Now she remembers I'm here.
"I don't think this is the time to discuss it. We can do that later. I'm sure everyone is going to want a turn."
"I want a turn," Belle piped up, leaning her face against the cage. "Since Jack and I are twins do we get to have Benjamin two times?"
"Isabella," Sherry said sharply. "Is that a polite question?"
"No, Mom," Belle replied glumly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Walker."
"Rabbits are dumb," Jack scoffed. "I'd rather have a lizard. They're cool."
"They aren't cool," Amanda said, her brows pinched together in a scowl. "They're not as cute as rabbits."
Whatever Mrs. Walker was being paid by the Springwood school district, it wasn't enough. She was definitely going to earn her money with these three in the class. Whenever they were together, they were a handful.
Mrs. Walker seemed to sense that a change in subject needed to happen right away.
"Can you find your names on your cubbies? Then you can put your things away and find your chair."
"I can read," Amanda said proudly, immediately finding hers. "And that's my chair. Belle and I are sitting together, Mom."
Sherry and Maddie exchanged a glance, remembering their own first day. They'd been sitting together, too. Maddie felt the emotion swelling inside, a lump forming in her throat and tears burning the backs of her eyes. She sniffled softly and knelt down to give her daughter a hug.
"That's great, isn't it? You and Belle will be together all day."
The bell rang and it was obviously time for the parents to leave. Mrs. Walker had taken a spot by the door to see everyone out and the students - with the help of a teacher's aide - had all found their seats.
There was nothing left to do but go.
Except that Maddie didn't want to.
I need more time. Just a few days more. Or a few weeks. I'm not ready.
But Amanda was, already giggling with Belle and enamored with her classroom, teacher, and a bunny rabbit. Maddie couldn't even begin to compete with that.
Sherry linked her arm with Maddie's. "How about we get some coffee and a bear claw at the coffee shop? Do you have any early patients?"
"Not until ten."
"Then let's go celebrate the kids' first day of school. Coffee's on me."
Celebrate? Maddie wanted to sob.
Everything was moving far too fast.
3
"I'm getting too old for this shit," Tanner said as he and his deputy Sam entered the station house after answering a domestic abuse call. "I think people are getting crazier by the day."
Sam shook his head, pulling two cold sodas from the small refrigerator and tossing one to Tanner. "Naw, they were always like this but we were younger and more optimistic. Now we're older and cynical as hell."
Tanner couldn't argue with his friend. He was getting more cynical as he aged, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do to stop it.
Looking around the empty station house, Sam took a seat opposite Tanner. "Listen, I'm glad that we have a few minutes before the other guys get back here. There's something we need to talk about."
Tanner's gut tightened at Sam's words. He already knew what his best deputy was going to say.
"You need a raise," he said flatly. "I know you do and I've been talking to the mayor about it. All my men have gone too long without getting one. It's a travesty and it needs to be fixed as soon as possible."
Sam appeared relieved that Tanner understood. "It's been two years and I normally wouldn't say anything but Tabby and I are looking to add on to the house. The kids are getting bigger and we need more space."
Sam and Tabby had three boys under the age of eight and if anyone needed more room, it was them. Those kids had energy to spare and wore their parents half-ragged.
But there was something else going on today, not just a conversation about a raise that Sam should have been given long ago. The town budget was a mess but there was no excuse for not taking care of its first responders.
"You've had another offer," Tanner said, the thought popping into his head. "You're being recruited by another town."
From the look on Sam's face he'd hit the nail on the head. Dammit. Tanner didn't want to lose him. After all these years, he'd come to depend on Sam more than anyone else in the department but he was also aware that Sam could get a sheriff's job if he really wanted one.
"I don't want to take it," Sam replied, shaking his head again. "We don't want to move or uproot the kids. I want to make this situation work but..."
"But you need more money. I get it. And you deserve it."
"I know you haven't had a raise in over two years, either," Sam went on. "And all we read in the paper is about the tax base and how we don't have enough money to fix the roads or the schools or pay the cops or firefighters."
"The rich get richer and the poor get poorer," Tanner groused. "I don't see the fat cat businessmen tightening their belts. They're driving brand new cars and taking luxury vacations while most of the residents of this town work two or three jobs to make ends meet. Yet somehow the mayor always makes it sound like it's the little guy's fault that the roads are full of potholes and the kids don't have books in school."
Tanner didn't hold the current mayor in high regard. Or any regard at all, as a matter of fact. He didn't hate him because that would take energy that he didn't want to waste on the guy, but he thought the gasbag was a huge douche. The man sure could talk a lot but he never seemed to say much of anything. He was one of those people that had moved to Springwood in the last five years or so and thought the whole town was backward, needing modernizing. But their idea of modernizing was that a few guys make all the money and everyone else does all of the work.
"I know that you understand," Sam said. "I also know that what I'm asking is damn near impossible."
It shouldn't be. Getting a decent wage for his deputies shouldn't be like moving mountains.
"Let me talk to the mayor again. Let him know that we're losing deputies. Hell, maybe even I'll threaten to quit."
