Third Time's a Charm (4 page)

“I don’t know.” Uncertainty drew out Allie’s words. “She’s going to see that as a set-up. It’ll turn her off for sure.”

“I agree,” Joan said. “Tori doesn’t like to be forced into anything. It might be better if you ask her out to dinner in a restaurant, like a real date.”

Allie snapped her fingers, her expression bright. “How about coffee? He could suggest a latte tomorrow evening before she heads back to Lexington.”

Latte? He never touched the stuff.

Joan considered Allie’s suggestion for a moment, then spoke slowly. “Coffee’s good. Nonthreatening, informal. That would work.”

Nonthreatening? How could a beautiful girl like Tori ever consider him threatening? He opened his mouth to ask, but Allie cut him off.

“But don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her pointer finger shook in his direction. “Keep it casual. Engage her in conversation. Then if she’s enjoying herself, take the next step.”

Joan’s head dipped in agreement. “Dinner.”

What were they, Dear Abby for the dateless and desperate? Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. Well, he wasn’t
that
desperate. He could handle asking a woman on a date without advice from a couple of matchmakers.

But they
were
Tori’s sisters . . .

“So, she likes coffee?” he asked.

“Not just any coffee.” Allie reached over to take the baby from Eric’s arms. “Tori’s a latte girl, through and through. Feed her mocha-flavored coffee with lots of froth and she’ll love you forever.”

Great. Five bucks for a cup of fancy coffee.
His budget couldn’t afford many of those. But if that’s what she liked . . .

He’d been interested in Tori Sanderson for three years, since his first Sunday at Christ Community Church when he saw her sitting with the rest of the college students. She’d always been friendly, even flirted with him. But he’d known from the start she wouldn’t go for a farm boy from Junction City, even if he did have a plan to work his way off the family farm. But if Tori’s sisters thought he had a chance, what harm was there in asking her out for coffee? Provided, of course, he could manage to untangle his tongue and form a coherent sentence when she smiled at him.

Maybe he’d better figure out what he was going to say
before
he got to church tomorrow.

“Thanks for the tip.” He nodded a general farewell to the group. “I’d better get going.”

“See you in the morning,” Ken called as Ryan rounded the car.

He slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. Good thing he’d promised to help his brother with those wall studs this evening. Otherwise he’d spend all night thinking about Sunday school in the morning and worrying about Tori’s answer to his invitation.

Thoughts paraded through Tori’s mind during the drive from Danville to Lexington, each one pulling her mood lower than the last. She didn’t turn on her radio like she normally did. Instead, she rolled all four windows down and let the warm June breeze thunder through the car’s interior, tickling her nose with the smell of freshly cut grass.

Their family home, sold. So many important milestones in her life had happened there. She’d baked her first cake in that kitchen with Gram. Greeted her first date in that living room. She could still see Grandpa scowling at the poor guy as he listed the rules that must be followed for the honor of escorting his granddaughter to the movies. She couldn’t walk down the hallway without remembering the day after she was named homecoming queen, when she’d worn her crown to the breakfast table and Joan and Allie teased her and called her Queen Victoria.

Without the concrete reminder of Gram’s house, would the most important events in her life be reduced to memories that would eventually fade? They had tons of pictures, but pictures didn’t capture the whole story. One day would she have trouble remembering the unique smell of Gram’s kitchen, where mingled odors of her cooking over the years had seeped into the very wood of the cabinets? Or the sound of the mantle clock ticking late at night?

Just like she could no longer remember Daddy’s voice?

A sudden rush of tears blurred the oncoming traffic. She blinked hard. It was silly to feel this way about a house. Her family was still around, they’d just be spread out a little more. That was bound to happen anyway, first with Allie marrying Eric, and then Gram moving to Waterford Assisted Living Center, and now Joan getting married.

Tori tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Why did Joan’s fiancé bug her so much? Her dislike made no sense, because he was a nice guy. A doctor, no less. Intelligent and kind and handsome. And he was obviously good for Joan; she’d blossomed since he moved in next door. Of course, she’d also become as super-religious as he was.

A strain of symphonic music, almost masked by the sound of the wind roaring through the car, interrupted her thoughts. It took her a second to recognize her cell phone’s ringtone. With a one-handed grip on the steering wheel, she fished in her handbag for the phone, then raised the windows so she could hear.

“Hello?”

“Kate Bowman here.”

Tori straightened in the seat. Her boss. The woman was one of the smartest executives in the advertising business, and Tori was lucky to have the opportunity to learn from her. Everybody said so.

She forced herself to reply with an even tone. “Hello, Kate.”

No sense asking how she was, or if she was having a nice Saturday. Kate did not believe in chitchat.

“What time will you be in the office tomorrow?” Though posed as a question, Kate’s voice held a touch of command.

“Um . . .” Tori glanced at her briefcase in the passenger seat. The correct answer was
I’m not
, but Kate wouldn’t appreciate hearing that one. “I’ve got the data for the Harmon traffic ana—”

“Tomorrow.” Her bark cut through the cell phone. “What time?”

Being interrupted before she could finish a sentence drove Tori nuts. She drew in a calming breath. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, Kate. I wasn’t going to—”

“I know what day it is. Don’t you usually come in on Sunday?”

“Sometimes. I was planning to work at home tomorrow, though.”

“Change your plans. I’m flying to Chicago Monday morning for that conference, and I need to meet with you before I go.”

No fair!
Couldn’t she at least have one day without meetings? Sunday was the only day of the week when her schedule was her own, and she could actually get some work done without being ruled by the departmental meeting schedule. Not to mention the plans she’d just made with her family. What if she said no? Could they fire her for refusing to come into the office on Sunday?

