Kitabı oku: «The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!»

1

“SHE’S HERE, Morgan. I figured Sylvia would call her in to resolve the family crisis.” Grimly, John Mitchell stared out the hardware store window. “Damn it, I didn’t want my older daughter in the middle of this feud.”

Morgan Price strode down the aisle of his store to halt beside John, who was keeping surveillance on the dress shop directly across the street. It seemed to Morgan that John spent an excessive amount of time staring at Sylvia’s Boutique rather than simply hiking across the bricked street to work out his differences with his estranged wife. For Morgan, it was like being caught in the middle of a war zone during the Mitchell family feud, with one enemy camp keeping close observation on the other.

The Mitchell family feud had become the talk of this small hamlet of Oz that was located in the heart of Oklahoma’s peanut country. Naturally, Morgan’s mother, who delighted in being in the limelight every chance she got, wasted no time in fueling the fire by flirting outrageously with John.

Morgan’s thoughts scattered like buckshot when Janna Mitchell slid one well-shaped, hose-clad leg from the low-slung car and rose to full stature. Wow! The shy, plain-Jane teenager he remembered from high school had obviously been a late bloomer. She’d blossomed into a strikingly attractive, curvaceous woman. Sighing in masculine appreciation, Morgan pressed his nose to the window to thoroughly appraise Janna.

Her chestnut hair was knotted in a tight, sophisticated something-or-other—Morgan had no idea what names applied to feminine hairdos. Despite Janna’s streamlined navy blue silk business suit—that had expensive written all over it—Morgan could tell Janna had filled out in all the right places these past twelve years. The assertive way Janna held herself indicated she’d acquired the poise and self-confidence she’d lacked at shy, uncertain sixteen. That sweet, wide-eyed innocent teenager who’d been self-conscious about the metal braces on her teeth, and rarely smiled, had changed dramatically. She drew Morgan’s marveling gaze and his fascination like a magnet.

“Five’ll getcha ten that Janna hotfoots it over here to talk sense into me within fifteen minutes. Soon as Sylvia tells her twisted side of the story,” John Mitchell muttered resentfully.

“Here’s a thought,” Morgan supplied helpfully, without taking his fascinated gaze off Janna, “why don’t you hightail it across the street to intercept Janna and present your version of the feud first?”

John shook his head stubbornly. “Nope. I’m not going near that damn dress shop. I didn’t want Sylvia to buy it in the first place. She openly defied me and that was the beginning of our problems.”

Morgan slanted the older man a pointed glance. “That, and the fact that you purchased a Winnebago without consulting Sylvia first.”

John snapped his head around to stare belligerently at Morgan. “Well, I couldn’t let her walk all over me, could I? I’ve been giving in to my wife for thirty-three years. When I retired from teaching woodwork at the high school I decided my lifestyle and attitude were going to change.”

Morgan smiled in amusement when John refocused on the dress shop directly across the street. He’d lost count of the number of times the past month that John had stood as sentinel at the window, monitoring the comings and goings at Sylvia’s Boutique. Yet, when Sylvia appeared John commenced muttering and scowling.

Since John had come to work part-time at the hardware store, he and Morgan had become close friends. Therefore, Morgan was well versed in the squabbles that had caused John and Sylvia’s separation. As far as Morgan could tell, John had some legitimate complaints, but he suspected Sylvia had a few legitimate complaints of her own. However, according to John, there was supposed to be give and take in a marriage. John insisted he’d done the majority of giving for years—he, being the minority male in a household of a wife and two daughters. John had declared his independence now that he’d raised his family and put in his time teaching.

The feud was about to enter another dimension now that Janna Mitchell had arrived on the scene to resolve the rift between her parents. Morgan wasn’t sure it would be easy because John and Sylvia were both stubborn and set in their ways. John was dead-set on having his terms met. Ditto for Sylvia. This feud could get ugly, especially since Morgan’s mother had decided to work her wiles on John.

“I better round up the hardware I need for your mother’s new kitchen cabinets so I can get the hell outta Dodge before Janna comes gunning for me,” John grumbled as he glanced at his watch. “Soon as I get the door pulls, drawer sliders and hinges counted out and bagged up, I’m outta here.”

When John wheeled like a soldier on parade and marched toward the cabinet hardware section of the store, Morgan followed on his heels. “I’ll help you set Mom’s new cabinets in place when I get off work this evening.”

John smiled gratefully. “You don’t know how many times I wished for a son to help me with my moonlighting projects and to take my side against my wife and daughters. It would’ve evened the odds. If I could pick a son you’d definitely be him.”

