Second Chances

by Nicole Andrews Moore

  Gavin stared at her a moment with a wry look on his face, folded the newspaper and then abruptly began clapping. “Bravo, Mother, that performance was worthy of an Oscar. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get to the office.” He turned to leave the room when a thought occurred to him. “By the way, when are you returning to Fort Meyers?”

  She blinked. He saw it and smiled. “I just wanted to be here to help you through this difficult time.”

  “By giving me a difficult time,” he mumbled under his breath. “I’ll be home late,” he said as he departed. He knew that in less than a week he would be divorced. And while he looked forward to the end of his marriage, the end of this painful year, he was afraid of what might happen in court. This state was known to split any assets acquired during the marriage equally. And if India was able to make a case that suggested she had been forced to give up her dreams to support him in his, he could very well stand to lose a great deal. North Carolina also had another law that was of very little comfort, since he couldn’t use it without creating a scandal that would rock his mother’s world. He would never be able to sue his sister for alienation of affection. He sighed as he exited his Lake Norman estate and made the lengthy commute to his office in uptown Charlotte.

  Once he was able to enjoy the privacy of his vehicle, he dialed his lawyer. He recognized her voice as soon as she answered. “So, how do you think it went?” He asked in a feeble attempt at humor.

  “You need to lose the attitude before we get to court,” Ms. Pendergast warned. “You hired me for more than my gender. Take my advice.”

  “You haven’t given any,” he said quietly.

  She growled. “I wasn’t finished.” Sighing, she continued. “Get a hobby. Take up fishing, or hunting, or any other sport that will allow you an outlet for this slow burning rage.” She paused for a reaction, but since he offered none she decided to pound her point home. “You need to channel all this hostility into something productive, stop carrying it around with you. The sooner the better.”

  Gavin pondered a moment, trying to imagine what might peak his interest. Clearing her throat, Ms. Pendergast delicately reminded him that she was still on the line. “I’ll take it under advisement,” he said sincerely. And without awaiting her response, he snapped his phone shut.

  “I saw it!” Amy squealed several days later. “I grabbed a copy at the mailboxes when I checked my mail this afternoon. It’s in there. Has anyone called yet?” She was breathless in anticipation, and due to her proclivity to say so much so quickly.

  Hannah sighed. She had seen it as well and knew there was no turning back now. Her four-year-old twins Aurora, Rory for short, and Zoe would be graduating from preschool the first week of June and after that, she would be in a bind. She had to find childcare, figure out how to pay for it, and finance a move. She had tried to find a cheaper apartment, but Brett had so effectively ruined her financially that she couldn’t pass the credit check necessary to get in to them. She reminded herself that this plan, as hair-brained as it might seem, could solve all of her problems and she would make the best of it.

  “No,” Hannah replied. “No one has called yet.” She felt slightly disappointed, but she didn’t really expect to be picked up the first day.

  Just after eight, thirty minutes after her children were tucked in to bed for the night, and a solid hour before she would be able to relax herself, the phone rang. She took a deep breath and answered.

  “I’m calling about the ad in the paper,” a warm male voice began nervously.

  “Yes?” Hannah said, feeling suddenly shy. This was worse than a job interview and immensely more important.

  “Are you the woman who placed the personal?” He was full of questions but offered nothing in return.

  She sighed. “Actually, I am.” She didn’t know whether this was going to be some crank calling to chastise her for her audacity, or a candidate for the role of her savior.

  “Well, I guess I’m calling for more information,” he said. “When can we meet?”

  It happened that quickly. The next thing she knew, she had scheduled a meeting over drinks the next evening. “It’s ladies night,” he explained. “You pick the place.” And her mind had reeled. She had given this absolutely no thought. It couldn’t be any of the places Brett was known to frequent. And unfortunately, that single criteria limited her greatly. In the end she had settled on The Graduate on 51. It was one of those dying bars that most nights was very quiet save for the crowd of regulars gathered around the pool tables.

  Everything fell into place. Over the course of the evening, she had managed to schedule a total of four…meetings. The first, who was actually the third to call, was meeting her at 5:30 for drinks. Hannah figured she could split an appetizer with each man and over the four courses it would be the equivalent of a meal. The second, her first caller, would begin at seven. The second caller had the eight-thirty meeting time, and finally, the man who called at ten would be meeting her at ten. Whew.

  Then, there was the issue of finding a sitter. Once Amy knew of Hannah’s plans, she volunteered to leave work early to be there by five to stay with the twins. And all she wanted in return was…details. That seemed a small price to pay, so Hannah readily agreed.

  After reminding herself repeatedly that this was a business arrangement and not a date, she had carefully chosen her wardrobe. Hannah wore black pants and a pink scoop neck blouse. She dressed up the outfit with conservative applications of jewelry and makeup, a mere dusting of powder and a thin coat of lip-gloss. First impressions were everything, she repeated to herself.

