Читать книгу The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?! - Carol Finch, Carol Finch - Страница 11

WHILE LORNA MASON—Sylvia’s assistant—dealt with the customers in the clothing store, Jan settled into the back office for an in-depth discussion with her mother. Through a steady stream of tears Sylvia confided the problems that arose after John retired. All his grand plans of going wherever the wind blew didn’t appeal to Sylvia. After years of raising children, she’d purchased the clothing store—where she’d worked as a clerk for five years—and now enjoyed her success and a sense of accomplishment.

According to Sylvia, she and John wanted different things from life-after-fifty. He had a fanatical desire to see the world from behind the steering wheel of the new Winnebago motor home, living in RV parks on the American byways. Sylvia wanted to stay in hotels and dine out, not take her household duties on the road. While Sylvia listed her goals and aspirations Jan kept remembering what Morgan had said about hearing both sides of the story before she passed judgment in the feud.

A commotion erupted in the front of the shop. Jan recognized her younger sister’s hysterical shriek immediately. She’d often heard that earsplitting wail during adolescence. Damn, Jan mused as she dashed from the office. She didn’t need Kendra’s theatrics right now.

Jan stumbled to a halt when she saw her sister standing in the middle of the floor, dressed in a baggy, banana-yellow sweat suit that Kendra usually wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in public. But there was Kendra—her eyes puffy and red, her long blond hair in a wild tangle around her pale face—waving her arms in expansive gestures while she ranted and railed at Lorna who was having no luck whatsoever calming her down.

“Kendra, what’s wrong?” Jan yelled to be heard over the wails.

Kendra whirled around and exploded in another fit of hysterics. “What’s wrong, you ask? Only everything! My life is ruined! He humiliated me. Do you know what that snake did to me?”

The snake, Jan presumed, was Kendra’s fiancé who usually went by the name Richard Samson. Apparently Rich had been demoted from the love of Kendra’s life to the lowest life form to slither the earth. Jan never cared much for Richard because he’d been the first one to show up and taunt her after Morgan’s mind-boggling, body-tingling kiss at the Homecoming dance. These days, the upstart lawyer couldn’t carry on a conversation that didn’t revolve around making money and the right connections. Jan had always suspected Richard dated Kendra because of her popularity and her stunning good looks. She’d been the trophy that complemented his prestigious position in the community.

“What did Richard do?” Jan asked as calmly as she knew how.

“He cheated on me!” Kendra screeched. “A month before our wedding he decided to have himself a little fling and I caught him doing it! I’ve already ordered the flowers, sent out invitations and hired the caterer.”

“Oh, Kendra, honey,” Sylvia groaned in dismay. “We’ve already made the alterations in your wedding gown and I can’t send it back!”

Jan rolled her eyes and sighed when her mother blurted that out. The careless comment added fuel to Kendra’s fit-in-progress. Kendra wilted onto the carpeted floor and proceeded to bawl her head off.

“Please lock the door, Lorna,” Jan requested as she knelt beside her blubbering sister. “This isn’t a good time for customers to be arriving.”

Lorna darted over to post the Closed sign and secure the door.

“Not a word about this, Lorna,” Kendra wailed between gasping sobs. “Don’t you dare tell a soul until I’m ready to publicly cancel the wedding…and I’m going to have to return all the gifts. Oh, my gawd!”

Jan did what she could to console her sister—which wasn’t much because Sylvia plopped on the floor. Mother and youngest daughter wailed in chorus, cursed the male gender and sentenced all men everywhere to the furthermost regions of blazing hell.

Well, one good thing had come of this, Jan mused. The problem of John and Sylvia remaining civil to one another during the wedding and reception wouldn’t be a concern. As for Richard Samson, good riddance. He was too full of himself and he didn’t deserve Kendra.

“I’ll show him, I swear I will,” Kendra seethed as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her banana-yellow sweatshirt. “Two can play his cheating games. It would serve him right to find me with someone else!”

