The Single Dad's Second Chance

by Brenda Harlen

  Andrew immediately shook his head. While he appreciated the offer, he knew it wasn’t actually intended to make anything easier for him but to finagle some extra time with her granddaughter. She probably didn’t even want Maura to go to the party except that it served her own purposes.

  “Thanks,” he said. “But we’ll figure something out.”

  When they got home, they packed Maura’s lunch for school the next day, then she had her bath and put on her pajamas. After her teeth were brushed, they snuggled together on her bed to read for a while. When the chapter was finished, he tucked her under the covers, gave her a hug and a kiss and turned out the light.

  He cherished every minute of every day that he had with his little girl, but he still felt lonely sometimes. Restless and unsettled, he went to the cabinet behind his desk and poured himself a glass of scotch. He settled into the soft leather chair with his drink and sipped the rich amber liquid, enjoying the familiar burn as it slid down his throat.

  He missed having someone to talk to at the end of the day, missed falling asleep with someone beside him and waking up with that same someone the next morning. As he realized the direction his thoughts had taken, he knew that his doubts and concerns about his readiness to move forward with his life were unfounded.

  Not so very long ago he would have said that he missed talking to Nina, falling asleep beside her and waking up with her. Not so very long ago, he couldn’t have imagined that “someone” being anyone else. Now when he thought of “someone” it was Rachel’s face that came to mind, the image of her smile that filled his heart, the memory of her laughter that made him smile.

  The sound of light footsteps on the stairs drew him out of his reverie just before Maura poked her head inside the doorway. He set his drink aside as she padded across the floor, then she crawled into his lap and he wrapped his arm around her to cuddle her close. She used to sit in his lap all the time when she was younger, claiming it was her favorite chair in the whole world. That had changed in preschool. A lot of things had changed in preschool.

  His lips curved as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. She might be growing up, but she still smelled like his little girl.

  “Why are you out of bed?” he asked, more curiosity than censure in his tone.

  “I forgot to tell you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Mrs. Patterson wrote a note in my agenda for you.”

  He held back a sigh. “Mrs.” Patterson was actually “Ms.” Patterson, as she’d made a point of clarifying when he’d met her at the beginning of the year. Her divorce had been final for almost two years and her only regret was that she and her husband never had any children. She absolutely loved children—that was, after all, the reason she’d decided to become a teacher. And his daughter, Mara, was simply a joy to have in her classroom.

  “Maura,” he’d said, automatically corrected her on the pronunciation. She’d flushed in acknowledgment of her mistake but forged ahead, gushing about Maura’s sweet nature and quick mind.

  Their second meeting had taken place under very different circumstances, when Andrew went to the school in response to a call from the principal after Maura had given one of her classmates a bloody nose. After listening to the principal’s spiel about his daughter’s inappropriate behavior, Mrs. Patterson had taken a different tack.

  The teacher assured him that she empathized with how difficult it must be for the single father of a little girl, and she’d suggested that he should ensure that Maura had appropriate female influences in her life. The subtext was clear, and Andrew had politely—but quickly—extricated himself from the situation.

  “Have you been beating up Tyler Buckle again?” he asked his daughter now.

  “I didn’t beat him up,” she denied, with a put-upon sigh. “I punched him—once. And he deserved it.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you think he deserved it.” Although privately, Andrew had agreed with her—and had been impressed by the impact of her right hook. “You don’t solve disagreements with violence.”

  “He called me an orphan,” she reminded him.

  “Which only proves that he doesn’t know the definition of the word.”

  “But I don’t have a mommy...and I don’t even remember her very much anymore.”

  “I know, honey.” And that knowledge made his heart ache. Although he’d made sure to keep photos of Nina around the house, those pictures were a poor substitute for the real thing.

  “Do you think I’ll ever get a new mommy?”

  He probably should have anticipated the question after she’d come home from school a couple of weeks earlier with the news that her friend, Kristy, was getting a new daddy. And though he’d held his breath for a moment, when she’d said nothing else about it then, he’d thought the subject was done. He should have known better. Maura had a habit of hitting him with the hard questions when he least expected them—and this one was harder than any other question she’d ever asked.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s not as if you can pick one out as easily as you would a carton of ice cream at the grocery store.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “You hafta find a girl you think is pretty and marry her.”

  He smiled at the simplistic explanation. “Pretty is good.”

  “Do you think Mrs. Patterson is pretty?”

  He tried to picture his daughter’s teacher, but it was Rachel’s image that filled his mind. Her hair was brown, but it was a blend of so many shades, dark and light, and silky to the touch. Her eyes were deep blue and sparkled with life, and the sweet curve of her soft mouth was irresistibly tempting.

  “Not as pretty as Rachel.”

  “Who’s Rachel?”

  He hadn’t meant to speak the thought aloud. He certainly hadn’t intended to mention Rachel to his daughter, but he’d been thinking about her so often that her name just slipped out. “Just someone I know.”

