Page 19 of Second Start: Family
The tension vibrated between man and boy. Yet, oddly, she thought the man was less tense, more certain than he had been.
The boy’s eyes raked those still seated at the table. “Sorry for swearing.” His glare settled on his father. “But you can go to hell.”
He spun away and ran out the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sunday evenings were the worst for Vicky Otter.
A restlessness seeped into her that she couldn’t — or didn’t want to — explain. Not even to herself.
At first, she’d made Sunday evenings time to plan. By the first of October she’d known plans burned and crumbled like fire ash. But she hadn’t let go of planning until March. Wasn’t that just like her, holding on long past stubborn.
You’d think she’d never heard the phrasecut your losses.
She spread the book she wasn’t reading on the arm of the sofa and looked out the window, wondering how Kenzie was faring at Q-T Ranch.
She also wondered how long Kenzie would last. And what brought her here, though Vicky knew that story would come — it always did.
One or two had told readily. Most clung to their secret until it gushed out one night. October, November, December, even one not until February — it always came out.
So she would wait for Kenzie’s secret. But gauging how long she would stay was another matter. Otherwise how would Vicky know when to cut her losses.
A flick of motion caught her attention. Kenzie Smith’s car.
Vicky’s knock was perfunctory on Kenzie’s trailer door, she was opening it before Kenzie finished calling out “Come in.”
She flopped onto the couch as she studied Kenzie.
With motions half jerky, half fluid, like a wind-up toy meant to glide across the ground but with crossed wires making it jump and twitch, Kenzie took an open bottle of pinot grigio from the refrigerator and lifted it questioningly to Vicky, who nodded.
“So, how’d it go? You and Hall come to blows this time?”
Kenzie finished pouring white wine into a glass she’d purchased — a set in cardboard like a six-pack of beer — on a stock-up trip to Casper. She set the glass on a coaster beside Vicky. Using a coaster had to be out of habit, because adding a ring to the marks on the end table would be like a grain of dirt in the Big Horn Mountains.
Kenzie poured her own glass, snagged another coaster, and sat on the other end of the couch before answering.
“It was a disaster.”
Vicky considered her a moment. “Yikes — you mean it.”
“I mean it. Starting with the fact he had no idea I was coming, much less invited me. And I have to apologize to you.” Vicky’s eyebrows climbed, but she didn’t interrupt. “I said something about the scholarship program — innocuous, I thought. But Hall Quick’s reaction made it clear he hadn’t known and it’s a touchy subject.”
“Damn,” Vicky said softly. Then she repeated the word with more emphasis, staring at the fake paneling under the window.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know — but that’s no excuse. I should have kept my mouth shut. I shouldn’t have…”
Vicky grimaced. “I won’t say I’m glad, but I should have talked to Hall by now. I told myself I was working on the best way to approach him. But maybe I was putting it off.”
Kenzie let out a huff of air and her shoulders eased. She took her first swallow of wine. Vicky had no trouble interpreting that. Kenzie had worried she might be breaking the news to Vicky that Hall objected.
“I can’t believe it would be necessary to strategize the best way to approach a father about such a great educational opportunity — not a father who cared about his son.”
Vicky picked up her wine glass, sank back against the cushions and sipped. “Hall cares. But it’s complicated.”
“Oh, yes, he lectured me about that — about how a ranch runs and how he needs his son’s labor to keep it going.”
“Hall said all that, huh? Total diversion. Hall was the first student around here to get that scholarship. He went to high school in Cheyenne. That’s where he met Annie.”