“That sounds a little rash,” Jan cautioned. “I don’t think rebounding to another man is a wise solution.”

“Daddy’s on the rebound. It worked for him. Why not for me?”

Jan could’ve clobbered her sister for the thoughtless remark that set off Sylvia. They cried in each other’s arms while Jan watched helplessly. In the midst of the most recent fiasco that was tearing the Mitchell clan asunder Jan’s cell phone rang. She bounded up to fetch the phone from her purse.

“Hello?” she answered, distracted.

“Jan? It’s Diane.”

Jan sighed. Her assistant had called twice during the four-hour drive from Tulsa. Diane hesitated to make a decision without consulting Jan. She’d hoped this emergency leave would force Diane to become less dependent, but apparently Diane couldn’t deal with her temporary position of authority.

“Diane, I’ll call you back. I’m in the middle of a duel crisis here.”

“But this is important,” Diane whined.

“So were your first two phone calls, but I really have to hang up.”

“Is someone crying? I think I hear crying. What’s going on?”

“Yes, there’s a lot of crying going on here, but I can handle it.”

Jan switched off the phone to prevent another interruption. When she strode from the back office, mother and younger daughter were still sprawled in the middle of the shop, clutching at each other like the last two survivors of a catastrophic disaster.

“Men are pond scum,” Kendra said on a shuddering sob. “Lower than pond scum, in fact. They’re the bottom feeders in the cesspool of life.”

“You can say that again,” Sylvia howled. “You devote your life to your children and your husband and then he bails out on you, refuses to support your career and your dreams. I gave that man the best years of my life and this is the thanks I get! He leaves me for a floozy!”

Jan glanced at Lorna who was all eyes and ears. “Lorna, why don’t you go on home. You’ll receive full pay, of course.”

“My, you Mitchells sure are having a run of bad luck, aren’t you?” Lorna murmured. She cast one last pitying glance over her shoulder at the twosome huddled together on the floor. “First your dad walks out and ends up in Georgina Price’s open arms. Now Kendra’s fiancé fools around on her. Good thing you showed up when you did, Janna. Everyone knows you’re the anchor of the family and they always call on you for help.”

She was the anchor all right…on a sinking ship. She was beginning to think Morgan Price was right. She couldn’t waltz into Oz, wave her wand and work magic overnight. She definitely had her work cut out for her.

DESPITE THE King Kong-size headache hammering at her skull, Jan closed the boutique and transported her hysterical mother and sister home for a rousing pep talk—that had no effect whatsoever. Sylvia and Kendra broke open a bottle of wine and began another self-pitying tissue-fest that would probably last all night.

Jan’s pounding headache couldn’t tolerate another round of shrill, high-pitched wails so she piled into her car and headed to Morgan Price’s farm where her father had parked his Winnebago camper during the separation. Driving past the wide expanse of peanut fields eased the tension roiling through Jan. The countryside was peaceful and serene, unlike the turmoil at home that triggered her high-level stress.

Jan parked beside the motor home that was hooked to an electrical extension cord running from Morgan Price’s garage. Mr. Nuts and Bolts had apparently done well for himself, she mused as she surveyed the spacious ranch-style brick home. Obviously his ability to manage the hardware store and tractor supply shop in Oz gained him financial success.

Her gaze drifted to the older compact brick home that sat two hundred yards farther down the graveled road. According to Sylvia, Georgina Price lived near her son, and it was there that John Mitchell was working part-time to renovate the kitchen. Also according to Sylvia, there was a little hanky-panky going on. The mere thought of her father having sex with anyone, even her mother, was enough to make Jan shudder. Her headache intensified and she absently massaged her throbbing temples. She didn’t want to consider the physical aspect of her parents’ relationship.

