"Boy, you've been growling like a coon dog with a thorn in its paw all afternoon. What in blazes is the matter with you?"

   Tyler looked over the run of his reading glasses with repressive frown. "You can drop the simple-country-lawyer routine, Dad. It's just us here now, and I'm not going to fall for it."

   Sitting on the other side of Tyler's desk, his feet propped up and crossed at the ankles, Colton chuckled. "Even a simple country lawyer could tell that you're in a lousy mood. What's wrong?"

   Tyler removed the glasses and set them aside. "Nothing."

   Colton looked blatantly disbelieving.

  "Okay," Tyler conceded. "This Roster case is a headache. I hate seeing a marriage end this unpleasantly, especially when there are kids caught in the middle."

   Amusement fading, Colton nodded. "It has gotten ugly, hasn't it? You'd think Mark and Malorie would make an effort to keep the boys from hearing some of their crap. But when they start fighting, they don't seem to care who hears them."

   "I couldn't believe Malorie brought the younger boy with her for that confrontation this afternoon." Tyler's voice was hard as he thought about his client's irresponsible action. "He might only be four, but the kid isn't dead or stupid. He heard the things his parents were saying to each other. After a few minutes, I asked Maria to take the boy to her office. She kept him busy drawing pictures and making copies of them on the copier."

   "I bet you had a few things to say to your client when the boy was out of hearing."

   "Actually, I did. And to give him credit, Mark's attorney agreed with every word I said."

   "Jim Miller, isn't out? I know you haven't met him under ideal circumstances, but he's a good man. I've faced him several times in court, but I've always respected I'm, even when I disagreed with him."

   "He seemed all right, even if he and Mark are being unreasonable about several issues in the divorce."

   "He's just doing his best for his client, son, the way you will for yours. Divorces aren't pretty, and getting involved in them is never fun. Many a time I've felt left meetings like the one you had this afternoon feeling as if I needed a shower. But you should know by now that divorces and bankruptcies are a big part of small-town practice. It can't all be writing wills and working up small-business contracts."

   "I knew what I was getting into. This afternoon was just particularly unpleasant."

   "So you haven't changed your mind about taking over the practice when I retire in a couple of years? You still want to spend the rest of your career doing this?"

   "As opposed to going back to Washington, you mean? Trust me, Dad, that catfight this afternoon didn't hold a candle to what goes on in D.C. I haven't changed my mind. I just don't like seeing kids get hurt."

   "I know. So you keep doing all you can to protect them."

   "I'll try."

   Studying his son over steepled fingers, Colton asked, "Anything else bothering you?"

   "No, that's pretty much it." Tyler looked at the papers on his desk as he spoke, hoping his father would take his word at face value.

   Known for his tact—as opposed to his wife, who was notorious for her lack of it—Colton didn't push, except to ask, "Anything else you want to talk about?"

   "Not just now."

   His father nodded and stood. "Then I'll clear out so you can finish up and get home to your kids. You let me know if there's anything I can do for you—or if you just want to talk about anything."

   "Thanks, Dad."

   Tyler frowned as he watched his father rise slowly from his seat. Since when had Colton moved so stiffly? So awkwardly? Like an old man, he thought, displeased with the comparison. Had he been so caught up in his own troubles that he hadn't realized how quickly his parents were aging? Was there anything else he was missing? "Dad? You okay?"

   Absently rubbing his chest, Colton made a face. "Fine. Been having some heartburn trouble lately. Getting old ain't fun, boy."

   "Have you seen anyone about it?"

   "Debbie's been nagging at me to get a physical. I'll get around it shortly."

   "Do that."