by Beth Carter
“My pleasure.” Tucker drove several minutes until he found a pizza joint. “After we eat, we can carve pumpkins on your front porch if you want.” Tucker paused. “If Hope thinks that’s a good idea.”
“I love that idea,” Hope said. “We still have several hours to fill.”
“Me too.” Britney hopped out first and opened the restaurant door for them. They wolfed down their pepperoni pizza mainly in silence after the activity-filled day. When they polished off the last slice, Tucker asked if anyone wanted a frozen custard.
“Are you kidding?” Hope asked. “I’ve probably gained five pounds today.”
“Let’s go to my house and carve pumpkins.”
Minutes later, Hope and Tucker sat on the front porch and asked Britney to go inside to get knives, a couple of big spoons to scoop out the pulp, and two trash bags. “I’d let you in but the house is a mess. Mom gets mad when people come in without her permission.”
“No problem. We’ll wait here,” Hope said. Hope shouted after Britney, “You might want to bring a Sharpie too. We should probably draw the faces before we start carving.”
When Britney returned with the items, Hope spread one trash bag beneath the pumpkins saying, “It’ll be easier to clean up afterward.”
“How do we start?” Britney asked. “I’ve never done this before.”
“I’d just dig in and start carving, but Miss Truman had a better idea. Maybe we should draw the face on the pumpkin first and then carve it.”
The threesome worked in silence. Tucker finished first with a basic, traditional pumpkin face with upside down triangle eyes and a jagged mouth. Hope made an “O” for the mouth and made her pumpkin more like a ghoul. “That’s cool, Miss Truman.”
Britney worked on her drawing and wouldn’t show anyone until she was finished. Once she spun the pumpkin around carved in the shape of a mummy with straps of cloth, Britney said, “What do you think?”
“I think you’re an artist.” Tucker shook his head. “You certainly didn’t inherit that from me. That’s incredible.”
Britney admired her work. “I like it too.” She paused. “I think I’ll leave it like this for a while and carve it another time. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Tucker said. “It’s your pumpkin. In fact, that’s a great idea. Why don’t you keep all three on your porch? They’ll last longer if they aren’t carved.”
“Really? Is that okay with you, Miss Truman?”
“I’d like nothing more.” Hope stood and stretched. She casually glanced at her watch. It was already dark and moths were flying around the porch light. She was worn out but didn’t feel right about leaving Britney alone.
Obviously sensing her mood, Britney yawned. “You guys can go ahead. I’ll be fine. I stay at home a lot.”
Hope and Tucker exchanged glances. “I don’t feel right about that,” Tucker said.
“I’ll lock the doors.” Britney placed the three pumpkins to the side of the front door with her pumpkin in the middle as headlights turned into the driveway. Her mom got out wearing a white tank top and a skimpy denim skirt that was too short to meet the guidelines at Hilltop. Hope couldn’t see the woman’s boyfriend because he backed out without saying a word.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A happy little family and—what’s that I see?—three pumpkins on the porch?” She narrowed her eyes. “Which one belongs to Miss Truman?”
Britney pointed to it.
“Give it to her,” Jill said. “We don’t need her pumpkin on our porch. The other two can stay.”
“It’s okay, Brit.” Hope reached for her pumpkin, ready to diffuse the situation. “I’ll put it on my desk. You can see it every day that way.”
Tucker hesitated. Navigating this unchartered territory was new to him. He didn’t want to mess up after their incredible first outing. He turned toward Jill. “Thanks for letting Britney join us today. We had a great time.”
Jill stood with her hands on her hips. “What’s on your face, Britney?”
“A cat. There was a cool artist at the fall festival. We all had our faces painted.”
“You’ll have to wash that off before bedtime.”
“No, Mom. Tucker said I could wash half my face and sleep on the other side so it wouldn’t smudge. I want to show my friends at school.”
“Oh, he did, did he? Are you listening to ‘Tucker’ now instead of your own mother?”