Jan dragged in a steadying breath, noted her dad’s truck and headed toward the Winnebago. Although her dad informed her that he had a date, Jan hoped to catch him before he trotted over to Georgina’s to do whatever it was that a fifty-eight-year-old man did when he was on the make and purposely tormenting his estranged wife—who was at home, consuming wine like it was going out of style and bawling in unison with their youngest daughter.

While Jan rapped on the door she asked herself why she didn’t grab a bottle of booze and get soused. Certainly, this fiasco with her family was enough to drive a teetotaler like herself to drink.

When no one answered the knock, Jan hammered on the door again, then waited another impatient moment. “Be here, damn it.”

“He’s not there.”

Startled by the husky baritone voice, Jan wheeled around on the narrow metal landing. The heel of her navy blue pump dropped off the edge, hurtling her off balance. She flapped her arms like a duck going airborne in an attempt to upright herself, but it was a wasted effort. Shrieking in alarm, she tumbled, pellmell, down the steps, scraped her leg against the metal and landed in an undignified heap in the grass.

“Janna, are you all right?” Morgan asked as he sprinted toward her.

“No, I’m not all right,” she muttered as she levered herself into a sitting position to survey the damage. What could be worse than coming off looking like a world-class klutz in front of a man you wanted to impress for only God knew what insane reason? “I’ve got a Godzilla-size headache from listening to my mother and sister bawling for three steady hours. I snagged my hose, ripped the heel off one shoe and twisted my wrist.” She heaved a defeated sigh. “My family’s falling apart right in front of my eyes and I can’t seem to do anything about it.”

Morgan hunkered down in front of her and flashed her a compassionate smile. “Definitely a rough day out here in peanut country.” Effortlessly, he hoisted her to her feet. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”

“What? A bottle of wine like the one Mother and Kendra are sharing? I don’t drink. Or at least I usually don’t drink,” she amended as she took inventory of the gaping hole in the knee of her panty hose, her scraped shin and her aching wrist. “I’m thinking of making an exception.”

Morgan chuckled as he plucked up Jan’s de-heeled shoe. “I have wine in the house, but I had another kind of tension-reliever in mind.”

Jan eyed him dubiously. “What? Forget-all-your-troubles sex? I’m not interested in that, either, thanks all the same.”

Morgan snickered again, then scooped her effortlessly into his arms and carried her across the driveway. “Not sex, either,” he assured her. “I’m not so egotistical to believe you like me enough for that.”

Jan was surprised by his modesty. She’d pegged him as the Don Juan of Oz because women had fallen all over themselves to capture his interest since high school. If anything, Morgan’s darkly handsome good looks had enhanced with age. A woman would have to be dead at least two weeks not to react to his masculine charm and sex appeal.

Even so, she scolded herself for finding comfort in his muscular arms. She wasn’t accustomed to leaning on a man. She, after all, was the anchor for her family, the troubleshooter for her associates at work. People looked to her for solutions and encouragement. But, after the day she’d had, leaning on Morgan—even if he was the enemy—felt good, necessary even.

To Jan’s surprise, Morgan deposited her on the seat of his hunter-green pickup, then strode around to the driver’s side. “Where are we going?” she questioned. “I need to talk to Dad.”

“John hitched a ride with me when I helped him secure the upper and lower cabinets in Mom’s kitchen. She invited him to supper.”

“Great, and you didn’t stay to chaperone them?” she muttered, trying very hard not to notice how sexy Morgan looked in a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans that hugged his muscled thighs and lean hips like gloves.

He tossed her a wry smile. “I wasn’t invited.”

Jan sighed in frustration, but her gaze instinctively slid back to Morgan. She wondered if she’d ever get past the fact that she’d been wildly attracted to him as a teenager and was unwillingly attracted to him now. Damn, that’s the last thing she needed, while in the middle of the family feud. Morgan was quartered out here in the enemy camp. Hell, he owned the enemy camp. Mr. Nuts and Bolts of the hardware world was aiding and abetting her father and making it easy for Daddy to dally with Georgina who had a reputation as a femme fatale.

