Linda Lael - The Marriage Season

She nodded. “No problem.”

He went back out, joining Tripp in the drive. “Just how ‘not bad’ is this guy?”

They’d both dealt with difficult situations, back when they were pilots. As the authority figure on the plane, they usually had to deal with passengers who got out of hand. “On a scale of one to ten?” Tate added. He wasn’t worried, just curious.

“He’s maybe a six,” Tripp informed him, hands in pockets as they walked up to the car. “Plenty of bluster, but there’s no real juice behind it. We know each other—so that should help.”

“Galloway.” The man in question slammed his door and walked toward them. A big guy, Tate noted, but soft, with a shock of dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. He must’ve been at work because he still wore his shirt with his name embroidered on the pocket. “My wife here?”

“Yep.”

“I figured my sister-in-law would drag her out here or to Hogan’s place. Can I talk to her?”

“Nope.”

Anger flared on his face. “You heard the wife part, right?”

“Doesn’t matter. This is my land. So these are my rules.” Tripp didn’t budge. “Tara’s not receiving company at the moment. Seems to me she needs a little peace and quiet.”

“Then I want my son.”

Tate was truly not one to butt into anyone’s business, but he’d seen the look on the poor kid’s face. “He’s inside playing with two other children. Why would you make this harder on him? Get in your car and go, and when you and your wife choose to have a sensible conversation—with lawyers involved or not—he doesn’t need to be part of that, either. Like I say, it’s time for you to leave. That isn’t negotiable.”

“Who the hell are you ?”

“A father. The boy’s not a pawn, so don’t even try getting to him. ’Cause that’s not going to happen.”

At least Greg had enough sense to realize that neither he nor Tripp was planning to back down, so, muttering under his breath, he stomped to his car and drove off in a sputter of gravel.

When Tate turned around, he saw Bex standing there.

She gave Tripp a quick hug. “Thanks. Both of you were great.”

When she came over to him, the kiss was more on the corner of his mouth than his cheek, Tate noticed—and appreciated. Not quite the real deal but...

A very nice start.

CHAPTER THREE

BEX TOOK THE CALL absently, at the desk in her office, assuming it was her accountant calling to schedule their monthly meeting. “This is Bex Stuart.”

“Bex, this is Alma. Joshua gave me your cell number. I don’t like to bother you, but I don’t know what else to do.”

Alma was the school secretary. A shudder of dismay went through her. “Is he sick? I’ll be right there.”

“No, he isn’t. Don’t worry about that. But I would appreciate it if you’d come in. We have a problem. Tara’s not answering my calls—they’re going directly to voice mail—and Josh’s father, quite frankly, told me in no uncertain language that he wants nothing to do with it. He was downright rude.”

Why did that not surprise her? After nearly a week of constant harassment in his quest to talk to Tara, who was still at Bex’s place, Greg had finally barged in to the club. He’d brushed past the receptionist and marched into Bex’s office, where he’d planted both hands on her desk, looking her in the eye. “If this is how you want it, they’re your problem now.”

She wasn’t about to yield to his bullying. “Considering the way you’ve treated my sister, that’s exactly how I want it.” Tara wasn’t without some responsibility in this whole mess, but Bex had no intention of discussing that with Greg.

“You got it, Bex.” He’d swung around and left, leaving a hint of motor-oil aroma in the air.

She grabbed her purse and told Alma, “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll tell Josh and send him back to class. He’s very anxious over this matter. That’s my main concern.” She paused. “I’ll explain later, when you get here.”

What matter? she wondered as she unlocked her car and slid in. There was no disputing Tara was a wreck, watching television half the night and sleeping most of the day. She really needed to get herself sorted out, but Bex didn’t know how to advise her. She’d never been married, much less through a divorce, so how could she relate?

The school was a low-slung, modern brick building, only a few years old. Their beloved former school had finally reached the stage that the town had determined that a new building would make more sense than doing endless repairs, and while she’d mourned the loss, there was no doubt this facility was to-heck-and-gone better. The playground equipment alone made her inner child envious.

She parked the SUV in the parent lot and walked through the double glass doors. The office was right inside, and every visitor had to check in and sign a log, so she dutifully did that, and was directed to Alma’s desk right down the hall.

Alma Wainwright was an institution in Mustang Creek. She’d been there when Bex was in elementary school, and she didn’t look a whole lot different now. She still wore her hair in exactly the same bob, with a pair of spectacles constantly perched on the end of her nose. She glanced up and pointed to a chair. Bex sat. Old habits were hard to forget.

Alma picked up a piece of paper and handed it to her, across the desk. “Here’s the problem. No one’s paid for Josh’s school lunches this year. With the new program it can be done online. Or his parents could apply for the free lunch program sponsored by Bliss County and the state of Wyoming if they qualify, but they won’t respond. He’s very self-conscious about not having a lunch card, and even though he’s only six, he understands that no arrangements have been made. We would never allow a child to go hungry, so of course he gets a tray like everyone else, but we do have to account for every meal, so could you please ask your sister to address this?”

Bex couldn’t restrain a deep inner sigh. Poor Josh. Such a simple thing. Why would Tara let this slide? “I’ll pay it right now. I’d appreciate if you’d give Josh a lunch card immediately. He’s not having an easy time at the moment, and I don’t want this to be harder on him than it already is. Why didn’t he just tell me?”

“He’s a child. He’s embarrassed.” Alma adjusted her glasses and peered closely at her. “That, my dear, is why I called you . This is Mustang Creek. I know his parents have separated—again. Joshua’s a very nice little boy and frankly, deserves better. The school system can take the loss on his meals, but I’m afraid he can’t take the blow to his self-esteem.”

Maybe Alma should’ve been a child psychologist instead of a school secretary; maybe in some ways it was the same job. Bex wrote the check on the spot, making it for the entire semester. After that she decided that with the marathon tomorrow, she could use a run. A light one, because it wasn’t a good idea to push herself too hard the day before a race. The other benefit was that when she ran, there was nothing to do but think, and she needed to get a grip on the current situation.

Of course, as she exited the building, she bumped into Tate. Or rather slammed into him, her head down since she was searching for her keys and not paying attention. He caught her by the arms. “In a hurry?” he asked with a low laugh.

“Kind of.” She flushed. “This is getting to be a habit.”

“Seems to be.” He let her go. “Ben forgot his math homework. I thought I’d do him a favor and drop it off, although he’d better remember the next time or take a zero. I’m trying to teach him about responsibility but he is only eight, and he did do the assignment without having to be reminded. So he gets one free pass. What are you doing here?”