Britney’s face fell. A quiet, “No,” was all she said.
“We’ll see.” Jill sighed. “Maybe you can keep it for a few days.”
Hope observed the interaction. “I think it’s time for us to go. We had a wonderful time with you, Britney.”
Tucker carried Hope’s pumpkin to the car and set it behind her seat. Before Hope had a chance to open her door, Britney ran up and glanced back toward the house but her mother had gone inside. She reached for Tucker’s hand.
“Thanks for today, and thanks for-for finding me. I—” Her voice wobbled. “I’ve never had a dad. You’re a good one. I can tell.”
Tucker ruffled her hair. “I can also tell you’re a special person. I couldn’t be prouder to have you as my daughter.” Emotion clogged his voice. “I wish I had found you sooner but we’ll make up for lost time.”
She squeezed his hand. “You found me. That’s all that matters. I better go in before Mom comes back out. Bye, Miss Truman. I had the best day ever.”
Hope could barely utter goodbye. Her life had changed instantly in more ways than one. She didn’t want to divulge that she was Tucker’s fiancée before he and Britney had a chance to bond. Overshadowing their momentous father-daughter moment was the last thing she wanted, but now, she couldn’t wait for Britney to discover their news.
Chapter 74
Beyond thrilled Hannah continually missed more and more work while interning at Ozarks5, Alex once again enjoyed her job. She climbed the stairs to get much-needed coffee while an idea for a television script bubbled to the top. She ran back downstairs to write it down, sloshing half her coffee, and was surprised to see her boss, the bank president, standing in her office.
“Follow me, Alex.”
No greeting. This can’t be good. She crossed the lobby into Jim’s office.
“Close the door, please,” he said.
Standing beside a chair, Alex said, “Are you firing me because if you are—”
Motioning with his hand, he said, “Have a seat. No, I’m not firing you.”
Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, Alex sat in a chair across from her boss and crossed her legs. “I’m all ears.”
Jim scooted a towering pile of customer files to the corner of his desk. “It appears Hannah’s internship at Ozarks5 has grown into something more substantial.” Tapping a pencil, he said, “We all saw what a natural she was on television at the bank’s anniversary party. As you know, Ozarks5 noticed too.”
Beaming, Jim said, “It seems they want Hannah to be a weekend anchor.”
Oh, my freaking God. Alex forced a smile. I’ll never hear the end of this. “What does this mean exactly?”
“Unfortunately, it means we won’t see as much of Hannah.”
“Oh?” Alex had to pin herself down to the chair to keep from leaping out of it like a cheerleader.
Studying her reaction, Jim said, “I always had the feeling you weren’t entirely thrilled to have my daughter in marketing. Am I correct?”
Alex needed her job. She used to love her job. “I’ll be honest. We had our moments.”
Jim’s chair creaked as he leaned back. “I’ll get to the point. You’re no longer on suspension. I’m reinstating you as vice president. You’re a good employee. A stellar one, in fact. As of today, you’re again Vice President of Marketing.�
�� A wry smile crossed his lips. “But you’re going to have to smooth things over with Mrs. Timmons. She’s still upset about that disastrous email you sent. You’re on shaky ground with her; you’ll have to win the board president back.” Pausing, he said, “That’s on you.”
“Actually”—Alex shifted in her chair—“Hannah sent the private email I had sent to her to the entire board.”
Jim’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you blaming my daughter?”
Alex decided not to answer his loaded question. “I’ll figure out how to get back in Mrs. Timmons’ good graces.” Elated, she stood and extended her hand. “Thank you, Jim. I appreciate your confidence. Anything else?”
“That’s all. Go do good things, Alex.”
Nodding, Alex said, “I’ll think of something. Don’t worry.” Back in her office, she glanced at her Show-Me Bank board member files and noted Mrs. Timmons’ address. Maybe the old bitch would enjoy a flower delivery. She picked up the phone and started dialing her favorite florist. The bank is paying for this bouquet.