  Hannah parked under the light pole closest to the bar, locked her vehicle, and marched to the entrance. She found a booth against the far wall that allowed her an unobstructed view of the door. And with that, she sat, glanced at her watch, and waited for her first…interview.

  At nine-thirty last night Gavin had sat restlessly in his study, mulling over his lawyer’s advice. He had hobbies. He had lots of hobbies. He just couldn’t think of one right now. He sighed. Maybe Ms. Pendergast had a point. The problem was that he couldn’t focus on anything but sweet revenge right now. It was clear that he couldn’t reap the justice he needed from India, but maybe… Ugh. No good. How could he ever find an adequate replacement for the real woman deserving his wrath?

  He moved a file and discovered a newspaper his mother had left on his desk with a note. It was the Creative Loafing that had just been distributed that day. The post-it read, “Why not?” And then in bigger letters, “Please!” Gavin sighed loudly this time. But then one of the ads caught his eye. He was intrigued. A smile spread across his face. This could work out nicely.

  By ten fifteen he had called the number and initiated a meeting that would change the course of his life forever. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and savored his brandy while staring into the fire crackling on the other side of the room. And over and over, one thought repeated in his head. What kind of woman places an ad for a sugar daddy?

  Well, he was about to find out. Though his appointment wasn’t for hours, he had decided to go there directly from work. It would give him an opportunity to scope out the bar, have a drink, and grab a bite of something to eat. Gavin knew his error immediately. He was extremely overdressed. Everyone else there was in jeans and t-shirts, or the women wore typical club wear.

  In fact only one person stood out. The woman sat in a booth wearing what he would describe as business casual. He grimaced. Very conservative. She was struggling to appear calm and collected, but was fidgeting every so often and glancing at her watch. Gavin studied her over his scotch. The longer he watched, the more convinced he was that this was his date.

  An overweight sweaty man walked in, paused at the door then marched over to her table. He said something that made her smile shyly. She gestured as she offered him a seat then focused her attention on the man.

  Well, he thought, more than one date this evening. He chuckled to himself. That is precisely what I
would have done. Very practical. And he moved to the seat around the corner of the bar where he could enjoy without being so obvious.

  Her date arrived five minutes late. That was a strike against him. He brought her a rose. Nice touch. But it was red. Common. Lacking imagination. The date wore on until she swore she could feel every second of the interminable hour and a half ticking slowly by. She tried to focus on him, hear what he was saying, but at the moment, she was distracted by the growing beads of sweat accumulating over his lip, precariously close to dropping into his cavernous mouth. Strangely enough, despite the pile of napkins in the center of the table, he hadn’t even attempted to dab, or mop. And the mother in Hannah was dangerously close to doing it for him.

  She glanced at her watch. It was 6:50. This date had to end. Her next meeting was on the verge of taking place and this guy, who could never be in the running regardless of what he offered her, had to go.

  “Well, it was really nice meeting you,” Hannah began, completely interrupting him.

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh, oh.”

  Hannah rose as though to go. “I need to use the ladies’ room and then I have…plans.” She fidgeted with her left ear lobe, an obvious sign that she was lying to anyone who knew her. This jerk didn’t. In fact, he hadn’t even tried to get to know her. Instead, he had spent the time boasting about his life, what he had to offer a woman. Given the fact that he’d barely let her get two words in edgewise the entire evening, she was certain he would mistake her lobe fiddling as a flirtation.

  “So, when can I see you again?” His eyes sparkled as he eyed her figure.

  Never! Her mind shouted, but outwardly she simply said, “Leave me the best way to contact you and I’ll let you know once I’ve made a decision.” She had heard her boss say that numerous times to prospective employees. It always worked with them. And Hannah had no reason to believe that it would fail on this occasion.

  The man rose awkwardly to his feet and leaned in to kiss her cheek before he passed her a business card and strode away. As soon as his back was turned, she swiped at her cheek, certain his slippery kiss was a combination of saliva and sweat. Hannah sighed. It had only been a partial lie. She really did need to pee. And definitely check her makeup. That’s what women did on dates, right? It had been so long and she was so grossly out of practice that she no longer knew how to act in such a social situation.

  Her second date arrived right on schedule. Punctuality was a plus. He looked as though he had walked right off the cover of GQ. Plus. And minus. She sighed.

  He smiled warmly showcasing a perfect set of even pearly white teeth. Her eyebrow shot up quizzically. She couldn’t stand men who spent more time on themselves than she did. And as the mother of four-year-old twins, she was lucky she found time to shave her legs and pits.

  “My name is Tad,” he began, reaching for her hand. Hannah went in for the shake, but he turned her hand over and kissed just above her knuckles seductively.

  She pasted a smile on her face. Great. Another playboy. “Hannah,” she said seriously.

  Tad had exhibited a sense of humor, a moderate amount of intelligence, a good deal of interest, and more than a healthy amount of vanity. By eight twenty-five, Hannah was tapping impatiently. Again, she worried over how to end this date in time for her third dud to show up. She tried subtle. But the ‘well it was nice meeting you’ line went right over his head. Instead, Tad had reached across the table and caressed her hand as though it was some sort of invitation. She squirmed. “I really must be going,” she said and moved to rise from the table.

