh at Tori’s.

  Leigh and Tori. He rubbed the sudden spike of pain between his eyes. His daughter and his lover. Together. Talking about what, exactly? Him?

  Hell.

  “Yo, Nick,” Dalton called. “Come here and tell Southerland this here chandelier is just like what’s ordered in the specs.”

  “It is not,” Southerland said succinctly. “My specifications call for a different chandelier entirely. A fact I’m sure Nick knows.”

  “It’s the same damn thing,” Dalton said. “This one’s made by a different manufacturer, is all.”

  Nick’s blood pressure rose. A different manufacturer? What was this about? Dalton knew there weren’t any substitutions on Nick’s jobs.

  “The fixture you installed is smaller, has less wattage, and the color is a shade off,” Southerland said. “The entire design aesthetic of the space is disrupted! And there was no change order submitted.”

  “I put in my change order. Gave it to Nick here,” Dalton said.

  Nick frowned. “I don’t remember seeing it.”

  “Ah, well, I mighta handed it to Johnny. He signed off on it. I got a copy right here.”

  After a bit of searching, Dalton produced the incriminating document. Sure enough, Johnny had scrawled his signature across the bottom. The space left for the architect’s signature was glaringly blank.

  Johnny. Nick’s weakest link.

  Nick was going to murder him.

  “This change order isn’t valid,” Southerland said. “Not without my signature. I want that chandelier replaced.”

  “We’re behind schedule as it is,” Nick said. “Ordering a new fixture will push us back a couple weeks at least. That’s assuming we can even get it by then.”

  “Not my problem,” Southerland said, moving off.

  Nick let out a stream of profanities. Profit on this job was disappearing faster than dollar chips off a craps table. And all because Johnny couldn’t give his day job half the attention he gave his moonlighting stand-up act. If it had been anyone else, Nick would’ve fired him.

  “Take it down,” Nick told Dalton. “Get the right one up there as quickly as
you can.”

  “You got it, Nick. Course, there’ll be a restocking fee for the old one.”

  “Just send me the bill.”

  Nick’s cell rang. Briefly, he entertained a fantasy in which he pulverized the thing with a sledgehammer.

  Then he sighed and checked the caller ID.

  Tori. Ah, hell. He had the vague feeling that he’d done something wrong, but damn it, why should he feel guilty? Just because he hadn’t told Tori much about Leigh? Because he hadn’t wanted to introduce Tori to his family, at least not yet? He’d known her for only a couple of weeks, for chrissakes. He wasn’t ready for her to be in that part of his life.

  If he didn’t answer on the next ring, she’d go over to voice mail. Briefly, he considered it, then sighed and flipped open the phone.

  “Hey, Tori, what’s up?” His tone was sharper than he’d intended.

  She hesitated. “I just wondered if everything was all right on your job. You left so abruptly.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. Just another fire to put out.”

  Another pause. “Well, I was thinking, instead of going out tonight like we’d planned, would you rather just eat here? Or maybe I could come over to your house?”

  Nick cleared his throat. Why did it feel as if a noose were tightening around it? “Um, Tori, I think I’m going to have to cancel for tonight. There’s a ton of work I’ve put on hold the last few weeks, and it’s all about to hit the fan. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to work late tonight.”

  “Oh.” The line was silent for a couple beats. Then, “No problem. I really don’t have time to go out, anyway. There’s a lot more merchandise to get out on the shelves.”

  He swallowed. “Right. Well, good luck tomorrow. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Okay.” She cut the connection.

  “Nicolo.”

  Nick looked up to find Joe D’Amico standing in front of him. “Dalton told me—” Joe caught sight of Nick’s expression. His eyes dropped to the cell phone, still open in Nick’s hand. “Bad news?”

  “Nah.” Nick snapped the phone shut. “Just the usual bullshit.”

  Tori waited for Nick’s call that night, but it never came. The next morning, when Leigh showed up for work, she told Tori her dad hadn’t gotten home until after midnight.