The mood he'd in lately, it didn't sound all that bad.
His declaration made Sam laugh. "Now that would make the mayor sweat. No one wants to see you go. You're an institution around here."
An institution? Some might be good, but others needed to be tore down.
Which one was he?
"It's going to be so amazing to have a few hours to myself during the day," Sherry marveled. "I'm even excited about cleaning the house."
Maddie and her best friend had found a quiet corner table in the local coffee shop. They were enjoying some French roast and a bear claw. Considering she'd had little sleep last night the caffeine was welcome and needed.
Eyes narrowed, Sherry tapped her chin. "Spill it. You've barely said two words all morning. What's going on?"
Not quite sure how to even begin describing her emotions, Maddie didn't reply right away. She hadn't spoken to Tanner or Sherry about this. They'd both seemed happy and excited about the first day of school.
But this was her best friend in the entire world and if anyone could understand it would be Sherry. And if she didn't understand she wouldn't make Maddie feel like a loser because of it.
"I think there's something wrong with me."
If her friend was surprised by her answer, she didn't let it show. She simply nodded and then took another sip of her coffee before speaking.
"I'm betting that there's something wrong with pretty much everyone. Can you be more specific?"
"I'm not happy about Amanda starting kindergarten." Realizing how that sounded, Maddie immediately backtracked. "Wait...that's not exactly what I meant. What I mean is that I'm happy, but I'm sad, too. It's just that she's growing up so fast and it feels like she was a baby only yesterday and now she's making her own lunch and picking out her own clothes and I'm going to blink my eyes and she'll be graduating high school and going off to college and I don't want her to leave, Sherry. It's just all moving so fast and
I'm not ready for it."
The words had finally tumbled out, all of them jumbling together but Sherry didn't run away in horror.
"I don't want Belle and Jack to leave, either." Sherry smiled and patted Maddie's hand. "And yes, there's a part of me that's screaming that they're too little to start school and be away from me all day. They're just babies, right? What if one of them scrapes their knee and I'm not there to sing to them while I clean them up and put on the band-aid? Who's going to do that? But there's another part of me that's excited about all the stuff that they're going to do and see and experience. I'm still hoping Amanda goes to prom with Jack."
Sherry was always talking about that particular fantasy. And then they'd get married and they'd all be family.
"I'm not sure they're going to cooperate on that."
"What you're forgetting is that we get to experience it all again, too," Sherry said softly. "It's almost like getting a do-over but without the funny clothes and hairstyles."
That was an awful thought.
"I don't want to experience school again," Maddie said with a shudder. "It was horrible the first time. And what if the kids are mean to Amanda?"
Sherry's brows went up. "Then she'll probably kick them in the shin. Your little girl doesn't take any crap, if you haven't noticed."
"I noticed. She practically ran into the school this morning. She couldn't wait."
"Isn't that a good thing? That she's excited? Would you want her being scared and timid?"
"No, but..." Maddie buried her head in her hands. "I'm just not ready. It's all going so fast. I need it all to slow down."
Perhaps she'd be ready for Amanda to start school in a few months.
"It's not going to."
Such a simple but true statement. Sherry always did know how to sum up a situation.
"I know."
That was the crux of all of this. Nothing Maddie could do could change it. She could only hold on for the ride.
"I know what you mean, though," Sherry went on. "I told Dan the other day that I was starting to get that baby-itch. He practically ran from the room covering his junk with his hands. It was hilarious. I know that we're not going to have any more kids. We're done. But I do miss that baby smell."
"That baby smell is heaven," Maddie agreed. "I miss it too. I miss rocking her to sleep. I miss teaching her the ABCs."
Sherry giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry. You'll be teaching all three of them fractions and algebra before too long. Lord knows, I can't help them with that. Luckily, I've never needed algebra in my day to day life. I did need geometry once when we bought flooring for the kitchen but it was only that one time."
Maddie didn't mention that Sherry and Dan still had several boxes of tile in their garage because they'd mis-measured and bought way too much.
"So you don't think I'm crazy?"
"You're crazy but in a really nice way. The kind of way that makes people love you. What does Tanner say about this? Is he feeling the same way?"
"I haven't said anything about this to him," Maddie admitted. "I don't think he'd understand. He seems so happy that she's starting school."
Although lately Tanner seemed...different. He'd been getting up before the sun and going downstairs, leaving her alone in their big bed. What was he doing? She didn't have a clue. He didn't know that she knew, either. But he'd been doing it every day since before the holidays. Eventually he'd talk about it, but until then she was trying to give him whatever space he needed.
"I'm sure he is but I bet he's feeling the passage of time, too. After all, he's a few years older than we are."
Maddie had never cared that Tanner was older than she was. For the most part, it hadn't made a bit of difference in their relationship, but it did sometimes have them on opposite sides of an issue. Her husband looked at life from a different perspective at times than she did.
"I'm just...I don't even know how to describe it. I'm restless, I guess, but I don't want things to change. I want everything to stay exactly the same and even as I say the words, I know how incredibly dumb and whiny I sound. Nothing stays the same and I'm normally fine with that. Why am I having such an issue now?"
