Missy Tippens - Her Unlikely Family

“He always cancels. He’s too busy. And I hate that place.”

A sixteen-year-old girl whose mother had just died shouldn’t be shipped off to boarding school. She should be with her family. And Josie knew all too well about craving attention from family.

“What’s your uncle like? Not as a parent. As a person.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “He’s always on the straight and narrow. Churchgoing. Law-abiding. Serious.” She thought for a second. “He, like, owns the bank. He’s worked there since he was five or something.”

“Sounds like a good role model to me.”

“You promised me, Josie.” She backed away, as if heading for the door. “If you tell him, I’m out of here. ’Cause he’ll send me right back to that horrible place and all those snobby kids who won’t have anything to do with me.”

“And you’ve told him how they exclude you?”

“I think I mentioned it.”

“You think?”

“I did tell him about the three girls on my floor who’ve spread lies about me. But he didn’t believe me, because he knows their parents really well.”

Well, that decided it. Josie wasn’t about to turn the girl over to an uncle who would deny a problem and pack her off to school with kids who mistreated her.

Then again, she probably shouldn’t take Lisa’s word for it. Josie would stall answering his questions about Lisa’s whereabouts until she could find out for herself what kind of guardian he was.

A serious, law-abiding banker, huh? He would be as easy to read as Bud’s menu.

Michael finished the last bite of his sandwich and had to admit the chicken was tender and spiced to perfection. However, after the exhausting day he’d spent driving without stopping to eat, anything would have tasted good.

The waitress with Josie printed on her name tag jangled as she hurried toward his table, waving a slip of paper. “I’ve got your check right here.”

She certainly was trying to rush him out the door.

He wasn’t budging. “I think I’d like some dessert. What’s the chef making today?”

The woman snorted a laugh. “Chef? If Bud over there is a chef, I’ll eat my orthopedic shoes.”

He glanced down at the old-lady shoes, which suited her personality about as well as a tiara on her head would. “Believe me, Josie, I had already deduced he wasn’t trained at Le Cordon Bleu.”

She smiled, but the tilt of her brows made her seem confused. She touched her name tag. “You know my name. What’s yours?”

“Michael Throckmorton.”

“Well, you’re a funny man, Mike.”

“It’s Michael. I’ve never been called Mike.”

“But Michael sounds so stuffy.”

“Maybe I am stuffy. Now, what’s on the dessert menu today?”

With a mischievous gleam in her eye, she parked one hip on the edge of his table, leg swinging, and pointed to the far wall. “The dessert menu’s on that chalkboard. Same today as yesterday and every day for the past year or so. Pecan pie, apple pie or chocolate cake?”

“Make it apple, with black coffee.”

“I figured you for an apple-pie man. Coming right up.”

Now what was that supposed to mean? “Would you please ask Bud to come take a look at this picture of Lisa when he gets a moment?”

“He’s real busy. But I’ll try.” She shoved her pencil, not behind her ear this time, but into her bird’s nest of a hairdo, then moved to wait on another table where she flirted with two men in dirty work clothes.

In observing her at a distance, he decided that somehow, miraculously, she equaled a whole lot more than the sum of her parts. Extreme jewelry, plus funky hair and rubber-soled shoes equaled…attractive waitress.

How could that possibly be?

When Josie returned with Michael’s pie and coffee, she slid into the booth across from him. She blew a pink bubble, then popped it with a loud snap. “So, tell me about you and your niece. Are you helping her parents search for her?”

He lifted Lisa’s photograph and stared at the innocent, trusting smile. A smile that used to come so easily before her mother’s drinking had gotten out of hand.

“My sister, Patricia, was a single mom. She died in a car accident a year ago.”

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me it was a drunk driver.”

“Yes. Her.” Way to go, Throckmorton. Tell her your life history, why don’t you?

His unintentional revelation was greeted with silence. And a pitying look—which he detested.

“Anyway, she specified in her will that I be named guardian,” he added.

“Why’d she pick you?”

He bristled. “Why not me?”

“Well, you appear to be single.” She waggled her left ring finger. “No ring.”

Yes, he was single. Definitely single since Gloria had dumped him. “An unmarried man can be a suitable guardian.”

“I didn’t say you were unsuitable. I’m just wondering why she chose you.”

Josie was acting a little too interested. As if she was stalling.

The longer this woman gave him the runaround, the more likely it was he would be stuck in Gatlinburg, missing his appointment with Tom Mason. And Throckmorton’s Bank needed Mason’s company to take out that construction loan.

He checked his watch. “You know, I really want to find her and get back to Charleston. I have an important meeting tomorrow. Do you have any idea where she could be?”

“So this is all about getting back to your important meeting, huh?”

He sighed. This woman was impossible. Since when was it a crime to work hard? “No. It’s about making sure my niece is safe. About getting her back to school—and round-the-clock supervision—where she belongs before she makes a stupid mistake.” Like her mother made sixteen years ago.

“What kind of mistake?”

