Third Time's a Charm (11 page)

Besides, there was a new red dress hanging in her closet just waiting to make its debut. Ryan wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her.

6

Ryan waited until he could no longer see Tori’s car before he returned to the restaurant. That was one pretty woman. Sophisticated in a way that made him feel like the clod he was. But this was the first time he’d ever been alone with her, and he managed not to stumble over his words. She’d even started to open up with him a little, let down her guard when she talked about her father. He’d glimpsed something beneath the flirty surface, the hint of a serious side of Tori Sanderson in those round blue eyes. It made her appear the slightest bit vulnerable, like maybe she wasn’t as self-assured as she’d always seemed.

Of course, that was before the Dynamic Duo showed up and dumped coffee all over her.

He shoved the door open with a force born from irritation. Just wait until he got his hands on Loralee.

She stood just inside, eyes wide. “Ryan, I’m sorry. I didn’t aim to mess up your date.”

“No?” He couldn’t help spitting the word, just a little. “Tell me, Loralee, what did you think you were doing?”

She winced at his tone. “I don’t know. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I just wanted to see her. You know, see if she’s as pretty as I remembered.” She hung her head in a perfect imitation of the two boys who cowered behind her. “I’m real sorry.”

“Me too,” Butch whispered.

Cody nodded, his face a mask of misery.

They all three looked so miserable Ryan couldn’t keep hold of his anger. He slid a stern glance to each of them before relenting. “I forgive you. Just don’t let it happen again.”

The boys each heaved a sigh and whirled to gallop toward a couple of soft chairs in the corner.

Loralee wrinkled her nose. “I guess she ditched you?”

“Yeah, for tonight.” He grinned. “But I’m taking her to dinner Tuesday.”

Her face lit, and she clapped her hands. “I knew it! I could tell by the way you two were mooning at each other that she liked you. Just wait ’til I tell Tammy you’ve got a date with a homecoming queen.”

Ryan cast a look toward the ceiling. If there was one person with a bigger fixation on his love life than his sister-in-law, it was Tammy Adams, his mother. “Don’t get Mom involved in this. It’s just one date. Tori probably won’t want to go out with me again after Tuesday.”

“Why not?”

Ryan was saved from answering by the girl behind the counter announcing two Wild Berry Bombs and a Strawberry Stinger. He picked up the boys’ drinks and delivered them while Loralee took hers to the table where he’d been sitting with Tori. When he joined her, he saw she’d cleaned up the spilled coffee mess.

“Why won’t she go out with you again?” Loralee asked as he resumed his seat.

He picked up his expensive coffee and sipped. Lukewarm. “C’mon. You saw her. She’s gorgeous.”

“So? You’re not all that ugly.” Loralee grinned as she dunked her straw up and down in the slushy drink. “You two look cute together.”

“I don’t know. She’s probably used to being taken out to expensive restaurants by men who drive BMWs.” He shrugged. “I’m just a plain old boy from the country.”

Loralee set her cup down with a thud. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got a lot going for you. A good job, and you’re going to college. Why, I know a dozen girls who’d jump at a chance to hook up with you.”

Right
. Time to change the subject, or she’d be filling up his social calendar with blind dates. He took a final sip from the coffee, which didn’t taste nearly as good after it had cooled, and set the mug on the table.

“I’d better get going. I’ve got a paper to finish before class tomorrow.”

“No, wait!” Loralee straightened, a look of dismay on her face. “You can’t leave yet, not before you tell me the details. Where are you taking her? What are you wearing? Are you bringing her flowers?”

Does she think I’m an idiot?
He waved in the general direction of the boys. “And risk a repeat performance? Not a chance.”

“Oh, come on.” She grinned. “I’d leave them home next time.”

Laughing, he launched himself to his feet. “Tell Walt I’ll see him after work on Wednesday. I’ll tell you about it then,
after
it’s over.”

