Always Dakota - Debbie Macomber [115]
“Did you read that article I gave you about the new worming medication?” Margaret asked as they sat down at the table.
Matt nodded, helping himself to chicken casserole and green beans. “I did and I think it might be a good idea to give it a try.” He’d run the numbers and saw a substantial savings for them if the medication did all it claimed. He described his conclusions and Margaret listened intently. The conversation then drifted to one of the newly hired ranch hands. Margaret wasn’t pleased with his performance and said as much. Matt agreed with her complaints.
“If he can’t get more accomplished in a day, then he’s pushing his luck with me,” Margaret told him as she reached for a dinner roll.
Matt smiled. “They don’t call you a tough broad for nothing.”
Margaret slathered butter on the homemade roll. “You trying to get on my good side?”
“Aren’t I already?”
She attempted to keep back a smile and failed.
Then the phone rang, and Margaret glanced at Matt. “You want to get it?”
What she was really asking, he realized, was whether he thought it might be Sheryl. He shrugged and reluctantly started to get up.
“No, wait,” she said, stopping him. “Let the machine take it.”
He sat down again, and they both strained to hear the voice at the other end of the line.
Sure enough, it was Sheryl.
Matt’s appetite instantly vanished and his stomach cramped. His eyes met Margaret’s and he saw that she was just as tense.
“You’d better pick up, don’t you think?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll phone her back later.”
Margaret nodded, but the mood of the evening changed. They hardly touched what remained of their dinner. Matt carried his plate to the kitchen, scraping his leftovers into the garbage, then set it in the sink. Margaret followed him and he poured them each a cup of coffee.
“Are you going to call her back?” Margaret pressed.
Matt sighed, knowing it would do no good to delay the inevitable. “I’d better, otherwise she’ll phone again.” One thing about Sheryl, she was tenacious.
Flustered, Margaret hurriedly rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher with jerky movements. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” Already his stomach felt as if he’d swallowed hot coals. Walking over to the phone, he punched out her number, then braced his back against the wall. Margaret stood across from him, by the sink, staring at the floor.
Sheryl answered on the second ring.
“You asked me to call,” Matt said, wanting to sound civil but not over-friendly.
“I had the baby.”
“Did you name her?”
“Hailey Faith.”
The pain in his stomach intensified with the unfamiliar and unwelcome mixture of emotions. He had a daughter, and while a part of him experienced joy and pride, another part felt fear and anger. “That’s a fine name,” he said after an uncomfortable moment.
“I thought so, otherwise I wouldn’t have named her that.”
“Was anyone with you?”
“Lee Ann came to the hospital. I wanted to phone you, but she wouldn’t let me. Probably a good thing, because you wouldn’t have liked the things I said about you when the labor pains got bad.”
Matt couldn’t keep from smiling at that. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Are you going to come see your daughter?” Sheryl lowered her voice, her tone confidential.
“I’m sure I will.”
“When?”
Matt’s gaze flickered toward Margaret. “I’ll get back to you.”
“Ah,” Sheryl said, “the little woman’s listening in, is she?”
“It’s not like that.”
Sheryl sighed expressively. “I’d argue if I thought it would do any good.”
“As I said, I’ll get back to you about when you can expect us.”
“Margaret’s coming with you?” Sheryl’s voice rose with indignation.
“That decision belongs to my wife,” Matt insisted.
“If she comes, she’s an even bigger fool than I thought.”
He ignored her remark. “I’ll be in touch