McFarlane's Perfect Bride / Taming the Montana Millionaire: McFarlane's Perfect Bride

“It does, absolutely.” Melanie lowered her voice. “Did you enjoy the evening? Isn’t Tori great? I’m glad to see you dating again. It’s about time.”

“I did. She is. And come on. It’s only been a year since the divorce. For your information, I have dated before last night, though the two other women I spent time with were nothing like Tori Jones.”

“You never told me.” She faked a hurt tone.

And suddenly, he could see her as she was at seven or eight years old. A skinny little red-headed thing, wanting attention from her big brother. And never getting it.

He swallowed down the sudden lump of guilt in his throat and kidded her, “Melanie, no matter how well we get along now, I’m not telling you everything.”

“And just when I thought I knew all your secrets.” Her joking tone turned distracted. “Hold on a minute …” He heard her giving instructions to someone. Then she came back on the line. “Where were we?”

“I’m not going to keep you. But I did want to ask …”

“What? Name it.”

“About that job offer Russ made, for CJ?”

“Still open. Just say the word.”

“Great. But I’m thinking CJ’s more likely to agree to the idea if it comes straight from you—or from anyone but me. Somehow, whatever I say to him nowadays, he thinks it’s an order. An order he’s honor-bound to reject out of hand.”

“All right, then. Sunday, when the time is right, I’ll offer him a job.”

Tori called Jerilyn at nine Saturday morning to invite her to the Sunday picnic at Melanie’s guest ranch.

The teenager answered the phone in tears. “Oh, Ms. Jones, I don’t know what to do …”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Can I … would it be all right if I came over?”

“Yes. Right now. Do you want me to come and get you?”

“Oh, no. It’s okay.” The girl paused to stifle a sob. “I can ride my bike. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ll be right over.”

When Jerilyn appeared, pedaling fast down the street, Tori was waiting for her, out on the porch.

“Oh, Ms. Jones.” Jerilyn dropped her bike on the front walk. Fresh tears welled. She ran up the steps and into Tori’s waiting arms.

Tori pulled the girl inside and shut the door. “Shh … shh. There now. Okay …”

When the sobbing settled down a little, Tori led her to the sofa, passed the tissues, and got the story out of her.

“My dad got a warning Thursday. From his supervisor. My dad hasn’t been getting the summer maintenance done. And if his work doesn’t improve in the next two weeks, he’s going to get fired.”

“Oh, Jerilyn.” Tori hugged her again. “Did your dad tell you this?”

Jerilyn blew her nose. “No way. He doesn’t tell me anything. I found the warning notice on the kitchen table, wadded up in a ball. And he started drinking Thursday night. He called in sick yesterday. He drank all day, late into last night. He was still at it when I finally went to bed. This morning, he won’t get up. I made breakfast. Just what he likes, scrambled eggs and home fries, sausage and English muffins. I tried to get him up to eat. He just growled at me to leave him alone.”

“Has he … hit you?” Tori hated to ask, but she knew that she had to. “Or hurt you in any way?”

Jerilyn sobbed and shook her head. “Oh, no. He just sits at the kitchen table and drinks and doesn’t say anything. Sometimes … he cries.”

Tori grabbed her close again. “Aw, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.” As she gave out the familiar litany of reassurances, she knew that in reality, it wasn’t okay. Not okay in the least.

“He would never hurt me.” Jerilyn swallowed more sobs. “Except that when he loses his job and we can’t pay the bills and… well, that will hurt me. That will hurt me really bad.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Jerilyn sagged against Tori with a long, sad sigh. “Yeah. It is. It is going to happen.”

Tori took her by the shoulders. “Look at me. Do you trust me?”

“You know I do. Totally.”

“I’m going to call someone who can help, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to bring your dad back to you, to make sure he doesn’t lose his job.”

Jerilyn blinked away the tears. “Who are you going to call?”

“Someone who’s been through exactly what your dad’s going through. Someone who managed to survive. Someone who will know what to do.”

Tori’s father, Dr. Sherwood Jones, caught a one-o’clock flight to Bozeman and rented a car. By four that afternoon, he was sitting in Tori’s living room.

“I can’t promise anything,” he warned a pale-faced Jerilyn, who looked at him through red, puffy eyes. “And I can’t even talk to him unless he’s sober.”

“He should be, by now. Unless he’s started in drinking again.”

“You say he’s never hit you or been in any way violent with you? “

“No. He wouldn’t. He … hasn’t. Not ever. He’s just so sad and lonely for my mom. They were always so close. She was his very best friend in the world. Without her … it’s killing him, Dr. Jones. It’s hurting him so deep.”

“I understand.” He glanced over at Tori, who sat across the coffee table from him and Jerilyn. Tori gulped down the sudden lump in her throat. Her dad did understand. They both did. He told Jerilyn. “Tori and I lost her mother when Tori was a couple of years younger than you are.”

Jerilyn’s eyes filled with tears again. She turned her gaze to Tori and tried a wobbly smile. “I know. Ms. Jones told me that, right after my mom died.”

Sherwood clasped Jerilyn’s shoulder. “I think we should go to your house now, see if maybe your dad is sober, and willing to talk with me. Are you okay with doing that?”

Jerilyn’s dark eyes were wide—and determined. “Yes. I think we should. We should go now.”

“Well, all right then,” Sherwood said, with that gentle smile that always warmed Tori’s heart.

They were at the front door when the phone rang. Tori told them, “I’ll just get that and be out in a sec.”

Her dad and Jerilyn headed for the car as Tori answered the phone on the side table in the great room.