Kissing Mr. Right (19 page)

She nodded. “Let’s get going.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kendall wrapped newspaper around the glass and tucked it into the box with the others in the set. “That’s the last of them,” she announced. She closed the box and taped it.

Sam’s blond head appeared around the corner of the living room. “Since you’re a devoted minimalist when it comes to decorating, I think we have things taken care of out here.”

“Very funny.”

“Chloe has double and triple wrapped the few things you do have so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Kendall checked her watch. “The movers are scheduled to come in two hours.” She looked at the open cabinet doors and empty shelves. Her life was packed into a couple dozen boxes scattered around her bare condominium.

Tomorrow she’d drive to Grady, Kansas, to visit her parents for a week before continuing to New York City. It was time to begin her new life. The life she’d wanted and worked so hard to achieve. She should be thrilled to her toes. She knew that. But Denver had begun to feel like home to her, especially in the past few months. She hadn’t expected it would be so hard to leave.

“Have you talked to him?”

She glanced up at Sam, pushed the cardboard box against the wall and stood. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand who her friend meant, though she wanted to. “No,” she said simply, bending down to retrieve the tape dispenser.

“Things have to be tense with his family,” Chloe said with a sigh. “I feel bad for him.”

Sam snorted. “‘Tense’ might be the understatement of the year.”

It had been two weeks since Kendall and Owen had met with Helen Bradley. That eighty-year-old woman was one tough cookie. She’d been dead set on bringing down GoldStar when she’d found out what they had planned for her beloved forest. In private, she had a backbone of steel. On camera, she played the role of the pitiable, frail, and innocent old lady to perfection.

Kendall had taken her reworked story directly to Bob Cunningham. The station’s owner may have been a college buddy of Eric Bishop, but he was also a seasoned newshound. He saw the potential in ratings and publicity that breaking a story like Silver Creek would produce.

Through his private foundation, Owen had signed a deal to purchase the land around Silver Creek. Working with several state organizations, a conservation plan had been agreed upon that would integrate wildlife habitats with trail restoration and ranching interests in the area. Once the paperwork had been signed, Channel 8 aired the first of a three-part special on the Silver Creek community.

The initial segment covered the forest rejuvenation and included excerpts from the time Kendall and Ty had spent together in the burn area. Seeing his face on camera, watching the respect he had for the land reflected in his expression, had felt like a punch to her stomach.

One she probably deserved.

She worried that his father would find a way to ruin the landscaping business as punishment for Ty’s leaking the plans. What would Ty do then? Colorado was his home. She couldn’t imagine him starting over someplace else. There was no doubt Eric Bishop would be out for revenge.

The second part of the series had focused on Mrs. Bradley’s story—the reasons she needed to sell the land, GoldStar’s “too good to be true” proposal, and how the community would have been devastated if they’d learned the truth too late.

The final segment, which had aired two nights ago, included interviews with residents of other communities developed by GoldStar and the bogus promises that had been made in almost every instance. The station had been flooded with calls and e-mails from angry viewers eager to add their stories to the mix.

The other news outlets in Denver had picked up the exposé, and this morning a short piece had run on CNN. Lawsuits were already being filed in courthouses in several Colorado counties to stop construction on other GoldStar developments.

The elation she’d expected to feel never materialized. She was proud of the work she’d done on the story, and she was relieved that Silver Creek was safe from GoldStar.

Mainly, though, she wanted to cry.

“Honey, are you sure you don’t want one of us to drive you to your parents’ house?” Chloe had joined Sam inside the kitchen doorway. “I can take a couple days off work.”

Kendall took a long sip from the mug on the counter. “Of course not. I’ll be fine.”

Her friends didn’t look convinced. “You need to eat something on the road,” Sam ordered. “You can’t live on coffee and diet soda.”

“I’m eating. You were here when the pizza came for lunch. You saw me eat.”

Sam didn’t back down. “I saw you take two half-hearted bites before tossing your plate in the trash. How much weight have you lost in the past three weeks?”

Kendall didn’t have the energy to argue. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, slumping against the counter. “My jeans are loose but I haven’t stepped on the scale.”

Sam’s voice was soft when she said, “Call him before you go.”

The tenderness in her friend’s tone was Kendall’s undoing. She blinked back tears. “I can’t. I made my choice. I can’t turn back now.”

Ty had left her a message the night the first segment aired. He’d apologized for doubting her, then wished her good luck in New York. But he hadn’t asked her to call him or given any indication that he wanted to speak with her again.

As much as it hurt, Kendall told herself that a clean break would be the easiest for both of them.

Chloe squeezed Kendall’s arm. “But can you move forward like this?”

“I have to.” Kendall’s voice trembled. “I have to,” she repeated and rested her head against Chloe’s shoulder.

“Oh, sweetie, we want you to be happy.” Chloe wrapped her arms around Kendall’s back.

“I’ll have to add happy to the plan. Right after I cross out romance with a permanent marker.”

“Men,” Sam whispered as she joined the small circle. “Can’t live with ’em, go to jail if you kill ’em.”

“I’m going to miss you two so much.” Kendall laughed through her tears.

“We’re here when you need us,” Sam assured her.

She never thought she’d miss the drone of the window AC unit in her parents’ trailer, but it was better than baking in the Midwestern heat. She’d spent the past week with her mom and dad, although her father was gone for long hours most days. It was the height of the summer season at Elmwood Country Club, and he spent early mornings and evenings mowing the lawns at the homes of some of the club’s wealthy members.

Her mom’s RA had flared shortly after Kendall arrived, so they’d stayed indoors for most of the visit. They both loved Jane Austen and there had been several movie marathons with Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy, Anne Elliot, and Captain Wentworth. And although her hands were swollen and red, Marianne Clark still loved a manicure.

