because of an emergency.
Damn. She dug out her phone, hoping if someone had died it was her brother Bart. Never could stand Bart.
Caller ID showed it was Daniel, alright. "Excuse me, ladies, it's my husband, and I'm afraid it might be something important."
"Unlike when my husband calls," Karen Ditko laughed. "I set foot out of the house, and suddenly he's helpless as a baby."
Daniel wasn't like that. They'd been working the farm together for thirty years and didn't run to each other for foolishness. Her heart picked up its pace.
"Hello?"
"Hey. You busy?"
"I'm having dinner with the girls. Anything wrong?"
Daniel paused, and Willie gripped the edge of the table.
"It's nothing. I just thought maybe tomorrow you might want to skip the afternoon shopping and come on home early. Something's popped up with Danny."
"Why?" Her fear turned to annoyance. Daniel wasn't usually cryptic. "What's the matter with Danny? He sick?"
Not that she could imagine Danny getting sick or laid up. He was as healthy as their soybean crop this year. He was a good boy, too, but she knew he was getting a little restless lately. Lonely. She hoped he hadn't done anything stupid. Like get involved with that blond piece of work who'd blown into town with Boston Macnamara.
Willie wasn't blind. She could see that those long legs had drawn Danny's attention. Danny and every other man in town under the age of ninety.
"Not exactly. He just has some news."
Why the hell was her husband being so guarded? Danny was either dying or his house had burned to the ground. It had to be a disaster, plain and simple, for Daniel to sound like he did. Like he'd been kicked in the family jewels. "What news?"
"I think this is the kind of news that Danny needs to tell you himself."
Oh, God, Danny had run off to Vegas with the blonde. "Daniel, I think you've lost your mind. You cannot call me and tell me Danny has news and expect me to wait until tomorrow afternoon to find out what it is. Tell me. Now."
She took a fortifying sip of margarita, bracing herself for the fact that her child might be dying. God, she couldn't lose her son. He hadn't even given her grandbabies yet, for crying out loud. Didn't that rate special consideration?
That was the problem with only having one son—you decreased your odds of grandchildren. Since Shelby and Danny had split, Willie had lived in constant fear that he would never find another woman to settle down with and fill up the yard with kids.
Not that she wanted him to marry the wrong woman. Like what's-her-name with the high heels. Willie wanted him to be happy. While procreating.
But she reassured herself that if Danny were dying, Daniel would be more upset than he sounded.
"First, do you know where we put the phone number for that lawyer we used to make our wills? Danny came around tonight saying he'd gotten a bit of a surprise."
"Lawyer? What the hell does he need a lawyer for?" Willie met the shocked gazes of her three friends and felt panic swelling up in her.
"I'm getting to that part."
"Well, speed it up." Daniel took things easy, calmly, thought them through. Willie wished for once he could just spit it out. If her son had committed murder and was facing the electric chair, she needed to know.
"Turns out when he was in high school Danny met a girl at the county fair and uhhh, well, was intimate with her."
It wasn't murder, but did she need to hear these things? Willie was going to need another margarita at this rate. "And?"
"She got pregnant. But she never told Danny. Tonight the gal's husband dropped by with Danny's daughter. She's eight years old, and the stepfather doesn't want her any more."
"A daughter?" She was drunk. That had to be the only explanation for this. Maybe the booze had gone to her head and she was really in bed sleeping it off, dreaming this. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious.
Damn. She dug out her phone, hoping if someone had died it was her brother Bart. Never could stand Bart.
Caller ID showed it was Daniel, alright. "Excuse me, ladies, it's my husband, and I'm afraid it might be something important."
"Unlike when my husband calls," Karen Ditko laughed. "I set foot out of the house, and suddenly he's helpless as a baby."
Daniel wasn't like that. They'd been working the farm together for thirty years and didn't run to each other for foolishness. Her heart picked up its pace.
"Hello?"
"Hey. You busy?"
"I'm having dinner with the girls. Anything wrong?"
Daniel paused, and Willie gripped the edge of the table.
"It's nothing. I just thought maybe tomorrow you might want to skip the afternoon shopping and come on home early. Something's popped up with Danny."
"Why?" Her fear turned to annoyance. Daniel wasn't usually cryptic. "What's the matter with Danny? He sick?"
Not that she could imagine Danny getting sick or laid up. He was as healthy as their soybean crop this year. He was a good boy, too, but she knew he was getting a little restless lately. Lonely. She hoped he hadn't done anything stupid. Like get involved with that blond piece of work who'd blown into town with Boston Macnamara.
Willie wasn't blind. She could see that those long legs had drawn Danny's attention. Danny and every other man in town under the age of ninety.
"Not exactly. He just has some news."
Why the hell was her husband being so guarded? Danny was either dying or his house had burned to the ground. It had to be a disaster, plain and simple, for Daniel to sound like he did. Like he'd been kicked in the family jewels. "What news?"
"I think this is the kind of news that Danny needs to tell you himself."
Oh, God, Danny had run off to Vegas with the blonde. "Daniel, I think you've lost your mind. You cannot call me and tell me Danny has news and expect me to wait until tomorrow afternoon to find out what it is. Tell me. Now."
She took a fortifying sip of margarita, bracing herself for the fact that her child might be dying. God, she couldn't lose her son. He hadn't even given her grandbabies yet, for crying out loud. Didn't that rate special consideration?
That was the problem with only having one son—you decreased your odds of grandchildren. Since Shelby and Danny had split, Willie had lived in constant fear that he would never find another woman to settle down with and fill up the yard with kids.
Not that she wanted him to marry the wrong woman. Like what's-her-name with the high heels. Willie wanted him to be happy. While procreating.
But she reassured herself that if Danny were dying, Daniel would be more upset than he sounded.
"First, do you know where we put the phone number for that lawyer we used to make our wills? Danny came around tonight saying he'd gotten a bit of a surprise."
"Lawyer? What the hell does he need a lawyer for?" Willie met the shocked gazes of her three friends and felt panic swelling up in her.
"I'm getting to that part."
"Well, speed it up." Daniel took things easy, calmly, thought them through. Willie wished for once he could just spit it out. If her son had committed murder and was facing the electric chair, she needed to know.
"Turns out when he was in high school Danny met a girl at the county fair and uhhh, well, was intimate with her."
It wasn't murder, but did she need to hear these things? Willie was going to need another margarita at this rate. "And?"
"She got pregnant. But she never told Danny. Tonight the gal's husband dropped by with Danny's daughter. She's eight years old, and the stepfather doesn't want her any more."
"A daughter?" She was drunk. That had to be the only explanation for this. Maybe the booze had gone to her head and she was really in bed sleeping it off, dreaming this. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious.
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