Clearing her throat, Sherry shifted in her chair. "Do you think it has anything to do with a certain upcoming birthday? It's your forty-first."
As if I don't know.
"I'm not likely to forget that," Maddie replied, her tone testy. "Why would turning forty-one bother me? Forty didn't bother me and that was supposed to be this big milestone. It's just a number. And you're turning forty-one a week later, by the way. Maybe it's bugging you, not me. Have you thought of that?"
Sherry pointed to herself. "I'm not the one begging the universe to slow down. You are. It does bother me a little but I'm trying to ignore it. You're more cerebral than I am so it's not a surprise that you're thinking about it."
"I'm not thinking about it."
"I think that you are. I think that you're going through an early mid-life crisis."
"A mid-life crisis," Maddie repeated. "That's absurd."
Right?
"It's just a suggestion. You're the doctor here. What would you tell someone who came into your office complaining that she was tired–?"
"I didn't say I was tired."
"But you are, aren't you? You're always yawning."
"Yes, but I work a lot."
"Okay, she says she's tired all the time and she wants the world to slow down and she's restless, but she doesn't want anything to change. What would you say?"
What would I say? Physician, heal thyself.
Maddie sighed. "I'd tell her to eat right, get plenty of rest, exercise if she wasn't already, and to try a change of scenery. Shake up her routine a little."
"So now you know what you have to do."
No. No, no, no. Whenever Sherry had that look on her face it was trouble. The last time Maddie had seen that expression her friend had been finding her a husband. Tanner.
That hadn't turned out so badly but this had trouble written all over it.
"I don't like change."
"You need to embrace it. You're stuck in a mid-life rut. When was the last time you did anything that you hadn't planned ahead of time?"
"I'm not ready."
"No time like the present."
"I hate you."
"You love me. Now...where do we start? I know...yoga. It's great for centering the mind. You can come to class with me tomorrow."
"I have work."
"I go in the evening after the kids are in bed. You'll sleep like a baby afterward. I promise."
"I don't want to."
"This is why you're in a rut. I'm going to help you out of it."
"Actually, I'm feeling much better," Maddie said, forcing a huge smile to her face. "I'm happy and content with life. No problems here. Just talking to you made all the difference."
"I'm not taking no for an answer. We're going to shake you out of your mid-life crisis."
Maddie had been here before. Resistance was futile.
Her only option was to close her eyes, jump, and hope that the fall wouldn't kill her.
Tanner didn't waste any time after his talk with Sam. He called the mayor's office and told Geri, the secretary that he wanted to talk to him right away. No excuses. He was surprised when Geri informed him that the mayor was on his way to the station house already. She didn't know why but he should be there any minute.
With not much time to prepare what he needed to say, Tanner scribbled down a few points that he wanted to make sure to cover when they met. The first one being that they were dangerously close to losing Sam.
It wasn't long after that Mayor Pete Carlisle walked in and headed straight for Tanner's office, barely glancing at anyone, and shutting the door behind him. He looked pale and pinched but that was par for the course with Pete. The man was never happy and constantly looked like he was constipated. If that's what being rich did to a man, Tanner would happily stay middl
e class.
"Pete, I just called and talked to Geri. We need to talk."
Nodding, the mayor sat down on the chair opposite Tanner and then jumped up and began to pace the small space between the desk and the door.
"She sent me a text about that. I don't really have time–"
"We have to talk," Tanner broke in. "I won't let you put me off this time. If we're not careful we're going to lose Sam, my best deputy. You need to look into that budget of yours and find some money for raises for these hardworking men and women who put their lives on the line every day. I've lost four deputies this year due to salary issues and we can't lose any more."
It wasn't the carefully planned speech that he had in mind but Pete was being especially difficult today.
The mayor stopped and fidgeted with his tie. "It might be for the best, Tanner. If your deputy has another offer–"
"We can't let him go. He's second in command around here and has years of experience."
Gripping the back of the chair, Pete sighed. "I wanted to do this differently, Tanner. I was hoping we could come to some arrangement and perhaps announce your retirement."
My retirement? What the hell?
Tanner didn't like what he was hearing, and Pete looked like he was about to pass out.
"Why would I retire?"
The man pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. "Because things are changing and you're not."
This was a bunch of bullshit.
"What you're saying is that you want to change things and I'm not going to like it."
The back of his neck was hot with anger. This little weasel was trying to pull something.
"Costs are out of control–"
"Bull crap."
"And I feel we could do better with a privatization plan–"
"Fuck that."
Pete heaved a sigh and looked down at the floor before speaking again.
"Tanner, I'm taking this town in a new direction. A better direction. We're going to make the budget lean so that we can be nimble–"
"More bullshit-speak." Tanner leaned across the desk, his hands flat on the dark, scarred oak. His three predecessors had used this same desk. It had history, something this guy wouldn't understand. "Spit it out, Pete."
Bitter Justice (Cowboy Justice Association Book 12) Page 2
