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,