Her headache roared back in full force.

Her sullen thoughts evaporated when Morgan drove over the metal cattle guard that led to a scenic pasture, complete with a tree-lined creek and herd of Black Angus cattle.

“This is where I come to escape the hassles and frustrations of the world,” he confided as he climbed down from the truck. “Sit tight while I lower the tail-gate and scatter the range cubes. Then we’ll sit back and enjoy the peace and quiet of our surroundings.”

Jan watched Morgan grab two three-gallon buckets from the truck bed. He ambled forward, whistled loudly, and then scattered cubes across the grass. In the distance, the cattle raised their heads, then trotted eagerly toward him. Jan smiled in spite of herself while Morgan gabbed conversationally with two dozen cows and their young calves. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to do with his leisure time, but it certainly wasn’t this. Having been raised in town, Jan hadn’t had the chance to appreciate the wide-open spaces. Communing with nature, she decided, was good for the troubled soul.

Jan forgot to protest when Morgan swung her up in his arms and settled her on the tailgate. Being pampered had its advantages, especially when she was one shoe short of a pair. “I see what you mean about easing the tension,” she murmured as she surveyed the herd then breathed in a deep gulp of country air.

Morgan leaned over to gently massage the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders. Ah, the man had wonderful hands. She could only imagine how she’d feel if those magical hands were skimming over her naked body…What was she thinking? Damn it, the soft spot she’d developed years ago seemed to be spreading rapidly. That was not a good thing.

“So tell me what else went wrong today that has you knotted up like a rope,” he murmured as he kneaded her stiff shoulders.

Jan hesitated, unsure she wanted to confide Kendra’s fiasco. Then she decided Morgan would hear it through the grapevine because, no way, could Lorna Mason keep her trap shut. Likable and competent though Lorna was, her favorite hobby was gossiping and she was quite proficient at it.

“I came to tell Dad that Kendra’s wedding has been called off.”

“Yeah? How come?” he asked, continuing his marvelous massage.

“Because she found her fiancé in bed with another woman and now she and Mother are at home, drowning their troubles in wine. I told them that troubles have gills and fins and know how to swim, but their wounded pride wasn’t listening.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Morgan commiserated. “Surprised? No. But sorry just the same.”

“Richard Samson called the house twice while I was there, demanding to speak to Kendra,” Jan confided. “She told me to tell him to go straight to hell and never come back because she wasn’t speaking to him as long as she lived—or he lived, whichever came first. In addition, she told me to inform him that she hoped he was the first to go so she could trample on his grave.”

Morgan chuckled. “So, your sister is in phase one of the Woman Scorned Syndrome. She’s put a death wish on the man she proclaimed to love and respect above all others till death do part. Quite the contradiction.”

“Yes, well, Mother and Kendra have a tendency toward melodrama,” she said as she absently worked the stiffness from her tender wrist. “But I wouldn’t be the least bit forgiving or charitable to a man who supposedly loved me enough to marry me and then had a prewedding fling a month prior to publicly pledging undying love and devotion to me.” She stared inquisitively at Morgan. “Why do men do stuff like that?”

Morgan shrugged, then leaned back to brace his weight on his forearms. “I’m not sure it’s fair to condemn the entire male gender because of one idiot. Richard always had a roving eye to rival my mother’s. He’s handsome and successful, but he sees himself as a ladies’ man.”

“But you wouldn’t pull a stunt like that, right?” she challenged him.

Morgan stared her squarely in the eye and Jan struggled valiantly not to get lost in those mesmerizing silver-blue pools that were surrounded with the kind of long curly lashes that women would kill for.

“If I was crazy in love with one woman? No,” he declared. “Or at least I don’t think I’d be that stupid. But what the hell do I know? I was raised by a mother who was too busy chasing men to notice me.