“Bring her flowers,” she called after him as he headed for the door. “It’ll make a good impression.”

He lifted a hand in farewell and exited the restaurant.

The smell of cinnamon and hazelnut coffee saturated the interior of Tori’s car as thoroughly as the latte had saturated her clothes. The air conditioner turned the silky wet fabric chilly, while the edges that had started to dry felt stiff. She didn’t want to drive all the way back to Lexington like this. There was the box of her old clothes back at Gram’s house. She could drop by there and dig something out to change into before she headed home.

But it was up in the attic, near that
other
box.

Tori’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Ryan asked why she’d never tried to find Daddy. But why should she? It wasn’t her place to find him. If he wanted to see his daughters, he would have contacted them. The years had piled up, fifteen of them, without a single word.

A stoplight ahead turned red, and she rolled to a halt. A couple pushing a stroller stepped off the curb and crossed the street past her front bumper. A few years older than her. The father pushed, both hands on the stroller’s handle, while the mother walked at his side. Tori’s insides knotted. Had Mom and Daddy walked like this with her when she was a baby? Would this father, too, one day desert his child to go off and . . .

And what? What had happened in Daddy’s life to make him walk away from his daughters without a backward glance? Did he just get tired of being bothered with them?

Which was so not fair. They never did anything to drive him away.

Except cry for Mom when he took us to the fair without
her.

The light changed. The car rolled forward as she took her foot off the brake. She gave her head a shake, trying to dislodge the disturbing thoughts that hovered like a thick fog in her mind. That hadn’t been the only time she cried, either. Her memory was sketchy, but Tori knew there were a couple of other times when Daddy had come to pick them up and she cried. And once, she’d refused to go at all. He tried to bribe her with ice cream, but she staunchly refused. She’d stood beside Mom at the front window watching Joan and Allie climb into Daddy’s car, her stomach churning.

It couldn’t have been easy for him, having his youngest daughter rebuff him like that.

She jerked her head upright as the thought slapped at her brain. Her deadbeat dad deserved no sympathy at all, not from her. She reached down and cranked the stereo up loud, willing the music to drown out any more ridiculous thoughts. A nine-year-old child was not to blame for her parent’s failures.

Only one car sat in the driveway at Gram’s house. Mom’s. Tori breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled in behind it. Eric and Allie had left, and Joan’s car was gone, too. Good.

She didn’t feel like facing her sisters and their nosy questions. She let herself into the house and called down the stairs that led to the finished basement where Mom’s and Joan’s bedrooms lay.

“Mom? Are you down there?”

Mom appeared at the bottom of the stairs, surprise etched on her face. “Tori, I thought you’d gone back to Lexington.” She started up the stairs, then made a face when she caught sight of Tori’s blouse. “What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” Tori scrunched her nose. “Where is everybody?”

“Allie and Eric took the baby home, and Joan drove Mother back to her apartment.” She peered into Tori’s face as she ascended to the landing. “They said you left without saying goodbye.”

“I didn’t want to answer any questions about going for a simple cup of coffee with the guy they were obviously pushing me toward.” Tori rolled her eyes expansively, which made Mom smile. “I’m going upstairs to get that box of my old clothes so I can change before I head back to my apartment.”

Mom followed her down the hallway and easily reached the rope pull for the attic stairs. None of the Sanderson girls had inherited their mother’s lanky height, but Joan came closest. Tori was the shortest of the three.

“Do you need help?” Mom asked.

“Um, maybe getting it down the stairs. Let me see.”

Mom waited in the hallway as Tori climbed up. She rose into heat and darkness, and groped for the string that turned on the overhead light. The ringing of the telephone reached her from below.

“I hope that’s not the hospital calling me in to work.” Mom’s voice sounded irritated. “I’d better grab it.”

“Okay.”

Tori looked around. Joan and Allie hadn’t accomplished much after she left. In fact, it looked like they’d only gone through one more box before they gave up. There, near the stairs, was Tori’s stuff. And over there—she gulped— was Daddy’s box. The way they were acting, she’d half expected to find it gone, taken over to Allie’s house for safekeeping.

