After Tex. Sherryl Woods

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After Tex - Sherryl  Woods


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as Tex had once been all Megan had had. She would manage just as Tex had. O’Rourkes always did what was expected of them. It had been her grandfather’s mantra.

      “So, what’s it going to be, Meggie? Will you stay or go?”

      “You’d just love it if I left, wouldn’t you? You’d stay here, do the noble thing, be a hero.”

      “I’m not sure I’d be declared a hero, but your leaving would ease the way toward me getting this ranch.” He shot her a lazy grin. “But I can wait. Having you around again might be even more fascinating.”

      

      That night was the longest of Megan’s life. She felt as alone and every bit as afraid as she had when her mother had abandoned her on Tex’s doorstep years before. The only thing that kept her from sinking into despair was knowing that, as bad as she felt, Tess probably felt worse—more frightened and even more alone.

      Not that the child would show it. Tess had avoided her for most of the evening, and when Megan had offered to go upstairs with her and tuck her in, the girl had jeered, “I ain’t no baby,” and stalked off with shoulders squared proudly.

      In the moments that followed, Megan had longed for someone she could confide in, but the only person who came to mind was Jake, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable and uncertain.

      By the time it occurred to her that Peggy would have listened and probably offered sensible, down-to-earth advice, it was too late to call.

      “Get a grip,” Megan muttered to herself when the illuminated dial on her bedside clock ticked on toward four o’clock.

      She reminded herself that she ran an entire media conglomerate, that she had all sorts of resources at her disposal, that she was known worldwide for her creative solutions to all sorts of social dilemmas. Surely she could come up with something that fit the fix she was in.

      By five she was up, dressed and in the kitchen searching for the coffee grinder. When she found nothing but a store brand of already ground, ordinary Colombian beans, she sighed heavily, put them into the automatic coffeemaker and waited to see what sort of pitiful brew emerged. She grimaced at the taste, but it was hot and loaded with caffeine, so it would do.

      At five-thirty she reached for the phone and called her office. Todd picked up on the first ring.

      “How’s it going back there?” she asked, suddenly unsure just how much she was ready to tell him about the upcoming upheaval in all their lives. No matter what her final decision, some things would inevitably change.

      “We’re managing,” he assured her. “What about you?”

      “Same here.”

      “When will you be back?”

      “Well, that’s the thing,” she began slowly.

      “Megan, is there some sort of a problem?” he asked sympathetically. “I know losing Tex can’t be easy, despite the way you two argued all the time. We can cope around here for a couple of weeks if you need more time.”

      She drew in a deep breath. “It may be a little longer than that.”

      Todd fell silent. “How long?” he asked eventually.

      “I’m not saying it’s going to happen. It’s certainly not what I want—”

      “Spit it out, Megan. What’s the worst-case scenario?”

      “Worst case? Unless I can find some other way to handle certain things, and believe me I am trying, I could be here permanently.”

      “Permanently?” he echoed, as if the word were unfamiliar. “As in forever?”

      “That’s the definition I’m most familiar with.”

      “What the hell is going on out there?” Todd demanded. “Have you been taken captive or something?”

      “The days of the Wild West are pretty much over,” Megan assured him, grinning despite herself.

      “Then what?”

      “It’s gotten complicated,” she said, settling for the same word she’d used with Tess.

      Todd was no more satisfied with the response than Tess had been. “Complicated how? The estate and stuff?”

      “You could say that.”

      “Megan, why don’t you just spit it out?” he repeated with a rare touch of impatience. “I need to know what we’re up against here. Are you closing things down? Selling out?”

      “Absolutely not!” It was more certainty than she’d displayed with Jake, but she realized she’d made her decision about that overnight.

      “Then explain.”

      “Tex’s legacy wasn’t exactly what I expected.”

      “More money? Less? The ranch? What?”

      “An eight-year-old daughter.”

      That silenced her unflappable assistant.

      “Todd?”

      “I’m here. I’m just grappling with this. He left you a daughter?”

      “That pretty much sums it up, except for the part where I have to stay here to raise her.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

      “I wish to hell I were.”

      “You with a kid,” he said with evident amazement. “It boggles the mind.”

      “Doesn’t it just?” she agreed. “But that’s where I am. I’m still trying to figure out how to make all this work, so don’t go blabbing the news around and set off a panic, okay? My goal is to get back to New York, but that could take time and some legal tap dancing, okay?”

      “My lips are sealed,” he assured her. “Uh, Megan, just what are some of the options you’re considering? Commuting, maybe?”

      “It’s on the list,” she agreed, though even she had to concede that as a practical matter it was seriously lacking. She wasn’t sure Todd was ready to hear another option she’d been toying with all night long. Envisioning Todd and the others—savvy, sophisticated New Yorkers one and all—trying to adapt to life in Wyoming had given her one of the only good laughs she’d had overnight. Last resort, she’d finally conceded. That was definitely her last resort.

      “Commuting could work,” Todd said, as if eager to convince her. “There are faxes and e-mail. And just imagine all those frequent-flyer miles. Plus you’d be halfway to the West Coast, so trips to L.A. would be a breeze, too. Just say the word and I’ll start writing up a plan.”

      “Not just yet. I still have some thinking to do. In the meantime, I’ll pick up a fax machine and a computer for Tex’s office here. I’ll call as soon as I can get everything set up. Now tell me what’s happening there. Everything on schedule?”

      “Running like clockwork,” he assured her. “I shifted the taping schedule on the show till next week. If you can’t make that, we’ll adjust, despite Micah’s dire predictions that it’ll be a disaster. There are enough shows pretaped to hold us for a while. The lead story for the magazine’s been laid out. I can fax you the pages as soon as you say the word.”

      “Terrific. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll talk to you later. Tell Micah I’ll check in with her before the end of the day, too.”

      “Right.” He hesitated. “By the way, Megan, don’t think I haven’t noticed that it’s practically the middle of the night there. Now that I know your brain does actually function in the morning,” he taunted, “I might start scheduling those a.m. meetings for eight.”

      “Don’t even think about it,” she warned, but she was chuckling as she hung up.

      “Everything


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