“And the truth is,” he was quick to add, “I’m not encouraging your dad to consort with my mother. She likes John because she needs a steady stream of male companions. She doesn’t think she can function without a man in her life. I advised Mom to back off because John is vulnerable, but she doesn’t listen to me. Never did.”

“Parents,” she grumbled. “You go off to have a life of your own, but you can’t trust them to behave properly in your absence.”

“Yeah well, Mom never behaved properly,” Morgan replied. “I don’t know a damn thing about family dynamics because my string of stepfathers weren’t around long enough for me to figure out how a family is supposed to function. For me, turmoil and upheaval were a way of life.”

One corner of Jan’s heart melted. She never realized how good she’d had it, growing up in a loving household—even if that household had shattered recently and she was left to pick up the pieces. Life for Morgan couldn’t have been easy, despite his popularity and athletic prowess.

Jan sighed audibly. “I want to apologize for coming down on you like a ton of bricks this afternoon. You just sort of got caught in the crossfire of my frustration with my parents. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”

“And you never forgave me for the Homecoming incident,” he put in perceptively. “I hurt and embarrassed you and I’m sorry as hell.” Morgan reached over to curl his finger beneath her chin, raising her gaze to his. “For what it’s worth, I took that stupid dare because I was curious about how it would feel to kiss that shy, unbelievably sweet sophomore who was infatuated with me, even if she was caught up in the fact that I was supposedly the superstar athlete of Oz.”

“That wasn’t the reason I had a crush on you,” she blurted out, then withdrew into her own space. His touch was seriously affecting her vital signs and her thought processes. Plus, her emotions were already spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl carousel because of today’s fiasco.

“No?” he asked skeptically. “In those days all the girls I dated were caught up in my celebrity status. The image is what attracted them.”

“Well, I wasn’t looking to attach myself to the image,” she insisted. “I envied your outgoing personality and your ability to make friends easily.” She felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she added, “And okay, you did have the dashing good looks of a heartthrob, still do, but you were everything I wanted to be. Just working up the nerve to strike up a conversation with you at school made my palms sweat and my pulse pound in my ears. I was the little computer nerd with a mouthful of metal and the physique of Olive Oyl. You were the high school stud muffin who inspired feminine dreams.”

Morgan chuckled in amusement when Jan’s face turned a deeper shade of pink. Despite their initial argument at his store, being with Janna had a soothing and yet arousing effect on him. He found himself wanting to touch her for whatever excuse he could dream up. Staring into those lustrous hazel eyes, splattered with shards of gold nuggets, left him wishing she’d be in town long enough to make amends for his past mistakes.

Knowing she’d dropped whatever she was doing in Tulsa to ride to her family’s rescue impressed him. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would feel like to have that kind of loyalty and devotion directed toward him. But Janna was here to resolve the Mitchell feud because she was fiercely loyal to those she loved most—and he wasn’t included on that list.

According to John, Janna had always been the family peacemaker, the solid rock in a household of emotional and melodramatic women. Unlike Georgina Price, Janna had stability and stick-to-itness. Morgan admired that.

He hopped off the tailgate, then hooked his arm around Janna’s waist to playfully tote her to the truck. She was a featherweight in his arms and he looked for any excuse to touch her. Plus, he didn’t want her tramping around with one shoe off and one on and stepping in something gooey.

“Have you had supper yet?” he asked impulsively.

“No, I was too busy playing nursemaid and therapist to Mother and Kendra. But I’ve imposed enough on you already.”

“It’s not an imposition. I’d enjoy the company. I could throw together sandwiches and chips so neither of us would have to eat alone.”

“Well, if you’re sure I’m not intruding,” she said hesitantly.

When they returned to the house, Morgan retrieved Jan’s suitcase from her car so she could change clothes. He set her luggage by the door and watched her appraise his home. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath, hoping for her approval, until she smiled in appreciation. It was that particularly radiant smile that hit him right where he lived. Her smile made her more appealing to him than she already was. God, she looked good and smelled alluring. He didn’t know what fragrance she was wearing but it made him want to sidle closer and breathe her in.

