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Teddy tightened his grip on Francesca's hand and turned to Skeet. “We got to regrip those clubs, don't we? You said we had to do those clubs. Let's get started right now. Mom can help us.”
“You can do it later,” Dallie said more sharply. “I want to talk to your mother.”
Skeet put down the wooden club head he was holding. “Come on, boy. I got some golf trophies I want to show you anyway.”
As much as Francesca would have liked to put it off, she knew she couldn't postpone the confrontation. Gently disengaging herself from Teddy's grasp, she nodded toward the door. “Go on now, sweetheart. I'll be up in a minute.”
Teddy's jaw set stubbornly. He looked at her and then at Dallie. He began walking away, his footsteps dragging, but before he got to the door, he spun back around and angrily turned on Dallie. “You better not hurt her!” he shouted. “If you hurt her, I'll kill you!”
Francesca was shocked, but Dallie didn't say a word. He just stood looking at Teddy.
“Dallie's not going to hurt me,” she interjected quickly, distressed by Teddy's outburst. “He and I are old friends.” The words nearly stuck in her throat, but she managed a halfhearted smile. Skeet caught Teddy's arm and steered him toward the stairs, but not before her son had shot a threatening look over his shoulder.
“What have you done to him?” Francesca demanded the moment Teddy was out of earshot. “I've never seen him act like that with anybody.”
“I'm not trying to win any popularity contests with him,” Dallie said coldly. “I want to be his father, not his best friend.”
His answer infuriated her almost as much as it scared her. “You can't just pop into his life after nine years and expect to take over as his father. In the first place, he doesn't want you. And in the second place, I won't allow it.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Like I told you at the quarry, Francesca—we can work this out for ourselves, or we can let the bloodsuckers do it. Fathers have rights now, or don't you read the papers? And it'd probably be smart to forget any ideas you might have about flying back east for the next few days. We need some time to sort all this out.”
At some point in her subconscious she had reached the same conclusion, but now she looked at him incredulously. “I have no intention of staying here. I have to get Teddy back in school. We're leaving Wynette this afternoon.”
“I don't think that's a good idea, Francie. You had your nine years. Now you owe me a few days.”
“You kidnapped him!” she exclaimed. “I don't owe you a bloody—”
He stabbed the air with his finger like an angry recruitment poster. “If you can't even manage a couple of days to work this thing through, then I guess all the stuff you told me at the quarry about knowing what's important in life is pretty much bullshit, isn't it?”
His belligerence made her furious. “Why are you doing this? You don't care anything about Teddy. You're just using a little boy to pay me back for stabbing your male ego,”
“Don't you practice any pop psychology on me, Miss Fancy Pants,” he said coldly. “You don't have the slightest idea what I care about.”
She tilted up her chin and glared at him. “All I know is that you've managed to alienate a child who likes absolutely everybody in the world—especially if they're male.”
“Yeah?” Dallie sneered. “Well, that's no surprise, because I never saw a kid in so much need of a man's influence in my life. Were you so busy with your damn career that you couldn't find a few hours to put him on a Little League team or something?”
Icy rage filled Francesca. “You son of a bitch,” she hissed. Pushing past him, she walked quickly to the stairs.
“Francie!” She ignored the call behind her. Her heart thudding in her chest, she told herself she was every kind of fool for having wasted even a moment's sympathy on him. She raced upstairs and pushed open the door that led into the back hallway. He could throw all the bloodsucking lawyers in the world at her, she promised herself, but he would never get near her son again.
“Francie!” She heard his footsteps on the stairs, but she merely walked faster. And then he caught up with her, grabbing her arm to pull her to a stop. “Listen, Francie, I didn't mean—”
“Don't you touch me!” She tried to shake him off, but he held on, determined to have it out with her. She was vaguely aware that he was trying to apologize, but she was too upset to listen.
“Francie!” He caught her more firmly by the shoulders and looked down at her. “I'm sorry.”
She pushed against him. “Let me go! We don't have anything more to talk about.”
But he wouldn't let her go. “I'm going to talk to you if I have to hog-tie—”
He broke off abruptly as, out of nowhere, a small tornado threw himself at one of his legs. “I told you not to touch my mother!” Teddy screamed, kicking and punching with all his might. “You butt-hole! You're a butt-hole!”
“Teddy!” Francesca cried, whirling toward him as Dallie instinctively released her.
“I hate you!” Teddy screamed at Dallie, his face florid with rage, tears running down his cheeks as he escalated his attack. “I'll kill you if you hurt her!”
“I'm not going to hurt her,” Dallie said, trying to step back from Teddy's flying fists. “Teddy! I'm not going to hurt her.”