Chapter 75
Reliving memories from the fall festival, Tucker remembered Britney was disappointed she didn’t have a Smartphone. He reached for his cell and called her mother.
Jill barely said hello before he launched into his request. “Hear me out. I’d like to take Britney somewhere.”
“Already? You just saw her at the festival. She has gone on and on about it like a freaking broken record of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.”
Smiling into the phone, he tamped down his glee but didn’t egg Jill on. “Britney mentioned she was unhappy she doesn’t have a Smartphone like her friends. I’m sure she wants to fit in. I may have been an absentee dad, but I remember feeling left out in high school.”
Jill hissed into the phone. “Don’t you think I would have bought her one if I could afford the monthly payments? I want her to have the best too.”
“I’ll pay for it and make sure the billing goes to me, though, you are getting child—”
“That’s for food, housing, and clothes. Not for frivolous expenses.”
Sighing, Tucker said, “You won’t have to pay a penny.”
Jill relaxed. “Good. Pick her up any time.”
~ ~ ~
Two hours later, Tucker and Britney left the phone store. She took photos of every cloud, flower, and blade of grass. She zoomed in and out, snapping picture after picture. “This is fire.”
“Fire?”
“Cool, awesome.” Britney beamed at Tucker. “Thank you for this.”
Tucker thought his heart would burst out of his chest. “You’re welcome. Your mom wants to see the phone. I bet she’ll love that pink case.”
Britney held it to her chest. “It’s sparkly.”
When they arrived at Britney’s house, Jill greeted them in the yard. “Let’s see it.”
Britney thrust her new phone in her mom’s face.
“Pretty. Did you thank your . . . Tucker?”
“She did,” Tucker said.
“Want some lemonade? I have lawn chairs in the back.” Britney stared at him, expectantly. Tucker’s heart melted but he didn’t want to get in the habit of being with Jill. He didn’t want any confusion on his daughter’s part that they might get together.
“Sorry. I have to get on the road early tomorrow.” He hesitated. “But thanks for the offer.” Turning to Britney, he said, “I hope you can figure out how to download apps on that phone. I’m not the most technical person.”
She held it in the air. “I’ve already downloaded music, several apps, and a couple of games. Want to see my photos? They’re pretty good.”
Tucker scrolled photos of scenery and birds. Several were of her tennis shoes at random angles. “You have a good eye.”
She shrugged. “Thanks. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Tucker knew they were making slow and steady progress. He wanted nothing more than to hug his newfound daughter but knew he needed to give her time. Let her make the first move. As he unlocked his door, she reached for his hand. Timidly and just for a few seconds, but still. His throat tightened. “I’m having fun getting to know you, Britney. Your mother has done a great job raising you.”
She peered directly into his eyes. “Thank you. That’ll mean a lot to Mom.” She clutched her phone. “I can’t believe you bought me a smartphone. I felt like I was the only kid at Hilltop who didn’t have one, but”—her eyes glistened—“you don’t have to buy my-my friendship.”
Tucker couldn’t take it. He wrapped his bear arms around Britney and held her close. “I’m not trying to buy your friendship. I’m trying to be a better dad. I want to be the best dad, in fact.” His voice broke. “I’m new at this. You’ll have to help me.”
She nodded as a stray tear escaped. “I will.” She took a couple of steps. “Will you give me a ride in your big rig sometime?”
“You bet. See you soon.” He drove away with a lump in his throat and a full heart. How did I come to meet the two most wonderful women in the world? I’m the luckiest guy there is.
Chapter 76
Cheri bolted out of bed when the doorbell rang. Wrapping a robe around her, she glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning. Who would come here in the middle of the night? I know Cole wouldn’t scare me like that. Grabbing a bottle of mace, she tiptoed down the hallway and bent over to avoid being seen through the windows. She stared through the peephole. Shocked, she gasped and threw the door open.
“Mom?”
