Texas Heat (14 page)

 

As Cranston maneuvered his car down the long, tree-lined drive to Sunbridge, he was thinking about Maggie. Since his last visit, he'd done little but think of Maggie. She'd blossomed somehow, grown beautiful, more mature and elegant, more confident; desirable traits in a woman, definite assets in a wife. Even her attitudes seemed different, so different, in fact, that he'd been forced to reassess his decision to divorce her. At first he'd thought that she'd somehow manufactured all the changes. But in the weeks since his last visit, he'd decided that Maggie Coleman Tanner of Sunbridge might be a valuable asset indeed. With the Coleman money behind him, Maggie to perk up his dinner parties, and Sunbridge at his disposal for holiday weekend entertaining, he should have no trouble succeeding in his plan to buy out the other partners in his firm and reign as undisputed head of a law dynasty. He smiled at the image of himself playing lord of the manor—on a part-time basis, of course.

Cranston dug around in his briefcase for his tobacco pouch, then stuck a pipe, a gift from a grateful client, in his mouth and proceeded to puff thoughtfully. Just how hard would it be to get Maggie back? he wondered. Probably not too hard—you simply had to know your adversary. And Maggie was his adversary . . . for the moment.

Two weeks at Sunbridge ought to just about do it. Yes, he thought, amused, Greece could wait. It was time he got to know his wife and son. And by tonight, if he played his cards right, he wouldn't be sleeping alone.

 

Martha, the Mexican housekeeper, opened the door wide for him. She beamed a smile and ushered him into the wide foyer. His eyes went immediately to the Stetsons lined up on the hall hat rack. He grinned at the baseball cap on the last peg. He knew it didn't belong to his son. The Japanese kid—Japs were big on baseball.

“You finally made it.”

Maggie walked into the foyer, looking beautiful and smelling wonderful. Cranston opened his arms in welcome, ready for her to step into his embrace and curl herself against him. Instead, she kept a formal distance between them, looking just a bit smug as she ushered him into the library. It annoyed him.

“Steven will take your bags upstairs later,” she said graciously. “You look well, Cranston. Winning your case agreed with you, I take it.”

“It's important to win,” Cranston replied, his voice brittle. “I was prepared.”

Maggie smiled again. “So, it isn't true, then, that old adage: it doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game that counts?”

“I told you I was prepared. I knew I would win. You can't go off half-cocked in the courtroom. Substantiated facts and a sympathetic judge. It's a winning combination.”

Maggie grimaced. “Can I get you a drink?”

“What are you having?”

“Ginger ale.”

“Then I'll have the same. It must have been hard for you to give up liquor.”

Maggie looked at her husband. “Yes, it was hard. I'm getting my life in order, Cranston, slowly but surely. I'm proud of myself because I did it on my own. Every day I tell myself I'm an alcoholic. I'll make it.”

Maggie's sincere little speech somehow irritated Cranston. “I'm sure you will,” he said curtly. “How's Cole?”

“Antsy. He really believes you're going to take him back to New York. Now that Sawyer is there, there's more incentive for him to want to go. I'd like you to talk to him as soon as possible. Tomorrow is the last day for registration at Crystal City High. I had to make a concession, too. Private school for both boys at this point is something I feel won't work. I want them to relate to all kids, not the chosen few who can afford expensive private schools. What do you think?”

“I'm willing to go along with you on the public school. For a semester. If it doesn't work out, we'll go on from there.” Always concede a little, he reminded himself, so that when the time comes, they'll remember you were fair. He'd won more than one case that way.

Maggie felt relieved but somehow suspicious. “What happens after the first semester?” she asked. “Are you going to take him? Fight me for custody?”

“That's a long way off. Why worry about something that may never come to pass? We can deal with it when the time comes.”

“In the meantime you'll find a way to get an edge on me. I know you, Cranston. Let's spell it out now. I don't want any surprises later on. Cole thinks you'd be willing to take him. Now we both know that's wishful thinking. I'm willing to give up child support but still allow you fair visitation rights.”

“Mother Maggie. Whoever would have thought you'd become a lioness defending her cub.”

“I just want what's best for him.”

“That's what you say.”

“Stop talking like a lawyer. If you want legalese, I'll call Dudley Abramson and you two can go at it. In the meantime, the boy stays here till it's settled. I mean it, Cranston.”

“I know you do,” Cranston said, holding out his glass for a refill. “This time add a little whiskey. How's Cole getting on with your nephew?” he asked.

“They aren't. And it's Cole's fault. He's sulky, insolent, disrespectful, and a general pain in the butt.”

“Why haven't you done something about it?”

“I'm trying. But he needs a father—and he needs to know we're united where he's concerned. I really need your help, Cranston.”

“I'll talk to him. Where is he?”

“He's probably lurking somewhere trying to figure a way to devil Riley. He's jealous, and I don't know what to do about it.”

“Send the kid back to Japan.”

“I can't do that. I won't do it. Riley has every right to be here. Besides, Riley isn't the source of Cole's problem. We are his problem.”

“All right, so we'll work on it.” Cranston saw Maggie watching him speculatively and he knew she was trying to figure out if he had an ulterior motive. Or was she thinking of the good days in the early part of their marriage?

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked abruptly.

Maggie laughed, a delightful sound that sent shivers up Cranston's arms. “No. I don't have the time right now to get involved in any kind of a relationship. Besides, I like things the way they are, for the present.”

“What about Rand? Now, don't jump down my throat,” he said when Maggie opened her mouth to protest. “Cole mentioned it to me and he was upset.”

“Upset about what? That Rand and Riley had to dry him out? Your son got drunk at the barbecue and made an ass out of himself. He just likes to twist the truth and the blame. That's the kind of thing I'm talking about, Cranston.”

