Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

Callie, who was dabbing at her crocodile tears with a Kleenex in a valiant effort to look brave and vulnerable.

“Mrs. Keeler?”

“Yes?” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

“If you and your son are having relationship issues, perhaps you’d better spend more time working on your relationship with him, and less on your fiancé.”

Stackpole said the word “fiancé” as though it were some revolting sexual practice. Wyatt felt his spirits start to brighten.

“A young, impressionable boy needs a father in his life. Mr. Keeler had that regrettable episode at the baseball park, but he seems to be making some progress handling his anger and hostility. I’m starting to rethink the wisdom of allowing you to move your son so far away from his father.”

Yes! Wyatt wanted to jump up, fist-bump Betsy, maybe even hug Stackpole. Nah, not that. But still.

“Now, Judge,” began Callie’s lawyer, who’d been noticeably silent until now. “Mrs. Keeler’s fiancé has already accepted a job in Birmingham and put his home on the market. It’s going to work a real hardship on them if you prevent them from moving…”

“I’m not preventing anybody from doing anything, yet,” Stackpole interrupted. “I’m just saying I’m rethinking. I still want to wait a few more weeks to make sure that Mr. Keeler completes his therapy, and I want to hear reassurances from Dr. Talbott-Sinclair that there won’t be any more episodes of violence before I rule on this custody issue.”

“Thank you,” Wyatt said fervently. “Thanks very much, Judge.”

Stackpole was staring at Callie, eyes narrowed.

“And Mrs. Keeler?”

Callie blew her nose on the tissue. “Yes, Your Honor?”

“The next time you are in my presence, I do not want to be assaulted with the vision of your body piercings. Is that clear?”

Callie looked down and yanked her top over the diamond-studded navel ring winking from her abdomen.

*   *   *

Wyatt waited until they were in the elevator to gather his aunt into a bear hug. “You did it!” he exclaimed. “Finally, a win for our side.”

“Not a win, necessarily, but at least a point for our team,” Betsy conceded. “I can’t believe that little…”

“Shit?” Wyatt grinned.

“Shit works, although I was going to call her an ignorant slut,” Betsy said, returning her nephew’s smile. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Wyatt said. “You were awesome in there, the way you kept on about how Callie just left town, not knowing where Bo was.”

“I wasn’t just grandstanding. It really is appalling that she was so focused on her little trip she didn’t even care enough to make sure Bo was somewhere safe. In the past, I just thought Callie was a selfish, stupid, self-involved little twit. But now I’m starting to wonder how fit a mother she is.”

Sobered, Wyatt nodded in agreement. “I keep telling myself she really does love Bo, but since she hooked up with Fatso, Callie’s changed. It’s like she’s turned into this eighteen-year-old party animal overnight. She wasn’t always like this. She was a good mom. She wouldn’t even let Bo sleep in his nursery until he was, like, eighteen months old, because she’d read all this crap about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. He slept in a bassinette in our bedroom or in bed with us, until I finally convinced her he’d be okay in his own room. Maybe we got married too young. Maybe she’s just immature. Maybe this, the tattoos, the piercings, the clothes, maybe it’s all just a phase.”

“I hope you’re not making excuses for her,” Betsy said. “She’s thirty-six. It’s a little late for her to be in a ‘phase.’”

“Hell no, I’m not making excuses for her.” Wyatt pulled his baseball cap on again. “Maybe I’m making excuses for me, for letting her go without putting up a fight.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Betsy said. “Callie and her lawyer are doing enough of that. You’re a good guy. Remember that, okay? And don’t go getting soft on me.” She made a fist and thrust it into his face. “And if you start thinking about taking her back, I’ll punch out your car window.”

“No worries there,” Wyatt said.

“Listen,” Betsy said suddenly. “Did I understand Stackpole right? Did he actually sit in on your therapy session the other night?”

“Yep,” Wyatt said.

“So weird. What was he doing there?”

“Paula said she invited him,” Wyatt said. “But there’s something definitely … kinky going on between the two of them.”

“Kinky and Stackpole are not two words you necessarily think of together,” Betsy said. “Kinky how?”

“There’s a vibe between them. And everybody in the group noticed it. Paula was positively giddy that he showed up. In fact, she was stone-cold sober, which is a major change.”

“Your therapist? You mean she’s not usually sober? Wyatt, what’s going on with this group?”

*   *   *

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. They emerged into the courthouse lobby. Betsy pulled Wyatt by the arm, gesturing for him to sit on a bench.

“Talk,” she ordered.

“Paula’s stoned out of her gourd during most of our sessions,” Wyatt said. “The first one, I got there a little late, and she was passed out cold. I had to wake her up to make sure she realized I was there. On a good night, she’s just vague and glassy-eyed. During our second session, the light was getting dimmer, if you know what I mean, and then after we got back from break, she zoned out again. We actually left her on the sofa in the reception area. But before we left, just to make sure she hadn’t overdosed or something, we checked her purse and figured out she’s mixing tranquilizers and sleeping pills.”

“Don’t you think that’s something you might have mentioned to your lawyer?” Betsy scolded.

“Wouldn’t do any good,” he said. “Like I was telling you, Stackpole showed up at our last session. Paula was on her best behavior, all dressed up and proper and professional. She actually ran the session.”

“She doesn’t usually?”

“Not really,” Wyatt said. “But this week was different. She had her act together, and was so excited about him being there, it was kind of pathetic. He made a stupid little speech, about