Page 38 of Head Room
That was a long story he and I both knew well.Russell Teague and Mrs.P had set up a sort of tontine for two.
Initially, she would have inherited his Wyoming holdings, including a ranch north of the Circle B which held a jumble of Old West buildings Teague snatched up from wherever he could.
But they haggled and events played out so that those holdings went to the museum and into curator Clara Atwood’s control.
“—probably could’ve worked it right off to sell them the back section, leaving plenty of area to sort out the buildings.But Clara is not rushing to make it happen.”
“Is Frank Jardos involved in the negotiations?”
“Don’t know about that.James is.Not representing either side, trying to get it done.”
“But Clara’s slowing the process — with cause?Is there something about the deal that legitimately bothers her?How’re they going to pay for this land?”
He pulled into the library parking lot.We were a few minutes early.
“Don’t know the ins and outs, but what I’ve gathered is they’re each putting up an equal stake for a down payment, then working out a payment schedule.So that’s not a fence for her to jump.From what I hear, she likes the idea of the regular payments — a steady income stream that won’t change with seasons or down years.”
He parked off to the side, where Tamantha could spot the familiar truck, but not competing with vehicles clustered close to the entrance.
“Suspect it’s mostly an occupational hazard for Clara.When she gets her hands on things for the museum, she doesn’t want to let them go.”
“Like artifacts,” I said heavily.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“I was thinking today that I’m a fossil, an artifact from an earlier time.”
“Don’t look like a fossil to me.”
“These young reporters shoot their own video, edit standing on their heads, add graphics themselves, and upload the finished package in no time.I have to rely on Diana to shoot and somebody usually helps me with graphics.I suppose I could upload it in a pinch, the same way I could land an airplane if I was the only passenger and the pilot passed out.”
He watched me silently.
“I feel old sometimes.Not most of the time,” I hurried to add.“But all this wedding stuff should be for young women, especially those who’re in it for the party.”
“You’re not in it for the party?”One side of his mouth quirked up.
“No.Mind you, I don’t mind the friends and family coming.That’ll be fun.”I straightened my spine to look at him directly for the next part.“I’m in it for the marriage.”
His brown eyes warmed in a way that melted me from the inside out.
“Works for me,” he said, just before he kissed me.A lot.
During an interlude, he added, “Remember, you’re the right age for me.”
I tipped my head, considering that, then echoed his words.“Works for me.”
And we kissed more.
Until a rap on the passenger window nearly sent my head through the roof, which had the effect of simultaneously separating us and whipping my head around.
Emmaline Parens.Known by some of us as Mrs.P.
Former teacher and principal for most of Cottonwood County.No, change that — not former teacher.She continued to teach.With me as a student.
She was short enough that she practically had to look up to see through the truck’s passenger window.She’d have still had a fine view.
Glad it wasn’t Tamantha, was my first thought.
