Actually, in hindsight, she did not have nearly as much of his money as she should have gone for.
“So I hear you’re with Masters?” he said, changing the subject and startling her.
“What? How did you know that—Robin?”
He shrugged. “That’s a better move for you, really, instead of the work idea.” He paused to get something out of the SUV, giving Rebecca time to visualize herself kicking him square in the nuts, martial arts style. “You know, Aaron would really like Tom.”
“Who, Dad? He doesn’t like politics or politicians.”
“Masters is different. You should really talk to Aaron about Tom.”
What was this? Bud’s sudden interest in her dad’s political leanings—any leanings—was certainly odd, and as he shut the back of the SUV, she had a sudden, sickening thought. “Did you have anything to do with Tom calling me in the first place?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“No, Rebecca. I just think it’s a good move, that’s all.”
What a relief. She’d rather die than take something Bud had set up for her.
“Okay, buddy, I have to go,” Bud said, running his hand over Grayson’s unruly top. “Candy and I have a long drive to Dallas.”
“But Dad, when can I come see you and Lucy?” Grayson asked, struggling to hold on to the monster puppy.
“I’ll call you,” Bud said, and then looked at Rebecca. “You doing okay? You look too skinny.”
“Thanks.”
“You sure you’re handling all this okay?”
“All what?”
“You know, us. Our split.”
“Bud, please don’t patronize me,” Rebecca said evenly. “We’ve been divorced almost a year.” She grabbed the puppy by the scruff of the neck before it wriggled free of Grayson’s grip.
“Don’t, Mom! I got him,” he complained, and twisted away from her. “Tater is my dog!”
“Okay, see you,” said Bud, already striding toward the driver’s seat.
Grayson whipped around. “Dad! Dad!” he screamed. “Byyyyyye, Dad!”
Bud waved, then disappeared into the Escalade. Grayson stood there, watching Bud take off, speeding out of the parking lot without so much as a backward glance. When the Esplanade had disappeared into traffic, Rebecca put her hand on his shoulder. “Come on, sweetie.”
Grayson jerked away from her. “I’m coming,” he said, and began stalking toward the Rover as well as he could with the squiggling puppy.
Rebecca tried to talk to him on the way home, but Grayson was in a foul mood, as he usually was after seeing Bud. “I had fun with Dad,” was the only thing she could get out of him about his weekend at the coast. “I wish Dad had married Lucy,” he added petulantly, and Rebecca figured the kid was determined to find a way to hurt her.
His disposition did not improve that evening, either. While Bean took the new addition to their family in stride (if he even noticed), Frank wasn’t too pleased, and snapped twice at a very playful Tater. That infuriated Grayson, who, after throwing a tantrum and insisting that Rebecca put Frank out, which she would not, scooped up Tater and marched off to his room, slamming the door behind him.
A half hour later, Rebecca peeked into his room. Grayson was sprawled on his race car bed, snotty-nosed and red-faced from having cried himself to sleep. Her heart went out to him; what could possibly be so troubling to a little kid? She didn’t know, but at the moment, Tater, who had already shredded one of Grayson’s books, was working on a shoe.
Rebecca trotted the pup out into the backyard and handed him over to Frank and Bean for proper training. Well. To Frank, anyway.