  “Do I know her?”

  He shook his head.

  “Are you gonna marry her?”

  “There are a lot of things that have to happen before a boy and a girl marry.”

  She nodded, obviously wise beyond her years. “You hafta go out on some dates and kiss her first, and then you get married.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?” he asked.

  “Kristy Sutherland. Her mom used to go on lotsa dates and kiss lotsa boys.”

  “Kristy told you this?”

  Maura nodded again. “Did you go on a date with Rachel?”

  “We went to a basketball game yesterday, when you were at Grandma and Grandpa’s,” he admitted.

  “Did you kiss her?”

  “I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation to be having with my six-year-old daughter,” he said.

  “I’m almost seven,” she reminded him.

  “It’s still not appropriate.”

  “You kissed her,” Maura decided.

  He sighed. “I think it’s time to get you back into bed, Little Miss Nosy Pants.”

  She giggled at the nickname, and the sound squeezed his heart. Her recollection of Nina was fading, and he wished there was something he could say or do to help her hold on to the few memories that she had. On the other hand, she’d been absolutely inconsolable when she’d learned her mother wasn’t ever coming home again. She’d cried and cried and cried, and when absolute and complete exhaustion had finally forced her to sleep, she’d been restless even in slumber.

  Andrew hadn’t wanted to take her to the funeral. He’d wanted her to remember Nina as she’d been when she was alive—full of life and laughter. The minister had suggested to Andrew that Maura needed to be there, to see her mother at rest and say a final goodbye. So he’d relented—and had sorely regretted it.

  As if
the loss of her mother wasn’t difficult enough, Maura had been further traumatized by the sight of her still body and pale visage in the casket. She’d shaken her head, stubbornly refusing to believe that woman was her mother. “Mommy smiles and laughs and her eyes are bright and she puts her arms around me when I’m sad.”

  Andrew had been certain that his heart was completely shattered over the loss of the woman he’d loved, but Maura’s inconsolable grief had ground those jagged little pieces into dust.

  It had been a long time after that before he’d even managed to coax a smile out of his little girl, and longer still before she laughed again. The childish giggle was no longer as infrequent as it had been in that first year after Nina’s death, but the joyful sound still tugged at his heart. If Maura’s question about getting a new mother wasn’t proof enough, that giggle reinforced his certainty that she was happy again.

  Maybe it was time for him to be happy, too.

  He lowered her onto the mattress and tucked the covers up around her. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

  Her eyes, already drifting shut, popped open again. “When am I going to meet her?”

  “Meet who?”

  Her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember the name he hadn’t intended to mention. “Rachel?”

  “Rachel who?”

  “That’s not fair—you never told me her last name.”

  “Whose last name?”

  She giggled again. “Daddy,” she admonished.

  He kissed her forehead. “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  As he made his way back downstairs, he thought about Maura’s request to meet Rachel. He’d never been tempted to introduce any other woman to his daughter, but this time was different. Rachel was different. She was a woman who meant far more to him than he would have expected after only two dates, and he wanted her to meet the little girl who meant more to him than anything else in the world.

  But first he had to find that note in Maura’s agenda.

  He frowned as he read the handwritten message from Denise Patterson, asking him to call and including her home telephone number. Immediately concerned, he did so. Twenty minutes later, he was reassured and more than a little annoyed.

  Apparently all she wanted to talk about was a flyer she’d sent home the previous week to promote an after-school drama program that she thought would help Maura overcome her shyness. He didn’t think his daughter was any more introverted than most little girls her age, but he thanked Ms. Patterson for her concern and ended the conversation as quickly as possible.

  Then, because he had the phone in his hand, he took a business card out of his wallet and dialed a different number.

  Chapter Six

  When Andrew said that he would call, Rachel believed him. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to play games, so she figured she’d hear from him by the middle of the week. It didn’t occur to her, when the phone rang just after nine o’clock Sunday night, that it might be him.

  When she saw his name on the display, her heart started pounding hard and fast. And when she reached for the receiver, she felt like a schoolgirl with a crush on the cutest boy in the class. Except that Andrew Garrett definitely wasn’t a boy, and the fantasies that had played out in her dreams the night before weren’t anything like the innocent fantasies of her youth.

  “You sound surprised to hear from me,” he said, after they’d exchanged basic pleasantries.

  “I am,” she admitted. “I know you said you’d call, but I thought that meant sometime during the week.” Certainly most of the guys she knew would have waited rather than risk appearing too eager.

  “Is it okay that I called? Or do you now think I’m pathetically desperate?”

  “It’s more than okay,” she assured him. “I don’t think you’re either pathetic or desperate.” In fact, she was pleased by this proof that he’d been thinking about her, too. Probably not as often or as obsessively as she’d been thinking about him, but still.

  “And would it be okay if I took you out for lunch tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Definitely.”

  “What time?”