  Tad grabbed her arm. Initially she was shocked by his audacity. She whirled to face him and immediately wanted to slap the look off his face. This was a man who was used to getting his way. “Let go,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Instantly, Gavin sat up straighter on his bar stool. He might just have to blow his cover and go to her aid. Other than the fact that she was soon to be the object of his revenge, he really had nothing against her. And he never could condone a man making unwanted advances on a woman. Just as he rose from his seat, however, a new man entered the picture.

  He watched in fascination as the man dispatched the cad effortlessly with a grace that seemed natural. Gavin sat down and took another swig of his scotch.

  “Yeah, I thought she was really going to get what’s coming to her,” a distinctly male voice to his right commented.

  “I beg your pardon?” Gavin said, confused.

  “Oh, sorry. I’ve been watching her,” he said gesturing to the woman at the table. “There has been a regular parade of men through here over the last few hours.”

  “Oh, yes. That,” Gavin said, returning his attention to his drink.

  “I mean, she looks perfectly innocent, right? Well, looks can be deceiving I guess.” The guy dipped another soggy fry in ketchup and stuffed it into his mouth.

  Moments before, Gavin also might have thought the worst of her, but there was something sweet about her, something that made him want to step in and protect her. He sighed. He had been far too long without the comforts of a woman.

  Her third date saved her. Hannah sighed. He had smoky gray eyes and dark brown hair. He looked at her with concern that made her stomach kind of twist about. It wasn’t attraction exactly, but she knew this guy was different. This was someone she could talk to.

  “Thank you,” she began breathlessly. Cocking her head to the side, she studied him. He seemed ill at ease. Could he really be just as nervous as she was, a real person, just like her? “I was going to head to the ladies’ room, but I can wait.” She slid back into the booth and gestured for him to sit opposite her.

  Her third date wasn’t bad looking. He had boyish good looks, and perceptive eyes. Hannah could feel them boring into her, studying her every move. “I know what you’re thinking,” she began quietly. His eyebrows quirked and he opened his mouth, but she shook her head and continued. “I really am a nice girl,” she said with a shrug. “I have just had a terrible run of bad luck.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said seriously, staring at her as though to memorize everything about her. Sensing her hesitation, he added, “Call me Rick.”

  Tilting her head to one side, she nodded. “Okay…Rick.” She sighed. “Can I first begin by saying that I am not trying to rouse your sympathy? Please understand that like everyone else, my wounds are mostly self-inflicted.” His eyebrows knit together and he began to protest.

  “No, really. It’s true.” Hannah smiled shyly. “I chose Brett, my almost ex-husband. I loved him and trusted him and believed him. I let him handle our finances and I blindly went to work and deposited my check and concentrated on keeping up our apartment and raising the girls.” She swallowed hard to control her emotions. “And I believed him when he said that he was working late, unfortunately he was working late on a stripper. They are currently living together, by the way. And I even went away for the weekend with my folks over Labor Day, unwittingly allowing him to labor over emptying our apartment and accounts.”

  “Oh, Hannah,” he murmured and tried to reach across the table to comfort her.

  She stiffened immediately and sniffled. “I don’t want your sympathy, Rick. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I’ve been as strong and resourceful as I could possibly be to hold it together for this long. Brett doesn’t give me any child support or alimony. I am over-educated and underemployed.” Her chin dropped and her eyes no longer met his. “All I need is a leg up, not a hand out. I need a place to stay while I pull it together. I keep a nice house, cook amazing meals, and can carry on intelligent conversation…when I get to speak with adults, that is.” Her eyes were shining now; sparkling with intensity as she gave the pitch she had practiced. “It doesn’t have to be a lifelong commitment. It could be on a month to month basis, or a trial period.”

  Rick began sinking in his seat. He had a sense about people that had never been wrong. It was part of his job to ferret out fact from fiction. Of course he was als
o supposed to be unbiased, but his heart went out to this woman. And he was absolutely not what she was looking for.

  Hannah paused. Maybe she came on too strong, too brutally honest. He was pulling away. She could sense it. She may have missed all the signs in Brett, but since that experience she had grown more aware more alert. “I guess I sound as desperate as I am,” she mumbled. “Don’t give me an answer tonight. Just think about it, please.” She reached into her purse. “This is my phone number…until the end of the month,” she shrugged.

  Frowning, Rick took it. “I really do want to help you,” he began quietly. “Let me think on it, okay?” He slid out of the booth, and stood at the end of the table staring at her. She was really attractive and far more fragile than she let on. There was a tightness around her mouth that belied the stress she was under, the dark smudges under her eyes attested to her lack of rest. He sighed and grasped her hand for a moment, determined to leave her with some measure of comfort. “You will hear from me,” he said then he turned and walked away.