Victoria Van Buren’s hair was half gray and askew. Cheri couldn’t believe the bedraggled woman in front of her was the same stylish sophisticated icon who frequently appeared in the New York City society pages. Her mother never had a hair out of place and always dressed to the nines. Now she looked as though she had been on a five-day bender wearing the same clothes.
Peering behind her mom, she said, “Where’s Dad? I wasn’t expecting you, but wow, it’s, um, great to see you.”
“Who knows where the hell Thomas is.” Victoria shivered. “Let me in. It’s freezing out here.”
“Of course. Sorry.” Cheri motioned her mother inside.
In the foyer, Victoria said, “I’ve been on two flights and the Uber driver smelled like a goat—or maybe it was me.”
Holding the door open wide, Cheri peeked behind her mother expecting to find luggage—actually, bags and bags of luggage—since her mother wasn’t exactly a light packer. But nothing was there. “Where are your bags? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
Cheri had never seen her mother so unkempt. Victoria Van Buren was normally in designer fashions, hair and makeup always perfect, and dripping with diamonds. She always insisted on a limo driver and waved to paparazzi as though she were Miss America. But this woman had greasy hair, zero makeup, and the bags under her eyes indicated she hadn’t slept well in days, if not weeks.
Victoria embraced Cheri and sobbed. “I’m so happy to see you, darling. I’ve missed you terribly.”
Cheri gulped. Her mother was not the huggy type, never had been. She was much more interested in shopping than in being a mom. But, for now, she gave no indication of letting go. Cheri’s arms dangled by her side as she tried to embrace this person who was a shell of the mom she remembered.
Eventually slumping into a chair, Victoria retrieved a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?” Before Cheri could answer, she lit a cigarette.
“Actually, I do mind. You know how much I hate smoking.” Cheri studied her mother who puffed away in spite of her wishes. Deciding to let the cigarette lecture go for now, she rushed to the kitchen to find a small plate for the growing ashes. “Want anything to drink, Mom? Coffee or hot tea?”
“Anything with alcohol.”
Cheri stiffened. “You can’t have alcohol.”
“W
hy not?”
Studying the disheveled woman she barely recognized, Cheri’s mind swirled as she wondered how to delicately broach the subject. “It’s, um, well—”
“Spit it out, darling.”
Cheri burst into tears. “When you didn’t answer my calls or texts, I finally reached Dad.” She blew out her breath. “He told me you were in rehab. It must have been aw—”
Victoria doubled over with laughter. “Rehab? Me? I wasn’t in rehab. Thomas is a liar too, I see.” She paced Cheri’s living room with her cigarette dangling. “That son of a bitch.” She returned to the chair and stared at her daughter. “Cheri, I know I drink a lot but I do know when to quit. I never drink and drive. I don’t even drink daily”-she laughed-“nor do I drive. Your father lied to you, the bastard.”
“Oh, my God. I was so worried.”
“I’m sorry he put you through that.”
Waving her cigarette in the air, she said, “After my journey here, I really do need a drink. Just not that French Bordeaux shit. In fact, no red wine.”
“But you love red wine.” Cheri’s mind raced to the French designer in Paris who her mother had taken under her wing. Besides her dad and Cheri, her mother’s two favorite loves were fashion and celebrity. Assisting the perky young French designer had been the highlight of Victoria’s year in Paris. She had invited all of her high-society friends to attend trunk shows at Gigi’s Couture, had spent a ridiculous amount of money on overpriced garments, and had even insisted Cheri visit the boutique on a quick visit to Paris last spring. After meeting Gigi, something had always gnawed at Cheri and after seeing her mother’s condition, her instincts were on high alert.
Cheri searched the mini bar fridge off the kitchen and chose a Chablis. After pouring two glasses for both of them, even though it was the middle of the night—or early morning—she wasn’t sure which. She returned to the now smoke-filled living room and handed one to Victoria. Waving her hand in front of her face, she didn’t comment on the smoke and sat on the floor beside the chair. “What do you have against Bordeaux? That used to be your favorite wine.”