“Nice place,” she complimented as she walked unevenly into the living room. “I like your western décor.”

“Your dad helped me with the construction. That’s how we got reacquainted. I had him for a teacher in high school. Nice man, your father.”

Jan wrinkled her nose. “I always thought so until he went middle-age crazy, bought a Winnebago motor home and walked out on Mom.” She turned her questioning gaze on him. “Will you explain where Dad’s coming from so I can get a better feel for the problems I need to address?”

“I’ll tell you what he’s told me over supper. Go change clothes while I grab the makings for sandwiches.”

While Janna changed, Morgan rounded up supper. The phone rang while he had his head stuck in the fridge. One of the women from a nearby town that he dated occasionally invited him over for supper Saturday. Ordinarily, Morgan would’ve leaped at the chance for a home-cooked meal and romantic companionship, but he asked for a rain check. He suspected the reason was because Janna was underfoot. Not that he believed for one millisecond that this short-term truce was going anywhere, because it obviously couldn’t. But he felt comfortable with her. Plus, he was inclined to compensate for hurting and humiliating her years earlier. He’d accidentally crushed what little self-confidence she’d acquired. She’d been a sweet, impressionable teenager and he’d trampled on her heart. He’d like Janna to realize that he wasn’t the cocky, insensitive bastard she thought he was.

When Janna ambled toward him, wearing a powder-blue knit blouse and jeans that accentuated her curvaceous figure more than her streamlined business suit, Morgan’s hand stalled over the slices of bread and ham he’d arranged on a plate. She’d let her hair down and a riot of shiny, spring-loaded chestnut curls tumbled over the rise of her full breasts and cascaded halfway down her back.

Damn! His male hormones snapped to attention in two seconds flat, reminding him that it’d been a long time between women.

Janna angled her head and stared inquisitively at him while he stood there immobilized by sexual awareness. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Morgan muttered. “You’re an exceedingly attractive woman and it’s hard not to notice, but I do apologize for staring.”

“Right.” She smirked as she tugged at her comfy blouse. “I grew up in a household with two tall, willowy blue-eyed blondes. I was the runt of the litter and Kendra attracted more boyfriends than she could count. I was overlooked constantly, the one given the second notice and second consideration. Don’t try to work your charm on me, Morgan. I know what I look like.”

No, he thought, obviously she didn’t have a clue how appealing she was. “I’m just stating the facts, ma’am. I find you extremely attractive. Next you’ll be telling me that none of those big city corporate types have noticed and panted after you,” he added, then smirked. “Yeah, right.”

Janna filled the glasses with ice. “First off, the majority of corporate types offend my independent streak. Second, romance in the workplace is ill-advised. Since I work ten-hour days there hasn’t been time for personal relationships.” She tossed him a surreptitious glance as she plunked down at his table. “Besides, I learned my lesson about men twelve years ago.”

Morgan sighed heavily as he took his seat. “If you’re trying to make me feel like a world-class ass, you’ve succeeded. I was eighteen years old then, which is the equivalent of being a hormone-driven idiot. Jeez, Janna, you aren’t going to hold me personally accountable for distorting your perception of men, too, are you?” he asked as he rocked back on the hind legs of his chair—a habit he’d picked up during childhood, a habit his mother disliked. It had become his way of annoying Georgina whose lack of attention and constant string of men annoyed the hell out of him.

Jan leaned her forearms on the table, stared him straight in the eye and said, “I was sweet sixteen and never been kissed until that night with you at Home-coming. And you must have made a lasting impression on me because I’m still a virgin.”

The forthright comment caused him to rear back in surprise—which wasn’t a good thing since he was teetering off balance in his chair. Morgan yelped when the chair tipped back and crashed to the floor—with him in it.