“Do you ever regret it?” Kendall tried to be gentle as she held her mother’s stiff fingers between hers and painted the nails a bright shade of pink.

“Regret what?”

Kendall could feel her mom watching her, but kept her eyes focused on her task. “Everything you gave up for Daddy.”

“What do you think I gave up?”

“School. A career. Your future.”

“Sweetie.” The nail polish brush jerked as Marianne moved her hand under Kendall’s chin, tipping it up. “Those things weren’t meant to be for me.”

“Because you gave—”

“Because I made a choice. A choice to love your father for better or worse. The same commitment he gave to me.”

“But—”

“I know this life wasn’t enough for you.” Her mother’s smile was sad. “We weren’t enough for you.”

“That’s not true.” Kendall shook her head and her mother gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“It’s ok for you to want something different, but I’m happy. You need to stop blaming your father. Don’t be afraid that loving someone is going to make you weak. Real love doesn’t tear you down. It builds you up so that you can get through the hard stuff. I want you to be happy. You deserve that. And not because of what you do or where you live. You deserve to be happy and loved for who you are. That’s how your father and I love you.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“And . . .”

Kendall closed her eyes. “And Dad, too.”

“That means the world to me, sweetie.”

When Marianne went to her bedroom for a nap, Kendall spent a few moments alone before she packed a cooler and headed toward Kansas City. She grabbed her water bottle and the cooler from the backseat and walked toward the front entrance of the Elmwood Country Club.

“Hey, baby doll.” Her dad smiled as he glanced up from the valet stand. Mike Clark was only in his early fifties, but the years of pre-sobriety drinking had taken their toll. He was still lean and muscled from the handyman jobs he took over the winter when his valet hours decreased, but lines bracketed his eyes and mouth, and the skin around his jaw was sagging.

She knew it wasn’t only alcohol that had aged him. Her father worked harder than any man she knew, doing whatever necessary to bring home money to cover his wife’s medical expenses. They didn’t talk about the fact that Kendall supplemented the family finances when insurance and his paycheck weren’t enough to cover the prescriptions and doctor visits she needed. When Kendall was younger, it had been one more source of embarrassment that her family couldn’t afford the lavish vacations her friends bragged about, let alone a weekend away. Now she saw the truth . . . that her father’s work ethic was a testament to his love and dedication to his family.

“Hi, Daddy.” She leaned forward to kiss his tanned cheek.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, giving her shoulder an awkward squeeze. “Is your mom ok?”

She and her father had never related well without her mother as a go-between. Although they were family, it was as if neither of them knew how to talk to the other. But Kendall had amended her master plan to include addressing things in her life that needed fixing before she moved to New York. Her relationship with her dad was one of the most important.

“She’s fine.” Kendall lifted the small cooler. “I heard noon is your break and thought I’d bring lunch.”

Her dad’s eyes widened for a moment and she held her breath, wondering how he’d take her gesture after all these years of their strained connection.

Then he smiled. “That’s nice of you, baby girl. I sure do appreciate it.”

He introduced her to the two young men working with him, explaining that she was visiting Kansas before moving to New York for an important network job.

It was the most she’d ever heard her quiet father say in one breath. She shook hands with both of the guys before one of them dashed away as a Mercedes pulled under the awning that shaded the club’s main entrance.

“Your dad brags about you all the time,” the other one, a stocky teenager with shaggy brown hair, told her.

She glanced at her father, who shrugged. “You’re a good girl, Ken,” he said simply. “I’m real proud.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Her parents had shown their support in so many ways over the years, but this was the first time her father had said those words to her. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to hear them until now.

“There’s a picnic table outside the kitchen where we can sit.” He wiped a hand across his brow. “But it’s dang hot today. I get it if you want to leave the lunch and head back to your mom.”

She sniffed and dabbed at the corner of one eye. “I made egg salad sandwiches.”

“My favorite.”

He led her across the driveway just as a thin, blond woman in a printed sundress stepped out of the sports car. “Kendall Clark?” she breathed, bringing her fingers up to delicately touch her lips. Kendall was almost blinded by the huge diamond sparkling from her left hand.

“Remmie Carmichael.” Kendall recognized her at once. Remmie had been the ringleader of the popular clique at Graves and one of Kendall’s biggest tormenters during her first year.

“What are you doing in Kansas?” Remmie asked, her shrewd gaze sweeping over Kendall, head to foot.

Kendall was wearing a shapeless T-shirt and denim shorts, flip-flops on her feet, and not a stitch of makeup. She’d showered earlier but tied her hair back in a messy ponytail, knowing it was pointless to style it when the humidity would cause it to frizz in minutes. She had clear memories of Remmie’s assessing stare from years ago, but found it didn’t have the same effect now.

“I’m visiting my parents.” Her dad had taken a step away, but she pulled him forward. “You know my father.”

“Of course,” Remmie answered but didn’t bother to flick him a glance. “We saw you on the national news last week and heard you’re going to be working on
Wake Up Weekend!
”

Kendall nodded.

“It’s one of my favorite shows. After the
Real Housewives
, of course.” Remmie smiled. “I fly up to New York several times a year to go shopping. I’d love a tour of the studio.”

Kendall felt her mouth drop open then snapped it shut. Remmie seemed to take her silence for agreement and continued, “I’m meeting some of the Graves girls for lunch. You’re welcome to join us.” She scrunched up her pert nose. Kendall hadn’t remembered it resembling a ski slope quite so much when they’d been teenagers. “I’m sure the club office has something
appropriate
for you to wear.”