“Thanks, John. The feeling’s mutual,” he said affectionately. “I would’ve liked having you for a dad.”

“You could’ve used one as a kid,” John agreed, then winked. “Maybe it isn’t too late to make that wish come true, if you know what I mean.”

Morgan didn’t reply, just scooped up cabinet door pulls and then crammed them in another sack. If his mother had her way, John Mitchell would become husband number four. John thought he had marriage problems now! Morgan inwardly winced at the prospect of John getting tangled up with Georgina Price and her ever-changing whims.

Although Morgan loved his mother he was aware of her flaws. She was fickle and flirtatious by nature and by choice and she’d yet to remain in a relationship for more than five years—she’d only lasted three years with Morgan’s dad. Marriage, as far as Morgan could tell, was worse than shooting rapids on a raging river. It was risky at best. He had firsthand experience at how divorce could cause upheaval in a person’s life, since he and his mother had been through three of them. Morgan wanted no part of it, and he sympathized with John’s emotional pandemonium.

“Hurry up and help me gather the rest of the stuff I need for your mother’s remodeling project,” John requested, casting a wary glance toward the front door. “I’m not in the mood to deal with Janna right now.”

Morgan quickened his pace, amused by John’s determination to avoid his older daughter. If Morgan didn’t know better he’d swear John was afraid Janna would grab him by the collar and drag him to the bargaining table to negotiate a compromise for the feud. Janna? That five-foot nothing of a female? Intimidating? Morgan couldn’t satisfactorily link that characteristic to the timid, unassuming teenager he’d known in high school.

THE MOMENT Jan Mitchell entered Sylvia’s Boutique her mother shrieked in delight and dashed forward to envelop her in a smothering hug. “Thank God, you’re here! I knew you’d come!” Sylvia gushed. “You’ve got to do something about your father. He’s driving me crazy and embarrassing me in front of my friends and customers.”

When Sylvia stepped back, Jan appraised her mother’s stylish linen dress and perfect hairdo. Except for the hint of tears in Sylvia’s striking blue eyes she looked as vibrant, sophisticated and youthful as ever. The only thing missing was John Mitchell at Sylvia’s side. Jan still couldn’t believe her parents had split up. It was inconceivable there could be trouble in paradise after three decades of marriage. How did this happen?

Sylvia grabbed Jan by the shoulders and spun her toward the door she’d just entered. “Get over to the hardware store and talk to your father,” she commanded. “He won’t be there much longer.”

“Why? Where’s he going?”

Sylvia shoveled Jan out the door. “He’s going out to Georgina Price’s house to remodel her kitchen. Or so he claims,” Sylvia said scornfully. “They’re having an affair.”

“What?” Jan chirped in astonishment.

“I told you that your father has gone middle-age crazy,” Sylvia muttered sourly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be going through the change of life and he’s the one who’s impossible to live with!” She flicked her wrist to shoo Jan on her way. “Hurry over there and talk sense into him before he scurries off like the rat he is.”

Resigned to a confrontation before she even had time to catch her breath after her long drive from Tulsa, Jan jaywalked across the yellow brick street the Chamber of Commerce had painted to draw tourists to this small town of Oz in western Oklahoma. Jan sorely wished there were a wizard in residence that could magically wave his arms and settle this feud.

Was it only yesterday that Jan had been holding a conference meeting with her staff at the corporate office to set up a new data processing system? Suddenly, here she was back in peanut country, walking the newly painted yellow brick road that symbolized the division line between her mother and father. According to her mother, neither she nor John would cross the street to confront each other. Someone else had to be the go-between and that duty fell to Jan. It seemed she’d played mediator in minor family skirmishes all her life. While living with a stubborn father and a flighty, emotional mother and younger sister, someone had to be the stabilizing force. Maybe that’s why Jan had ended up as a troubleshooter for the corporate firm in Tulsa. She’d been troubleshooting problems for her family for years.

“Well, it’s your own fault for landing in the middle of this mess,” Jan chastised herself halfway across the yellow brick road. She’d always had a weakness when it came to her family. By nature she had an overwhelming tendency to fix things—hence her job at Delacort Industries.

The moment Sylvia called—wailing on and on about John storming off and camping out in his brand spanking new Winnebago camper that was parked at Price Farm—Jan had dropped what she’d been doing and come to save the day. Never mind that her younger sister Kendra lived here in Oz, managed the travel agency and should’ve handled the situation. However, Kendra possessed Sylvia’s temperamental nature and was prone to panic first and then seek help from someone else, rather than solve the crisis herself.

