Maggie's Dad by Diana Palmer Page A

woman said seriously.
    Antonia couldn’t promise that. She forced a smile. “I’ll certainly think about it,” she agreed.
    But once out of the principal’s office, she was more depressed than ever. Maggie hated her, andobviously would not cooperate. It was only a matter of time before she had to give Maggie a failing grade for her noneffort, and Powell would either come back for some more heated words or get her fired. She didn’t know if she could bear another verbal tug-of-war with him, especially after the last one. And as for getting fired, she wondered if that really mattered anymore. At the rate her health was failing, it wasn’t going to matter for much longer, anyway.
    She wandered back to her schoolroom and found Powell sitting on the edge of her desk, looking prosperous in a dark gray suit and a red tie, with a gray Stetson and hand-tooled leather boots that complemented his suit. He was wearing the same signet ring on his little finger that he’d worn when they were engaged, a script letter L. The ring was very simple, 10K gold and not very expensive. His mother had given it to him when he graduated from high school, and Antonia knew how hard the woman had had to work to pay for it. The Rolex watch on his left wrist was something he’d earned for himself. The Longs had never had enough money at any time in their lives to pay for a watch like that. She wondered if Powell ever thought back to those hard days of his youth.
    He heard her step and turned his head to watch her enter the classroom. In her tailored beige dress, with her blond hair in a bun, she looked thinner than ever and very dignified.
    â€œHow you’ve changed,” he remarked involuntarily.
    â€œI was thinking the same thing about you,” she said wearily. She sat down behind the desk, because just the walk to the office had made her tired. She looked up at him with the fatigue in her face. “I really need to go home. I know why you’re here. She can’t be moved to another class, because there isn’t one. The only alternative is for me to leave….”
    â€œThat isn’t why I came,” he said, surprised.
    â€œNo?”
    He picked up a paper clip from the desk and looked at it intently. “I thought you might have something to eat with me,” he said. “We could talk about Maggie.”
    She was nauseated and trying not to let it overwhelm her. She barely heard him. “What?”
    â€œI said, let’s get together tonight,” he repeated, frowning. “You look green. Put your head down.”
    She turned sideways and lowered her head to the hands resting on her knees, sucking in air. She felt nauseous more and more these days, and faint. She didn’t know how much longer she was going to be mobile. The thought frightened her. She would have to make arrangements to get on with the therapy, while there was still time. It was one thing to say that dying didn’t matter, but it was quite another when the prospect of it was staring her in the face.
    â€œYou’re damn thin.” He bit off the words. “Have you seen a doctor?”
    â€œIf one more person asks me that…!” She erupted. She took another breath and lifted her head, fightingthe dizziness as she pushed back a wisp of hair from her eyes. “Yes, I’ve seen a doctor. I’m just run-down. It’s been a hard year.”
    â€œYes, I know,” he said absently, watching her.
    She met his concerned eyes. If she’d been less feeble, she might have wondered at the expression in them. As it was, she was too tired to care.
    â€œMaggie’s been giving everyone fits,” he said unexpectedly. “I know you’re having trouble with her. I thought if we put our heads together, we might come up with some answers.”
    â€œI thought my opinion didn’t matter,” she replied dully.
    He averted his gaze. “I’ve had a lot on my