The lake house was perfect for outcasts, too. It was really an old ranch house, three quarters of an hour outside Austin on a lonely stretch of river between the Highland lakes, and six miles from tiny Ruby Falls. The house itself was big and airy; its many windows were covered with sheer, silky drapes that lifted gracefully with each breeze off the river. A porch wrapped all the way around the big square of a house, and one corner was screened off to make a sleeping porch for those sultry summer nights. Inside, the floors were made of old timbers, and in the center of the house was a huge great room with dueling limestone fireplaces. On one end of the great room, a corridor led to three bedrooms and two baths. On the other end, just behind the enormous kitchen and utility room, another corridor led to the master bedroom and two rooms that served as storage and an office.
What Rebecca loved best about the house was the long and gentle slope of green grass down to the bank of the Colorado River, lined with pecan trees and tall cottonwoods. That was where Rebecca and Grayson were hosing down Big Dog, screeching with laughter each time the dog wound up and shook off the water, spraying them in the process.
As a phone began to ring on the porch, Grayson picked up the hose and sprayed the dog a second time. The dog resolutely shook the water off again, sending Grayson into another shrieking fit of laughter. Rebecca ran up the steps, wiping water from her face, and as she grabbed the phone, she yelled, “Don’t drown him, honey! Hello?”
“Hey.”
An old, familiar shiver shot down her spine at the sound of his voice. His phone skills definitely hadn’t improved, but he really didn’t need to identify himself, as she would know that voice just about anywhere. As would the rest of Texas, who had to listen to him at least five times a day on the radio or TV. “Bud,” she said simply.
“What’s all that racket?” he asked, hearing Grayson’s laughter on the lawn.
“Grayson is giving a dog a bath.”
“Another stray?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Take him to the pound and let them put the poor thing out of his misery.”
That was the last thing she would ever do, and on top of that, when would he stop telling her what to do?
“You always had such a soft heart, Becky. Remember Flopper?”
That caught her off guard—she hadn’t thought of her horse Flopper in a long time. Bud had given her the gelding for their first wedding anniversary, and Rebecca had loved that horse. When he got sick, Bud was the one who took him to the vet and returned home alone. Rebecca had cried for days in Bud’s arms, which she really didn’t want to think about now, and asked, “What do you want, Bud?”
“Jesus,” he said, “what’s the matter with you?”
Of course the old Rebecca—the doormat?—would have politely carried on a conversation about Flopper, regardless of how she felt or how much she despised Bud for what he had done to her in the last few years of their marriage. Fortunately, that Rebecca had been put out of her considerable misery. “I’m sorry, Bud, did you forget? We’re divorced.”
“I know that,” he said irritably. “But we were together a long time, and I’d think the least you could do is be friendly.”
Was he seriously out of his philandering mind? He wanted to be friends now? “Bud. What do you want?”
“You know, sometimes you act like it was all one way. You had your part in it, too, Becky—you think you’re that perfect?”
Oh. Dear. God. How had she endured all those years with this man? “Did you really call to discuss ancient history?” she asked (pleased that even though he was making her furious at the moment, she wasn’t falling into old traps, just like her book Surviving Divorce: A Woman’s Guide to Starting Over said: Never let your ex-spouse drag you back into conflict. Walk tall, walk proud, but most importantly, walk away!).
“No, I called because I ran into Robin, and she said you were looking for a job. By the way, that sister of yours still has a mouth on her.”
Rebecca could only hope that Robbie had laid a few choice words on ol’ Budro. “Yes, Bud, I am looking for a job.”
“Why? And what do you think you can do?”
First Dad, now her ex. Rebecca closed her eyes, tried to draw on the inner peace she was supposed to be learning through tai chi, recognizing instantly that in spite of the claims on the back of the video box, it wasn’t working for shit at the moment. “Frankly, it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“It’s my business if it affects my son,” he said gruffly. “But if that’s what you’re going to do, at least call one of my dealerships down there. We can put you in the office somewhere—”
“No thanks.”
“Bec, I’m just trying to help.”
Like hell he was. “Thanks, but I don’t need or want your help.”
He sighed again, only louder. “Fine. Whatever. Listen, Candace and I’ve been invited to Aspen this weekend, so I’m gonna have to bail on Grayson.”
Rebecca sank onto one of the Adirondack chairs, her anger giving way to frustration. “You’ve bailed on your son four times in the last two months. Don’t you know that he misses his father?”
“You’re the one who moved, Rebecca.”
“You didn’t see him in Dallas, either, Bud.”
“Don’t try and lay a guilt trip on me. Just tell him—”
“Uh-uh, no way!” Rebecca quickly interrupted. “You tell him—I’m sick of carrying your water.”