Tori chewed at her lower lip. If anyone ever did want to find Daddy, they’d need something to work with, some sort of identification. She stared at the box, hesitant to touch it. So many memories in there, all of them bad.

Her feet moved almost of their own accord. She had to stoop as the rafters sloped toward the plywood floor. With a quick glance at the opening to make sure Mom wasn’t coming, she reached out with a tentative hand and unfolded the flaps on the top of the box. Maybe Allie had taken the shoebox with her. She wouldn’t have cared about those old textbooks, but she hadn’t wanted to get rid of the pictures. Tori pulled back the comforter and blanket, and lifted one of the heavy books to reveal the bent corner of the shoebox.

Her heart’s pounding sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet attic. Her hands shook as she freed the shoebox from its hiding place. When she did, she caught the corner of the folder beneath it, spilling a thick stack of papers into the box, old tax forms from way back in 1990. A quick glance at the names showed both her parents, Carla Hancock Sanderson and Thomas Alan Sanderson. Their names . . . and their social security numbers.

Identification.

With a guilty glance toward the opening, she snatched up the form and stuffed it beneath the crushed lid of the shoebox. Then she hastily replaced the comforter and blanket, and took the shoebox to the box containing her old clothes. Working quickly, she buried the pictures in the center of folded clothes, snatched up a shirt she hadn’t worn since high school, and refolded the flaps to seal the box. She finished just as Mom returned to the foot of the attic stairs.

“It was Vonda from the bowling league, wanting to tell me about her grandson’s soccer game.” Mom climbed the bottom few steps, her head emerging through the opening in the floor. “Is that it? Here, hand it down to me.”

Tori scooted the box across the dusty plywood. “Be careful. It’s not heavy, but it’s awkward.”

“I’ll just slide it down the stairs. Ummph.”

Mom jumped backward as she lost her grip on the box and it tumbled down the rickety wooden stairs. Tori held her breath, certain the flaps would come open and the contents would spill out. But they held, thank goodness.

Light glinted off Mom’s glasses as she turned a grin upward. “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

Tori pulled the string, plunging the attic into darkness, and descended backward to the floor. While Mom put the stairs away, she ducked into the bathroom with her shirt and performed a quick clean-up job on skin that smelled like stale coffee. She emerged to find Mom trying to wrangle the box down the hallway, and rushed forward.

“Let’s each grab an end.”

They hefted their load through the house, out the door, and to Tori’s car. The sun had started its descent in an expanse of bright blue sky, but there were still several hours of daylight left. Good, because she didn’t enjoy driving the rural roads between Danville and Lexington in the dark.

“How are you going to get it in your apartment?” Mom asked when they’d stored the box in the trunk.

“Oh, I’ll get a couple of friends to help.” Tori looped the key ring around her finger and jingled. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Tori didn’t look at her. “Why do you think Daddy never tried to get in touch with us?”

She kept her gaze fixed on the grass, but saw Mom stiffen out of the corner of her eye. Since the day Daddy left, he’d become a taboo subject around the Sanderson house. Mom never discussed him, and the few times the girls had tried to ask her about him during those first lonely months, she’d looked like she was barely able to contain her anger. After a few tentative attempts early on, they’d reached an unspoken agreement not to bring up his name.

“I don’t know.” Mom’s voice was tight. After a moment’s silence she went on in a resigned tone. “But I suspect it was because he didn’t want to pay child support.”

That’s what Allie said the last time they talked about it.

“You could have made him, you know.” Tori let anger creep into her voice. “There are laws about that.”

She glanced up in time to see Mom’s shoulders heave with a silent laugh. “They were harder to enforce fifteen years ago. And besides”—she crossed her arms, her hands gripping her elbows—“we did okay without his help. Didn’t we?”