Jan never had a flair for the dramatic—like Sylvia and Kendra, thank goodness. She prided herself in being calm, collected, organized and reliable in difficult situations. And so, here she was, back in the Land of Oz, hell-bent on mending family fences. Of course, Kendra couldn’t be bothered because she was planning her wedding and had last-minute arrangements to make before the grand affair in less than a month.

Discarding her unproductive thoughts, Jan pushed open the door at the hardware store. A small electronic device overhead played: “We’re Off To See The Wizard.” Jan stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes popped when she spotted her father, wearing a trendy red polo shirt and cargo pants that had more pockets than Captain Kangaroo’s. Even worse, her father could’ve been the poster model for Grecian Formula hair coloring. There wasn’t a gray hair on his dark head and he’d used some kind of gel that made his hair shiny and stiff. Why was he trying to recapture his youth? He looked ridiculous!

“Daddy?” Jan croaked in disbelief.

John whipped around so fast that he knocked one of the paper sacks off the counter. Hinges skidded across the tiled floor. Hurriedly, he scooped them up and crammed them in the sack. “Hi, hon. I knew your mother would call you. I’m surprised that you didn’t show up a month ago.”

Jan strode down the aisle to give her father a greeting hug and peck on the cheek. “I only found out about this separation yesterday. Why didn’t you call and tell me what was going on? I’d have been here sooner.”

“You have your own life,” John insisted. “I guess your mother decided to give me a month to come to my senses before she called you in. She’s been treating me like I’m sixteen since the day I retired from teaching and I’m getting damned sick and tired of it.”

Jan stared pointedly at John’s youthful clothes, the new gold chain that encircled his neck and then focused on his dyed hair. “What’s with this new image? Are we dressing like a teenager these days because we’re in our second childhood, Daddy?” she asked him directly.

John puffed up like an inflated bagpipe. “No, we are not! We’re trying to live life to its fullest, but your stick-in-the-mud mother has entrenched herself in that damn dress shop that I advised her not to buy. But did she listen when I told her I wanted to be able to pack a suitcase and drive off into the sunset on a whim? Nope, she’s got this marvelous career going, says she. Never mind that I’ve waited years for my retirement so we could travel.”

Jan smiled calmly at her red-faced father. “Maybe we can have supper together and you can explain your frustration in detail. Then you and Mom can work out a satisfying compromise.”

John scooped the paper sacks off the counter. “Sorry, hon, not tonight. I’ve got a hot date. You can come by tomorrow evening, but you might as well know, right here and now, that I’m not budging from my position, so your mother better give serious thought to budging from hers.”

Before Jan could reach out to snag his arm, John took off like a cannonball, leaving her to stare bewilderedly after him. For years, Jan had considered her father to be a reasonably adaptable man. Stubborn at the onset, but reasonably adaptable—until he went middle-age crazy on her.

“Janna?” A deep, ultrasexy voice called from behind her.

Jan wheeled around to see Morgan Price ambling from his office. She steadied herself against a nearby shelf to prevent herself from staggering beneath the impact of Morgan’s knock-’em-dead smile, his darkly handsome good looks and swarthy physique. He’d had the same effect on her back in high school. He’d dazzled her, fascinated her—until he’d committed the Queen Mother of all betrayals on a lovesick sixteen-year-old who idolized him. Her super-duper-deluxe crush on Morgan had transformed into hatred the night he’d made a fool of her and mortified her in front of her friends and classmates. He’d instantly fallen from grace and Jan had never forgiven his cruelty. Jan had learned her first lesson about love at his hands and she’d been careful never to commit the mistake again.

Morgan Price was the last man Jan wanted to encounter—she’d spent years avoiding him. But according to Sylvia, Morgan was responsible for John’s stiff-necked stubbornness and his retreat into his second childhood. Now that John and Morgan were running buddies—so to speak—John patterned his appearance and lifestyle after Morgan.

“Hello, Morgan. Nice to see you again.” Not! She tacked on silently.

Morgan folded his muscled arms over his broad chest, crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned casually against the counter. He flashed her another one of those killer smiles, and she steeled herself against his potent charm. She wasn’t a lovestruck teenager anymore and she wasn’t about to be taken in by those entrancing silver-blue eyes, shiny coal-black hair and that impressive athletic build that had won him all sorts of honors and recognition on high school and college basketball courts across the nation. For years he’d been hailed as the athletic wizard of Oz, but Jan’s opinion of him leaned more toward the cruel, belittling devil incarnate.