  She wanted to say 8:00 a.m. so that she didn’t have to wait too long to see him again, but that might be a little bit early for lunch. Maybe she should propose breakfast instead—preferably after they rolled out of her bed together. Of course, she didn’t suggest either of those things.

  Instead, she said, “Mondays are usually slow, so I can probably get away around one.”

  “I’ll see you then,” he promised.

  She was already looking forward to it.

  And when she woke up the next morning, her lunch date with Andrew was the first thought on her mind. As she dressed for the day, she took a little more care than usual with her appearance. She opted for a pair of slim-fitting charcoal trousers with a slight flare at the bottom and topped them with a long-sleeved dove-gray sweater, then added chunky silver hoops to her ears and slipped a trio of bangle bracelets onto her wrist. A swipe of eyeliner, a touch of mascara, a dab of lip gloss, and she was ready. A final glance in the mirror assured her that she looked stylish but not overdone.

  And then she got into the shop and learned—via the numerous orders for funeral wreaths and bereavement baskets—that Nigel Hanson had died.

  Nigel and Harriet Hanson lived in South Ridge, but their youngest son, Curtis, had gone to school with Rachel and Holly. It was a tentative connection but enough that when Buds & Blooms opened, Nigel brought his business to them.

  In addition to the usual requests for his wife’s birthday, their anniversary and arrangements to celebrate the birth of each of their five grandchildren, Nigel had a standing order for a single yellow rose delivered on the third day of every month to celebrate the anniversary of the day he and Harriet first met. Rachel knew that his wife of fifty-five years would be devastated by his passing.

  She and Holly were so busy making arrangements for delivery to the funeral home that Rachel completely lost track of time—and even forgot about her lunch date—until Andrew walked into the shop.

  She looked at him, then at the clock, then winced. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You forgot?”

  “Lost track of time,” she admitted, and briefly explained about Mr. Hanson.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “I know what it’s like to be at the wrong end of a business emergency.”

  The statement surprised her. He hadn’t gone into much detail about his work, but what he had told her about carpentry didn’t indicate that it was the type of work that experienced many emergencies.

  But before she could follow up on his comment, he said, “Have you eaten?”

  She shook her head. “No, but there’s no way I can get away right now.”

  “I’m not asking you to—I’m asking if you want ham, turkey or roast beef?”

  She realized he was offering to pick up sandwiches from The Corner Deli across the street, proving that he was both flexible and generous, and she was sincerely touched by his offer. “I feel like I should say ‘no thanks’ but I’m going to say ‘turkey’ instead.”

  “What about Holly?” he asked.

  “Roast beef,” she called out, confirming her presence in the back room and that she’d been shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “One turkey, one roast beef,” Andrew confirmed, then pressed a quick kiss to Rachel’s lips. “I’ll be back in ten.”

  It was closer to fifteen minutes before he returned with a take-out bag from The Corner Deli in hand. In addition to the sandwiches, he’d ordered potato wedges and coleslaw and cold drinks. He’d even had the foresight to ask for paper plates and cutlery, and he set everything out on one of the smaller worktables while Rachel and Holly washed up.

  “Thank you,�
�� Holly said sincerely. “I was so hungry I was ready to start gnawing on discarded stems.”

  “A different spin on the traditional plant-based diet,” Andrew mused.

  Holly chuckled, and Rachel was smiling as she unwrapped her sandwich, pleased to witness the easy banter between Andrew and her friend. He sat down beside Rachel and scooped some potato wedges onto his plate to go with his turkey sandwich.

  There were the usual interruptions while they ate—phones to be answered and walk-in customers to be served—and in between they chatted a little about Phoebe’s birthday party the day before and the sideboard Andrew was working on and the new guy Holly had met when she picked her brother up at the airport Saturday afternoon.

  “I enjoyed that,” Rachel said, folding her napkin. “Although I’m sure it wasn’t what you had in mind when you invited me to lunch today.”

  “It wasn’t,” Andrew agreed. “But at least I got to see you—even if it was through a veil of flowers.”

  Holly finished her lunch then picked up her empty plate and cup to dump them in the garbage. “I’m going to stretch my legs,” she told them, and headed toward the front of the store.

  “I think she was trying to give us some privacy.”

  “Very considerate of her,” Andrew said, taking Rachel’s hand to tug her off her stool and into his arms.

  “I’ve got cuttings and leaves all over me,” she protested.

  “I don’t care,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  It wasn’t as passionate as the kisses they’d shared Saturday night—which was probably a good thing, considering the time and place—but there was still enough heat that she all but melted against him.

  “You’re really good at that,” she murmured, when he eased his mouth from hers.

  His lips curved. “You inspire me.”

  “I have to get back to work,” she said, with obvious reluctance.

  “Me, too,” he told her. “But there was something I wanted to tell you—”

  “Another two orders just came in,” Holly said, returning to the workroom and heading directly to the refrigerated storage to gather the necessary flowers.