Kate’s voice snapped with impatience. “I just spoke with Mitch, and he’ll be here at ten.”

Tori’s spine stiffened. She was pretty sure Kate wouldn’t fire her if she refused, but there were other ways to make her life miserable. One of them was letting Mitch Jackson in on a project with one of the firm’s prestigious accounts. No way in the world would Tori let Mitch attend a Sunday meeting without her.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I can be there by ten.”

“Good. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.”

The line went dead. Kate didn’t believe in saying goodbye. Tori slid the cover down and slipped her phone back into her bag. So much for church in the morning. But being with her family tomorrow afternoon in her family home was the most important thing anyway. Sunday dinner would be served at one o’clock, as always. If Kate’s meeting ended by noon, she could make it to Danville with twenty minutes to spare.

Ryan would be disappointed when she didn’t show up for Sunday school. Actually, she was a bit disappointed herself. He was a nice guy. His quiet demeanor had a calming influence on her while Allie was glaring and Joan was beaming up at Ken. She enjoyed watching him become flustered when she flirted. Nothing could ever happen between them—they were way too different—but she’d looked forward to seeing him in the morning, maybe even sitting beside him in church.

Oh, well. There was always next week.

The truck in front of her slowed as they approached the first major intersection in the city of Lexington. Tori raised the signal lever to indicate a right turn, toward her apartment. The evening stretched long and dull before her. That analysis for the Harmon account would be time-consuming, but it held little challenge for her. She’d done dozens just like it since she took the job as a marketing research analyst for this firm. A soft sigh escaped her lips. It wasn’t fair. This was so not what she’d envisioned when she walked into Connolly and Farrin with the ink still wet on her marketing degree.

At least she had a job in her field, even if it was doing dull analyses instead of the fun stuff, like creating campaigns and overseeing strategies. Some of the friends she’d gone to school with had settled for jobs outside of marketing altogether. She’d been lucky to find a job as a marketing research analyst. One that paid well too.

And if she wanted to keep her job, she needed to have the Harmon report on Kate’s desk before she left for Chicago Monday morning. Since tomorrow’s meeting would probably result in another big project that would suck up her Sunday night, the sooner she got the Harmon analysis out of the way, the better.

But surely she deserved a few minutes’ pleasure. After all, it was Saturday night. The mall was just a few miles away . . .

She flipped off the turn signal and headed straight through the intersection. A little shopping before she dove in to all those dull numbers was just the mood lifter she needed.

3

The tree-covered hill on the other side of the cornfield tossed back a sharp echo with each blow of Ryan’s hammer. Walt held the stud in place as the brothers knelt together on the subfloor. The smell of raw timber mingled with the rich odor of tilled soil that had been ever-present from Ryan’s earliest memories being raised on the farm. Thank goodness the wind was blowing from the west this evening. At times the smell of the hogs from Pop’s farm next door could get pretty rank.

One last pound and the nail sank flush with the stud. Ryan sat back on his ankles and stretched his spine as he spoke to his older brother. “Hand me that level, would you?”

Walt grabbed the tool from behind him and held it next to the stud. Ryan leaned forward onto his hands and knees to check their work. The bubble was hard to see in the rapidly dimming light. One more stud and they’d have to call it a night whether this wall was finished or not.

Walt squinted at the level. “Looks good.” He climbed to his feet and crossed the subfloor to gulp from a bottle of water at the edge of the platform, in front of what would eventually become the back door. “The weather looks good for tomorrow afternoon. With luck we’ll be ready to raise this one by midweek.”

A trickle of sweat ran from Ryan’s temple to his jaw, and he lifted his arm to wipe his face on his sleeve. He glanced down the length of the unfinished wall. With just the two of them working tomorrow after church, they’d probably finish the framing in a couple of hours and get started nailing on the sheathing. One exterior wall stood braced in place on the south side of the subfloor. Maybe when they got this second wall in place the building would look more like a house-in-the-making and less like a pile of lumber on a platform. But at the rate they were going, Walt and Loralee and the boys would be in that singlewide trailer at least another year. He glanced toward the front of the property, where a light shone dimly in the small window of the place his brother’s family called home.

Ryan crawled sideways and checked the position of the next stud in the frame. “I can work for a few hours right after church, but I may have something going on tomorrow afternoon.” He focused on lining up the two-by-four with the marking they’d made earlier, aware that Walt was studying him.

“Yeah? You have a date or something?”

Ryan shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe.”
If all goes well tomorrow
morning.

“With who?”

“You don’t know her.” He picked up his hammer.

“’kay, so who is she?”

Ryan lifted an eyebrow at his brother. Walt wasn’t normally all that inquisitive about the girls he dated. “Does it matter?”

A grin hovered around his brother’s lips. “Loralee will want to know.”

Walt’s wife had been trying to fix him up with a friend from the restaurant where she worked since last fall, when the girl from church he’d been sort of going out with took a job out of town and moved away. Loralee meant well, but the idea of a blind date held about the same amount of appeal as cleaning out Pop’s hog pen. She was becoming increasingly pushy lately, so much so that Ryan wondered if her persistence had something to do with her pregnancy. Some sort of misplaced nesting instinct that extended to others or something.

“She lives in Lexington.” He didn’t mention Tori’s name, or the fact that she’d grown up in Danville, just a few miles from here. Actually, even though they’d gone to different schools, it was possible that Loralee did know the Sanderson sisters, since they were all approximately the same age.

“Okay.” Walt’s grin deepened. “Just asking.”