Free Maggie's Dad by Diana Palmer Page A

and she knew who they belonged to.
    She turned as the door opened and a familiar tall figure came into the room with eyes as dark as death.
    He didn’t remove his hat, or exchange greetings. In his expensive suit and boots and Stetson, he looked very prosperous. But her eyes were seeing a younger man, a ragged and lonely young man who never fit in anywhere, who dreamed of not being poor. Sometimes she remembered that young man and loved him with a passion that even in dreams was overpowering.
    â€œI’ve been expecting you,” she said, putting the past away in the back drawers of her mind. “She did get a zero, and she deserved it. I gave her all week to produce her homework, and she didn’t.”
    â€œOh, hell, you don’t have to pretend noble motives. I know why you’re picking on the kid. Well, lay off Maggie,” he said shortly. “You’re here to teach, not to take out old grudges on my daughter.”
    She was sitting at her desk. She folded her hands together on its worn surface and simply stared at him, unblinking. “Your daughter is going to fail this grade,” she said composedly. “She won’t participate in class discussions, she won’t do any homework, and she refuses to even attempt answers on pop tests. I’mfrankly amazed that she’s managed to get this far in school at all.” She smiled coldly. “I understand from the principal, who is also intimidated by you, that you have the influence to get anyone fired who doesn’t pass her.”
    His face went rigid. “I don’t need to use any influence! She’s a smart child.”
    She opened her desk drawer, took out Maggie’s last test paper and slid it across the desk to him. “Really?” she asked.
    He moved into the classroom, to the desk. His lean, dark hand shot down to retrieve the paper. He looked at it with narrow, deep-set eyes, black eyes that were suddenly piercing on Antonia’s face.
    â€œShe didn’t write anything on this,” he said.
    She nodded, taking it back. “She sat with her arms folded, giving me a haughty smile the whole time, and she didn’t move a muscle for the full thirty minutes.”
    â€œShe hasn’t acted that way before.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know. I’m new here.”
    He stared at her angrily. “And you don’t like her.”
    She searched his cold eyes. “You really think I came all the way back to Wyoming to take out old resentments on Sally’s daughter?” she asked, and hated the guilt she felt when she asked the question. She knew she wasn’t being fair to Maggie, but the very sight of the child was like torture.
    â€œSally’s and mine,” he reminded her, as if he knew how it hurt her to remember.
    She felt sick to her stomach. “Excuse me. Sally’s and yours,” she replied obligingly.
    He nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s what really bothers you, isn’t it?” he said, almost to himself. “It’s because she looks just like Sally.”
    â€œShe’s her image,” she agreed flatly.
    â€œAnd you still hate her, after all this time.”
    Her hands clenched together. She didn’t drop her gaze. “We were talking about your daughter.”
    â€œMaggie.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou can’t even bring yourself to say her name, can you?” He perched himself on the edge of her desk. “I thought teachers were supposed to be impartial, to teach regardless of personal feelings toward their students.”
    â€œWe are.”
    â€œYou aren’t doing it,” he continued. He smiled, but it wasn’t the sort of smile that comforted. “Let me tell you something, Antonia. You came home. But this is my town. I own half of it, and I know everybody on the school board. If you want to stay here, and teach here, you’d better be damn sure that you maintain an impartial attitude toward all the