Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Suspense,
Romance,
Adult,
Revenge,
Ex-convicts,
ROMANCE - - SUSPENSE,
Fiction - Romance,
American Light Romantic Fiction,
Romance - General,
Romance: Modern,
Separated people
back
toward the family room, clapping one hand on the
younger Ranger’s shoulder. “You’re just looking for
things to think about so you won’t have to eat any more
watercress sandwiches.”
“Not me. You’re the one who needs distracting. Su-
sanna was down here for New Year’s last year. Bet last
night was a long one for you.” Sam laughed, then said
out of the blue, “It’s cold in Boston, you know. High of
twenty today. Wind chill’s below zero.”
“Good.”
“If that was my wife, I’d go fetch her.” Sam’s black
eyes flashed. “I’d bring my cuffs.”
34
Carla Neggers
“Sam—”
He held up a hand. “I know. None of my business.”
He sauntered into the family room and gave the girls
more grief about the guy from Die Hard.
“His name is Alan Rickman,” Maggie said coolly.
Sam shook his head. “You and Ellen have been up
north too long. You’re starting to sound like Teddy
Kennedy.”
Jack smiled from the doorway, listening to his
daughters give as good as they got from a Texas Ranger
more than fifteen years their senior. They weren’t
shrinking violets. Neither was their mother, although
sometimes Jack thought his life would be easier if Su-
sanna would be a little more of a shrinking violet, at
least once in a while.
Not long after Alice Parker was arrested, it became
apparent that Beau McGarrity wouldn’t be charged for
his wife’s murder anytime soon. People were even start-
ing to feel sympathy for him, believing he was innocent,
the victim of police corruption and a rush to judgment.
Jack felt the familiar mix of anger and frustration as-
sault every muscle, every inch of him. His entire body
stiffened. He was mad at Susanna, mad at himself—but
he knew what he had to do. One of these days, he and
his wife were going to have to have a talk about Beau
McGarrity.
Maggie and Ellen joined him on his run the next
morning. They all did five miles before Maggie pooped
out, declared she was on vacation and flagged down a
neighbor to drive her home. Ellen would have hung in
The Cabin
35
for the full ten miles, but Jack wasn’t up to it himself
and veered off on a shortcut that took them back home,
settling for a solid seven-mile run.
After lunch, the girls did their laundry and started
packing for their trip back to Boston in the morning.
They sat folding clothes in the family room, the Weather
Channel detailing the frigid temperatures still gripping
the northeast.
Ellen plopped a laundry basket on the floor and sat
down cross-legged, pulling out a rugby jersey to fold.
“Dad,” she said, “Maggie and I have been talking, and
we’ve decided—well, we haven’t said much about you
and Mom…”
“We’ve tried to stay out of it,” Maggie added.
Here it comes, Jack thought. He eased onto a chair,
still feeling the seven miles in his calf muscles. Thus far,
his daughters had generally avoided lecturing him on his
relationship with their mother. But he knew they had
opinions. He could at least listen to what they had to say.
“Go on,” he told them.
Ellen took a breath, as if she were about to confess
to something awful or embarrassing. “We think Mom
wants to be wooed.”
“Wooed?” Jack nearly choked. This was a million
miles from what he’d expected. “How many Jane Aus-
ten movies did you watch yesterday?”
“We’re serious, Dad,” Ellen said.
Maggie was sorting through a stack of her vintage
clothes. She and Ellen and their friends had combed
through every secondhand store in San Antonio, raving
over sacks of clothes they’d picked up for a few dollars.
36
Carla Neggers
Most looked like rags to Jack. “We know Mom’s inde-
pendent and supercompetent and makes tons of money
and all that,” Maggie said, “and she’ll watch football
with you and talk murder and stuff—”
“But she needs romance once in a while,” Ellen
finished.
“Wooing,” Maggie added with a glint in her eye