“Some of her friends thought she might have left with an older boy. A troublemaker.”

Josie thought about her one encounter with the troublemaker boyfriend and said a quick prayer of thanks that the creep had ditched Lisa and hit the road—even if he had “borrowed” her car.

She figured another prayer for guidance wouldn’t be a bad idea either since Michael Throckmorton didn’t seem as awful as Lisa had made him out to be. In fact, he seemed downright concerned. Except for wanting to get back for a meeting. That bothered her.

But maybe she should at least let him know Lisa was safe.

But then Lisa would feel betrayed and might run again.

What a mess.

“You know, Mike, if you’ll hang around until I’m off tonight, I might be able to help you.”

His all-business, I’m-in-a-hurry-to-get-out-of-here scowl lit with a hint of hope. “I knew it. You do know where Lisa is.”

“Order’s up,” Bud called.

What should she do? Mike obviously cared for his niece. Maybe he just didn’t know how to show it. “Okay, I admit I’ve met her, and I can tell you she’s safe. But she doesn’t want to see you.”

He winced at the truth. “She’s made that fairly clear.”

Bud impatiently clanged the little service bell and nodded toward a customer. “Hamburger’s getting cold.”

“Look, I need to get back to work. I’m pulling a double, so I don’t get off till ten.”

She hopped up and went to pick up the order, but when she turned to take it to the table, she glimpsed the back of Mike’s broad back as he disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen.

By the time she caught up to him, he stood alone in the middle of the spick-and-span room. Lisa was nowhere in sight.

“She’s not here.” He sounded deflated.

“No. But like I said, she’s safe.”

He zeroed in on the exit leading to the alley. “If I don’t find her, I’ll meet you outside at ten. But I expect some answers.” In four strides of his long legs, he was out the door, his head snapping left and right to search the darkening alley.

Bud stuck his head into the kitchen, saw the intruder was gone and said, “She left with Brian after he delivered the bread.”

“Do you have any idea where they went?”

“No.”

A flutter of panic beat against Josie’s chest. “What if she ran again?”

A worried look deepened his wrinkles, but he shrugged. “The girl’s your mission project. Not mine.” The door flapped closed as he went back to the dining room and his grill.

Josie wondered if protecting Lisa had been the right thing to do. Instinct had told her the girl needed some time away from peer pressure family pressure, and the burden wealth could put on a person—just as Josie had needed at that age. Lisa needed time to figure out who she was and what she wanted out of life.

But Josie had thought she was dealing with an unwanted eighteen-year-old. Now she had to find a way to prevent the girl from running away again while being responsible to the hunky uncle. Maybe she could hold him off until she talked to Lisa—providing Lisa showed up at home that night.

Lord, I thought You sent Lisa to me like You sent the other runaways. I thought You wanted me to help her. But I don’t have any business keeping her from an uncle who seems to care about her.

God had sent Lisa to her for a reason. She simply had to figure out what that reason could be.

Michael hunkered down in his car. The late March temperature had dropped and couldn’t be over forty. Not exactly what he’d dressed for earlier in the day, back before he’d known he would have to hang around to deal with a frustrating waitress as the only link to his niece.

He had a view of the front of the diner and of the alley leading from the back. So far, he’d only seen customers come and go. No sign of Lisa.

He pushed the button to light his watch. Eight past ten and still no sign of Josie, either.

The woman certainly worked hard. Unless, of course, she’d spent her time warning Lisa not to come back to the diner. The fact that Josie had misled him earlier didn’t bode well for how truthful she would be tonight.

The fact that Lisa had told Josie she didn’t want to see him didn’t bode well either.

A sigh escaped from some weary place deep inside. How was he supposed to deal with a teenager who was so rebellious she broke every school rule twice? Surely the school, with female role models like her teachers, was better than his bachelor home. Once again, he would have to find a way to get Lisa reinstated.

He steeled himself for her objections. He would find her and take her back where she belonged. Maybe someday she would thank him for it.

The door of the diner opened, and Josie, without any wasted movement, walked toward his car. Before he knew it, she had climbed in and shut the door.

“Hi, Mike. Nice night.”

“Would you care to join me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Light from a streetlamp spilled into the car, illuminating her sassy smirk.

He stopped himself from telling her she had a nice smile, even though she did have a very nice smile. Instead, he sat in silence, turning to the quiet neighborhood outside, remembering the more touristy area a few blocks away where shops sold handmade candles, homemade fudge and funnel cakes. Why would a teenager head to this town?

When he recalled the many wedding chapels in the area, his gut clenched. “I’m not too late to keep her from trying to marry the punk, am I?”

“No. The guy dumped her. But—”

“So you do know about him.” Anger pushed away the chill in the air. “What else have you kept from me?”

“It’s not like I—”

His cell phone rang. He unclipped it from his belt. Caller ID showed it was the investigator. “Throckmorton.”

“They traced your niece’s car to a town in North Georgia,” the man said. “A young couple was seen getting out. We’re not sure if it’s Lisa. The female’s hair is black.”