A Son's Tale

But she had Sammie to think about. Sammie to fight for. If her father could sue her for custody, she could sue him back. Sort of like Sammie had said.

“George, Michael didn’t leave here until five,” Grace said, her tone soft. Calm. But firm, too. “Too late to file papers tonight. If you don’t call him, I will.”

Hardly daring to believe what was happening, Morgan looked from one parent to the other. Her mother was not backing down. At all.

Her father still showed no emotion. Not even as he fell from his throne. “I’ll call him,” was all he said as he left the room. Grace went after him, and Morgan didn’t think she would ever forget the words her mother said.

“I’m going to call him, too, just to be sure that George does the right thing.”

As her parents walked out one after the other, Morgan noticed that Cal and Frank had already gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MORGAN MISSED THE LAST day of class. She was allowed to miss one class, so it didn’t matter as far as her grade went. But it mattered to Cal. He’d put a lot of stock in that class, in that meeting.

He’d spent some time on the internet the night before when he and his father, after sharing a couple of beers and a pizza at one of the busiest places in town—just because they could—had returned home. He’d seen a couple of university job postings in Texas and Louisiana that appealed to him. Depending on the outcome of his meeting with Morgan that morning, he intended to apply for them.

Frank wanted to take some continuing education classes, recertify and see if he could put in a few more years of teaching, and possibly coaching, before he retired. He could do that anywhere.

For that matter, he could do it in Tyl

er, if he didn’t want to move with Cal.

It was odd, knowing that Frank didn’t need Cal anymore. His father could live on his own. Get a driver’s license. Have an address. Hell, he could even buy a house, once he got a job so he could qualify for the loan.

When Morgan didn’t show for class, Cal knew he had his answer. He applied for both positions.

A week later, he’d been offered both.

* * *

HER PHONE WAS RINGING. Sitting in the junior high parking lot the second week in August, reading a book while Sammie was inside at practice, Morgan grabbed her cell phone from her purse. Her son wouldn’t be calling unless he was hurt.

She didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Morgan? This is Frank Whittier.”

Her heart began to pound. “Hi, Frank, how are you?”

“Good. I’d like to speak with you. Is there a time we can meet?”

She told him where she was, where she’d be for the next hour, and he said he’d be there in ten.

Nine minutes later, Cal’s Durango pulled into the lot next to her and Frank got out. Unlocking her Taurus, she motioned for Frank to get in.

And when he did, she couldn’t stop looking at him. Not just because even in jeans and a polo shirt the man looked distinguished instead of old, but because he was Cal’s father. “You look good.”

“I’ve got a semester of classes ahead of me and then recertification,” he said. “Life is good.”

This from a man who’d been robbed of twenty-five years.

“Good.” She smiled, glad to be with him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“First, Sammie.”

Frowning, she tensed. What about Sammie? If her son had thought her overprotective before, it was nothing compared to the watchful eye she kept now that she fully accepted the responsibility that came with his being the grandson of a very rich man. But so far, there had been no complaints from the little man.