“Cole said Rand broke off his long-standing relationship with Sawyer. He also said Rand was cozying up to you.”

“I hate that expression. We just talked, about everything and nothing. I didn't know about Sawyer until after Rand left. I had nothing to do with Rand's decision—and I was not the reason they broke up.”

“If you were, it'd be damn shameful. Mother steals daughter's boyfriend. There's probably cause for a suit there somewhere.”

“Stuff it, Cranston. Rand and Sawyer are adults.”

“I told Cole you were probably trying to patch things up between them rather than break them up. Of course the boy didn't buy my explanation. He said Sawyer left early, and that you didn't try to stop her. Still jealous of her, eh?”

“No! Cole sees what he wants to see. He had no right to make assumptions and then run to you with them. You're doing the same thing. Admit it, Cranston. You think I'm having an affair with Rand.”

“I never admit to anything.”

“Well, that's your problem; it always was a thorn for me. . . . Don't get up,” Maggie said coolly. “I'll see where Cole is.”

Cranston watched his wife's retreating back. So, tonight he would sleep alone. He'd been a little premature in his estimate. It would take a few days. At the most.

 

In the falling dusk Cole and Riley faced each other at opposite sides of the tennis court. Cole thwacked the ball viciously, sending Riley running for it out of bounds. He'd seen his father arrive and now felt as if he were going into an emotional tailspin. One moment, he was certain his father would put his mother in her place and take him back to New York. The next, he saw his father for what he was and knew he'd be left behind with his mother. At Sunbridge.

The tennis ball sailed back over the net, but instead of hitting it with the racket, Cole caught it and pitched it back to Riley with a snap of his arm.

“You've got a wicked curve ball,” Riley panted after leaping up to catch it. “If you'd been on the mound, that would've been a strike.”

Cole hunched over and positioned himself for Riley's serve.

“Are you going out for the baseball team? You should. The competition will be stiff, but I bet you could make varsity if you wanted.”

“You make it sound like it's definite that I'm not going to New York,” Cole snapped. “Do you know something I don't know?”

“No. I just thought . . . even if you go to a new school, you should consider going out for baseball if they have a team. You're good,” Riley said sincerely.

“Sports aren't my thing.”

“What is your thing? You have to start somewhere. You're a natural.”

“Look, why don't you mind your own business?” Cole said angrily. “You must know by now that you and I aren't going to make it as friends or cousins. So why don't you just buzz on out of here and let me alone?” He watched Riley's retreating back, then called out, “I got a letter from Sawyer yesterday.”

“I got one today,” Riley called back over his shoulder.

“I got one today,” Cole mimicked. “Well, she's
my
sister!” Angrily he threw a tennis ball in Riley's direction—and almost hit his father.

“I've been looking all over for you,” Cranston said, neatly catching the ball. “Hey, good throw. Who knows, you might be Yankee material.”

“Not good enough for your Orioles, huh?” Cole shot back. “Mother told me that you always had a secret desire to play for them. I'm a Mets fan myself.”

“They're losers. Never align yourself with losers or you might become one.” He noticed Cole was getting taller, broader across the shoulders. The suntan seemed to take some of the narrowness from his face, Cranston thought. There was an improvement here, a noticeable one. Maybe Maggie was right—maybe Sunbridge was best for Cole right now.

“They've come from behind before. They did win the pennant once. They aren't going to do it this year, but they might get a shot at it next time.”

“Nope, they're losers,” Cranston said coolly. “Take my word for it.”

“That's your opinion. It doesn't necessarily have to be mine.” Cole paused, then asked belligerently, “Did you and Mother decide?”

Cranston's eyes narrowed at his son's tone of voice. “Yes. You're going to Crystal City High the first semester. We'll evaluate the situation again in February. Be ready at nine tomorrow. I'll be taking you to the school to register.”

Watching the expression on Cole's face, Cranston softened a little. He found himself searching for just the right thing to say to his son. “This was not a rash decision on our part, Cole. Your mother has been to the school and talked to the principal. There are some very qualified teachers there if you're interested in learning. Their sports program is enviable, too. Your mother has taken the trouble to arrange a car pool so you won't have to take the bus. I know this doesn't fit in with the plans you had, but you have a lot of years to make plans.

“Your mother said Riley registered himself several weeks ago. He wanted to sign up for several extracurricular activities. It wouldn't have hurt you to sign up at the same time.”

Cole snorted. “I'm not Riley and I'm not interested in computers and baseball.”

“Just what the hell are you interested in, Cole?” Cranston asked, exasperated.

“Nothing around here, that's for sure. I'll go to Crystal City High, but don't expect any great things from me. I'll put in my time.”

“Your grades had better reflect that time, young man.”

“Aren't you a little late with this parental concern?”

“Look, I don't have to take any of your bullshit, Cole. I demand your respect and I'll settle for nothing less.”

Cole turned till he was facing his father, fixing him with a level stare. “Mother always taught me that respect has to be earned.” He turned away and walked toward the house.

By the time Cranston rejoined Maggie, he was scowling. He felt as though he'd just lost the most important case of his career.

“Maggie, if you don't mind, I have a few notes to go over and some letters to sign. I tried to clear the decks before I left, but ended up filling my briefcase. Can you have the cook send me up a pot of coffee, and then I'm going to make it an early night. Have Cole ready by eight-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“All right,” she said, feeling strangely disappointed; she'd been looking forward to spending the evening with Cranston now that they'd agreed about Cole. “Would you like a sandwich, some cookies or fruit?”

“No, coffee's fine. See you in the morning, Maggie.”

“Good night, Cranston.”

Maggie spent the rest of the evening curled in a chair, sipping tea and reading a mystery novel. At ten-thirty she was just closing her book when Riley walked in, looking flushed and happy. “Did you have a nice evening?”