“You look terrific, Janna,” Morgan complimented in that smoky baritone voice that sent erotic chills shimmying down her spine. Willfully, she defied the devastating effect he had on her.

“It’s Jan these days,” she corrected as she tilted her chin to meet his appraising stare. Morgan might’ve won over her father with all that oozing charm, but she wasn’t falling for it—ever again. “I came to see my dad, but since he’s busy I’ll go across the street to visit with Mom.”

Turning on her heel, she tried to make a beeline for the door, but Morgan was as quick and agile as he’d been during his heyday as reining Homecoming King, All-State superstar jock and Big Man on Campus. He grabbed her arm, halting her escape.

“Hold on a minute, honey,” Morgan said huskily.

“Honey?” Jan jerked loose from his grasp and flambéed him with a glare as past resentment roiled inside her, seeking release. “Let’s get something straight from the get-go,” she told him sharply and directly. “I do not appreciate your negative influence on Dad during this marital crisis. I’m here to mend family fences and I’d appreciate it if you’d butt out and stop urging my father not to return home where he belongs!”

Morgan’s thick black brows jackknifed in surprise. It did Jan a world of good to know she’d startled this hometown Casanova, who’d probably turned out to be as fickle as his mother. Morgan obviously expected to encounter the meek, lovesick teenager he’d mortified years ago. Well, he better think again! Jan had come into her own since she’d left Oz.

“Just calm down,” Morgan said soothingly. “I’m trying to help straighten out this situation between your folks.”

“Right,” she said, then scoffed disdainfully. “You’ve got Dad dressing like he’s half his age and dying his hair. And you call this helping?”

“You’re holding me responsible for John’s change in appearance?”

“Yes, I am. Considering that you hired Dad to help you part-time, and he’s emulating your younger appearance and your frivolous lifestyle—”

“Hold it right there,” Morgan leaped in. “You haven’t seen me in a decade, so how do you know I’m living a frivolous lifestyle?”

“Mother said,” she flashed back.

Morgan let loose with a snort. “Pure gossip. I’m standing in line for sainthood and my certified documents should be arriving any day now.”

Jan sent him a smirk that indicated she didn’t find him the least bit amusing. “I’m asking you not to put any more juvenile ideas in Dad’s head while I’m trying to get my parents back together.”

“Look, Miss Family Fix-it, you’ve come barreling in here without knowing what’s what. I suggest you get all your stories straight before you leap to erroneous conclusions and start hurling accusations. I happen to be an innocent bystander in the Mitchell family fiasco,” he said hotly.

“Sure, just as innocent as you were the night of the Homecoming dance,” she hurled impulsively, then mentally kicked herself for bringing that up at a time like this. She had to get out of here—pronto. Encountering the wildly attractive Morgan Price affected her more than she’d anticipated. She wasn’t behaving in her customary calm, rational and controlled manner. Since when had she become so reactionary?

Morgan’s dark brows shot up like exclamation marks and his jaw dropped on its hinges. “You’re still holding that adolescent idiocy against me a dozen years later? Jeez, that’s a little immature, don’t you think?”

“I think,” she said through clenched teeth, “that I’d like to avoid future contact with you while I’m in town. Instead of shoving my vulnerable father toward your mother for an affair that could destroy a solid marriage, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop playing matchmaker and let me handle this!”

Morgan glowered at her. She glared right back, matching him stare for formidable stare—though he was a good twelve inches taller and outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by this has-been athletic superstar, even if he was so sinfully handsome that her feminine hormones were spinning around like protons inside an atom. She wasn’t going to succumb to Morgan’s devilish charm. She wanted him to know she’d changed drastically and she couldn’t be bowled over by his heart-stopping good looks and seductive voice.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said sharply. “Just because I like your dad and hired him when he had so much idle time on his hands, and no one to share it with, doesn’t make me the villain here. Your mother is so wrapped up in her la-di-da clothing store that she isn’t giving John’s transition in lifestyle the slightest consideration. She’s too self-involved, inconsiderate and uncompromising, if you ask me.”

“No one asked you,” she sassed him.

He smirked derisively then shot her a critical glance. “I’m sure you can relate to self-involvement. You’ve been away for years, and suddenly you’ve come buzzing back to peanut country from the big city, expecting to snap your fingers and resolve this crisis overnight. Well, I’ve got a news flash for you, sugarbritches, it won’t work that way. Your dad has some legitimate beefs that need to be addressed. Until you’ve heard both sides with an open mind, don’t pass judgment on me or anyone else.”

“Who are you to tell me how to deal with my parents, Mr. Nuts and Bolts?” she retaliated hotly. “You’re an outsider!”

His thick brows flattened threateningly over his silver-blue eyes. “I’m the guy who can help or hamper your attempt to settle the family feud. So you don’t want to make me angry. Got it, sugarbritches?”

“Just what, exactly, is your interest in this feud? Aren’t you too old to be looking for a new daddy?” Jan asked sarcastically.

He bared his teeth and growled, “You’re annoying the hell out of me, so if John’s interested in my mother, then maybe that’s fine by me. You’re right, I never had the luxury of a father, just a string of men coming and going through the swinging door at my mother’s house. Just about the time I adjusted to her latest boyfriend or husband she went hunting for a new one. Why do you think I spent all my time in the gym shooting hoops? My home life wasn’t fun, but you probably took family stability for granted. Maybe you deserve to find out what I’ve put up with every day of my life!”

Jan stepped back a pace, surprised by the ferocity behind Morgan’s words. Obviously, he was sensitive about the subject of his fickle mother. Jan hadn’t given much thought to the upheaval and frustration he’d endured because of his mother’s reputation in town. But still, she didn’t want him stealing her father out from under her nose and more or less taking her place since she’d become the absentee sibling.

Morgan retreated a step, let out his breath in a whoosh, and then raked his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Janna, I don’t usually fly off the handle, but you managed to tick me off. The plain and simple facts are that, like it or not, I’ve become your dad’s confidant and friend. If he won’t open up to you about this rift with Sylvia or discuss his need to recapture his lost youth, then you can come see me and I’ll give you John’s perspective.”

“Thanks, but I’ll muddle through by myself,” she insisted, tilting her chin stubbornly. “This is my family problem, after all.”

He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders. “Have it your way, Janna, but don’t expect me to stop listening when John needs to blow off steam and discuss his problems with Sylvia.”

With a curt nod, Jan turned on her heel and exited the store. It rankled that her father confided in Morgan and refused to talk to her—his oldest daughter who’d dropped her important project at work in her assistant’s lap and had come running to solve the Mitchell clan’s problems.

She supposed she was partly to blame for her parents’ separation. She’d moved away to establish her own life and career and didn’t get home as often as she should to ensure things ran smoothly. But she’d come home the instant she learned there was trouble because family was family, and they should stick together, stick up for one another, not confide in outsiders.

Composing herself, Jan stepped onto the sidewalk to inhale a breath of fresh air. Her encounter with Morgan hadn’t gone as she’d hoped. She’d overreacted to seeing him again. She’d become spiteful and defensive and yes, damn it, a little juvenile. She supposed years of suppressed resentment had finally erupted. Now that she had the nerve to lambaste him, she’d let him have it with both barrels blazing. But she shouldn’t have allowed Morgan to affect her because he was ancient history and she wasn’t the teeniest bit attracted to him. She hadn’t given Morgan a thought in years.

Right, Jan, since when did you become a pathological liar? said that taunting voice inside her head. Okay, so maybe she’d given him a thought on occasion, but it didn’t mean a thing. She’d just take a wide berth around Morgan and focus on reconciling her parents. The first order of business was to get her parents to speak to one another.

MORGAN HAD major difficulty concentrating while he waited on the three customers that arrived shortly after Janna stormed off. He hadn’t been prepared for her hostility toward him. The moment he saw her up close all he could do was marvel at how attractive and assertive she’d become. He hadn’t expected to feel an immediate flash of awareness and interest, but he had. Watching her pearlescent skin glow in the florescent light, staring at her petal-soft lips, and appraising the sculpted features of her oval face had drawn his undivided attention and inspired a few fantasies.

He hadn’t expected her to walk in and flay him alive, as if he were responsible for the change in her father’s appearance and behavior. Her verbal jabs had set fuse to his temper. Morgan rarely lost his temper. He’d learned to take life in stride and roll with the punches. But Janna had provoked him and he’d reflexively lashed out at her.

Some reunion that had turned out to be. She had her heart set on disliking him because of that kiss at Home-coming. True, he’d suffered a severe case of the guilts when the incident swelled out of proportion and she got her feelings trounced on. He’d tried to apologize about a half dozen times, but she had avoided him and wouldn’t answer his phone calls.